#friend without saying stupid shit and forgetting and blanking out at important shit

[prollymad]

Me trying to do and get back into anything while I am haunted by remembering embarrassing shit so I refuse to do or talk or do anything. I feel like someone has a shock collar on me and I can't do anything about it.

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

Magic is legal, Arthur knows The Truth and Merlin is... shit at explaining things:

Arthur demands a trip to visit the Druids, who are far more qualified than Merlin, so they can explain this whole... destiny thing.

I’ve written a lot of angst and Hurt!Merlin recently, so I just wanted to write something short and sweet and fluffy :)

SO.

Magic has been legalised, Merlin is Court Sorcerer, all the knights are alive and happy, Morgana is good, and the only thing Arthur has to worry about right now is what the hell to do about the rapidly growing crush he has on his BestFriend™.

After the dust had settled, Merlin had tried to sit Arthur down and tell him the whole story; all about Emrys, and the prophecies, and destiny. The King already knew about Merlin’s magic, and roughly how powerful he is, but that’s it.

But Merlin went so long barely mentioning it at all, not even to Gaius or Morgana or Lancelot, that he’s still not entirely sure what to say. Years of hiding and lying and trying desperately not to think about it, mean his brain now blanks when he tries to explain it.

After far too long of Arthur looking on confusedly whilst Merlin rambled on about dragons and coins and mental links and names, The Court Sorcerer gave up, and decided to just not bother.

Arthur, of course, decided that giving up was stupid, and made the executive decision that they would just go to the Druids, and someone who actual knew what they were talking about could explain it thoroughly. Maybe even allow Arthur to read the original prophecies.

Plus, it turned out that Initiating a Golden Age took quite a lot of work, so neither of them had had a chance to leave the city for weeks. They could do with the fresh air. And if Arthur saw it as a good chance to be properly alone with Merlin for more than half a candle mark? No one else needed to know, least of all Merlin.

~

It was a pleasant journey through the woods. The silences comfortable, and the conversations easy and filled with smiles.

Magic had only been legalised for about a fortnight, and after over twenty years of fear, magic users were still understandably cautious, meaning the closest Druid camp was still a two days ride away.

But that wasn’t a problem. With Merlin now able to use his magic openly, and therefor more able to defend his King, he found he was far less anxious about the trip outside the city than he would’ve been before. And if his good mood bled into the environment around them? Well... it was spring... surely no one would notice the extra flowers and abundance of butterflies?

(Arthur definitely noticed. But Merlin was still... wary, of performing sorcery openly, in fear of scaring the people who had been sucked in by two decades of propaganda and fear-mongering. Meaning Arthur sure as shit wasn’t going to point it out, in case Merlin stopped.)

It was around noon, and the sun was shining down on them when Merlin pulled his horse to a stop. He dismounts effortlessly, and hands a confused Arthur his reins. At Arthur’s raised eyebrow, Merlin sighs and speaks quietly:

“The camp is about two minutes further on but... the change in the law was only recent, and...-”

He bites his lip and looks away, worrying Arthur slightly, before continuing:

“-well, chainmail and red capes still make them a little nervous. I’ve already warned their leader that we’re coming-”

He taps his temple briefly:

“-but I should go ahead and explain properly.”

Arthur nods in understanding, and gives Merlin a comforting smile:

“I completely understand, Merlin. How long do you want me to wait, or will you come back to get me?”

Merlin returns his smile, before saying:

“Just wait ten minutes then follow me, straight down the path. Bring the horses, there’ll be somewhere to tie them there. You shouldn’t run into any trouble this close to a camp, but you do have a track-record so-”

Merlin laughs at Arthur’s indignant expression, but continues before he can interrupt him:

“-if you do, just yell. We won’t be too far away, we’ll hear you.”

Arthur rolls his eyes fondly and shoos Merlin away. The Warlock laughs as he turns and continues down the path on foot. Just before he disappears behind a large bush, he turns around again, a slightly concerned expression on his face:

“I might look a bit... different? But don’t mention it, they’re quite fond of me... uh... dressing the part.”

Arthur huffs out a laugh before saying:

“I’m sure I won’t forget what you look like in ten minutes, Merlin. Go.”

Merlin hums thoughtfully, and turns back around, disappearing into the trees and leaving Arthur to his thoughts.

After a few moments, he removes his cloak, tucking it into a saddlebag. He also, after only a little hesitation, removes his sword, strapping it to his saddle. It was still visible and easily within reach, but not so threateningly on display at his hip.

He was entering these people’s home, after personally wielding the sharp edge of their persecution for almost a decade; the least he could do was make them as comfortable as possible.

He hadn’t mentioned it to anyone, not even Merlin, but he had a feeling that this meet was going to end up being about more than the prophecies. Peace had been harboured, magic had been legalised, but like Merlin had pointed out, things were still a little tense. This meeting was a way to show the Druids that Arthur meant it, that his whole heart was behind this change. The he was not his father.

Arthur was a little nervous (not that he’d ever admit that), this was important. Not just to him and the kingdom, but to Merlin personally. He had to get this right. One of the only things that Arthur had managed to get out of Merlin, to do with the whole destiny thing, was that it was finished. It was done.

If Arthur messes this up, not only will it ruin the peace they had been working so hard for... then Merlin might leave. He has no reason to stay after-all, he’s done his job. So Arthur has to get this right, has to impress everyone, now more than ever, because if he fails and the Druids all leave Camelot, then Merlin would leave with them.

And that thought was... unbearable.

He counts down the minutes, getting more and more tense. He tried to distract himself by thinking about what Merlin had said, “dressing the part” what does that even mean?

But it doesn’t work. Soon enough his brain is throwing thought after paranoid thought at him, about all the possible ways Merlin could tell Arthur he hated him, and leave forever and ever.

Arthur rubbed his eyes harshly, muttering to himself about how he really should’ve accepted the “relaxing tea” Gaius had offered him before they left. Other than Merlin, the old physician is the only one who ever seems to know what he needs in the moment, Arthur should definitely learn to listen to him more.

He finally reaches zero in his mental countdown, and sighs before standing from where he’d sat on a fallen log. He’d allowed the horses to wander a bit but they were trained to stay close by, so he has no problem gathering their reins again and leading them slowly down the path Merlin had followed.

All Druid camps were different. Some moved around constantly, some stayed fairly still. Some were huge, acres large with hundreds of people, others were small, only ten people or so. Some were occupied by mostly the sick and elderly, others were full of the young and adventurous, and others were family orientated.

And of course it was rare, according to Gaius, that someone would stay in the same camp their whole life. The Druids were a nomadic people, always shifting, drifting, wandering. Following a constantly tugging thread in their hearts, going where nature beckoned them.

According to Merlin, this specific camp was pretty small (around twenty adults) but it was also a fairly familial group, meaning lots of children. And if that didn’t make Arthur nervous (it definitely did) then nothing would.

Arthur didn’t have much experience with children, and definitely had no concept of how to act around them, especially Druid children.

After about a minute of walking, Arthur could hear loud laughter and quiet conversations floating through the trees. He slowed his pace; trying to appear unthreatening and friendly, or to delay the inevitable, he’s not quite sure.

He finally breaks through the treeline to see that... no one is even looking in his direction.

It was the middle of the day, so the camp was busy, people milling about everywhere, most of the tents open, various jobs getting done throughout the clearing.

But what immediately drew Arthur’s eye, was the source of the laughter.

The King looked across the clearing to see Merlin, in a whole new wardrobe, and a whole new light.

The man had changed from his simple travellers clothes (basically the clothes he’d worn as a manservant, just a bit newer and cleaner.) into a loose, white, lace up shirt (sleeves rolled up, which Arthur absolutely did NOT find himself staring at, thank you very much.) paired with slim black trousers.

But what was most striking, was the deep blue cloak billowing behind him, and the silver crown on his head. It was delicate, as if forged with vines and leaves and feathers, but it was oh so Merlin.

Arthur stayed at the edge of the clearing, glad that no one had noticed him; allowing him to stare in reverence at his best friend.

He was surrounded by young children, all laughing joyously as his eyes glowed golden and he waved his hands around. He needn’t mutter spells as he smiled widely, willing butterflies and bees to manifest in the air around him.

One of the younger children held his arms in the air and made grabbing motions with his hands. Merlin bent over and pulled him up into the air without a moment of hesitation, spinning him around on the spot (much to the kid’s enjoyment, who giggled outrageously), before settling him on his hip.

He used one hand to support the kid’s weight (when did Merlin get so strong??), and used the other to summon flowers around the feet of the rest of the children.

A fond smile spread across Arthur’s face as he saw them run around exuberantly, gathering the flowers in chubby hands to present to parents and siblings and friends.

Arthur laughed softly as he saw Merlin reply enthusiastically to something that the boy on his hip had said, and a second later, the child had a butterfly perched on the end of his nose. 

Arthur is broken from his concentration, jumping a foot in the air when a soft hand lands on his shoulder from behind.

He whips his head around, just about managing to stop himself from yelping and reaching for where his sword usually is at his hip.

He calms his breathing as his eyes find the friendly face of a Druid, an amused smile on his face. Arthur returns his smile, a tad shakily, suddenly feeling the nerves again, and nods his head respectfully.

The man keeps his hand on Arthur’s shoulder, but looks towards Merlin in the clearing, before softly saying:

“He’s quite something, your Emrys, isn’t he?”

Arthur gulps, also looking back at Merlin as he replies with a chuckle that was only slightly forced:

“He’s more yours than mine, especially like this, but yes, he is something special.”

The Druid laughs disbelievingly, and Arthur turns to look, a confused expression on his face as he listens to his reply:

“Definitely not. He’s always belonged to you more than he’s belonged to us-”

He stops laughing to look at Arthur, eyes sparkling with friendly mirth as he continues:

“-prophecy or no, he had a... well... a pre-carved place among the Druids, but he still chose to carve his own space by your side. I think that speaks volumes about where he truly belongs, or at least where he wants to belong, don’t you?”

Arthur doesn’t really have a response to that as he stares at the man with barely concealed bafflement, but luckily, before the silence stretches too long, the Druid gestures to the clearing:

“Come. Everyone is excited to meet you, though I warn you, the children in this camp can be rather energetic, as you’ve already seen.”

Arthur gulps and nods, following him into the centre of the camp.

Everyone’s attention is quickly caught by The King’s presence, and someone comes over to wordlessly take the horse’s reins from him.

The adults bow their heads slightly in respect, giving him soft smiles, and the children fidget on the spot, wide grins on their faces as they whisper conspiratorially to each other.

The boy in Merlin’s arms wiggles, and he gets put down. He rushes over to Arthur, grabbing his hand with a toothy grin and dragging him over to Merlin and the other children.

Merlin hides a laugh behind his hand as Arthur’s eyes widen, and his face goes pale. He thought this was going to be meetings and serious discussions and apologies, not playing with children!! What do children even like?! Swords?? Can he talk to them about swords??! Druids are pacifists right? So probably not??

He gets pulled down to crouch, and the children crowd him, all babbling at once, wildly showing him flowers and butterflies.

Merlin laughs at his bewildered fear for a few moments, before he crouches next to Arthur and holds his hands up, saying loudly:

“Alright, alright, you lot. Remember what I said?”

The children still, and a chorus of “Yes Lord Emrys” resounds from the group. With that, they stay silent, but still grin widely and bounce on the spot in excitement.

Arthur gives Merlin a stressed, but grateful smile, before looking back to the children. He takes a deep breath, before smiling at them, and saying:

“My name’s Arthur. Thank you for having me, I appreciate your hospitality.”

Merlin snorts at his overly formal tone, and has to stop himself laughing at the shock and fear on Arthur’s face when one of the younger ones loudly asks:

“What’s hosp-ee-tal-it-ee?”

Arthur furrows his brows, but luckily one of the teenagers steps in, quietly saying:

“It’s when someone comes into your home, and you’re nice to them.”

Arthur smiles and nods, and Merlin chuckles in amusement.

Thankfully (for Arthur) Merlin then stands and announces to the children that it’s lunch time, and to get washed up. They all rush off, and Arthur lets out a breath as he stands.

Merlin holds in yet another laugh, but tilts his head in confusion as Arthur’s gaze is once again drawn to the crown that rests on Merlin’s unruly hair.

Merlin flushes slightly when he realises what Arthur is looking at, looking to the floor and mumbling:

“You have no idea how long I’ve been trying to get them to just call me Merlin, but then they presented me with this a few months ago and I could hardly say no, could I?”

Arthur nods as Merlin looks up again, meeting his gaze. There’s a soft smile on his face, one that Merlin isn’t quite sure what to make of as he quietly replies:

“Hmm. Looks good on you.”

Merlin makes a surprised noise and his eyes go wide, the flush on his cheeks deepening as Arthur laughs gently at him.

Arthur puts his hand on Merlin’s shoulder, his thumb brushing against the skin of his neck in a way that was slightly more than friendly, but Merlin doesn’t pull away, so Arthur leaves his hand there as he looks around the bustling camp.

His smile falls into something more sad, and Merlin frowns at him curiously:

“Arthur? What is it?”

Arthur shakes his head slightly, not looking back at Merlin as he replies, almost whispering:

“Nothing. It’s just, last time I was this far into a Druid camp... I did terrible things. Look at this place, how could I ever have believed that magic was evil? It’s beautiful here.”

Merlin’s frown deepens, but before he can reply, a small hand tugs at Arthur’s sleeve, and the two of them look down suddenly to see one of the boys from before. He wore a confused expression, and whispered, as if he knew this was meant to be a secret conversation:

“What terrible things did you do, Mr King Sir?”

Merlin takes in a quiet gasp and widens his eyes, but before he can tell him off or lie, Arthur squeezes his shoulder, and crouches down in front of the child.

Arthur gives the boy a smile, and takes his hands, quietly saying:

“Well. When I was young, I was taught some things that are wrong, I didn’t question them, and because of that I did some really bad things. I thought I was being a good person, but actually I was being a bad person because I didn’t do my own research, and I didn’t know any better. But then I started learning how to be better, and now I do everything in my power to be an actual good person.-”

Arthur looks up at Merlin with a small smile on his face, before looking back down to the boy, who is hanging on to his every word:

“-Your Emrys is helping me with that. You see, he’s the best person I’ve ever met, and he’s helping me be more like him.”

Arthur resists the urge to look back at Merlin as he feels a firm, but shaky hand on his back, and instead looks at the child as he thinks over Arthur’s words. His face breaks into a grin, and Arthur returns the smile as the boy says:

“He’s the best isn’t he? I wanna be like him when I grow up!”

Arthur ruffles his hair, and replies quietly:

“Yeah kid, me too.”

The boy gives him a toothy grin, before running off once again, and Arthur lets out yet another breath he had been holding before standing up.

Merlin’s hand remains on his shoulder, and Arthur regrets meeting his gaze the moment he turns his head. But he also can’t rip his eyes away from the teary expression of awe and bewildered happiness on his face.

Merlin lets out a gentle laugh at Arthur’s apprehensive face before shaking his head, and looking back at him once again, this time amusement on his face:

“The best person you’ve ever met, huh?”

Arthur rolls his eyes and blushes deeply, pushing Merlin’s hand off his shoulder as he mumbles a flustered:

“Shut up, Merlin. I could hardly tell him the truth, could I?”

Merlin hums thoughtfully and replies with laughter in his voice:

“Hmm. That makes more sense, of course.”

Without waiting for Arthur’s reply, he grabs the King’s wrist and drags him towards a large tent in the corner of the clearing. Inside were two tables, one large, and one smaller and lower, both surrounded by benches.

Merlin directed them to bowls in the corner so they could wash their hands, before they sit at the larger of the two tables. Everyone over the ages of about fourteen joins them, the younger ones going to the smaller table.

Food appears, covering the surface, summoned from the cooking pots outside and the various food stores around the camp. Arthur tries to keep the wonderment off his face, but knows he failed miserably when he hears Merlin chuckle beside him. He punches Merlin’s leg under the table playfully, but that only makes him laugh harder.

He quietens when the man sat opposite Arthur stands:

“Today we have two honoured guests, our Lord Emrys, and the Once and Future King Arthur. We share our home, our food, and our welcome, for as long as they wish to stay. We raise our goblets to you, My Lords.”

At that, he raises his cup in the air, everyone else in the tent following him. Merlin smiles and nods at him, raising his own cup, and Arthur nervously copies his movements, comforted by Merlin’s reassuring hand on his knee.

With that, the Druid sits down, and conversation breaks out around the tent as everyone begins to eat.

Merlin handles most of the discussions, talking to everyone as if they were life long friends. Arthur is grateful for that, he answers any questions sent his way, asking a few polite ones in return, but Druid culture is so different to life in the city and Arthur doesn’t really know what he should be talking about.

Thankfully, the meal passes quickly, and after another announcement from the man Arthur now presumed was the leader here, the crowd dispersed, everything being cleared away with magic.

Not every Druid practiced sorcery, but they were clearly in a magic-heavy camp; Arthur could see it plain as day, everywhere he looked.

Merlin once again took Arthur’s wrist, leading him out into the sun. Usually, Arthur hated being led places, especially by the hand, but he found he didn’t quite mind it today. Whether it was because they were in Merlin’s domain, and Merlin was King here, or because of how nervous he was, or because of some other reason entirely, Arthur wasn’t sure, and frankly, he didn’t want to think too deeply about it.

This time, Merlin led them to another, smaller tent.

It had several comfortable looking chairs around a smallish circular table, which was covered in scrolls and parchments and old-looking books.

A few seconds later, they were joined by the Druid leader; he smiled softly at them and gestured for them to sit at the table. Merlin and Arthur sat next to each other, and the Druid kindly pretended not to notice them shuffling the chairs closer together.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur, Arthur having lost his nerves fairly early in the conversation. Maybe that had something to do with the fact that official meetings were his specialty, or maybe it was because Merlin’s hand once again found his knee, but stayed there this time. Who knows.

The Druid had introduced himself, and once more welcomed Arthur to the camp, before launching into explanations of the prophecies and destinies, and everyone’s roles in them.

Merlin knew most if it, and looked especially proud of himself when the Druid described in wonder how Merlin had changed the very fates of the Lady Morgana, Sir Mordred, and Arthur himself.

Arthur was definitely taken aback at that. Whilst Merlin had prattled on, making no sense, about his and Arthur’s destinies, he had never mentioned anyone else, and Arthur becomes increasingly glad he came here to sort it all out.

There were some bits that not even Merlin knew though. He wasn’t aware that the other knights, Guinevere, and Gaius featured in a few of the newer prophecies, and the Druid had an amused smile on his face when he admitted that he’d thought Merlin would have figured that out.

Arthur did laugh at him at that, and Merlin flushed before telling him:

“Shut up, or I’ll tell the others you said I was the best person you’ve ever met, and they’ll never let you live it down.”

Arthur narrows his eyes, and the Druid continues look at them in amusement as they bicker.

The meeting comes to an end just before dark, and Arthur thanks the Druid profusely, for welcoming him, and taking the time to go through everything thoroughly.

Another meal is had in the large tent, but when they leave this time, the clearing has been completely emptied. A large bonfire roars in the middle, and logs surround it, providing seating for everyone.

The evening is full of stories and music and magic, and Arthur once again finds himself wondering just how he thought any of this could be evil.

Even Merlin stands to lead a song. He moves around the clearing with yet another child sat sat on his hip, giggling as Merlin spins her around.

Arthur is surprised to learn that Merlin has a good voice, and stares in wonderment as he leads the melody as if it was what he was born to do. The rest of the Druids clap along, joining in loudly and harmonising and playing instruments in time with the tune.

When the song comes to a close, the crowd burst into cheers as Merlin looks back to Arthur, breathing deeply and cheeks flushed. The Warlock smiles widely as he settles the child back in her mother’s lap before walking back over to his seat, next to Arthur.

Arthur returns his wide grin with a soft smile of his own, and as the music continues around them, Merlin tilts his face in happy confusion:

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Arthur just shakes his head slightly, smiling slightly wider as he responds without missing a beat:

“You’re beautiful like this. And you have an exceptional voice.”

Merlin flushes in surprise and looks to his lap, quietly muttering:

“I wouldn’t know about that...”

Arthur doesn’t look away, huffing out a laugh before replying:

“I mean it, Merlin. You just look... happy. Like you belong here.-”

He does look away here, staring into the fire with a thoughtful, but slightly mournful look on his face as Merlin peers up at him, curious. Arthur continues, even quieter, before Merlin can question him:

“-You know, I wouldn’t be angry if you wanted to stay. Here, I mean. I know magic is legal in Camelot now, but you belong somewhere like this. I would never begrudge you a home like this Merlin.”

Merlin laughs quietly, and takes Arthur’s hand, holding it in his lap like it’s something precious (it is, at least it is to Merlin). Arthur looks back at him in surprise, but doesn’t pull away as Merlin replies, still smiling:

“Home isn’t a place, Arthur, and the Druids know that better than anyone. Home is... home is wherever the people you love are. You are my people, Arthur, you and the knights and Gwen and Morgana and Gaius. My home is wherever you are. No matter my magic or title or destiny; my home will always be where you are.”

Arthur doesn’t let the tears in his eyes fall, but he does squeeze Merlin’s hand, giving him a tender smile that's returned without hesitation.

With the exchanging of smiles that any onlooker would describe as loving, the conversation comes to an easy close, and they spend the rest of the evening hand in hand, smiling fondly at the antics around them.

It’s late when the festivities come to an end, and Arthur and Merlin are exhausted, struggling to hold back yawns as they’re shown to a tent that had been set up for them.

Their bags had been removed from the horses and left in there, and the floor was covered in various blankets and pillows. There was a small trunk, for them to store anything they wished to unpack, and a few candles were lit, filling the room with a soft golden light and pleasant smells.

Merlin charms the tent to be soundproof so they don’t have to worry about noise (he may be openly able to use magic, but the idiot was still rather clumsy, and prone to accidental bangs and crashes), before removing his crown carefully. His cloak and boots follow shortly, and they all go neatly into the trunk, before he starts organising a spot to sleep.

After a few minutes, he realises that Arthur hasn’t moved from his space by the entrance, and Merlin turns around to look at him questioningly. Arthur’s eyebrows are furrowed, and he looks deep in thought as he stares at the floor, fiddling with the hem of his tunic.

Merlin walks over, concerned, and takes one of Arthur’s hands into his own. Arthur looks up at him suddenly, broken free of his thoughts, and Merlin raises an eyebrow at him as he strokes his thumb across The King’s knuckles:

“What’s wrong, Arthur?”

Arthur looks into Merlin’s eyes searchingly, but seems to find what he’s looking for after only a moment, and smiles. Merlin tilts his head to prompt him, and Arthur takes his other hand, before softly speaking:

“You know, I used to find the idea of falling in love frightening.-”

Merlin takes in a subtle deep breath, but Arthur doesn’t notice as he shakes his head, huffing out a gentle laugh before continuing, looking somewhere over Merlin’s shoulder:

“-The possibility that someone could have that much control over me; that I would willingly give another person dominion over my heart, my soul, my... everything, was terrifying to me. But I find I’m not scared anymore.-”

He looks back at Merlin’s shocked face. Arthur looks an odd mix of disbelieving, and happy beyond words as he continues, confident that what he’s saying is right, for the first time in a long time:

“-Because it’s you, Merlin. It’s always been you. And how could I possibly find falling in love with you anything other than beautiful?”

Merlin gulps, seemingly searching Arthur’s face for any hint of a lie. When he finds nothing but sincerity, he launches himself forward, almost knocking Arthur to the floor.

He wraps his arms around the blonde’s shoulders tightly, burying a hand in his hair, and his face in the crook of his neck. Arthur huffs out a laugh as he wraps his arms around Merlin’s waist, running a soft hand up and down his back.

At Merlin’s muttered:

“I love you, Arthur, more than anything is this world. My magic, my everything, belongs to you.”

Arthur pulls back, smiling. He leans forward pressing his forehead against Merlin’s, and cups his cheek softly with his hand. They stare into the blue of each other’s eyes for a moment, not in any hurry to move the moment along, Arthur running his thumb over Merlin’s cheekbone, and Merlin carding his fingers through Arthur’s hair.

Arthur takes a deep breath, before whispering, so quietly it’s a miracle Merlin hears him:

“Can I kiss you?”

Merlin nods infinitesimally, and the two of them lean forward, meeting in the middle in a soft kiss that could only be described as tender, and full of love.

If the stars shine brighter, and the wind blows warmer, and the animals of the dark seem happier that night... well... it was spring... surely no one would notice (Arthur definitely noticed, but he sure as shit wasn’t going to point it out, in case Merlin stopped).

~

THE END!!

This is the first one I’ve written in aaaaages that didn’t involve a dizzy/exhausted/sick Merlin so... yay me?

I just really wanted to write something fluffy, where there were no high stakes. No huge battles, or angsty confessions or anything like that, just a soft love story.

I genuinely got no clue what I’ll write next. I do have a few drafts and ideas floating around, but let me know if you’re after anything specific, I live to please :)

Like always, you wanna write this up properly with paragraphs and fleshed out stuff, go for it, credit and tag me :)

[catzula]

Omg I’ve read some of ur fics and ur SUCH AN AMAZING WRITER! Can I pls request a Bakugou x fem!reader where he comes home angry and when u try to comfort him he just says something that hurts u. End it with fluff plzz THANK YOU

Genre: angst with a good ending

Warnings: language, bakugou being somewhat a shitty boyfriend, the reader is very forgetful if you haven’t noticed and it's me since I can’t remember anyone’s birthday or any important date to save my life

Synopsis: it’s Bakugou’s birthday, so why isn’t he still home?

•

So, maybe you weren’t good at remembering birthdays.

And it was true you forgot your boyfriends’ birthday once- it took a long time for you to get him to talk to you again. As if he wasn't grumpy enough already.

And even though he insisted he hated birthday parties and celebrations, you knew how much he liked to see his friends coming together to celebrate.

Well, you always thought he liked it when you were there, too.

Or maybe not.

Remembering the last time, how much he scolded and silent treated you, you wanted to make up for forgetting his birthday, and your anniversary and- yeah, you did forget quite a lot, you wanted to make up for it all.

Since you usually celebrated his birthday not precisely on his birthday but always the day after, you thought it was actually going to be a surprise for him this time. You had also planned a party for the next day to celebrate with his friends, but you wanted to celebrate this one with him and only him.

You gave it your everything to celebrate his birthday in the best way possible, you knew he didn’t like going out to eat, so you decided to make it in your apartment.

You baked a cake, cookies, and those gluten-free shit that he liked, a meal you never thought you would be able to handle, roses and candles… and it was evident how much time and thought you gave to it, making you smile proudly at yourself.

So as you waited for him to come back from work- you took the day off to get everything ready, you were all jittery with excitement.

What would his reaction be? That was all you could think of as you waited for the familiar sound of key jingles.

And waited.

And… waited.

You had been leaving texts and calls to his phone almost every hour, but you knew he never was the type to check his texts anyway, he probably would be home before he even saw your texts.

The night felt longer and longer as you looked at the clock, moving.

A familiar lump was forming in your throat, a feeling of stinging in your eyes making you furious with how easily you felt down. He was probably just… late because of work.

At least 5 hours late, though.

You tried to swallow the lump in your throat that was hurting at this point, to look up so the make-up that you spent hours on wouldn’t smudge, to plaster a smile on your face so that you could smile brightly when he entered the room.

It was his birthday, after all, and you wanted to make him happy.

You bit your quivering lip as you finally stood up, taking the untouched food from the table that was now ice-cold, and even though it looked mouth-watering, you didn’t feel like taking a bite.

It just… it just hurt to see the food you spent so much time on, the one you tried a few times beforehand so it would be perfect go to waste, without him even getting to taste it.

It would have been bearable if you just knew he would come really late, or that he wouldn’t come at all, but the feeling of suspense, to jump in your place and get ready to surprise him whenever you heard footsteps, that was the most tiring of it all.

You didn’t lose your composure, though. Not until you had decided to blow out your favorite 'special ocasion' candles so that they wouldn't go to waste.

No, you didn't let yourself cry until you had noticed they had melted, the now frozen wax puddling beneath the candle holders and staining the table.

You sniffed, trying to hold back the tears that stung your eyes.

You weren't crying at the candles, of course, but more at the fact that you had been waiting for him for that long, but Bakugou still wasn't home.

Your boyfriend wasn’t home on his birthday.

You bit your lip, trying to turn a deaf ear to your dark thoughts that kept repeating you the same thing, that Bakuogou wasn't here, was it because he didn't love you anymore? Because he was bored of you, that he hated you and that-

As you furiously wiped the tears that felt like they were burning your skin, angry at yourself for pitying yourself like this, new ones filled their place instead, and it soon was near impossible to stop crying.

He wasn’t home as you were crying either, though.

He came home long, long after that, after you had finally stopped crying, the sobs that were shaking you now just soft sniffs and sighs.

You heard the keys jiggling for a minute, unable to open the door on the first try, he opened the door a bit too roughly.

He probably wasn't drunk, Bakugou was never the type to like losing himself, his control, and his logic, but it was evident he wasn't exactly sober, either.

You didn’t have it in you to jump from your seat as you did a million more times that day, neither did you have the energy to go running into his arms, drown him in kisses-

You just lay there on the couch, your make up smudged as you stared at the ceiling, probably causing you to look like the dead corpse bride.

“At least come greet me, will ya?” He mumbled, the words causing your blood to boil in your veins. You didn’t answer back.

“Oi, Y/N!” You heard him call out, his eyes roaming around the room, trying to understand why there were so many roses and balloons around the shitty room until his gaze found you.

You who laid on the couch, looking at the ceiling, your mascara, and eyeliner or whatever the fuck it was called running down your face in tear stains. But it was the look on your eyes that caused a lump to form in his stomach.

Blank.

“What are you-”

“H-hey, Katsu.” You said weakly, almost a whisper. You bit your lip, trying to gather the courage to say the words to him. “Happy birthday.”

Your voice cracked with emotions, Bakugou felt a wave of goosebumps tingling on his skin, well aware something was very wrong.

It took him a while to understand what was going on, and his only reaction was, “Well, shit.”

You stood quiet.

“We were out with shitty hair and- I didn’t notice it was this late.” He told you as he checked the hour on his phone, noticing the missed calls and texts, grimacing internally.

You were still quiet, though.

“I didn’t think you were gonna do something for me, damn it!” He snapped, expecting a reaction, any reaction, but he got none. You just stared at him, and it felt him feel so guilty.

“H-how could I have known? I thought you had forgot!” He continued, and that got a reaction from you, a grimace that looked like he just slapped you, and a single tear trickling down your cheek. He noticed your widening eyes, realizing how the words came out, trying to correct himself as he walked towards you.

“I’m not blaming you, for fucks sake, I’m just saying that- that you aren’t very good with dates and you usually forget these shitty things.” Now that he tried to explain it, it sounded even worse, so he decided to shut up, instead.

A few minutes of silence passed, your eyes never once meeting his crimson ones, and he noticed you rising to your legs. “I hope you had fun.” You shrugged with a faint smile. The way your lips trembled despite the smile just made him want to pull you in a hug, apologize until he couldn’t even talk.

But he didn’t, of course.

He watched you walk into the bedroom, not missing how you secretly tried to wipe your tears away.

Bakugou stood up, going to the kitchen to drink some water to get rid of this ridiculous lump in his throat and this tightness in his chest, his eyes falling on the two plates that stood on the counter, the untouched food that stood in them, apparent that there was too much time that was spent on it.

You hadn’t touched your food, either, he noticed. You had to be hungry. Bakugou bit his lip that started to quiver for some stupid reason, took the metal fork that felt cold between his fingers, taking a bite out of the food that would have been the best thing he ate if it was warm. Only if he had come sooner, maybe he could’ve enjoyed it with you, laughing at some stupid shit you said.

He thought you forgot.

Bakugou was afraid you were thinking that he was punishing you for the last time. He was so afraid you would think that since it was exactly the type of thing that he would do.

Not to you, though.

Never to you.

He thought you forgot.

He thought you… forgot.

“Y/N?”Bakugou muttered when he went back to the bedroom, noticing your figure that stilled instantly in the bad in a pitiful attempt of acting asleep.

“I know you’re awake, dumbass.” He mumbled, sitting on the bed, his hand reaching to your face and pushing back the hair that was touching your frame. Your face was wet with tears, skin warm with emotions.

“I’m sorry.” He finally whispered, aware of how you flinched at his words, under his touch.

“I’m really sorry.” He repeated, voice hoarse and sincere, that it caused you to open your eyes and look at him for the first time that night.

Did he have to look that handsome as he broke your heart?

“Katsuki?” You whispered, his thumb caressing your cheek with a softness he only showed to you. “Did you rather be with them than me?” You finally asked, the question that was eating you alive the moment you noticed that he wasn't coming home.

“No.” He answered plainly, but that was all you needed to have a soft smile settle on your lips. 

It took you a while to break your silence. “I didn’t burn the kitchen today.” You told him nonchalantly, as if nothing had happened, but Bakugou knew you too well, aware of how hurt you still were, and how you were trying to avoid it instead of confronting.

“I noticed.” He answered with a slight tilt of his lips.

“Are you hungry? I think there are some cookies in the counter-” 

“Y/N," He stopped you. "I’m sorry.” Bakugou repeated, his words causing your eyes to water. He settled down next to you as you tried to hide the tears sliding down your cheek, pulling your face to his chest so you could hide your face from him. His arms wrapped around you, he settled his chin on top of your head, cooing soft words at you.

You were content with his caramel scented hands caressing your hair, and you face as if trying to etch it into his brain, with the soft gaze in those crimson eyes that looked at you with love and guilt, but it was oddly relieving to have him apologize.

“I’m sorry, love. I’m so sorry.” He whispered, and you sobbed and sobbed.

It was odd that whatever happened, it was always between his arms you found peace, felt safe.

“I love you.” He whispered into your hair after a while, after you had stopped crying, on the verge of sleep. “The food was good.” He smiled, his voice being the last thing you heard before you fell asleep, and he finally felt the tightness in his chest dissolve when he saw the shadows of your sadness on your face disappear, causing him to pull you even more towards him.

Whatever happened, even when you broke each other's hearts, having you between his arms was all you needed to mend a broken heart.

[etherealluminescence]

Brothers + the now dateables with an MC who just can’t remember names that are like three syllables or more so they just refer to everyone by their nicknames. The mc is still new and does it and when someone says anything they’re just like “it’s your fault for having a long ass name”

I finally return to writing headcanons wow that only took me a year am I right? Ahahaha I had nearly 200 followers and I’m laughing cause I’m slowly watching them leave me. 😎😭

Jokes aside I’m doing MUCH better after resting for a long time. Mentally and physically! So here you go.

Warning LONG aha aha 🥺😭 I feel like this is shorter than my usual ones. I got to get the hang of it again.

Brothers + Dateables with a GN!MC who can’t remember long names HC

Lucifer

When you were summoned to the devildom, you were pretty confused and filled with a lot of questions. Naturally, you’d refer to the people you were calling out to by name, but for some reason you just couldn’t remember them.

You finally found Lucifer, Diavolo, and Barbatos in the hallways, and approached them to ask a question. You forgot their whole names, but figured since you’ve got the first parts of each, that was good enough.

“Ah Luci, about the tasks for this week, what exactly does this part mean? And Dia, when do you want my report?” You asked them.

Lucifer was pretty mortified. He was also pissed. Did you just call him Luci? And more importantly, did you just cal THE lord Diavolo some kind of stupid nickname?

Diavolo on the other hand was laughing at the nickname you gave Lucifer. You were being scolded by Lucifer, and Diavolo was about to pipe in before you said, “It’s not my fault you have a long ass name, like damn, I could write the entire report by the time I finish saying your name.”

Lucifer is really angry at your behaviour at first but since Diavolo is fine with it... and then he soon realizes you literally can’t remember any of his brothers names with more than three syllables too.

He’ll probably try to give you food or drinks that help with your memory, and eventually finds you calling him Luci cute. Will immediately get angry if anyone else tries to call him that.

Mammon

Mammon was one of the first people you met, and one of the brother’s whose full name you can actually remember. He takes great pride in that!

His name was the first his human remembered and knows by heart! Of course! He is The Great Mammon.

Also kind of sad he doesn’t get a cute nickname! Please give him a cute nickname, he wants to feel special too, or very close to you, he craves contact and affection.

The first time he heard you refer to Lucifer as “Luci” he almost lost it. Thought you were going to die and tried to pick you up and run. So surprised when Lucifer only sighed, and responded to your question.

You had to explain to him you can’t remember names that are long, and his is one of the only so far you can remember. When you refer to Diavolo as “Dia” he just genuinely wonders how you do it, like aren’t you scared?

Well it’s not like it matters! You have The Great Mammon to protect ya’ AND you remember his name, it’s a win for him!

Leviathan

Originally Levi thought nothing of it when you referred to him as Levi, as that’s just what everyone else did. But then he started to notice you’d even refer to anime characters or idols as shortened nicknames.

You could pronounce Ruri easily, so he didn’t notice at first since Ruri was all he talked about, but when he said “Azuki” you kept calling her “Azu” or “Zuki”. He wondered why that was an asked.

You explain to him you just can’t remember “long ass fucking names” and anything with three or more syllables was a chore to remember, so there’s no way you were going to remember Azu’s name.

Finds it kind of sad for you, and difficult to understand what character you’re talking about. One time you kept saying a character from “that one show” and kept pouting while Levi’s head was grinding 3000 gears cause there’s at LEAST 5 characters that start with “Saku” like are you saying Sakura? Which!?

Scared for your life when you refer to Lucifer or Diavolo by their shortened names. Surprised to find out you’re completely safe. Soon comes to a realization you’ll just never be able to remember almost anyone’s name, no matter how hard he tries.

He drills it into your head about a certain character will a three syllable name but after the six hours of listening you just... forgot. Like literally the show’s name has the character’s name in it and you just forgot. Cue Levi sighing and calling you a normie.

Satan

One of the lucky three people spared from you forgetting his name. He didn’t realize it at first since Mammon, Levi, and Beel were all their names or family nicknames.

And then it clicks when you called Lucifer by “Luci”, in front of everyone, at dinner. You just said “Luci please hand me the salt” and Satan stared at you wide eyed.

Were you taunting Lucifer, or did you just have a death wish? Wait neither? You mean THE prideful lucifer just handed you the salt without a retort, or question why you called him that?

Questions you later afterwards about what was up about it, and when you tell him you don’t remember “long ass fucking names” it sort of clicks. Still sort of surprised that Lucifer isn’t pissed at you.

Will research human memory because he doesn’t think it’s normal. Like you can remember words with more than three syllables, but why not names?

Will DEFINITELY make fun of Lucifer for it. “Oh, how was your day, Luci?” And will also flaunt about how you remember his name but not Lucifer’s.

Also, like Levi, kind of sad you don’t remember the name of his book characters and just call them by their physical traits because at that point he doesn’t even know who you could refer to by his thousands of book.

Asmodeus

Asmo finds the nicknames extremely adorable!! Probably makes it a trend on social media to start calling everyone you know cute nicknames.

He didn’t think much when you called him Asmo, but hearing you call Lucifer as Luci, Diavolo as Dia, and Barbatos as Barb or baby just had him smitten.

Definitely wants to use cute nicknames too, but Lucifer is threatening him. After finding out that you physically cannot remember names with three or more syllables, including Asmo’s full name, he feels kind of bad for you.

It must suck not to know the whole name of the world’s most beautiful man! And why he starts hearing you call Simeon “Simmie” or Solomon as “Solly” he definitely steals it and copies you.

Diavolo is happy too to have someone else call him by a casual nickname, and hopes it catches on, much to Lucifer’s dismay.

Will probably want you to call him something even cuter instead of Asmo, as your own special privilege, like “Azzy”. He gets to give you a cute nickname too, though.

Beelzebub

Beel didn’t really notice at first, until Asmo and Satan pointed it out. He asked you if you remembered his name, and you just gave him a blank look and said “Beel, I love you, but you have a long ass name, and that’s not my fault.”

He doesn’t really care though, since you still know his nickname! But he is kind of worried for your memory. Are you okay, can you still remember other words? Do you remember the names of his food orders?

Has introduced you to his gym friends but you for the life of you, cannot remember any of their names. Finds it sort of funny how you just remember them as “leg guy” or “treadmill user”.

If anyone gets mad at you for shortening their name he will stand up for you! Baby understands that you just have trouble with remembering, and will defend you.

Belphegor

Finds this shit fucking hilarious. He’s often called Belphie, which you remember, so it’s not like it applies to him that much.

Kinda pissy how you can remember Mammon’s full name and not his, but there are benefits. He starts calling Lucifer “Luci” from now on and taunts him for being weak to a human.

Finds it funny, too, how you just tell people “your name is too fucking long” and call them by their first syllable or something similar.

He’s not really concerned about why you can’t remember names, okay maybe at first, did he kill you too hard? No? Okay.

He probably thinks you’re like him, can’t be assed to remember people’s shit names at times and remembers them based off looks.

Sleepy baby just wants to nap with you, names aren’t important.

Diavolo

The prince of devildom is extremely powerful, frightening, and no one would dare look down on him. He’s always used to people being formal with him, or trying to get on his good side.

However, one day, this small weak little human came into his realm and didn’t even care to remember his name. It entertained him a whole lot to say the least.

Diavolo doesn’t have a lot of people who’d be casual with him, so hearing you call him “Dia” for the first time made him really happy! He would love to hear you say it more often, and to be super casual around him.

When Lucifer or Barbatos tried to correct you and tell you to use his whole name, you only responded with, “No one has time to say his whole ass fucking name. I’m just gonna call him Dia.”

He’s amused, it’s so daring and bold of you to say that to some of the most powerful demons. Of course, if they continue to pester you about it he would step in and tell them that’s it’s fine and he likes it.

Diavolo also finds it super funny how you can’t remember anyone’s names and just shortens them. He might start calling Lucifer “Luci” too!

Other demons probably look at you like you’re crazy, for addressing their demon lord that way.

Barbatos

Barbatos is pretty stoic, but whenever you call him “baby” you can see a faint blush on his face. He isn’t used to nicknames or affection, so when you give it to him, he’s unsure how to react a bit.

He already knew you couldn’t remember names, and would be fine with you calling him “Barb”, which you did in public. But when it was just you and him, or when you were with the others you’d call him “baby”.

“You have a long ass name so I’ll just call you baby. You’re cute like one. Not to mention, it sounds like Barbie which sounds like Barba- what was your name?”

He is pretty fine with it, except when you call Lord Diavolo just as “Dia”. It’d be fine in private or with the others, but did you really have to yell out “Dia” in front of a bunch of lesser demons?

Overall, he just doesn’t mind. Will probably give you a list or notebook of everyone’s names, and physical traits. In case you forgot who was who based off names again.

Solomon

Ah yes another exchange student! Hope he can get close to you. Okay, maybe calling him “Sol”, “Solo”, and “Solly” is a bit too close for someone you just met right?

When you explain how you just physically cannot remember names he kind of laughs at you and then realizes you’re serious. He knows some people have trouble remembering names, but wow, this was sort of unique. You can remember his first two syllables, why not just one more?

He gets used to it fairly quickly, though. Prefers if you call him “Solo” over the other nicknames, but finds it sort of cute when you call him “Solly” or “Sol”.

He will definitely use a nickname with you and call it a human thing, to try and make everyone else jealous.

The man with at least 5 60+ pact marks, the man who is an amazingly powerful sorcerer, the man who is labeled Devildom 2021’s “sketchiest” individual, is called “Solly”.

When he asked the reason to why you suggested Solly you just responded with “Reminds me of Sully from monsters inc”.

Simeon

Simeon is a really nice person so he first figures you’re just being really nice and want to give everyone nicknames! And then he soon realizes you literally just cannot remember names.

He finds it sad how you can’t remember the name of his characters, or how you’ll never actually remember his full name, but really finds it cute how you’ve given him a nickname!

You call him “Sim” or “Simmie” and he’s soft for it. Will probably give you a nickname like “my sheep” or “my lamb”. He’s silently hoping Luke too, will call him Simmie. He gives off the energy of a grandparent.

He will try his best to help you remember names, but he won’t try to force you to remember! If you can’t remember, you can’t. That’s completely fine. Don’t stress yourself about it.

Luke

He has a one syllable name, so he doesn’t experience this personally. But hearing you call Simeon “Simmie” or Solomon “Sol” makes him feel a little left out and confused.

Why do you call everyone by a nickname? He wants one too! He overhears you though one night. You were explaining to some demon whose name had like five syllables that you just can’t remember long names.

Oh! He’s suddenly really happy again. It means you know his name, and won’t forget it! Also feels sort of bad for Simeon and Solomon, since you’ll never remember their names.

Will be happy if you call him “Lukie” before realizing it makes him sound like a child.

[greenninjagal-blog]

The Rumor Mill Game (pt4)

I swear I didn’t forget about this au. This chapter is just....long.

Welcome back to this mess of an au :) If you need a refresher, you can find Part Three [here!] Or if you’re new check out the first part [here!]

Summary: Logan is...dealing with the fallout of him and his coworker, Remus, having created a rumor about them being married and now apparently having a kid except not because Logan screamed at the top of his lungs that Virgil wasn’t his kid. His boss has a different definition for what “dealing” actually means. 

Words: 8292 (Holy shit remember when this au was 2k words)

Read on Ao3 || My General Writing Masterlist

When Logan had seen his boss after he made Virgil cry, he hadn’t expected it to end up like this.

Granted when he hadn’t exactly been expecting anything. He hadn’t been looking ahead, hadn’t been making plans, hadn’t been thinking at all. Which was most likely how he ended up outside the bar in the first place. 

Logan could, of course, count the number of times he had been drunk on one hand. College had been a time for experimenting, and of course for his twenty-first birthday his friends at the time had been insistent that he needed to imbibe an unholy amount of alcohol in one night. They had turned it into an experiment, where Logan documented exactly what he was feeling after each drink and he still had the notes in his desk at home, despite the fact that his handwriting had become illegible after the fifth drink and someone had spilled an orange soda based tonic on the third page. The notes themselves were worthless, but they served as a memoir to people who he no longer associated with and a younger version of himself who had still been learning.

And Logan did have a soft spot for that imbecile: Twenty-one-year-old Logan Ackroyd who still believed in the goodness of people and who wanted to change the world and who could fall in lov--

Logan pitied him-- that kid he used to be-- which he was certain that his younger self would be indignant about. Logan always did hate when people pitied him. Those emotions had rarely ever been genuine, rarely ever been helpful, rarely been productive. What was he to do about people feeling bad for him? About others being disappointed? About others making assumptions about him and how he felt?

He didn’t need pity, and he didn’t want it. Not when he got rejected to his first three colleges, not when flunked that English class and had to pay to retake it the next year, not when he had bought that ring and gotten down on one knee and made a whole carefully edited speech and--

And he’s not nearly drunk enough to deal with these types of thoughts. Or any thoughts for that matter. Wouldn’t it just be great to stop thinking? 

Then he wouldn’t have to remember the looks on his coworkers faces when he storming into the office less than fifteen minutes after initially leaving for lunch and demanded that Beatrice turn in her overdue spreadsheets in twenty minutes or he’d have her fired before slamming his office door hard enough to crack that frosted glass, or the look on Remus- fucking- Prince’s face when he tried to act like everything that had happened was not his fault and that Logan had taken the game to far by himself without any sort of prompting from Remus, or the look on Virgil’s face when Logan lost his self control.

Like an idiot. Like an asshole. Like someone who doesn’t think before he acts.

Like someone who should be alone for the rest of his life, because he can’t seem to get a hold of those useless emotions of his. 

And Logan wanted so very badly to blame Remus Prince for this whole endeavor, the whole production, the whole catastrophe. He wanted to say that without Remus he never would have gotten that angry, wouldn’t have had that conversation, wouldn’t have even gotten Thai today. 

Logan wanted to say that, but really it's his own fault. If he had just dismissed Remus’s rumor in the beginning, if he had just told Jen and Quin that his personal business was his own, if he had just ignored the urge to get coffee and finished the spreadsheets without getting up that last night.

His fourth finger itched around the base, the area where that little silver ring had been sitting for less than a day. It was ridiculous, utterly ridiculous, because Logan had never worn a ring before and now suddenly the absence of it caused his skin to crawl in a most unpleasant, unproductive way. 

Distantly Logan realized that by gifting Remus such a wonderful present, he had also thrown away four hundred dollars. And perhaps ironically Logan noted that he feels annoyed about it-- four hundred dollars had been sitting in a pocket of a dress jacket in the corner of his office for over nine months and he had tossed it aside in a fit of impulsive anger.

Logan had not been hurting for money recently, with how decently he was paid, and the amount of overtime he worked, and how little time he had taken off since that disastrous night.

But perhaps he might have been able to return it to the jewelers and weathered the terrible, awful pitying looks they would give him when he requested about their refund policy or a location where he might be able to sell it himself. It was a ring that was worth four hundred dollars and he had given it to Remus, and isn’t it funny that that’s farther than he got with the one for whom the ring had been originally intended?

And as Logan downed his next rum and coke of the night, he hoped that Remus found a better use for it. Newton knows it hadn't done any good for Logan. 

(Its stupid, Logan knew, to blame a ring for the way that he had screeched “He’s not and never will be our son!” Its stupid, Logan knew, to blame a ring for the way that Remus had hummed mischievously “I think I enjoy being fake-married to you, Logan." Its stupid, Logan knew, to blame a ring for the the way his last partner had said “We should see other people”. Its stupid, stupid, stupid--)

“Hmmm,” A voice behind him said, “I thought I would find you here!”

Logan didn’t realize he had closed his eyes until he heard the voice and felt every atom in his body figuratively threaten to combust. He wasn’t drunk enough to be thinking about him, and he most certainly wasn’t drunk enough to turn and look at the incessantly, perky man that had decided to sit down next to him.

Logan waved at the bartender and ordered another rum and coke and watched his freshly emptied glass disappear like the handful of others he didn’t bother to keep count of.

“And I’ll have two waters, please!” Patton Hart added with one of his peppy, happy, insufferable laughs, before turning to face Logan. “Hiya, Lo! It's been so long since we’ve seen each other!”

“Not long enough,” Logan disagreed, with a rueful smile that should very clearly, very precisely detail how much he does not want company at the current moment. “Don’t you have things to be doing tonight, Mr. Hart?”

Patton hummed, pressing his lips together as he thought-- a monumental task for someone like him, surely. Logan was partially convinced that if he removed his glasses he might be able to see the squirrels beginning to run on that rusted wheel in the other man’s brain. If Logan was of a less logical mind he might even be brazen enough to call this the first time Patton had used his brain all week.

“Well,” Patton said, carefully settling himself on the stool next to Logan. “I was graciously informed by my son that he would be enjoying the perks of being a teenager with no bedtime tonight and along with where exactly I could shove my homemade lasagna.” He laughed lightly, “Kids, these days! He really does keep me on my toes!” 

Logan did his best not to roll his eyes. “I do not know the whereabouts of your son, Mr. Hart.”

“Patton,” He said easily, “And I’m not here for my son. I’m here for you, Logan.”

“If this is about the glass in my door, you are very capable of taking that out of my paycheck.” Logan told him.

The bartender placed Logan’s new rum and coke in front of him and he reached for it almost immediately, only stopping when Patton’s hand landed on his forearm.

“Mr. Hart--”

“Patton,” Patton corrected with that smile that Logan suspected was the worst thing in the world. Worse than Virgil’s blank expression when he told them to get out, worse than Remus’s smug one when he suggested that Logan did indeed enjoy the ability to manipulate his coworkers, worse than Beatrice faulty excel sheets, than broken glass of his door, than a ring he never wanted to see again and yet he still felt like it was missing from his finger.

“Mr. Hart,” Logan said again, “I am going to get horrifically drunk tonight, and I will be calling out sick tomorrow, regardless of what you say. So my advice to you is, say anything of importance now, before I am too incoherent to register and respond accordingly.”

“That doesn’t sound too smart there, kiddo!” Patton said, like he was any older than Logan was.

“I do not feel like being smart right now,” Logan said snippily. Because being smart involved thinking, and Logan had done quite enough thinking for the day. He was tired of thinking, tired of memories, tired of the lump in his chest that had formed during his lunch break and hadn’t dissolved in the eight hours since. He was tired.

“Would you like me to be smart for you?” Patton asked.

Ah.

Yes, Logan remembered suddenly with just a few words why he hated Patton Hart so much. Why he hated those too-wide brown eyes, those stupid freckles, that soft smile. Why he hated the way that Patton had tracked him down despite the fact that he had turned off his phone, the way that Patton had ordered two waters, the way that he hadn’t taken off his jacket. The way that he had taken out his keys and put them on the bar counter between them and Logan could pick out his own house key from the jumbled mess of bits and bobs.

“I heard something pretty interesting today,” Patton said, when Logan didn’t reply because he was too busy remembering why he hated Patton so much.

“Please don’t pretend like you didn’t know about my so-called affair before I did.” Logan snapped. “Honestly, Patton!” Logan dropped his arm from the glass and instead pressed his knuckles to his forehead. “Playing dumb about your own company is my least favroite thing about you.”

“I thought you hated my laugh the most.” Patton looked at him, letting the smile slip into something more serious.

“I hate everything about you.” 

“Pay for the drinks, Lo.” Patton told him, “And I’ll take you home. We can have some of my lasagna and watch a space documentary, like we’re twenty years old again.” 

Logan hated Patton and hated the way his chest ached at the offer. His knuckles bore into the side of his head, jabbing the frame of his own glasses into this temple. He hated the way that Patton was looking at him, soft and sweet and naive.

He hated the way his fingers itched to take Patton’s hand and go home.

“And after all that,” Patton continued so lightly, “You can tell me all about how Remus Prince got under your skin.”

 Logan’s hand slammed on the counter, so suddenly he surprised himself. Patton, however, didn’t flinch, didn’t even blink, didn’t react other than to hold that smile. 

“I am not drunk enough to be talking about Remus Prince,” Logan spat. “Especially not to you, Patton.”

Patton was quiet and at first, Logan really had thought that he had won something-- he thought that perhaps Patton would grant him mercy and let him drown his sorrows alone and miserable in a bar until he forgot his own name. But Patton was too good of a friend and Logan really should hate him less for that.

“You know,” Patton said with a cold type of humor that doused Logan with awareness. Bad awareness. The type of awareness that sunk it’s metaphorical claws into Logan’s chest and pierced straight through his heart before Patton finished what he was saying. “I think….yeah that does sound familiar. Do you remember the last time you said you weren’t drunk enough to tell me something?”

Logan did.

Logan couldn’t forget if he tried. 

And he had tried so very hard for so very long-- except that Remus Prince had waltzed into Logan’s life, had called him a Robot, had smirked at him and run their coworkers around like cattle with pretty little words. Except that Remus Prince had gotten bored and decided that the only logical next course of action was to mess with Logan’s personal life. 

Except that Remus Prince had played along with the rumor game, and smiled at him, and kissed him, and---

And Logan had started thinking---

And Logan’s mouth had started moving--

And Virgil face had--

Logan reached for the glass in front of him, reaching for the cool ice and the spritzy carbonation and the burn of the rum.  

Patton watched him, blinking in the long, slow, dumb way of his that had fooled just about every person that he had come in contact with. With the goofy smile and the habit of deliberately misunderstanding key phrases and making puns and jokes when things were tense, it was hard to see him as anything other than a rich son who became CEO via thinly veiled nepotism. 

Logan knocked back the drink, blinking back the burn behind his eyes that were from the alcohol and definitely not from the lump in his throat that had started dissolving.

He didn’t want to close his eyes, because he knew what he would see when he did: a nice suit, a fancy dinner, a walk to the bridge dotted with fairy lights of all things. He’d see that stupid ring, that stupid face, that stupid end of the night that everyone had told him would be nice, and perfect, and everything he would ever want! 

And he didn’t want to think about how it had not been nice or perfect or anything either of them had ever wanted!

He didn’t want to think about how years ago he had come to a bar just like this, and tried to get so drunk he could pretend that it hadn’t happened, and Patton had shown up then and offered him a job and--

“He wants to go by Janus now,” Patton said, picking up one of the waters and taking a sip.

Logan squinted at him and tried not to be happy about the distraction from his own thoughts, “Who?”

“My son,” Patton said, like it was obvious he had switched back to a neutral topic. “He told me earlier during our phone call he wants to go by Janus, now. He said he’s hated the name Dante for forever. Can you believe it, Lo?”

Logan couldn’t actually. Because he had known Patton since they themselves were teenagers, since before Patton had brought up how empty being a CEO was without anyone to come home too, since Patton had first invited him to Sunday brunch and introduced him to the child he called “son”. Logan had babysat Dante when Patton had business trips and Dante had always been proud of himself, of his better-than-the-status-quo lifestyle, of his name that held power and prestige and weight.

Dante had been practicing saying his name in the mirror since before his voice cracked. Dante Hart, future CEO. Dante Hart, son of Patton Hart. Dante Hart. 

“He’s a teenager,” Logan said, “He’s rebelling.”

“Maybe so!” Patton laughed, and it dwindled down to something that was easier felt in the air than definable in terms Logan was familiar with, “Gosh, I love him so much, Lo. My baby! He’s growing up so fast now! The other day he told me he had a boyfriend. He’s at that stage where he doesn’t want me to help him anymore!”

And despite the buffoon having not had a single drop of alcohol, Patton was tearing up. Logan gritted his teeth at the implications of a weepy, teary, so-full-of-emotions Patton. He had spent enough time in college trying to console him as he figured out the whole “Why does it always have to be about sex? Why can’t I just love hugging someone, Lo? Why does everyone make me feel so broken?” Logan hadn’t been any good back then, and he definitely hadn’t gotten better with time. 

After that disaster with the last guy, Logan had decided that feeling things, frivolous things, emotion-like things, were not something he was into anymore.

Logan learned from his mistakes, after all.

Even the mistakes that started with “R” and ended in a $400 ring being thrown away.

“Is that why you’re here, Mr. Hart?” Logan asked, in that way of his that told even Patton with his squirrel run brain that it wasn’t actually a question at all. “You can’t baby your son anymore so you’ve moved on to the next best thing?”

Patton stuck his tongue in his cheek and set his water back down. “Patton.” He stressed. “And I’m not here to baby you, Logan. I’m here to be your friend.”

He said “friend” like it was a word in the dictionary Logan didn’t know. It was infuriating: the insinuation that Logan had never cracked open a dictionary before, that he was so unknowledgeable about the concept of a friend that Patton was about to show him the online Oxford dictionary definition, like someone who played dumb all day and peppered his windows with sticky notes in the shape of a game of Frogger knew more about something than Logan who had clawed his way up from nothing and was constantly needing to prove how he earned his position.

Patton nudged the second water in Logan’s direction.

Logan stared at it, at the condensation on the glass, at the ice cubes, at the refraction of the low lights from the bar counter. He stared at it like it was a portal back through time that would allow him to slam some sense into poor, pitiful twenty-one-years-old Logan before he let himself fall in Love.

Before he bought a ring or stopped taking days off unless Patton tromped down to his office himself. Before Remus Prince borrowed his cup and before Logan got it in his head that he was serving revenge rather than idiocracy. Before he let himself think too little and say too much and hurt a kid that had never deserved to be upset before in his life.

“If my son wants to be called Janus, I’ll call him that,” Patton says softly. “Because even if it doesn’t make sense to me, it means something to him. And even if my friend is struggling with emotions that don’t make sense to me, I’m still gonna try to help him, Lo.”

Patton ducked his head just a little, just enough that he managed to catch Logan’s strategically averted gaze and make something out of it: a swell of guilt, a sense of hope, a pinch of safety and unadulterated kindness.

His throat was dry, but it was the type of dry that couldn’t be fixed with a glass of water.

“I made a kid cry,” Logan said, because self loathing is a coat he had thought he’d outgrown but he can still fit his arms in the sleeves.

Patton nodded. “Yeah, I heard about that.” He sipped his water. “I think we all have at one point or another.”

“See, the distinct difference that you are missing here, Patton, is that you are a father.” Logan snapped, “And your son will cry at the drop of a hat if he thinks he can get something out of it. And you would never harm a child! Not for any reason in the entire world!”

“And you would?”

“I did.” Logan felt himself sink into the chair, sink like an anchor in the ocean, sink like the floor below him had turned into a blackhole. “I did, I did it. What type of person does that make me?”

“I hate to break it to you, Lo,” Patton said, as kindly as he could, which Logan knew was truly, sickenly nice. He wanted to choke on the sentiment but he found that he couldn’t quite make his chest hurt the way he wanted it too when it came to Patton’s pity.

 “But that just means you’re a normal person.” Patton smiled dumbly, tilting his head and shrugging. “Everyone says things they don’t mean sometimes.”

“You don’t.”

“I do,” Patton countered gently, “Like when I hired Beatrice before realizing that she had lied about knowing how to use Excel.”

“Fuck, Beatrice,” Logan agreed, because if he closed his eyes too hard he thought he might still see grid patterns as much as he might see Virgil’s hurt expression and he hated it so much. So much. 

“I also told-- Janus once that I would get him anything he wanted for his birthday, and he asked for a snake.” Patton shuddered, almost comically, “And you saw how that turned out.”

“I’ve always been impressed with his ability to sneak things into the school buildings,” Logan sighed. “I doubt anyone has ever forgotten that Show-and-Tell.”

Patton chuckled quietly. It was almost lost in the buzz of the other patrons in the bar. He drew a smiley face in the condensation on his glass and Logan reached over to wipe it away, like he had done a hundred seventeen times since college.

“So….Lasagna?” Patton offered. “We can make some garlic bread too.”

“I regret ever meeting you,” Logan said, even as he picked up the keys on the counter between them. He wished that Patton didn’t look so self satisfied, so pleased, so smug when the words tumbled from his lips, but Patton had never been one to pertain to the wishes and whims of Logan like that.

Settling his tab was quick; a pile of bills from his wallet that he didn’t actually check, but decided the bartender deserved anyway and then Patton linked their elbows together so that Logan couldn’t walk off the way that he used to when he would agree with Patton just to get him to shut up. Logan snagged Patton’s glasses from his head and fogged them up with his breath, before taking on the tedious task of cleaning the fingerprints off the lens meticulously while walking in a wobbling straight line. 

Patton laughed like silver bells and it alone brightened the entire street with a type of magic that Logan had long since given up on trying to scientifically explain. The poet in him that Logan had buried under Calculus classes and Statistics courses and a Business degree and only let out when the alcohol out weighed the blood in his system, whispered that it was because it was Patton and his aloofness, and his kindness, and his generosity that never made any sense, and wasn’t that reason enough for the universe to lighten up?

It was drizzling outside, scattered raindrops and dark heavy clouds that whispered of a thunderstorm later. Patton skipped, Logan rolled his eyes and let himself be dragged towards the familiar pale blue punch buggy. It was the same exact car from their college time together, if one ignored the frankenstein replacements of just about every single component in it. Patton clung to the car the same way he had clung to the delusion of Logan being a good friend; sticking close through every breakdown, excusing every letdown, and spending far too much money on it when economically it would have been more beneficial to just let them go.

A wave of self loathing wrapped over Logan again when he pulled on the car door. Patton was genuinely a good person, a good friend. He was stupid at times and he made decisions that made Logan was to strangle him, but he cared so much more than other people. He offered fourth and fifth chances when Logan would have stone-walled his offender at one. 

Not to mention, he had come out in the rain to find Logan specifically, probably traversing through three other bars to find the one that Logan had chosen to be his misery echo chamber.

By some sort of lucky happenstance, Logan had originally walked far enough to hail a taxi  to get to this bar, leaving his car in the safety of the parking garage where Patton’s company paid a nice sum for security. Logan had tried to argue about that expense with him back in the day, but Patton had pulled out a picture of his toothy grinning son-- Janus-- and said “Lo!! What if my son comes to visit when he learns to drive?! I don’t want to worry about him getting attacked in the parking garage!” 

Logan had brutally pointed out that his son would never visit him during work, and so far he had been correct in that assessment, but that didn’t stop him from feeling the slightest bit guilty about his bluntness even so much time later.

Patton had always looked for the best in people, had more strength than most of humanity, had more hope in happy endings that Logan had trust in fact and numbers.

“Is your son okay with me calling him Janus? I’m unsure of etiquette on this. Should I wait until he tells me his preference or should I just make the switch and not bring it up to him?” Logan asked with a sigh as Patton pulled out of the parking spot and set them towards Patton’s house on the other side of town. Unobstructed and following the driving laws, it would only take them about fifteen minutes, and yet Logan wondered about the possibility of Patton having Advil in the car.

The back of his head was already aching from the days events: banging his head on the keyboard all morning leading up to his disastrous lunch date, Remus, Virgil, squinting at spreadsheets until he couldn’t make out the numbers anymore, and the of course stumbling his way to the bar and dealing with Patton.

Patton giggled. “Oh yeah! I asked him earlier if it was okay to tell you. He said he wanted you to call him Janus now. He also said to tell you, you can take a hike.”

Knowing Janus, it was probably something more volatile than “taking a hike”. Most likely it had been something that might have required him to put a full five dollars in the swear jar that they kept on the counter next to the cookie jar. Not that it would matter much. Logan had stayed over at their house dozens of times and every single time he had come across Janus taking that money back out of that swear jar.

As far as Logan was aware, the swear jar had never actually been full. Patton must have noticed at some point-- probably that very first time Janus had taken the money back out-- but he was irritating insistent that he play dumb about it. Thus, Janus continued to swear in excess, Patton continued to make him put money in a swear jar for no real reason, and Logan continued to never understand either of them.

The radio in Patton’s car had been broken fifteen times since Patton had gotten it, but Logan assumed from the silence of the drive that it was now sixteen. He rested his elbow on the window and watched the drizzle turn into a steady rain and the windshield wipers flutter across their vision to occasionally bring them clarity.

The night life was somewhat dreary. The driving pace was slow, and they hit every single stop light in the city because that was just Logan’s luck. There were a few people running around in the rain: a family with a small child who was jumping in every slowly forming puddle on the sidewalk, a couple sharing an umbrella walking so close together they appeared as if to be one misshapen form, a group of friends chatting outside a 24 hour dinner in raincoats, and a few smokers huddled under an alcove with embers burning just enough for Logan to make out their forms through the downpour. 

Logan realized almost immediately that the pit in his stomach was much more bearable if he instead focused on the raindrops on the window that are much easier to look at, much less representing something that Logan had always expected he might one day have, much less accusatory in wondering what is wrong with him that he can’t act like a normal human being, this isn’t working, who wants to marry a robot like you--

That was the reason why he wasn’t expecting the sudden jerk of the car coming to a hard stop at a yellow light that they absolutely could have made. 

“PATTON!” Logan yelled.

The car behind them blared it’s horn and Logan rubbed his neck and reset his glasses from the sudden movement, ready to question what exactly Patton thought he was doing, because truly of all the things Logan was not in the mood for, this was one of them. 

Except that before Logan could get any words out, Patton had put the car in park and whipped off his seatbelt to kick open his door. A wave of rain came pouring into the car as the man threw himself from the driver's seat like there was something wrong with the car, and for a second Logan entertained the absurd idea that they were going to blow up.

Which truly, would have just been a fitting end to his horrific day.

“Patton!” Logan hissed, grabbing after the other’s coat to pull him back inside before the rain soaked into the seats. “Get back in th--”

The other man ignored him, frantically waving to someone in the rain. “REMUS!! MR. PRINCE!! OVER HERE!!”

If Logan knew slightly less about human biology he might have been inclined to say that his heart jumped straight to his throat and climbed its way up his esophagus to strangle him. He wouldn’t have recognized the figure on the street corner on his own: Remus Prince was wearing a black leather jacket and jeans with holes in the knees. He was soaked to the bone, without an umbrella, and his usual bouncy brown curls were matted to his head, as if he had been walking out in the rain for much longer than the rain had been sweeping through the city.

He was standing with the smokers under their minimal tarp, although he, himself, was without a cigarette at all. When he turned at the call of his name, there was only confusion and exhaustion in his face. None of the smugness, or the ego, or the energy that he usually had.

Logan didn’t know why that bothered him. He was hurting from earlier; that was good. 

After all, it was Remus’s ridiculous game that he had dragged everyone else into. 

((Logan’s finger itched and he dug his nails into his skin so deeply he was afraid to glance down in case there was blood pouring off hands.))

Remus ventured out to meet them, dodging across the lanes of traffic without a care in the world, or perhaps with a death wish. Remus didn’t seem particularly like he would mind getting run over by the way that he opened the back door, climbed in, and shook the excess water out in the interior of the car like some type of undomesticated dog. 

“Is this a kidnapping?” He asked, rain dripping down his face. “A murder? Do I get to know your name before you dismember me, cutie?”

Patton laughed joyfully, even as Logan felt his face screw up at the sound of Remus calling their boss “cutie”. It was beyond unprofessional, even if Remus was apparently unaware that his career hinged entirely on not insulting Patton. It took a lot to make Patton angry enough to fire someone-- his patience was the best and worst thing about him, as Logan had been reminded every time they interacted-- but once Remus crossed that line, not even a cockroach like him would be able to drag himself out of the metaphorical wasteland Patton would make out of his life.

Cutie, honestly. Who calls anyone they’ve just met cutie. Logan could understand Remus having called him Lovebug and Lolo, but cutie? 

For Patton?

Patton climbed back into the car, snapping on his seatbelt and managed to get out of park at the very same moment as the light turned green. He wiped his sleeve along his glasses, and brightly said, “I’m Patton! And you already know Logie here!”

“Logie?” Remus repeated, sitting back against the seat taking in Logan for the first time. “Oh shi--”

“Do not call me that,” Logan said. “Patton, you can drop me off at the next corner. I will walk home.”

“Don’t be silly!” Patton said, in the same tone that he had used during their college days to coax Logan into driving him to the nearest grocery store after he had successfully managed to pull two all nighters in a row. Logan hated that tone, and Patton knew that well.

“If you do not stop the car, I will throw myself from it while it is still moving.”

“I can get out, actually!” Remus said far too loud for the small car. Logan resisted the urge to turn around and scowl at him. Surely, his pea-sized brain had managed to figure out that he was the point of contention here and that his best move would be to shut up, so why had he decided to open his mouth? “I need to get home anyway. Big day tomorrow and everything.”

“Oh?” Patton said delightedly because Logan would not ever play into subject changes willingly. “What’s tomorrow?”

“I’m getting fired,” Remus said with a nonchalant shrug.

Patton blinked for a moment-- his squirrel-run brain jamming at the sudden twist of the words because whatever he was expecting from his visitor it was not that. Logan resisted the urge to reach over and give him a shake at the shoulders: of course he wouldn’t be able to expect anything with Remus Prince. The man was insufferable and illogical and he wrought chaos for fun. 

With everything that had happened, did Patton really think that there was an exaggeration in there?

Remus wanted attention. And he said whatever he needed to in order to get it: a fake affair, a fake divorce, a fake child-- Of course he would say he was getting fired tomorrow if it got Patton to have to use all of his meager brain cells to figure out how serious he was.

“Is that something to celebrate, Mr. Prince?” Logan cut in coldly. “Getting fired?”

“And here I thought that you would be happy, Ackroyd,” Remus said. “Unless you think you’re going to miss me.”

“If only I would be so lucky,” Logan said, digging his phone from his pocket, and turning it back on. The screen was blindingly bright and Logan’s eyes ached just glancing at it in the corner of his vision. “Patton, pull over. I am not doing this tonight. Or tomorrow. Or ever again.”

“I’m not going to let you walk home after however many rum and cokes you had, Logan.”

“Patton,” Logan snarled. “If you continue to treat me like you treat your son, I will tender my resignation tonight. Pull over now.”

Patton opened his mouth, but whatever he was going to say was swallowed up in Remus’s empty voice speaking. 

“You went drinking?”

“Do not talk to me, Mr. Prince.”

“You’re not even yelling.”

Logan wasn’t sure what that was supposed to mean, which may have irritated him more than the fact that he was so insistent about continuing to talk when Logan was liable to push the car to crash and kill all three of them. Remus was already staring at him, his expression dark and serious in the passing car lights and somehow Logan thought that he looked vulnerable. 

Logan gritted his teeth as his headache pulsed behind his eyes. 

“Shut up,” he said. “And put on your seat belt.”

“Or what? You’ll divorce me?” Remus pushed forward between the seats until he was just a few inches from Logan’s own face, grinning with all his teeth. It was at once the same smile that Logan had catalogued through every week of working with him and also something completely foreign.

Remus had pulled him into a kiss earlier that morning, and Logan remembered the taste of pickles on his lips just as well as the smirk he kept as Logan walked away. But this expression is somehow inverted, somehow shifted, somehow a weapon more than a challenge.

“Boys,” Patton said. “Please don’t fight in my car!”

“If you did not want us to fight, why did you invite him in this car?” Logan asked. “You, of all people, know my opinions on--”

“Logan, you’re drunk.”

“What does that have to do with this?!” Logan bit out. He glared at his phone: there were three missed calls from Patton and a handful of text messages from him that Logan couldn’t actually read in the combination of the bright phone light and darkness around them. His eyes were blurry even with his glasses on and the frustration of not being able to read only heightened as he made out the notification for his email which meant that Beatrice had managed to finish her work (allowing Logan to be able to go fix it) or that news of him yelling at a child made it around the office and now he was going to harassed by them as well.

All because of Remus Prince’s inability to shut up. 

 Patton threw a hand out and grabbed Logan’s phone from his hand and carelessly tossed it over both their shoulders to Remus.

“Patton!” Logan hissed, rubbing the irritated tears from his eyes. “Remus, give it back!”

Remus, however, was just staring at the phone in his lap like it was some type of bomb. Logan’s phone locked itself and the screen went dark, and still Remus sat inhumanely still in the seat, staring at it, with a type of blank expression that Logan oftentimes related to their coworkers when Logan asked them to perform any sort of math without a calculator.

“Remus,” Logan said again.

Remus jerked at the sound of his voice, snapping out of whatever fit the phone had put him in almost meekly-- if Logan could describe anything Remus did as meekly without it being a blatant falsehood. “Meekly” itself had never seemed to be a word in Remus’s vocabulary which was another irritating fact about him that made Logan break out in figurative hives.

Logan knew how Remus was.

He knew Remus.

It didn’t matter that he had never talked to Remus before today, that his thinly veiled contempt for his coworkers kept him from being willing to stand in their presence more than he was being paid to, that this fake affair was the first stupid relationship of any kind he had gotten outside of Patton and his son since his last boyfriend had dumped him on the night he was going to propose and hadn’t he thought he’d known him too? Isn’t that what led to all this? 

It didn’t matter. 

Logan was smarter, now. Logan was better now. Logan was--

“I don’t…” Remus said, trailing off as he stared at the messages popping up on Logan’s phone and Logan wondered why it felt like his lungs had shrunk right in his chest. “I don’t think you should be reading these right now.”

“He definitely should not!” Patton said, with a very convincing amount of forced happiness. “Hold that for him will you, Remus? Oh and why do you think you’re going to get fired tomorrow?”

Remus looked up at Logan and then at Patton and then back at Logan, like Logan was supposed to know what that meant in addition to every other stupid look he’d given Logan all evening. Logan shoved his glasses up to his hairline and rubbed his aching eyes, and yet somehow that still didn’t fix the pounding in his head or the exhaustion hollowing out his bones. It also didn’t make Remus disappear from the backseat, which was equally annoying, even though Logan hadn’t truly thought he was a shared apparition for him and Patton.

“You didn’t mention anything about today to your… what are you a fuck buddy?” Remus said.

And Patton laughed. 

Logan grabbed the door handle and yanked on it, but of course the ridiculous safety locks were engaged, and Logan had spent far too many sober years getting locked in this car to try to puzzle out the broken locking system in order to drunkenly throw himself out of the car. He was not in the habit of wishing for miracles, or even believing in deities, but he imagined that some powerful entity was finding ruining Logan’s life to be semi enjoyable.

“See this is why I can’t fire him!” Patton said through giggles and Logan thought maybe he was being addressed for this. Patton met Remus’s gaze through the rearview mirror and shook the last bit of water from his damp hair. “You make everything so entertaining!”

“What?”

Logan grit his teeth and yanked on the door handle again. “Remus, meet Mr. Hart, the CEO and your boss. Also put on your seatbelt.”

Remus blinked at them both, leaning between the seats and definitely not putting on his seatbelt. Logan counted backward from ten, reminding himself that one of the hiring requirements for Patton’s company has always been must be the stupid beyond belief. He’d known for a while that his coworkers were idiots on a good day, hazards to his health on bad ones, and yet somehow in the whirlwind of the day he’s had, Logan had forgotten that Remus counted as a coworker still.

“I’m not… getting fired?” Remus said, acting much like a computer after being turned on. “Why do you know my name then?”

Patton shrugged, flicking on his blinker to change lanes before the next light. “You have interesting ideas for your advertising strategy! Of course I would know your name! I’m sorry about vetoing that last one. I know Logan liked it, but I wanted to stick to the family-as-a-whole angle.”

“Patton,” Logan warned with an edge.

“Logan liked…?” Remus echoed, before turning towards Logan with a look of bewilderment that annoyed Logan far more than it had any right to. “You actually look at my shit?”

“Put on your seatbelt, Remus,” he said, because wasn’t it obvious that Logan looked at his things? Before the whole Robot incident Logan hadn’t had a problem with Remus at all: he was effective and efficient and the rumors were irritating but below him to indulge in. Before Remus had dragged him figuratively kicking and screaming into this mess, Logan approved the budgets that came with the projects Remus created.

He still did that, just with more anger than before. Petty feelings for Remus himself aside, his work was objectively good. 

Logan knew that about him.

“So!” Patton said over both of them, with his signature grin that Logan suspected he would still be wearing even if Logan decided to kill him right now. It must be the by-product of being controlled by rodents running on a wheel. “How was your volunteer work Remus?”

Remus froze in the back seat, going unnaturally still again. “Are you some kind of stalker-- uh sir?”

“Will you knock that off?” Logan snapped, which only made Remus’s shoulders jump straight to his ears. “And put on your seatbelt.”

“Just curious!” Patton said, ignoring Logan entirely. “Darlene is a good friend of mine! I make sure to send monthly donations to the organization since I don’t have a lot of free time to jump over and help.”

Remus didn’t say anything to that. He swallowed audibly and leaned back against the seat, dragging fingers through his wet hair and then tucked his arms in his own armpits. Logan pressed a palm to his forehead watching the street lights bend from behind his eyelids because that was easier than staring at Remus act like Patton was trying to pull his teeth out.

“You actually do volunteer work?” Logan said. “You don’t seem like the type.”

“Ha,” Remus said without any inflection. Logan thought that was the quietest that he had ever been. Where was that stupid ass smirk? Where was the stubbornness that pushed back against everything? Where was that loud voice and that confidence?

“Put on your seatbelt,” Logan said again.

“Why do you care if I wear the belt or not?”

“Remus put on your seatbelt or, so help me Newton, I will climb back there and put it on for you, myself!”

The air simmered from the acid in his tone, making the silence figurative chafe against his ribs. Remus stared at him, blinking slowly, with the street lights casting roving shadows on his face. His dark eyes were just so-- so--

Logan dug his nails into his palm. Why was it Remus Prince could make him feel like this? What gave him the right?

“It’s okay!” Patton said, setting the car to park. “We’re here anyway!”

Logan reached up and pulled his glasses back onto his face properly, but it still took him a moment to realize that they were near a bunch of townhouses, double parked outside one that Logan had considered moving into all those years ago when he had first been looking for an apartment for after college.

Remus too, apparently needed a moment to recognize the area. “We… are at my apartment? Holy shit, you are a stalker.”

Patton giggled, flashing Remus with his blinding smile and reached back to pick up Logan’s phone from his hands. “Thank you so much, kiddo! We’ll wait until you get inside all safe and sound, and I’ll see you tomorrow!”

“You will not,” Logan said. “Tomorrow you have a business deal two hours away to complete and if you miss it--”

Patton stretched back in his seat and let out a hugely exaggerated yawn. “But they’re so boring! Maybe I should bring Janus with me. He always makes my business deals entertaining. I love when he sets his snake on people. He looks so happy and he laughs and--”

Logan squeezed his eyes closed and recited the first twenty digits of pi in his head to keep from grabbing Patton’s squirrel run brain and slamming it into the steering wheel.

“Homicide is wrong,” Logan said.

“I’ll help you vouch for insanity,” Remus said. “I mean, tied together through a murder, and possibly hiding a body is much more juicy than a fake marriage that’s falling apart. We’d be the talk of the office.”

“They would not find any body that I hid,” Logan said. “Nobody would.”

Remus opened his mouth to say something more, but whatever it is he decided against it. Instead he slid over the seats and kicked open the door right behind Logan and stepped out into the night air.

“Thanks for the ride, Mr. Hart, sir,” he said, strangely formal, then squinted and added, “Daddy?” 

“I’m not firing you, Remus,” Patton said. “No matter what you call me!”

Logan ran his tongue over his teeth counting each and every one. Remus looked at him but ultimately finally adhered to that whole shutting up thing. He closed the door to Patton’s blue punch buggy and started towards the door to the apartments.

“Oh,” Remus said, and turned back at the last second. He knocked his knuckles on Logan’s window a few inches from where Logan’s gaze fixed itself on a light. Patton apparently knew more about what to do than Logan because he pressed the window lowering button and Remus reached his entire arm into the window to drop a small object right into Logan’s lap.

Logan caught it mainly due to reaction rather than skill and his skin tingled at the familiar item. Even in the dark, Logan’s fingers roll over the shape of the ring that had always reminded him of the worst day of his life. It was still warm from being in Remus’s pocket.

“I think that should stay with you,” Remus said, like it wasn’t a big deal at all. “You know… for the next boytoy you take to your sex dungeon or whatever nerds like you do on weekends.”

And then he turned around and fled towards the apartment building. Patton turned off the hazard lights and slipped back into traffic and Logan wondered if he would be polite enough to not comment if Logan started crying right then and there.

His throat felt swollen, his tongue too big for his mouth, and the headache thrummmmmmed painfully. 

Logan knew Remus Prince.

“You know that Remus Prince isn’t gonna be like him,” Patton said to fill the silence.

“Remus Prince isn’t like anyone.” Logan didn’t whine. To whine would be unbecoming. And childish. And embarrassing.

So Logan didn’t whine and Patton mercifully didn't call him out on his not-whining.

And neither of them mention the choked tone that Logan had for the rest of the night.

When Logan had seen his boss after he made Virgil cry, he hadn’t expected it to end up with him clutching that ring like a lifeline, but as he ran his fingers around the rim, he wondered if it had fit on Remus’s finger at all.

(Part Five)

[oswinsdolma]

It's half past eleven at night but this has been on my mind for DAYS and I need to write it down-

Okay I know we treat A Servant of Two Masters as a comedy episode for the most part, and don't get me wrong, it is HILARIOUS, but I cannot stop thinking about the scene near the beginning where Morgana is treating Merlin's wounds, so let's look a little closer at that:

Look here at the hatred on Merlin's face. He clearly despises Morgana in this moment, as he fully believes that the friend he used to have is gone, convinced of her selfishness and disloyalty. But now let's look at Morgana.

Now, at first glance, it looks like her usual cruel smirk, basically her default way of addressing someone from series four onwards. Now, I'm not a gifer, but if you look at this scene, there is a flash of tenderness in her expression beneath it all as she takes in the sight of Merlin. After this we cut back to Arthur and the Knights, who also show their concern, but we don't see Merlin's reaction to this.

Skip forward a scene and we're back in the "hovel".

Now the lighting in this scene is awful, and I'm not sure if that's for a reason or not, but we can still see Merlin's face. At this point, Morgana has stopped sending jibes towards Merlin and is cleaning his wounds. She is still less than civil to him, but it's never really explained why she's doing this. One reason could be the fact that she is intending to use Merlin as a tool to kill Arthur, and Merlin (being the chaotic little shit he is) needs all the help he can get. And this is no doubt what Morgana is telling herself, but I think there's something deeper here, and I have two main reasons for this.

1. Merlin's face in this scene. He is in obvious pain from the wounds, and he and Morgana are at odds. Poisoning your ex-friend isn't something that heals quickly in a relationship, even if one if you hasn't developed regicidal tendencies towards your other best friend. But amidst the physical pain, there are clear signs of emotional pain here underneath all that. Merlin is constantly told that his destiny is the most important thing, and that it must be carried out at all costs. But regardless of who she is now, Morgana was his friend, and that's harder to forget than the betrayal.

2. Morgana's visual tells in this scene:

See here that she is furrowing her brow as she attends to the wound on Merlin's chest. Now this isn't a great screencap, but notice that furrowing her brow is something that she does a lot when concerned about things in earlier seasons. I can't think of any specific instances off the top of my head because it's literally midnight now but this isn't an isolated thing. Therefore, while Morgana may have other motives for helping Merlin get back on his feet, but she definitely still cares a little for him in the same way he cares about her.

Moving on to this screencap here (I put the brightness up but it really is terrible) you can see Merlin's face, and it's strangely... Blank. If there's anything there at all, it's regret. This is an image from where Morgana is saying "don't think that I don't understand loyalty just because I have no one left to be loyal to". This line is absolutely perfect for summing up the whole dynamic here: Merlin is full of regret and grief for a doomed friendship, but in this moment, so is Morgana. For her, Merlin was the one person who wasn't afraid of what she was, who helped her find people who could make her hate herself less for how she was born. Merlin was the bright-eyed genius who was the only one stupid enough to save her brother from being quite so much of a bully in his early years at Camelot, and for him to betray her like that? Above nearly anyone else, Merlin was the one she was loyal to. She even admitted this in The Moment of Truth. This phrase is well calculated, and it hits. Hard.

Morgana's anger overtakes her now, because Merlin has just accused her of neglecting what they had. She was loyal to him until he betrayed her. This is not his high ground. And look:

Merlin looks for a moment like he's going to fight it, but then slumps back. Why? Because he knows she's right. Because it was his fault. Because he chose destiny over his friends. And I'm not saying Morgana is innocent here, after all, she is the one brainwashing Merlin. But Merlin is the one that shoulders the guilt, and because of who he is, he will always remember that he was the catalyst for the explosion.

So what's my point here? On the whole, I really dislike how Morgana's descent into evil was handled. They did a good job of showing her as a villain, but we never really saw how she got there, because she seems to have found it remarkably easy to swing between caring, compassionate person to "I don't care who dies as long as I get my revenge". But in this scene, we get a glimpse of who Morgana was, and the parts of herself she had to destroy in order to live with what she was doing. And we see a little of that in Merlin too: we see him letting go of his idealistic fantasies of peace coming about without a fight. We see him realising what he has become and that he is just as much as a pawn of destiny as she.

And most importantly, we see them say a private goodbye to the impossible hope that things could have been different.

[ah-ga-seven]

Till’ The End of Summer - Chapter 6

>> series masterlist <<

Pairing: Choi Yeonjun x Reader

In a Nutshell: College!AU, Rich Kids, Friends to Lovers, Fuckboy athlete Yeonjun, Overprotective Best friend Soobin, contains all of TXT and other Idol cameos, Omnipresent perspective.

Synopsis: You and Yeonjun are caught up in a cat and mouse game because of unspoken feelings and endless pining for each others’ attention. With the summer break approaching and lots of college parties, will you finally get a chance to explore your feelings for each other; even though the world and Yeonjun’s reputation makes things complicated?

Word count: 7K. (She’s a bit longer.)

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smuttish content.

Idol Cameos: Ateez Wooyoung.

Warnings: sexy stuff.

A/N: English isn’t my first language, pls don’t come for me ;)

Soobin felt lazier than usual. Being the homebody that he is, he decided against any physical or social activities for the night. Tae, Gyu, and Hueningkai were out and about doing god knows what and Mia went home for the week to spend time with her family.  

He had hoped to spend some time with you but you blew him off earlier today, as did Yeonjun.

Soobin wasn’t quite sure what was going on with Yeonjun but aside from the fact that he was only home to sleep and shower for the past week, it seemed like Yeonjun was genuinely happy.

He was upbeat and smiley whenever he did see him. It’s not like this was unlike Yeonjun’s usual behavior but the level of intensity had increased and Soobin couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

Soobin’s tall figure was taking up all of the space on the couch as he watched a movie, cuddled up in blankets and surrounded by pillows while the only source of light came from the TV. The heavy rain from outside was acting as a form of ASMR, making Soobin’s eyelids grow heavier and heavier by the minute.

He was about to doze off before he heard the front door open. Soobin perked his head up, watching a drenched Yeonjun close the door behind him, turning on the lights, not realizing that Soobin was on the couch.

Soobin swore he heard Yeonjun sniff which made him sit up immediately, his face full of worry as Yeonjun passed through the living room to get to his bedroom with a blank expression on his face.  He didn’t even notice Soobin yet, his mind too occupied with thoughts he wished he didn’t have.

“Hyung?” Soobin cooed, his eyes following Yeonjun’s moping state through the living room.

Yeonjun’s head snapped into Soobin's direction in shock and his eyes grow in size a little, feeling like he got caught.

Soobin indifferently bit his lip, getting up from the couch. He couldn’t see the difference between either the raindrops or teardrops on Yeonjun’s cheeks, so he had to get closer to confirm.

“Yeonjun hyung…” Soobin's voice was soft as he carefully approached, realizing that he was indeed crying.

Yeonjun felt like he was glued to the floor, frozen in place and unable to move, but as Soobin got closer to him, he breaks.  

Soobin facial expression shifted from worry to shock in a heartbeat as he wrapped the older one into a tight hug, letting him weep on his shoulder.

The boys have been through a lot together, and this is definitely not the first time Soobin has seen Yeonjun cry, but it was never as heartbreaking and unbearable to watch as this. Yeonjun’s sobs were drenched with pain and sorrow. The noises being muffled as he buried his face on Soobin’s shoulder.

“H-hyung what's going on, you’re making me worried,” Soobin says as he lightly pats Yeonjun’s back in order to calm him down. He had no idea what was going on but knew that whatever it might be, it’s not to be taken lightly.  

Yeonjun let go of Soobin, throwing his head back as he tries to sniff his tears back into his head. Soobin cautiously lingered around him, in case his emotions would erupt again. He rubbed his back in up and down motions. Waiting for Yeonjun to calm down enough so he could start explaining what was going on.  

Yeonjun collects himself quickly, leaning against the kitchen counter as he buries his face in his hands.  

He was frustrated with himself. He was frustrated with his tears and frustrated with the fact that Soobin had to see him this way. Vulnerability isn’t something Yeonjun loves to display. Being the oldest of the group and having to take care of himself from a young age made that difficult for him.

But given the distraught look on Soobin’s face, Yeonjun knew he couldn’t just let this go.

They sat at the dinner table together for hours. Talking about anything and everything that resonated with Yeonjun’s childhood. Yeonjun truly poured his whole heart out, sniffing through the tears that were a result of his bottled-up emotions. Of course, Soobin knew of Yeonjun’s estranged relationship with his parents but Yeonjun never told him or the other boys why that is. Neither did Soobin know It bothered him so much due to the fact that Yeonjun never talks about it, or seems upset.  

Soobin couldn’t help but shed a tear or two himself. Knowing that one of his closest friends was going through something like this all by himself was heartbreaking. Though Soobin couldn’t be happier that Yeonjun opened up to him, he wished he knew about this sooner.

All the times that Soobin couldn’t figure out why Yeonjun acted the way he did in some situations became clear as day to him. Even though it isn’t his fault at all, Soobin couldn’t help but blame himself for not being there for Yeonjun more often.  

“I wished you would have told me sooner…” Soobin dabbed his wet eyes with the long sleeves of his shirt as he looked the older one in his eyes.

Yeonjun just nodded, lost in thought while staring into the distance.  

“It’s not something I want to be reminded of, the reason why I decided to live on campus is to be away from it all. This school, the team; it’s a way to forget.”

“What made you want to talk about it now?” Soobin asks cautiously. He didn’t want to make Yeonjun feel like he was pushing him to speak up more. But curiosity was getting the better of him.  

If Yeonjun didn’t feel the need to open up all this time, what changed?

Yeonjun’s eyes dart to Soobin’s equally dark ones.  

Well shit.  

The most important detail that Yeonjun didn’t talk about was you. His brain was running extra hard to come up with the perfect excuse, but he couldn’t think of one fast enough.

“You know, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be asking so many questions.”

Yeonjun’s shoulders fell in relief. Not wanting to lie to Soobin in a moment like this.  

“It goes without saying that I won’t tell anyone about this.”

“I know you won’t,” Yeonjun cracks a smile. “Not even to Mia.”  

“Not even to Mia,” Soobin nods.

“That’s so fucking sad,” Mia whines.

“I know,” Soobin huffs, adjusting the phone so he could hear his girlfriend better. “I told him I wouldn’t tell anyone though.”

“Well, I’m basically a part of you so he should’ve known better.”

“But baby, I’m serious. You can’t tell y/n because he will never trust me again if this somehow comes back around to him. Promise me you won’t tell her.”

“I promise,” Mia says, her voice laced with sincerity.  

“Besides it’s not like she cares about him anymore. She hasn’t even mentioned his name since the festival two weeks ago.”  

“I’m glad that’s over before it began. Yeonjun needs to learn how to love himself before he can love anyone else. I really don’t want y/n to be collateral damage to Yeonjuns fucked up mental state,” Soobin says getting comfortable on his bed.  

“Wait…was that too harsh of me to say?” Soobin asks biting his fingernail.

Mia chuckled in response. “You just want the best for both of them, It’s understandable.”

“Ugh I wish you were here with me,” he pouts, earning a giggle from Mia.  “I’ll be back tomorrow night.”

Yeonjun hadn’t texted you the usual I’m home text and it worried you. It was already past 2 AM but you didn’t want to bother him or seem clingy by checking up on him this late.

His Instagram account showed a last seen of 25 minutes ago, meaning he was probably fine, so you decided against contacting him.

You sighed, putting your phone away, ready to close your eyes before you hear your phone buzz on your nightstand. Your eyes shot open wide and you frantically reach for your phone., getting blinded by the brightness of your screen in your dark surroundings.

[Yeonjun, 2:23 AM]: I’m sorry, I forgot to text you. Something came up…

You stare at your screen, unsure of what to write back to him, you thought about what to say for a few minutes, typing and deleting whatever came up in your mind for 4 minutes straight.  You knew it was ridiculous that you were this insecure but you were cautious not to say the wrong thing, given the way he rushed out of your apartment earlier today.

It seemed like Yeonjun had gotten enough of waiting, so he decided to call you instead.

You’re startled at the sound of your ringtone, accepting the call without thinking twice.

“Hi.” His voice was timid and quiet. He sounded sleepy and his voice was a lot cuter than usual.

“Hey…” you greet him with the same tone of voice, a yawn escaping your lips in the process.

The sound made Yeonjun smile to himself, everything you did was adorable to him and he realized that he missed your presence already.

“Is it really stupid and clingy to say that I miss you,” you say shyly, turning yourself on your side so you were more comfortable under your sheets.

Yeonjun smiled at your comment, feeling the exact same way. There was nothing more that he wanted than to hold you close to him right now.

“No, it’s not.” He sighs, stretching his body and putting his arm under his neck for support as he stared at the ceiling.

“If it was up to me, I’d leave and come over again but Soobin basically has me on dog-watch.”  

“Huh, why?”  

“It’s a long story,” Yeonjun says biting his lip, hoping not to throw you off by being mysterious. He just didn’t want to talk about it anymore.

“What if I sneak in?” you nervously suggest as you sit up.

“What?”  

“I’ll Uber to you and sneak in… I have Soobin’s spare key in case he lost his own since he always loses his shit. I could literally come in without anyone noticing…”

“I- you’d do that?” Yeonjun says wide-eyed. He was intrigued by your balsiness, and a mischievous grin crept upon his face.

“So that means we’ll be spending the night together?” He bluntly states trying to get you flustered but you huff in response. “You’ll take the floor,” you joke, which earned a sincere laugh from Yeonjun.

“Bet,” he says rolling his eyes.  

His mood shifted to a much brighter one just by talking to you. It was the effect that you had on him. Your funniness and energy worked contagiously, lifting him out of his slump from before. He buried his thoughts about the compatibility of your relationship in the back of his head as he waited for you to respond to him.

The other end of the line stayed silent for a few more seconds and he cocked his eyebrow. “Y/n?”  

“I’m putting on my shoes,” you state as the shuffling noises on your end of the line continue.

Yeonjun couldn’t believe his ears, he thought you were kidding. He should’ve known by now that you’re actually crazy. If the other guys came home at the same time, you’d be busted for sure.  

He swallowed harshly, sitting up in his bed. “Are you sure?”

“I’m on my way.”

You tried to be as silent as humanly possible as you twisted the key in their front door.  

You kept looking over your shoulder, paranoid as fuck that the others could come home at any second. You really didn’t know why you were doing this at the dead of night when you had just seen Yeonjun a few hours ago, but the way he left didn’t sit right with you.  

You wanted to be there for him by being with him, and assure him that when he needed you, that you were there for him. Even if he didn’t ask for it.  

Soobin should be sound asleep since he’s a grandpa, and since it’s past 2 AM, you weren’t too worried, but still. You had to be cautious not to make too much noise which could potentially wake him.

You enter their pitch-black apartment, taking off your shoes at the front door while carrying them with you so the heels of your shoes wouldn’t make any noise on their hard-wooden floor.  

The darkness made it hard to see, but luckily the way to Yeonjun's room was a straight line from the front door.  

You tiptoed your way over, your heart basically pounding in your throat as you slowly twist the door handle to Yeonjun’s bedroom.

Yeonjun was laying on his bed, his arm supporting his head on top of his pillow. He was on his phone but as soon as he heard his door open, and saw you, his eyes widened.

You were dressed in all black, with your hoodie popped looking like you were about to rob him.

When you closed the door behind you and made eye-contact, both of you erupted in silent laughs and giggles.

He got up, wrapping you into his arms as he continued to laugh in your hair quietly.  

“I can’t believe you,” he chuckles as he let go of you, taking a hold of your shoulders to look you in the eyes.  

His eyes were playful and they had a certain amused glisten to them. You melted at the sight of his happy facial expression and sigh.  

“I can’t believe me either,” you giggle.

You take a moment to look around Yeonjun’s room. Their dorm is basically your second home, but you never had a reason to go inside of his room before, until now.

His room was neat, but messy at the same time. Racks filled with clothing and shoes plastered his left wall. The walls were painted in a broken white, while the one where his bed was situated had a dark blue color, making the room look moody yet sophisticated. It wasn’t too big of a space but he made use of it efficiently.  

You situate yourself on his bed, taking a hold of the picture frame on Yeonjun’s nightstand.

You melted at the fact that he had a picture of himself and the boys next to his bed and you couldn’t withhold your adoring noises. “awhhhh, this is so cute of you to do,” you pout up at him teasingly, shaking the frame in front of his face.

He looked at you through hooded eyes, yanking it from your grasp.  

“I’m not cute,” he huffs. “Total manly man.”  

You laugh at his antics as he basically throws himself at you, pinning you down on his bed as he hovers over you, poking your sides in attempt to make you laugh.

You try to be quiet for Soobin’s sake but it was of no use as Yeonjun continued his attack. He muffled your giggles by putting his hand over your mouth as you playfully kicked around and slapped his chest to get him off, he complied when he noticed your lack of being able to breathe, and threw his hands up as a sign of truce.  

He chuckles again as he drops himself down next to you. You sit up, slapping his chest in insincere annoyance as you catch your breath. He whines, rubbing the sore spot with his large hand, acting like he got shot.

“What if someone heard!?” you nag, but Yeonjun just rolls his eyes at you; pulling you down with him so you’re situated on his chest.

He wraps his arms around you and nuzzles his face in your hair, and you instinctively wrap your arms around his waist as well. The two of you just lay there, breathing in each other's scents and enveloping yourselves in each other's warmth for a few minutes before you find yourselves lost in conversation.  

The two of you talked about anything and everything. You noticed how he tried to keep the topics light and airy, nothing too serious or deep. So you just went with it, realizing he was probably doing it on purpose because of the conversation back in your apartment.  

After a while you get up from his bed, stretching your limbs, and walking over to his clothing racks to inspect his coats and shirts. Your eye falls on a leopard print fur coat that was neatly hanging between the less flashy items of clothing. You chuckle while cocking your eyebrow, taking it off the hanger and wrapping it around yourself.

“I didn’t know you had a pet.”  

“You don’t like it?” he flashed you a toothy smile and leaned back to see how the coat engulfed you in its largeness.  

“It’s probably something only you can pull off,” you say in pout as you twirl around in the coat, checking yourself out in the mirror. It was way too large and you knew you looked ridiculous, but you didn’t care. Way too amused with the way it looked on you.

You hear the most dramatic sigh behind you which made you frown and turn around to see Yeonjun looking at you with adoring eyes.

“Why are you literally the most adorable thing,” he says pulling you towards him roughly by the hem of the fur coat.  

You gulp at his sudden dominance and look at him sheepishly.  

“It’s 3.30 AM,” he states out of the blue as he looks at you mischievously.

You give him a questioning look and lean into him. “So?”  

“So…you’re not leaving, are you?”  

“No.”

“So, you’re sleeping with me.”

“….I..well yeah if you don’t mind,” you say tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear.

He scoffed. “If I don’t mind?” he repeats, but then his eyes grow big in realisation, and he starts rambling.

“Wait. You staying over doesn’t mean you need to have sex with me, you know that right. Because I would never push you into anything, you’re not ready for. And I don’t even know how experienced you are, and I’m not saying that you have to be, I’m just-”

“Yeonjun,” you interrupt, shushing him by putting your index finger to his lips.

He looks at you wide-eyed and you chuckle in response. “Shut up.”  

“I mean it y/n. Let’s take something serious for once,' he whines tightening the hold he had on your waist.

“No, let’s not,” you tease him as you straddle him, seductively staring at his lips before you inch closer to his face, softly placing your lips onto his plump ones.  

It was cute to you how worried he was, but the fact of the matter is that you’re not that innocent yourself. You want him, and you don’t really care about the status of your relationship to take this step.  

You’ve been lusting over him since the start of college and now that you have him in the palm of your hands you weren’t just going to waste the perfect opportunity to act on your desires.

You kiss him softly, but the softness disappeared as he melted into the kiss, taking the lead as his hands traveled down to your ass, using it as leverage.  

Something in him wanted to take things slow with you, he wanted to take the brand-newness of your relationship as serious as possible, but he also couldn’t deny that he had been storing away his horniness when around you. Also, the friction of having you straddling him like this didn’t support his philosophy of taking things slowly at all.  

You moan into his mouth and the sound has his mind running wild.

He let himself fall flat to the bed, pulling you with him as you straddled him in a different position.

He tugged at your chin, pulling you in closer while claiming your mouth again, hungrily making his way down your neck with wet open-mouthed kisses as he tugged at your hair in order to give himself full access to the exposed skin of your neck.  

You let out a breathy moan as he finds your sweet spot, making him grin smugly against your skin.

“Enjoying yourself darling?” He teases, which you just nod to in response. Too dazed to give him the real assurance he was looking for.

You were lost for words at how good he was, and how quickly his flustered demeanor shifted to a lust-filled one.  

Your whole body tingled in ecstasy as he wrapped his free hand around your neck while his lips found their way back to yours. His other hand now back on your waist, riding up the hem of your hoodie to dig his nails into your skin.

You moan into his mouth once again, and that just about drives Yeonjun over the edge.  

He basically rips the fur coat off of your frame and swiftly turns you around so your back is now to the bed with him hovering over you.

He pulls up your hoodie, exposing your bra and he buries his face in between your breasts, kissing his way up to your lips again.

"So god damn beautiful," he compliments in between wet kisses, making you moan in response.

He quickly resumes his assault to your mouth and neck, and unknowingly you tug at the waistband of his joggers out of instinct.

He looks down at your hand basically hovering over his crotch and gives you a look of pure mischief. “Someone's needy,” he breathes, giving you a coy smile.

At that, you both hear the front door to their apartment open and he pushes himself off of you immediately, leaving you dazed and entirely too horny to not be annoyed at the interruption.  

“Shit.” Yeonjun huffs as he runs his hand through his hair. “You need to hide.”  

“What? Why?” you say pulling down your hoodie again as you look at him with big eyes.

“My light is on, meaning I’m awake, meaning that Hyuka will probably come into my room to hug me goodnight. It’s a thing he does.” Yeonjun explains as quickly as possible.

Your face contorts from confusion to pure uwu but before you could say anything you already hear a knock on Yeonjun’s door.

“Yeonjun hyung, are you sleeping?” Hueningkai’s voice was clear as day and you look at Yeonjun with wide eyes. Not sure where you should be hiding.

He points at his bed and realise you could easily fit under it. You disappear under his bed at the speed of light and Yeonjun makes his way to his door, nervously looking back to see if you were visible before he opened it with a dramatic swing.

“Hyung, it’s late why aren’t you sleeping” Hyuka says walking into his room, making himself fall onto Yeonjun’s bed with full force.  

You covered your mouth to suppress a yelp as the bed dipped almost to the point where it hit you.

Yeonjun’s eyes grow in size and he pulls Hueningkai off the mattress as fast as he could.

“There was a spider, don’t go on there,” he blurts out, not being able to come up with a better lie.

“Oh, should I grab it for you? Did it go under your bed?” Hyuka almost dropped to his knees to look under the bed before Yeonjun grabbed him, stopping him from moving any further.

“No, it’s okay, hyung will take care of it, go sleep. I’m teaching you how to drive tomorrow remember?”

“Oh right, I almost forgot,” Hyuka says scratching the back of his head while laughing nervously.

“Why am I kind of scared.”  

“Don’t be, if you wreck my car you will have nothing to be scared of, ever again. In your life. Cause it will be over.” Yeonjun jokes, and you put your hand over your mouth to muffle your giggles.

Their relationship was so cute.

Hueningkai laughed a softer version of his obnoxious but adorable laugh and flew into Yeonjun's arms while rubbing his belly. “Okayyyy, got it. Goodnight and good luck with your spider problem.”

Yeonjun smiled, leading the younger one out of his room. “Goodnight honeybee.”  

He closed the door behind him and locked it this time. He walked over to the bed and dropped to the floor, bending his neck to look at you.

“You could just sleep there if you want,” he jokes, flashing his pearly whites at you.

You glare at him. “I can’t believe I had to hide under your bed.”  

He let out a small chuckle and reached out his hand for you to help you get out from under the bed.

You’re surprised by his strength as he was able to pull you out entirely with just one arm. You drop yourself on to his bed, this time exhausted from the subsiding rush of adrenaline.

You yawn covering your face, and Yeonjun notices.

"Are you tired?" he asks patting your head. You slowly nod in response, blinking a couple of times to re-adjust your blurry vision.

Yeonjun smiled at you fondly. "Let's continue what we were doing some other time." he winks and you just grimace at his words, nodding in agreement.

He pulls to covers from underneath you and turns off the light on his nightstand.  

“Move,” he whispers and you comply with a giddy smile, making space for him on the bed.  

He pulled to covers over both of you, spooning you as he holds your hand tightly, resting your intertwined hands to your chest.  The butterflies in your stomach ran wild, this moment is something you fantasized about multiple times, but now that it was happening you weren't sure how to get yourself to calm down.

As if he sensed your rising heartbeat, he kissed your temple. Snuggling his face in your neck while giving you another kiss on your jaw.

“Goodnight,” he whispers, his breath tickling your neck as he speaks.

“Goodnight,” you reply timidly, already dozing off in his hold.

You felt safe, sound, warm, and you hoped he felt the same. You hoped you could give him what he longed for all this time because there was nothing more you want than for him to feel like he could be himself around you.

You wanted to say so much, do so much, but tiredness got the better of you as your eyelids grow heavy, drifting off into nothingness as his hold lulled you to sleep.

Yeonjun had been staring at your sleeping form for the past 10 minutes. He stared at your features. Studying your face. You moved a little making a piece of your hair drape in front of your eyes, which made your nose scrunch up in response.  

Yeonjun suppressed a chuckle and moved the piece of hair out of your face so he could adore you some more.

It was 11 AM and he already heard Soobin and Taehyun's voices from the living room.  

He had no idea how to get you out without them noticing and he also didn’t have the heart to wake you up.

After a few seconds, the comfortable silence was interrupted by loud knocks on Yeonjun’s bedroom door.

“HYUNG, BREAKFAST IS READY.” Taehyun yelled at the top of his lungs, startling Yeonjun and waking you up in a panic at the loud noises.  

Your eyes shoot open in shock, but Yeonjun held on to your waist firmly to keep you from jolting upwards, reminding you of his presence.

“It’s ok” he whispered patting your head, and you relax in an instance.

“NOT HUNGRY,” he yelled back; making you cringe at the loud noise.

You’re not a morning person, which Yeonjun figured as you turned back around to close your eyes.

He let out a sigh shaking your shoulder. “Five more minutes,” you huff, pulling his arm from your shoulder and back around your waist to signal to him that you wanted him to hold you.

Yeonjun however, wasn’t having it.

“I’ve been waiting for you to wake up for half an hour,” he says unamused, untangling himself from you and ripping the sheets off of you.

You shot him an angry look, burying your face in his pillow and he couldn’t help but chuckle at how cute and moody you were in the morning.  

“We need to figure out how to get you out of the apartment unnoticed.”  he says with his arms crossed, looking at you expectantly.

And suddenly, you’re wide awake. Well shit, you didn’t think that far ahead yet.  

You sit up, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

“I could jump out the window”  

“This is the 9th floor, you’d die.”

“Problem solved,” you joke.

Yeonjun rolls his eyes at you as he sits back down on his bed.

“Did you sleep well?” he asks caressing your cheek.

You nod sheepishly as you lean into his touch, resting your cheek in his hand. “You?”

“The best sleep I’ve had in a while.” He admits, making you melt.

Yeonjun’s phone buzzed and he looked over, taking it off the charger as he read the message.

“Soobin and Tae are heading out,” he says in surprise. “They’re getting coffee and asked me if I wanted one.”

He shows you the messages. You found your luck hard to believe and squint your eyes reading over the messages a second time.

“If Gyu and Hyuka are still asleep then that’s my chance to escape,” you say excitedly clapping your hands together as realization hits.

You didn’t know why but this whole keeping your relationship a secret thing was kind of fun. It was thrilling that you could get caught at any moment and that the rest of your friends were so oblivious, but you really wanted to know when your luck was going to run out because that's one confrontation that you weren't ready for.

After waiting in Yeonjun's room for a few minutes after Soobin and Tae had left, you finally open the door to Yeonjun’s bedroom.

Both of you silently run to the front door, he turns you around and kisses your lips once more before he opens the front door and shoos you away playfully.

“See you tonight.” He says as he waves at you.

Right, game night. You almost forgot.

You were pretty nervous about it given the fact that this is the first time you’d hang out with all 5 of the boys and Mia since the whole ordeal at the festival. Your stomach turned at the thought of having to act nonchalantly around Yeonjun throughout the night. Not knowing how well you’d be able to do that.

Before you walk off. you pull Yeonjun in for another quick kiss and he smiles into it. “Quick, quick, quick,” he says pushing you off of him, and you both laugh as you start running off.  

Hyuka had his hands wrapped tightly around the steering wheel.

Yeonjun was situated in the passengers’ seat as Beomgyu was seated behind them in the middle backseat, leaning over to see what Hyuka was doing.

“Ok so, what happens if I press the brake and gas at the same time?” Hyuka says mischievously staring at Yeonjun to tease him.

“The car takes a screenshot,” Beomgyu comments

“FOR REAL!?”  

“Get the fuck out of my car, both of you” Yeonjun sighs rubbing his forehead.  

“Ahh, ok, ok, ok. We’ll behave. Sorry” Hueningkai laughs and carefully backs out of the parking spot.

Yeonjun's phone started to buzz and he checked his messages while Hyuka was driving carefully. His eyes lit up seeing your name on his phone, smiling giddily at your message.

[Y/N: 3:23 PM]: Can't wait to ignore your whole existence tonight, make sure to get my Oscar ready, I will put these actresses out of a job...

He was about to reply to you but Beomgyu interrupted. "Hyung could you please pay attention to what Hyuka is doing because I feel uneasy."

Hueningkai scoffed at Beomgyu's lack of confidence in him and Yeonjun snapped out of it, correcting Hyuka's driving by tugging at the steering wheel lightly.

"Right, sorry."

"Hyung, by the way. you and y/n are good right?" Beomgyu asked with big eyes.

The sudden mention of your name startled Yeonjun, but he cleared his throat, trying to be as nonchalant as possible.

"Yeah, we are. Why do you ask?"

"Well, cause she's coming over tonight too and it'd be awkward if you two were still awkward around each other."

Yeonjun's shoulders fell as he relaxed. Sighing as he looked back at Beomgyu and Hyuka's expecting eyes. "We're totally fine." Yeonjun assures, giving them a sincere smile.

Beomgyu nodded in response and so did Hueningkai.

"I'm glad." he adds.

Yeonjun was surprised, Hueningkai did better than expected so they decided to leave the parking grounds for a short while to practice roundabouts and parallel parking.

It didn’t take long before they all had enough of risking their lives, so Yeonjun decided to drive back to their dorm and prepare for game night. They had a few more guests coming than usual, but Yeonjun had no idea since he spent all his time with you and didn’t plan the whole thing with the other guys.  

“You did well,” he says patting Hyuka on his back as they walk into their building, his compliment earned a heartfelt smile from Hueningkai. “Watch out hyung, once I get my license you won’t know what’s coming for you,” he boasts.  

“Don’t get cocky already, there’s a written exam that you need to pass first,” Beomgyu says rolling his eyes as they step out of the elevator, on their way to their front door.

“Oh…right.” Hyuka says sulking.

Yeonjun laughs at the banter of his little brothers, opening the front door to see the place fully decorated.  

“Eh…Tae? What’s going on.” Yeonjun asks as they make eye contact while Taehyun was using all the force in his lungs to blow up some balloons.

Beomgyu and Hyuka brushed past Yeonjun, on their way to their shared room in an attempt to avoid helping out with decorations.

“So….game night turned into a bit of a bigger get together,” he explains apologetically.

Yeonjun chuckles, grabbing a few balloons to help out. “I’m not surprised.”

“You’re not mad right? I mean you’re barely home so we didn’t even know if you’d be here tonight. By the way, where have you been all week?”

“Uh, with Wooyoung.” Yeonjun lies latching his mouth onto the balloon, blowing it up to avoid more conversation.

“MIA!” you run into her arms. Not seeing her for a whole week was the longest you’d gone without seeing her since you met her, so it felt like a whole year. She left for home to spend time with her family and well, you were too occupied with Yeonjun to really talk to her.

Mia giggles in your embrace. Both of you decided to meet at the boys’ dorm to enter together like you always do.  

“I missed you,” she says wrapping her arm around your waist as you both walk towards the elevator.

As you press the button, you spot the same guy with long black hair who you were introduced to by Yeonjun at Johnny’s party, walking towards you.

“Hey,” you greet him with a smile, and he shifts his focus from his phone to you at the sound of your voice.

“Hey.” He gave you a warm smile back while going in for a hug.

You were surprised since you’ve only spoken to each other for half a minute but you figured he was just a hugger.

“Wooyoung? Right?”  

He nods excitedly. “Yes.”

Mia smiled at him too and introduced herself. “Do you live here?” she asks genuinely interested.

“No, I’m going to Yeonjun’s”

“Oh…huh, so are we,” you say shooting Mia a confused look, which she shrugged at.  

“Oooo nice!” he exclaims making both you and Mia laughs in response to his enthusiasm.  

The three of you make small talk about your only connection, school. The more you spoke to him, the more you got the friendship between him and Yeonjun. Wooyoung seemed super loud and outgoing, matching Yeonjun's personality effortlessly.  

You finally reach the front door and knock a few times.

Soobin opened the door for you guys but you were completely disregarded by him as he attacked Mia with hugs and kisses. You hear a few I love you’s and I missed you’s and you can’t help but beam at them.

You were feeling less salty about their PDA because of the fact that you have Yeonjun now, but you know…they don’t know that.

Yeonjun was seated at the large kitchen table behind Taehyun, who was playing that odd biting dog game that they play with Beomgyu and Hyuka. Yeonjun’s eyes meet yours and he gives you a small smile before he saw you standing in the doorway with Wooyoung.  

It looked like the two of you came here together and he didn’t like how that looked to the rest of the people here.  

You saw how his face fell and your eyes travel to Wooyoung who was still standing next to you with his hand on your waist. You didn’t think much of it given his touchy nature but you couldn’t really go up to Yeonjun either to ease his mind, because everyone would question why.

You sigh, nonchalantly untangling yourself from his hold to make your way to Mia who was standing on the balcony with Soobin.

Wooyoung made his way to Yeonjun and they hugged, Yeonjun’s eyes following your figure like a hawk before he shifted his attention back to his friend.

You breathe in the cool air on the balcony and lean on the railing, standing next to Mia and Soobin who were lost in a conversation about her family visit.

You honestly wanted to be alone with Yeonjun if you could. Not feeling the need to be sociable with all of the people here, especially if you had to act distant towards Yeonjun in the meantime.

You didn’t know how many glances you could steal from him before someone noticed, and it upset you a little, but you also know that YOU are the reason you’re in this situation in the first place.

When your thoughts start running wild, muting out your surroundings, your phone starts to vibrate in your pocket, snapping you back to reality. You retrieve it and look at your messages.

[Yeonjun 8.32 PM]: I hate this :( 

You chuckle, glancing over to him. He looked at his phone with a pout and you melted at the sight, but you quickly averted your attention back to your phone before anyone noticed that you were starting at him.

[Y/N 8.32 PM]: Me too. Also, I ran into Wooyoung downstairs, it’s just a coincidence.  

[Yeonjun 8.32 PM]: Hah, did I say anything?

[Y/N 8.32 PM]: No, but your face did.

You peak over your shoulder to look at Yeonjun whose eyes had now found yours. He gave you a kittenish angry look and you couldn’t help but giggle, which caught Soobin and Mia’s attention.

“What’s so funny?” Soobin says nudging you.

“Oh, the game…the game is funny,” you say absentmindedly.

Soobin looked over his shoulder and saw the boys basically screaming at each other out of competitiveness and he giggled too. “Yeah, they’re crazy.”

Mia’s eyes travel to the front door as she sees new people entering.

“Baby, who are they?” she asks with a smile, leaning her head on his upper arm.  

“Oh, they’re Yeonjun’s friends. I invited them to cheer him up a little.”

Your eyes dart to Soobin. “Cheer him up for what?” you ask genuinely confused.

“Ahh….i-it’s nothing.” Soobin stuttered. “He’s just been dealing with some stuff lately so I thought I’d invite some more people over.”

You squint his eyes at Soobin. What did Yeonjun not tell you?

Your eyes scan the group of 4 who had joined the get-together, you see two guys and two girls, one of them clinging on to Yeonjun’s arm the minute she saw him.

You cock your eyebrow at the sight, trying not to stare too long.

The three of you make your way back in to the apartment and decide to join the rest of the group at the dinner table. They were now playing charades and you couldn’t help but laugh at Wooyoung’s ridiculous competitive nature, which was only fueled by Yeonjun’s desire to win against Taehyun, Hueningkai, and Beomgyu.

Your eyes darted to the mystery girl who was basically drooling over Yeonjun. You noticed her giggling with her friend every time he did something remotely funny or adorable and you can’t help but roll your eyes when she keeps playfully nudging him or smacking his arm as she laughed.

“I wanna be on Junnie’s team!” she screeched as she sat down on his lap.

The action made your eyes widen, and you can tell Yeonjun’s whole body stiffened, his eyes darting to yours in apology.

Neither of you could control this situation, but that didn’t mean he had to keep her on his lap.

“Let’s do truth or dare instead,” Wooyoung suggests wiggling his eyebrows, earning a bunch of either excited hums or disagreeing groans from everyone.  

"What are we, 12 years old?" you sigh, scooting your seat closer to the table.

"Why, you got something to hide?" Wooyoung challenges you as he gives you a mischievous smile, raising his eyebrow at you in amusement.

You huff in response, stealing a quick glance from Yeonjun's stoic expression.

"No."

Wooyoung cleared his throat. “Ok, Ok. Me first then,” he says shifting his attention to you.

“Y/n, truth, or dare?’ He asks grinning at you from ear to ear.

You stiffen. “Ehm, truth,” you blurt out, earning groans from Beomgyu and Soobin.

“You’re so tame.” Beomgyu states and you shot him a venomous look in return, which he brushed off by laughing at you.

“Okay, truth…hmm. Do you like anyone in this room?” He asks folding his arms over his chest, leaning back into his chair.  

“Yes,” you say out loud without thinking. If you could kick yourself you would have. What the fuck were you thinking?

Your statement earned surprised looks from everyone, including Mia and Soobin, who were now looking at each other with question marks in their eyes.

Yeonjun uncomfortably shifted in his seat, with the screechy blonde girl still situated on his lap.

“Who?” Mia asked raising her brows at you.

“I already answered my question.” You shrug, but you knew you’d be a target from now on.

Mia was determined to find out who it was and as her turn came around, she had an idea and decided to act on it. Thinking of the situation as innocent and funny.

“Y/n, truth or dare?” She asks giving him a knowing smirk.

“Truth.” you exhale loudly, already done with playing the stupid game.

“Who is it?” she asks leaning in a little closer.

Fuck.

Your eyes dart to Yeonjun who subtly tried to shake his head for you to notice, and you did.

“Ehm, I-it’s Wooyoung,” you say pointing at him before your brain could even compute the damage that you had just done.

Wooyoung’s eyebrows raise in surprise, just like Yeonjun’s and the rest of the people there.

"Since WHEN!?" Soobin exclaims in disbelief. Which earned a slap from Mia to his upper arm. "Shut up." she huffs noticing how uncomfortable you were.

Suddenly she felt bad for pushing you so far, she thought you were just kidding, but given the distress in your eyes she knew something else was up.

Hueningkai started laughing hysterically as his turn rolled around. “Wooyoung hyung, truth, or dare.”

“Dare.” he practically yells, giving Hyuka an amused smile.

“I dare you to kiss y/n.”

Wooyoung rolled his eyes at the juvenile attempt of your friends to embarrass you, but he couldn’t deny that you were hot, and well. You literally just confessed that you had an eye for him too. Everyone started "ooh-ing" and "aah-ing" at the situation but you couldn't move or respond quick enough to what followed.

Your eyes grow big and you see Yeonjun clench his fists as Wooyoung pulled you towards him, lacing his fingers through your hair as his lips made contact with yours.

Chapter 7.

[calpalirwin]

35th Floor

Summary: You and Ashton run rival companies in the same building. 

Word count: 4.7k

And away, and away we go!

__

You checked the time on your watch as you rounded the corner, the tall building looming a mere fifty feet away. 8:45 am. Perfect. As you lifted your gaze, your lips curled into a sneer as you watched a man approaching you from the opposite street corner. His suit lay perfectly flat against his body, just tight enough to show off how well-muscled he was underneath the crisp ensemble. In one hand, he held a cell phone pressed to his ear, and even from the distance you could hear his sharp tone. “Where the blame lies is of little interest to me, unless the problem is not fixed by noon today. Because then I will become interested, and rest assured, you do not wish to see me interested. Are we at an understanding?” As the man waited for an answer, he took a sip of the iced coffee in his other hand. “Good. My office. Noon. Not a minute later.” 

He slid his phone into his jacket pocket, finally taking note of your appearance as you both walked up the steps to the building together. “Miss Y/L/N,” he greeted, a smirk on his lips as his fingers curled around one of the doors, pulling it open for you both.

“Mr. Irwin,” you responded icily, opening the other door for yourself. “I find that my employees are a lot more agreeable to do my bidding, and make less mistakes, when I don’t berate them before the work day has even begun,” you commented offhandedly as you both walked towards the elevator. 

“Bold statement from the woman who can’t let a gentleman hold the door for her,” was the quip as he hit the button to call the elevator.

“Bold of you to assume you’re a gentleman, Mr. Irwin.”

“It’s Ashton, Y/N. Surely the basic pleasantries are beyond us now.”

“I wouldn’t call what we do ‘pleasant,’ Mr. Irwin. You are barely tolerable at best, and at worst a thorn in my side.”

“And you, a thorn in mine.”

“Am I at least a sharp thorn?” you inquired with a small smirk of your own.

“The sharpest.”

“Hmm. Pity. You’re a rather dull thorn. I thought we’d at least be matched. But it is clear you hold me in much higher esteem than I hold you.”

“You wound me,” he deadpanned as the elevator finally dinged and the silver mirrored doors slid open.

“Careful not to bleed all over your suit,” you told him as you stepped onto the elevator, quickly hitting the button for your floor and the “close door” button. “The dry cleaning must cost a fortune,” you mused as the doors started to close, faster than Ashton could join you, much to his startled shock and your glee.

~~~

Thanks to leaving Ashton waiting for another elevator, you didn’t see the man again until you stepped out for lunch. “Mr. Irwin,” you flashed him a smile as you found him in the small elevator waiting area of the 35th floor where both your businesses were located.

“Miss Y/L/N,” he replied with a curt nod. “Pleasant morning?” he continued before taking a sip from the coffee in his hand.

“Very,” you answered, wondering why he was asking and just how much coffee this man drank. Come to think of it, in the four years you’ve shared the same building, you don’t think you’ve ever seen him without a coffee in hand. So how he managed to be anything beyond constantly jittery was beyond you. “And yours?”

“Not nearly as much, I’m afraid. But, I’m hopeful my afternoon will prove to be better.”

“One can only hope,” you responded with a tight-lipped smile before tapping your foot impatiently. God, this elevator sure took its sweet time.

Sighing in his own agitation, Ashton reached across your shoulder to stab his index finger into the button. And promptly spilled his coffee down the front of your blouse in the process. “My apologies,” he ushered quickly. You were too busy gasping in shock as the coffee stain caused your blouse to cling to your skin, and the ice melting in your bra to tell if it was sincere or not. But you got your answer when he clicked his tongue, his eyes roaming your heaving chest. “The dry cleaning must cost a fortune,” he mused.

You narrowed your eyes. “I’ll be sure to send you the bill.”

“Can’t wait.” He flashed you a charming smile that had dimples indenting his cheeks. And before either of you could get in another word, the elevator arrived, taking Ashton with it.

Alone, you let out a small growl of rage, stamping your foot for good measure before stalking back down to your offices. “Whoa, what happened to you?” Michael, your business partner asked, his green eyes glinting with slight amusement.

“I’ll give you two guesses,” you hissed through your teeth, moving past him into your personal office, grateful the main floor was empty with everyone off to lunch. Better for only your most trusted companion to see you in such a state.

Michael whistled low, following after you, shutting the door behind him more out of habit than necessity. “Did you really not expect him to get you back after leaving him on the ground floor this morning?”

“Yes. But in a similar fashion. Like closing the doors on me when we leave today. Not dumping his coffee on me,” you griped. You moved over to the small closet you had in your office, selecting out a new blouse, thankful Michael had had the foresight to put in a closet just for moments like this. “Seriously,” you continued, peeling off the fabric still clinging to your skin, the camisole you had underneath just sporting a wet spot that you could easily cover. “Do you think he just has one cup of coffee he just keeps drinking throughout the day? Or is it actually a new coffee every time? How has his heart not jumped out of his chest from that much caffeine?”

“Maybe it’s decaf,” Michael suggested, coughing uncomfortably and studying the floor as you dabbed at the melted ice in your cleavage.”

“Oh, relax,” you scoffed as you discarded the tissues in a small wicker wastebasket before pulling on your new blouse, and doing up the buttons. “I’m wearing an undershirt. Plus it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

“You’re still my boss,” he pointed out with a soft chuckle.

“Barely,” you laughed. “You're my business partner, not my employee, Mike.”

“Just your business partner? I thought what we had was special…” he pouted rolling his eyes playfully, earning another laugh from you. Michael Clifford was easily your best friend in the entire world. And if you were to have your choice of who to run a business with, you would pick him every time without hesitation. Because in addition to being your best friend, Michael was wicked smart, and had a personality that made it hard not to like the man. An important attribute that set him apart from the more cutthroat breed of businessmen. “So, what are we doing for lunch, boss lady?”

“That Italian place on Fifth?” you suggested.

“Yes!” he agreed, his mouth watering.

“Perfect. The dry cleaner's next door, so I can drop this off,” you said, gathering your things.

“You should send him the bill,” Michael told you as you walked back out of the offices. “But make them do like one of those fancy ass super cleaning of it. Like the super deluxe version at a carwash. But for your shirt. Really stick it to him.”

“I like where your mind’s at.”

Fate seemed to agree with the plan of sticking Ashton with your dry cleaning bill, as when you walked into the Italian restaurant, you found the man of the hour standing beside the pick up counter. His focus was on the phone in his hand, taking slow sips from the coffee that you were sure was just a permanent feature of his left hand, his eyebrows furrowed together, his lips a tight line of displeasure. But his head snapped to attention as he heard your voice rattle off your order, his scowl changing to a friendly look. “Y/N. Gorgeous top, love. Although I must say, I liked the other one better,” he said as he crossed over to you.

“If you love it so much, then you shouldn’t have a problem collecting it for me,” you smiled sweetly, pressing the clothing ticket in his chest.

You swallowed the bile rising in your throat as his hand curled around yours to grab at the scrap of paper. “It would be my pleasure,” he assured you, before releasing your hand.

Before you could think of a retort, one of the workers called out, “Order for Ashton.”

“That would be me,” Ashton smiled. “See you around, Y/N.”

“Okay…” Michael said after the man disappeared. “Remind me again why you hate him? Coffee incident aside. He doesn’t seem like that terrible of a guy.”

“It’s…” you started before blanking out. Why did you hate Ashton so much? After four years of holding disdain for him, it was hard to work out what had been the original offense that started the rivalry of the 35th floor. “He represents everything I hate about corporate America. He’s a male heading a company.”

“I’m a male heading a company in corporate America…” Michael pointed out. “Well… co-heading. As is Ashton. Calum Hood is as much his business partner as I’m yours.”

“Yes, but you never called me a secretary,” you remembered suddenly.

“Ashton called you a secretary?! When was this?”

You waved a hand in a dismissive fashion, not wanting to relive the memory that had crept up unwanted. “It must have been years ago. And it’s stupid for me to still be offended. It’s not like there’s anything wrong with being a secretary, mind you. You know I don’t think that way. But it was the insinuation that because I was a woman, I couldn’t possibly be interviewing for any other position.”

“Oh, shit… I always forget you interviewed with him before starting our company. But I didn’t realize that had been the reason.”

“I never got to the interview, actually. I got too mad and walked out.”

“And you never looked back,” Michael beamed proudly, trying to cheer you up.

“And I never looked back,” you agreed with a wide smile. “Best decision I ever made was storming out of his office.”

~~~

The next few days passed without incident. Whether it was just mere coincidence or divine intervention, you always managed to be just enough ahead or behind Ashton to avoid having to share an elevator without it being a confrontational power move of who could leave whom stranded and waiting.

On the eighth day of this happening, you began to wonder if Ashton was purposefully avoiding you as you always arrived and left the office at the same time day in and day out. The answer came in the form of a note on your desk after lunch. Mr. Irwin said he had a package delivered to his office that’s yours????

You poked your head out of your office, spotting your assistant at his desk. “Alejandro, did Mr. Irwin happen to mention what the package was?”

“No ma’am. Just that he wanted to know when you’d be by to pick it up. I asked if I could just stop by or if one of his associates could drop it off, but he seemed insistent that it was you who came to get it.”

You clicked your tongue in your cheek. That man… “Alright. Thank you, Alejandro.”

“Not a problem, ma’am. Oh! Also your 2:30 appointment was canceled. Thomas Fletcher. Didn’t give a reason.”

Your tongue clicked again in annoyance. Now your afternoon was completely free. A concept you didn’t like at all.

“You alright, ma’am?”

You forced a smile. “Just dandy,” you replied before taking a few quick steps to Michael’s office next door to yours. “Hey, Mike. Could I bother you for a quick sec?” you asked, rapping your knuckles against his open door before shutting it behind you.

“Course,” he said, rising from his desk chair. “What’s up? You look mad.”

“I’m gonna kill him…” you muttered darkly.

“What did Ashton do now?”

“I don’t know. But he has a ‘package’ for me,” you said, using finger quotes. “And he can’t be bothered to send an associate to send it over, nor will he accept any of mine retrieving it. He’s requesting that I come specifically. And my appointment for this afternoon magically canceled itself. They were so adamant on seeing me as soon as possible yesterday that I shifted things around to be accommodating, and then they canceled. And the name they gave too. Thomas Fletcher? Something’s not adding up. And I’ll bet it’s Ashton’s doing.”

Michael scratched at his jawline in thought. “Hmm… maybe it’s an olive branch. Inviting you over to clear the air, make a truce.”

You scoffed. “Please. What does Ashton know about making peace?”

Michael laughed. “So, you going over there?”

“God, no! If he wants me to be the recipient of whatever this package is personally, he can come here. If he thinks I’m coming to him, he’s sorely mistaken.”

“So go tell him that.”

“I will!” you stated, before retreating out of Michael’s office and back into yours. You took a brief pause to collect the anger coursing through you before picking up your phone and dialing.

“Irwin Industries, how may I direct your call?” a receptionist asked on the second ring.

“Put me through to Ashton directly, please.”

“May I ask who’s calling?”

“He’ll know.”

“Uh… yes ma’am…” was the confused reply before the line trilled again as you were connected to what you hoped was Ashton himself.

One ring. Two. Three. He was testing your patience. Four, then finally, “This is Ashton.”

“A package?” you asked, cutting straight to the chase.

“Ah, Miss Y/L/N. I was hoping this was you. My schedule is a bit cramped this afternoon, but I’m certain I can set aside a few moments for you. What time works for you?”

“You know, it’s complimentary to drop the package off at the right offices if it’s not yours. Not ask the recipient to come collect.”

“Hmm…” he mulled it over, drawing it out. “That would require more of my time… But I suppose I could manage to drop by, yes. Are you available at 2:30?”

“Funnily enough, I am actually.”

“My, that’s quite the coincidence. I’ll see you at 2:30 then.”

“Bring my package, Ashton.”

“Wouldn’t dream of coming without it, darling.”

If you could, you would have ripped your phone from its cords and thrown it right at him, but something told you that might be deemed unprofessional. You settled for a quiet scream instead. And then, you straightened your jacket and set to work. If Ashton was dropping by, you were going to make sure this was the most pristine set of offices he’d ever seen.

~~~

At 2:30 on the nose, the door to your offices opened to reveal Ashton in a black blazer over a red button up with white polka dots on it. The bright red of the shirt with the top buttons undone revealing part of his chest matched the red he had dyed his hair. You hated the perfectly slicked back red locks fit him just as much as his natural brown curls did. He had everything he could possibly want in life that it seemed to be a grave injustice that he could also pull off any hair color. God had favorites and Ashton was one of them, of that you were certain.

From your hidden-from-view vantage point (peeking through your blinds out at the main floor), you watched as Ashton talked in hushed tones to your receptionist before nodding. As he walked confidently amongst the cubicles, you rushed back to sit at your desk, trying your best to look busy. “Hello,” you heard Ashton greeted politely. “I’m here to see Miss Y/L/N. Is she in?”

“Mr. Irwin,” Alejandro gulped. “Let me see if she’s free. I’ll only be a moment,” Alejandro lied for you, and you smiled proudly. There was a reason you’d chosen him for your assistant. There was a knock on your door before it opened to reveal Alejandro. “Miss, a Mr. Irwin is here to see you.”

“Send him in, thank you,” you nodded, rising from your chair and smoothing out your skirt, your hands feeling clammy.

“Of course, miss. Mr. Irwin, she can see you now.”

Alejandro got replaced by Ashton filling your doorway and what appeared to be a dry cleaning garment bag he held over his shoulder by the crook of his index finger. “Miss Y/L/N,” Ashton said, stepping forward to offer you the bag. “I believe this is yours.”

“Oh!” you said in surprise, a wave of shame washing over you. Maybe Michael had been right after all… You came out from behind your desk to shut your office door. “Thank you,” you added as you then took the bag from him, and sure enough, your blouse from last week was there. You moved about the room again to place your blouse on the surface of your desk before turning around to return your attention to Ashton who had taken up residence squarely between the two chairs you had set up before your desk. A standing meeting. How pleasant… Hopefully that meant this would be quick.

“Of course. And again, my sincerest apologies. It actually was an accident. And since I’m apologizing, I might as well apologize for your meeting getting canceled this afternoon. That may or may not have been my doing. Rest assured, it was a joke appointment. Lovely office by the way. I remember what it used to look like before you got here. Was a dump. And you made it… not that way.”

“I thought the name Thomas Fletcher was familiar,” you admitted with a sly smile. “And thank you, again. Both for the blouse and the compliment.”

“Of course. I, uh… Forgive me for asking, but have I done something to offend you? Either now or in the past?”

“Do you seriously not remember?” you questioned, swallowing the hypocrisy that was you having forgotten yourself until only last week. But the memory had resurfaced, and with it your red hot anger on the matter.

“No, I don’t believe I do…”

“You called me a secretary!” you hissed.

~~~

You smoothed down the front of your skirt, taking a deep breath to calm your nerves before pushing open the door to the offices. Telephones rang and people typed away at keyboards. You could see a row of private offices, and a large conference room behind the layout maze of cubicles. But your first focus was the wide wooden desk marked “Reception” with the words “Irwin Industries” on the wall behind the desk in a golden calligraphy script. You had the sinking feeling of being underqualified for the job you were interviewing for, but quickly shook away that feeling. If Ashton Irwin himself had chosen you to interview with out of countless other candidates, there had to be a reason. “Hello,” you smiled at the receptionist. “I’m here for an interview. Y/N Y/L/N.”

The receptionist barely looked at you as they typed in the information. “Yes, he’ll be out shortly.”

“Thank you,” you said, still smiling. Maybe they were just busy. No telling how many interviews they had to keep track of. Curt professionalism over amiable politeness. A willing sacrifice you yourself were just as guilty of every now and then.

The sound of shoes purposefully towards you had you glancing your head towards the sound. The man was uncuffing the sleeves of his white button down, rolling them up his strong forearms. A stubborn curl of brown lay flat across his forehead, and when he raised a finger to push it back with the rest, it fell right back into place. “You must be here for the secretary position. I’m Ashton, I’ll be conducting your interview this morning. If you’ll follow me,” he said, not even bothering to come to a full stop as he started turning around to walk back the way he’d just come from.

“I-” you started, anger coursing through your entire body, warming you from head to toe. A secretary?! Surely if he had the gall to schedule and conduct the interviews himself, he had the character to keep them straight. And the assumption that you were here to interview for the secretary position based on what?! That you were a woman?! Ashton Irwin, you decided in that moment, was everything wrong with corporate America. Which perhaps was too bold a statement for him to bear the weight of alone, but perhaps it was his fault for not checking his callousness at the door. You cleared your throat, not following after him. When he turned, arching an eyebrow in silent question, you shook your head. “I’m afraid there’s been a mistake, Mr. Irwin. I- Apologies for wasting your time. Best of luck to the other candidates.”

As you made your exit, you caught sight of a sign on the offices across the hallway from Irwin Industries that read “For Lease” in big red letters. Pulling out your phone, you quickly dialed your closest friend. “Hey, Y/N!” Michael chirped, “How’d the interview go?!”

“Were you serious about starting a business with me?”

“That bad, huh?”

~~~

“I-” Ashton stammered, the memory as fresh in his mind now as it was yours. “I hadn’t meant it in a rude way,” he went to amend.

“No, you meant it in an assuming way,” you corrected. “Which is far worse. Do you know how many men I’ve dealt with who made that same assumption in the course of my career? Or the fact that I sign all my emails with my partner’s signature along with it so I don’t have to waste precious time proving my worth before I land a client? I have to make sure my credentials look far more impressive than the ones hanging on your wall, because I have to work twice as hard to prove myself to you and everyone else to even attempt at leveling the playing field! And the fact that you, or any man, would dare assume-”

“I didn’t assume,” Ashton cut you off. “I made a mistake. One that I didn’t realize until you had already left. One I didn’t get the chance to apologize for because y- because I found it difficult to find a way to contact you. Until you moved in across the hall a few weeks later, and by then I figured it was too little too late. And that is where I made mistake number two, apparently.”

You blinked, your attack stuck in your throat at his interruption and subsequent confession. “I- Sorry?”

He rolled his eyes as he gave a soft chuckle. “I made a mistake, Y/N. That morning… I had a million other things on my mind, and had been interviewing actual secretaries all morning. And I didn’t realize my error until I looked at your file in my office. Your credentials and resume had impressed me beyond anything I’d ever seen, and honestly the interview was just meant to be a formality because I had already made up my mind about offering you the job. But in my rush, I clumped you in a category that was well beneath your skill set. And believe me, that is a reflection of a frazzled brain, and not my actual opinion of women.”

“I’ve held a grudge against you for four year because of an oversight?” you questioned out loud. This had to be a dream. A very bad, terrible dream. How much time had you wasted hating a man who turned out to not be deserving of your hatred at all?

He giggled, a boyish sound that shocked you. “It would appear so, yes. But, I suppose that’s on me for not clearing the air sooner. Although,” he said, his voice taking on a low rasp that sent good shivers down your spine. “Perhaps it’s for the best that things worked out the way they did. Otherwise we would have run the risk of becoming HR’s worst nightmare.”

You gulped, taking a stumbling step backwards, your hand landing hard on the top of your desk to steady yourself. “Y-you do?” you gasped.

“Mhm,” he said, taking a step forward, his hand landing on top of yours, engulfing it entirely. “I’ve always held a deep admiration for women in positions of power. Much respect, too.” The words were hot on your neck as they filtered in your ears slowly.

You let out a small moan without meaning to, as your eyes fluttered shut. “Well,” you answered airly, your breathing growing heavy. “I’d be happy to reconsider my own opinion of you. If you don’t have other engagements, that is.”

“Hmm, I’d have to check my calendar…” he teased.

“Mmm, yes of course. And I, mine.”

“Hmm…” He peered over your shoulder at the calendar that was upside down at his angle. “Would you look at that,” he marveled before his hands were hot on your hips as he lifted you to sit on the desk, sending your sparse decor-- a placard with your name engraved on it, a steel cup filled with pens, your freshly returned blouse, and the aforementioned desk calendar-- skittering across the desk. “My afternoon just cleared up.”

“Mine did too,” you answered, hooking your finger down the front of his shirt to pull him closer to you, but you only ended up undoing more buttons. But it didn’t matter. Ashton got the memo as his lips crashed into yours, hot and needy.

~~~

Two Years Later

You checked the time on your watch as you rounded the corner, the tall building looming a mere fifty feet away. 8:45 am. Perfect. As you lifted your gaze, your lips curled into a smile as you watched a man walking towards you from the other street corner. His suit lay perfectly flat against his body, just tight enough to show off how well-muscled he was underneath the crisp ensemble. In one hand, he held a cell phone pressed to his ear, and even from the distance you could hear his sharp tone. “How many times do we need to go over this? I am unreachable between 2:30 and 3:15. I have an appointment at that time at which I am not to be disturbed from.” As the man waited for an answer, he managed to take a sip from one of the iced coffees he held balanced on a take out tray in his other hand. “No, Miss Y/L/N is not to be bothered during that time either. Find another associate to schedule them with-- perhaps Mr. Clifford, or Mr. Hood-- or tell the client they need to make themselves available at a different time of day. Thank you.”

He slid his phone into his jacket pocket, finally taking note of your appearance as you both walked up the steps to the building together. “Miss Y/L/N,” he greeted, a smirk on his lips as his fingers curled around one of the doors, pulling it open for you both.

“Mr. Irwin,” you smiled back, plucking the other iced coffee from the tray and taking a deep sip. “I find that my employees are a lot more agreeable to do my bidding, and make less mistakes, when I don’t berate them before the work day has even begun,” you commented offhandedly as you both walked towards the elevator.

“Now, pray tell, where have I heard that one before?” he pondered aloud with a bemused look as he hit the button to call the elevator.

“Probably from the smartest woman to ever grace you with her presence.”

“Yes, that must be it,” he agreed as the elevator dinged and the silver mirrored doors opened. “After you,” he gestured, sticking out his arm to hold the doors open. “But, please, don’t leave me behind this time.”

With a giggle, you wrapped your fingers around the knot of his tie, pulling you into the elevator with you, and kissed him the whole ride up to the combined offices of Irwin Y/L/N Corporate on the 35th floor.

__

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1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30-Epilogue

*TW: cutting, therapy, break down. a little longer then usual at 2500 words

The therapist greeted the couple as they walked in and sat down on the couch. “Thank you for allowing Natsu to sit in today, Lucy. I don’t want you to think of this as a couples counseling per se, because you’re still my primary client. But I feel that him being here to understand your struggles, as well as his, and being able to express them in a safe environment, will help in your healing process. And thank you Natsu for agreeing to this.”

He sat forward a bit, ready to engage. “Anything to help Lucy.”

“I’d like to start with your homework Lucy, has there been any progress in trying to write out your feelings? Remember, it’s okay if you’re still struggling with that, there’s no judgment here.”

“Not... really...” Lucy fidgeted with the hem of her sweatshirt. “Every time I try to, I-I get too... I start to cry, and the panic rises— I fail at it every single damn time and that makes me feel even worse.”

“You’re not failing. Let’s reword that to struggling and recognize that simply making an attempt is the first step, a very important one to be proud of.”

“Maybe I was just kidding myself all along about writing. Maybe it’s because I wasn’t any good in the first place. It was all in my head.” Lucy could see the frown on Natsu’s face from her words, but that’s how she feels now. There was a time she thought she was a decent writer, maybe not publishing quality yet, but she truly enjoyed it regardless and now, a blank page is all she could muster.

“Natsu,” the therapist directs her question to the man. “It seems you’re unhappy with her statement. Would you say that Lucy’s a good writer? Honest answer.”

“Yeah,” he shrugged, “I mean I’m no expert, but the stuff I’ve seen is pretty good. I definitely couldn’t pull them off.”

“Lucy would you call Natsu a liar?”

The blonde paused, annoyed and offended. She wanted to say yes, only because she didn’t want to agree, but then it wouldn’t be true. Natsu was giving his honest opinion and she couldn’t deny it. “No,” Lucy breathed out. “Look I get it. You’re trying to tell me it’s all in my head, right? It’s just the pain talking, and I’ll get better, and I’ll get back into writing just like before.” Anger had slowly begun to prickle the hairs on the back of her neck the longer she clung to the dissociation. “I-I’m not an idiot! I know this is all stupid shit in my brain! I just can’t stop it!”

“I’m sorry, I pushed you too hard, let’s go back a step here. No one is saying you’re an idiot. On the contrary, you’re very intelligent. If you weren’t, you wouldn’t be recognizing that it’s all in your head, and that recognition is how the healing starts. My role, today with Natsu’s help, is to bring that to the forefront. Bring it out into the open, because sometimes hearing it out loud has a different effect on how we process the information.”

“I don’t get it...”

The woman sat back in her chair in thought for a brief second. “When we think about things just in our head, versus saying it out loud, it triggers different parts of our brain. What studies have found is that talking out loud stimulates... rational... erm, reality I guess is a better term. It becomes more real to us.”

“Huh.” So, what, Lucy rolled her eyes at the suggestion. True or not, she didn’t want to agree, because her mind was still in such a strong state of denial. “I still don’t accept it. It sounds stupid.” Maybe it was just her annoyance talking, but the therapist was getting on her nerves. Lucy knew the woman was just trying to help, but her irrational side didn’t want to deal with any of this. The pain sucked, but so did the treatment. She just wanted to stay in her room, in the dark, away from prying eyes. Surprisingly to Lucy, the therapist didn’t even flinch and the gleam in the woman’s eyes almost looked sadistic in that moment.

“Lucy, I know you know it’s not stupid. That’s just your mind imagining the wrong things, which is why you need to talk about it out loud, so you can hear yourself and how wrong it all sounds.”

Ugh! She was so tired of being told what she is, what she should be thinking, and the condescending tone she wrongly assumed from the therapist triggered an explosion. All the anger she felt about herself was transferred to the therapist in an instant. “I’m wrong?!” Lucy jumped to her feet, her anger crackling through. “No shit! Lady, I’m fucked up!! You want me to talk? Fine! I hate this! I hate everything! It’s all falling the fuck apart and I feel like I’ve been tied to the damn train tracks! Everything I’ve worked so hard for is slipping away! Three years of college being washed down the drain! How the fuck do I catch up now?! I’m so behind! AARRRGHH!!! I-I don’t even wanna get out of bed anymore! I hate myself— hate what I’ve become a-and that makes me even more fucking depressed! And my friends...” Lucy dropped back onto the couch as her shaking hands flew up to cover her face and the dam of tears finally broke loose in a cascade down her cheeks. She cried long, and deep for several minutes, chest heaving and inconsolable.

In that moment, Natsu sat frozen, his eyes swinging back and forth to the therapist and his girlfriend unsure of what to do. Should he move to comfort Lucy? The therapists inaction seemed to suggest the answer was no. It made him furious, yet... she was the professional... before he could make a decision, Lucy finally uncovered her face and look dead at her therapist. Almost forgetting him all together.

“My friends, seeing the looks on their faces...” Lucy dug her fingers into the fabric of her pants in an effort to ground her unraveling mind. “It hurts so fucking much! I must be getting on Levy’s nerves, she didn’t sign up to be my nurse, a-and Natsu, he’ll surely get tired of a basket-case of a girlfriend. I can’t blame him if he left me, I’d leave me too. It’s all just falling apart—” Her chest heaved in a heavy sigh. “I can’t see a way out anymore.”

Seeing the whites of Lucy’s knuckles the harder she clenched onto her leg and seeing the heavy breathing similar to that night in the ambulance. Natsu feared that Lucy was heading towards a panic attack. Wanting to reassure her, Natsu reacted this time and reached up from his seat, quickly grabbing her arm to gain her attention. “Lucy, I’m not—.”

But Lucy screamed and yanked her arm back, face grimacing in pain. “Tsss—Owww!!”

“leavi—” Natsu pulled back immediately. “Oh, shit! I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to! Did I grab you too hard?!” He didn’t think so, but based on her reaction, maybe he had.

“N-No,” she cradled her arm, turning to shield it from him. “You didn’t, I’m fine, it just caught me by surprise.” Lucy quickly brushed it off for fear of requiring an explanation. “Really. S-Sorry, I-I’m probably just too flustered.”

But that explanation didn’t satisfy Natsu. Lucy’s yelp was clearly pain related if buttressed by the fact she continued to hide it. “You’re lying to me,” he reached out, “I’m not mad, just please tell me the truth because it’s obvious there’s something wrong with your arm.”

“N-No, I’m not,” she tried to act like it was true. “See,” she waved it as if showing it was fine. “Nothing’s wrong...” till she accidentally hit it again and flinched, biting her lip just in time to stifle a scream. But she knew in an instant that she’d been caught.

His eyes and tone softened in an effort to lower her inhibitions. “Yes, there is.” Natsu took her arm and started to pull up on the sleeve of her sweater.

Lucy instinctively turned her head away. She didn’t want to see his reaction to the bandage around her arm. Even when he continued to speak, questioned what was underneath it, she answered in one worded responses without looking. But at his gasping sound, her eyes closed in shame. She could see what he saw all from behind her eyelids, all the horizontal cuts running across her left arm. The red, angry lines in varying stages of healing. She kept most of it grouped around the middle of her arm between the wrist and elbow crook. At first, she’d tried what that EMT had done, merely jabbing her arm with a pen or digging her nails into the skin. But it wasn’t enough, so she’d moved onto cutting. It had started out small, just a couple of lines were enough to silence the horrid voices in her head, but like a junky’s tolerance, Lucy had to keep cutting, more and more, deeper, just to feel the same numbing results.

“Is this what I think it is?” Natsu’s shaky voice questioned with moisture filling his eyes. “Oh, Lucy, why didn’t you tell me it was this bad.” Now he knew why she’d started wearing long sleeves even when the weather was warm.

“I’m sorry... I didn’t want anyone to know... but it was the only thing making the voices stop.”

Without another word, Natsu pulled a surprised Lucy into a tight hug, tears of his own spilling. “No, I’m sorry, it’s my fault this is happening to you. I should have dealt with Touka long ago. I should have protected you better. This is on me, but Lucy I’m never gonna let you go, I won’t ever leave you because of this. We’re gonna get through this together. I swear on my life, we’re gonna get through this together. Do you believe me?? Please, tell me you believe me?”

“I do...” she did. The man wore his heart on his sleeve. It was a trait Lucy found most endearing, so how could her heart not accept his words? They sat there in an embrace while time stood still, and a small measure of relief fell over her. It wasn’t much, but it was a glimmer of hope, an ember, and one she hadn’t felt in a long time. This man who’d caged her on that train and captured her heart, she could easily pin all of her pain onto him, but he could also be her salvation. His strong arms wrapped around her broken frame made the scary world fall away, to remind her how much more she yearned to stay within it.

Once he felt Lucy’s body relax, Natsu pulled back, wiping away her tears as well as his own. “Is this the only area?” He gestured at her arm without judgment. And when she nodded, he let out a sigh of relief.

Now that the moment was waning, the therapist who’d been waiting patiently and observing spoke up. She offered the anxiety medications again to Lucy and with Natsu’s gentle coaxing, the blonde finally agreed to it. It couldn’t hurt right? If they didn’t work, she’ll just stop taking them. She didn’t want to see the anguish in Natsu’s eyes anymore, especially now that she realized how much he was internalizing and struggling alone with. He was in just as much pain as she was, so it was time they both do what they could to heal, together.

As they were about to leave, Natsu paused and questioned the doctor. “I have a question. I just realized, even though today was a big episode... Lucy didn’t have a panic attack. Why is that?”

The blonde looked at her boyfriend before her eyes landed on the therapist with an expectancy of an answer. She hadn’t realized that either. Shouldn’t her outburst have triggered one?

“I’m glad you asked,” the woman smiled. “Panic attacks are often triggered by suppression. When you’re trying to hold in your emotions, refusing to let it go, and not show it, but today Lucy let it out. She didn’t hold back so there was no need for her body to react physiologically.” She reached out and placed a gentle hand on Lucy’s shoulder. “Sometimes a good cry and scream goes a long way. Please remember that.”

It was quiet on the taxi ride back to Lucy’s apartment. Not an uncomfortable silence, but maybe just enough had been said in the hour long therapy session that they both still needed time to process it all. Despite her breakthrough, she knew it was still a long battle ahead. The poor coping skills she’d latched onto now needed to be reversed, and frankly she didn’t know if she could do it alone. Of course, she could ask Levy... and the woman did deserve to hear the truth going on... but Lucy really didn’t want to put that kind of pressure on her best friend. Levy had done so much for her already and as much as she appreciated it, it also contributed to her emotional pain. She glanced down at her hand held so tightly by Natsu and wondered... no... The man was struggling as well, so to add hers into his mix, is that really fair? But by that same token, their pain was also a shared one. If there was anything to take away from the session is that perhaps it is together, they’ll better find the end of the rainbow.

Once they arrive at the building and get out of the taxi, Natsu started walking towards it. Lucy tugged back to stop him. “Lucy?”

“Before we go in...” her voice lowers, hesitancy brimming in her tone. “I have a question to ask.”

“Of course, anything.”

“I can’t—, don’t want to do this alone anymore. But I also don’t want to put that kind of burden on Levy.”

“Lucy,” he pulled her hand up, clasped between his palms to his lips where he kissed the fingers gently. “I will do whatever you need me to do.”

She sighed. “Can I move in with you? A-At least until I get control of the panic attacks and the... the thing?” Her eyes flit to her arm rather than say the words aloud. “I know this would intrude on Gray, but I would feel much safer.”

Natsu paused for a second in thought. “I don’t think Gray will mind. I certainly don’t.” He smiled. “We’ll be there for each other.”

“Are you sure? Because there’s still a few things I haven’t mentioned like nightmares. I-I don’t wanna freak you guys out.”

“A promise is a promise, and when I said I’ll do anything, I meant it. Will it be scary, probably, I’m not gonna lie, but I’m willing to do whatever I need to get us through this.”

Lucy’s eyes gloss over, but a tiny smile ticks up at the corners of her lips. “Thank you, Natsu.”

He smiled back, “I’m the one who should be thankful.”

“For what?”

“For not dumping me. As much you’d worried, I’d leave you, I was deathly afraid you’d leave me. I brought this on us, so I wouldn’t blame you from running away.”

“Oh, Natsu.” This time a true smile finally graced Lucy’s face. “I’m not going anywhere either.”

[offtopicoverload]

Revenge is a Dish Best Served Cold

Poppy messed up. Poppy messed up even if she doesn’t know it yet. But Bea knows it. Bea knows that Poppy messed up really, really bad this time. And Bea’s going to make her pay for ever even thinking about messing with Zoey.

Or, what should have happened at the bacchanalia if MC wasn't so stupid and  Zoey was respected and yes im still salty

also didn’t edit as much as normal so there’s definitely issues in this one but whatever

Zoey x MC (Bea Hughes)

~5.5k words

Bea rifles through the false bottom of Poppy’s dresser, searching for her credit cards that can be used against her, finding all sorts of blackmail and dirt to levy against the obnoxious rich girl. Bea eventually spots them buried beneath papers and folders, a phone, hard drives, all kinds of things that no doubt hold enough dirt to destroy Poppy for good.

But Bea’s only here for the cards, she doesn’t have the time to sort through everything right now. She grabs them, her hand knocking against a manila folder as she does. ‘Human Sacrifice’ is written in red sharpie, a paper falling out of the side, with a name at the top.

Bea’s eyes go wide as she reads every letter over and over and over again, every drop of black ink. She rips her phone from her pocket, fumbling to swipe and tap to her contacts and presses call on ‘Zo 😘.’ It rings for a minute, each tone sending panic spiking through Bea.

“Hey, what’s up? How’s it going?” finally rings from the speaker pressed to Bea’s ear.

“Get the fuck out of there,” Bea doesn’t bother with greetings, skipping straight to the point, “Get the fuck out of there right fucking now, Zo, fucking run.”

“Why? What the hell’s going on, Bea?” Zoey sounds on edge, no doubt concerned by Bea’s words and tone. Good.

Bea pulls her phone from her ear, putting it on speaker and opening her camera, “I don’t know, but it’ll be bad, so please leave, Zo, I’m on my way,” she hurriedly snaps pictures of Poppy’s stupid cards to use against her later.

“Okay, I’m seriously freaking out right now, can you please tell me what’s happening before I book it?”

Bea jams the cards and folder back in the false bottom, shoving it closed and struggling to her feet, “You’re Poppy’s ‘Human Sacrifice’ and you seriously need to leave, I’m not fucking around. I have no idea what she has planned but it’ll be bad, I’m sure of it.”

“Okay, okay, I’m going, I swear. But are you coming with?”

Bea rushes out of the room, darting for the stairs, “I’m coming now, I’m almost at the stairs and I’ll -”

“Fuck.”

“Zoey?!” Bea shouts into the speaker, not receiving an answer as she sprints down the hallway, tripping to the ground as she rounds a corner, desperate to get there in time.

“Put your hands together for this year’s sacrifice, Zoey Wade!” Poppy’s voice rings through the foyer as Bea slams into the railing, just to find Poppy standing on a makeshift stage to address the crowd and a spotlight on Zoey by the door.

“Bitch!” she swears under her breath, stumbling for the stairs as Poppy continues.

“A little backstory on New Money here. Once upon a time, Zoey grew up in a three bedroom home in… Brooklyn.” Bea can feel the steam coming from her ears as she barrels down the staircase, gripping the railing to keep from falling in her stupidly high heels that she should have never bothered with.

“Three? Where did you keep your clothes? And where was your dog’s room?” Trixie joins, only further enraging Bea with her incompetence.

Zoey's voice rings through the foyer, drawing Bea’s eyes as she stands her ground, “We kept our clothes in the closets and our dog didn’t have his own room. You know, how normal people live.”

“Not these people. I’m sure none of these people’s fathers worked as a banker either,” Poppy taunts, a sadistic smirk on her face.

“Like handling other people’s money?” Luis sounds as if it’s the most insane thing in the world.

The crowd erupts in laughs and jeers just as Bea reaches the end of the obnoxiously long staircase, already shoving through the crowd, elbowing everyone in sight.

“No! He… He was a senior manager! What the hell is wrong with all of you?!” Bea can just barely see Zoey across the room as she dives into the crowd, spotting a line of frat guys blocking Zoey from the door.

“I’m sure it must have been rough for him, working so hard to support you,” Poppy looks at her in fake sympathy. “Though I guess those paychecks weren’t enough to cover everything. Like say… a tube of peach flavored lipgloss? Sparkly pink nail polish? Maybe a pair of cubic zirconia stud earrings?” Poppy asks, feigning innocence or kindness, Bea can’t tell and she doesn’t care anyway.

“Poppy… Don’t,” Bea can barely hear Zoey’s quiet response anymore, can barely see her through the gaps in the crowd, and she hates what she sees. Zoey’s eyes are shining with tears, every muscle in her body tense as she trembles, glued to the spot.

Poppy turns back to the crowd, not even bothering to address her victim anymore, “That’s right, everyone. There’s a thief in our midst. A shoplifter.”

Bea pushes forward even more, jabbing everyone within arm’s reach until Michael grabs her, arms around her waist as he yanks her backwards to prevent her from reaching Zoey. She struggles, squirming and kicking in his grasp, shrieking as his arms tighten around her.

“Bea?!” Zoey’s voice sounds terrifyingly hopeful as she scans the crowd for Bea trapped in Michael’s hold.

“Zo!” she shouts back, pushing her head above the crowd to meet her eyes, just as a projector launches photos behind Poppy on her stage, drawing the entire crowd’s attention.

It’s a younger Zoey in an office, with red eyes and tears still streaming down her cheeks, a mugshot of sorts. Bea squirms even more, elbowing Michael in the ribs, but he still won’t fucking let go.

“Someone lock up the imported silverware!” Chloe’s shriek echoes in the foyer, providing a soundtrack to Bea’s struggles.

She jams her heel into Michael’s thigh, earning a yelp from her captor and pushing up enough to see the heartbroken expression on Zoey’s face, “How did you… Those… Those records were sealed! I never even had to pay a fine!”

“Oh, I know, I know,” Poppy nods with that same ridiculous sympathy again, “You may not have had to pay the price, and how could you have? Considering you clearly didn’t have any money. But this burden will live on with you forever,” her tone quickly turns malicious as she zeroes in on Zoey, “I will never let you forget that this is who you are. That you, Zoey, are a sad, little social climber who had to wait for someone with balls to cling onto to even make it onto our radar. Well, you’ve finally done it. You’re on my radar. Are you happy now?”

“Shut the fuck up, Poppy!” Bea screeches, jamming her heel even further into Michael’s thigh to rise above the crowd and glare at Poppy, flames in her eyes as she attempts to light Poppy on fire.

“Oh, Farmsville. Stupid, naive, little Farmsville,” she gives a saccahrine smile, hauntingly sweet. “Let the sacrifice begin,” she announces into the mic, eyes still trained on a furious Bea.

Zoey screams as tomatoes and wine fly at her, soaking her skin, her hair, her outfit, all of it seemingly coming out of nowhere as the crowd pelts Zoey mercilessly. She ducks her head, covering herself with her arms and backing away, only for the frat boys to shove her back in the spotlight.

“Betcha didn’t see that one coming,” Poppy mouths to Bea, right as Michael finally lets her go, rubbing his thigh and grabbing a tomato from Luis, hurling it at Zoey with a laugh.

And Bea can’t take it anymore, can’t take how powerless he just made her feel, can’t take how disgusting they all are, how cruel and heartless. She can’t take this shit anymore, she can’t deal with it, she can’t stomach it, not when her best friend is being assaulted across the room without her help.

She slugs him in the jaw, sending him reeling and staring at her in shock, but she’s already moving back through the crowd as the tomatoes fly, nearly tripping over people as she hurries as quick as she can. Zoey’s so close to the front door, she almost made it, she was almost safe. If Bea was only a few seconds quicker she could have changed this, she could have fixed this.

Bea shoves through the crowd to reach Zoey, receiving a few elbows to her sides and irritated comments, but she doesn’t stop pushing. She finally sees Zoey through the crowd again, the frat boys guarding the door throwing tomatoes at her without remorse as she cowers, arms raised to protect her head.

She grabs Zoey as soon as she reaches her, arm coiling around her waist and pulling her into her side protectively. Her hands are raised to hide her face as she leans into Bea, a slight whimper escaping her throat as Bea holds her. She pulls Zoey along to the door, shoving through those ridiculous frat boys and stomping on a few feet to do it, tomatoes still pelting them as she yanks the door open. She drags Zoey along, the other girl stiff at her side, arms still raised as they put the sorority house behind them, Bea running until it’s too far in the distance to be a threat.

She slides to a stop on shadowed grass, their heels ruined as she turns to Zoey, still tucked into her side. Her face is blank save for a few tears in her eyes and a quivering bottom lip, her eyes glassy as she stares into space. Bea can feel her body trembling under her arm and concern spikes within her, “Zoey, babe, what can I do to help? What do you need? To go home? I think we went in the wrong direction to our dorm, but we can still go. Do you want to get something off Postmates? Do you want to go and attack Poppy? I got the pictures,” Bea rambles, trying to catch Zoey’s glazed over eyes.

But Zoey doesn’t utter a single word, simply wraps her arms around Bea’s neck and buries her face in her shoulder, a sniffle muffled against her skin. Bea holds her tight, fingers scratching at the small of her back and swaying softly from side to side. She starts humming through random song choruses and verses stuck in her head until she lands on Uptown Funk. It popped up in their playlist earlier, as they did their hair and makeup, and the bathroom exploded in an impromptu performance.

“This hit, that ice cold, Michelle Pfeiffer, that white gold. This one for them hood girls, them good girls, straight masterpieces.” She pulls back, Zoey following and glancing up at her from beneath her lashes, the smallest smile on her lips as she watches.

Bea pounces on it, smiling and dancing goofily, jumping around in her heels, “Stylin’, wilin’, livin’ it up in the city.” Zoey laughs softly, Bea’s hands falling to hers and swinging her arms as she moves from side to side, “Got Chucks on with Saint Laurent, gotta kiss myself I’m so pretty. Too hot! Hot damn,” she echoes, “Called a police and a fireman, I’m too hot! Hot damn,” she fans Zoey, who rolls her eyes with a smile.

“Make a dragon wanna retire man, I’m too hot! Hot damn! Say my name, you know who I am, I’m too hot! Hot damn! And my band ‘bout that money, break it down,” she crouches low, pulling Zoey with her, “Girls hit your hallelujah,” she chants low, looking to Zoey expectantly.

Zoey meets her gaze with pursed lips and raised eyebrows, Bea tilting her head as she waits and waits and waits and - “Whoo,” Zoey cheers, Bea’s smile exploding as she launches forward, tackling Zoey in a hug and sending them tumbling to the ground. “Bea!” Zoey exclaims, even though it’s followed by laughter.

“What?” she asks cluelessly, pulling back from the embrace enough to meet Zoey’s dark eyes as she feigns innocence.

Zoey rolls her eyes, “God, you’re such a dork.” But she’s smiling fondly, even with tomato chunks stuck in her hair and dripping from her body. Bea beams wide at her success in cheering her up, her eyes nearly shutting as she just stares at Zoey, who shoves her shoulder, “Dork.”

“Yeah, but you’re smiling,” she singsongs the last word, still grinning down at Zoey beneath her.

Only that smile falls away as soon as it’s mentioned, her head falling back to stare at the sky blankly. Bea wiggles closer, flopping onto her back beside Zoey and staring up at the few stars they can see, her hand slipping in Zoey’s and interlocking their fingers. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Zoey sighs, staring up at the night above them, her thumb brushing along Bea’s knuckles. “I only did it because the group of girls I hung out with in middle school did. They never once got caught, so I thought it’d be okay.”

Bea turns her head to watch Zoey’s shadowed features, “And of course the one time they convinced me to try it with them, I got picked out and searched. Me, the only black girl in the group,” she scowls to the sky. “They all abandoned me there, not even looking back as I got taken with security,” she pauses to glare upwards, and Bea squeezes her hand in the silence. “But after I got off with just a warning, they wanted to keep pretending we were the bestest of friends.”

“I hope you told them you didn’t have time for snakes,” Bea grins, hoping the joke’s enough to lighten the mood, to help Zoey feel better.

“I’ve been dealing with mean girls, girls like Poppy, my entire life,” Zoey looks angry, rightfully so, “I don’t know why I thought for a second Belvoire would be different.”

Bea turns back to the few glimpses of stars they can see in the city, “I know it’s not much, but I’m always here. I’ve got you no matter what, babe.”

“I know,” Zoey whispers to the sky, silence settling between them easily, a familiar presence from study dates and weekends spent collapsed on the couch. From early mornings to late nights when they’re too tired to speak more than a few words, to do anything but smile or squeeze the other’s hand or shoulder. From haunting hours in the middle of the night after awful days to sunrises that promised a second chance, a redemption of sorts.

Bea sits up straight, squeezing Zoey’s hand as she looks down to her, “You wanna go home now? Wash up and get some sleep?”

Zoey nods stiffly, sitting up beside Bea and dropping her head to her shoulder, “Can we order pizza? And breadsticks?”

“We can order the entire pizza place if you want, babe,” she raises their interwoven hands, pressing a soft kiss to the back of Zoey’s.

---

Bea stalks into the courtyard the next day, determination boiling inside her as her gaze locks on Poppy sitting with Chloe and Veronica, tapping away at her phone and drinking a smoothie. She makes a beeline for the witch, fists clenching and jaw tight as she approaches.

She woke up early for this, made calls for this, went to the store for this. She went out of her way for this, and she’s going to relish it, relish the start of her vengeance. She’s not just going to forget what happened last night, she’s not going to move on or accept the revenge from posting trash about Poppy on The T after Zoey had fallen asleep.

She needs more, and she needs to make her suffer, to feel gross and less than, to feel loathed and despised. And Bea knows she can do it, that this is just the start.

She slams her palms on the table, startling Chloe, provoking Veronica to whip out her phone and start recording, and not even earning Poppy’s signature glare, “What do you want, Farmsville? I thought you’d have slunk off to your corn field by now.”

Bea doesn’t even say anything, just grabs Poppy’s smoothie, pulls off the lid and dumps it on her head with a neutral, unbothered expression. The only indication of her rage is the fire still in her eyes from the night before. Poppy cringes under the waterfall, her mouth falling open and arms raising to protect herself, “You are dead, Farmsville!” she screams as the liquid stops falling.

She stands, hovering above Bea in her ridiculously high heels and ruined pompous sweater and skirt. But Bea doesn’t back down, she meets her gaze, she squares her shoulder. She’s from the country, she could take this city bitch no problem.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Poppy spits through gritted teeth, her lips pulled back in a snarl as she glowers at Bea below her. “I will ruin you.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Bea spits right back.

Poppy smirks, self-satisfied and disgusting, “I already destroyed your little pet. How come she’s not following you around? Still too mortified to leave your nasty little dorm? Or did she finally realise she’s not cut out for this life? That she belongs in Brooklyn?”

Bea explodes, shoving Poppy backwards and nearly pushing her to the ground, her heels stumbling beneath her and ankles almost collapsing, “Zoey’s off limits!” she shouts, face flushed in her fury. “This was between you and me, not a single other person!”

“Then how come you constantly messed with the Zetas? And Carter?” Poppy counters, regaining her balance and matching Bea’s anger.

“That was different and you know! I didn’t humiliate or harass them, I didn’t fuck with them, I offered them an alternative to her Royal Bitchiness!” Bea gestures at a smoothie-soaked Poppy.

“I don’t see a difference. Besides,” Poppy shrugs, feigning indifference, “Why do you care?” she flicks her hair over her shoulder, “I thought she was just a tool. She’s not even top 15, she doesn’t matter.”

Bea steps right into Poppy’s face, fury flowing off her in waves, “I will ruin you. I will wreck your stupid little reputation, I will crush your pointless popularity, I will make sure that you are nothing but an average, basic, heartless bitch. I’m going to take your crown and give it to someone who deserves it, someone who isn’t mean and cruel and evil. I’m going to make you nothing, Poppy.”

“Yeah? And who’s taking my spot?” Poppy taunts, “You? Midwest trash will never touch first place,” she scoffs.

“No, not me. I’ve sunk to your level and I don’t even care. I’ll make sure someone better than the both of us takes that stupid spot.” She takes a step back, putting some much needed distance between them to prevent herself from punching another person within twenty-four hours. “But until then, I’d watch your back, Pops,” she turns on her heel, striding away. “Go ahead, boys!” she calls without looking back.

A shriek sounds from behind her as Carter and a few of the football and frat guys that most certainly do not include Michael, dump a tub of crushed and mashed tomatoes on top of Poppy, juice soaking her clothes and chunks mixing in with her strawberry blonde locks. “Farmsville!” she shrieks, Bea smirking as she walks to her dorm, not once sparing a glance over her shoulder.

---

Bea sits on her bed, grading papers for Kingsley as Cutiepie lays flopped on his back beside her, his little legs sprawled in the air and his tongue lolling from his mouth, Bea occasionally breaking to scratch his exposed underside. She tosses a paper to the side, pulling up another as her door flies open, slamming into the wall.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” Zoey asks, striding into the room and waving her phone crazedly.

Bea glances up, pen pausing above the paper, “I’m… sorry?” her brows knit together.

Zoey huffs, “You dumped a smoothie and tomatoes on Poppy?! In the middle of the courtyard?!”

Bea caps her pen and drops it to the bedspread, smiling as she leans back and props herself up on her hands, “Yep!”

Her amusement isn’t shared, Zoey glaring at her angrily, “Why the hell did you do that?! Are you trying to start a war?!”

“I’m trying to finish one,” her smile’s fallen away as she meets Zoey’s dark, furious eyes.

“Why?! She’s just going to retaliate!”

“Good.”

Zoey gestures wildly, as if she’s the only sane person left in the world, “Why is that good?! What is going on with you?!”

Bea leans forward, her elbows landing on her knees as she meets Zoey’s eyes, her expression stone and tone serious, “She fucked with you. She crossed a line and she’s going to pay. Every time she escalates things, I can, too.”

Zoey’s features soften and her eyes fall shut, a sigh slipping past her lips. She walks to the bed, flopping face first onto the comforter, frozen as Bea sets her papers aside and scoots closer. She pokes Zoey’s shoulder, moving up to poke the side of her face when she doesn’t move, “Zo?” she asks softly.

“You’re really stupid, you know?” she finally says.

“Probably,” Bea concedes, “But why exactly this time?”

Zoey exhales sharply, rolling over to her back and meeting Bea’s eyes, “She’s ruthless. She doesn’t care about you and she’ll do whatever she can. It’s a miracle you’re still here.”

“Then I’m going to take advantage of it,” Bea answers coolly, confidently.

Zoey’s eyes fall shut again and she takes a deep breath before wiggling further onto the bed beside Bea, her arm open for her. And she obliges, falling to her side and dropping her head onto Zoey’s shoulder as an arm tightens around her shoulders, “I know there’s no stopping you, but you’re not allowed to get kicked from school. I’m not putting up with a shitty roommate because you got expelled or quit or something.”

“Okay,” Bea nods.

Zoey continues, “Do you promise you won’t do anything that might impact your stay at Belvoire?”

“Is this a contract? Do I need to get a lawyer?” Bea jokes, smiling against Zoey’s shoulder.

“Bea.” Her voice is stern, “Do you promise or not?”

She raises her head to meet Zoey’s gaze, the jokes falling away she pushes as much earnesty into her eyes as possible, “I promise, Zo. I’m not going anywhere.”

Zoey releases a sigh of relief, “Good,” just as Cutiepie crawls onto her side, flopping on her stomach and the tiniest amused smile quirking her lips. Bea reaches down to scratch his head, picking him up under his arms and pulling him into her grasp. She settles back against Zoey, setting Cutiepie on her chest and scratching behind his ears. He turns, licking at Zoey’s chin as she laughs softly, “Little weirdo.”

“Yeah, but you love him,” Bea grins.

Zoey pauses for a beat, glancing at Bea below her, eyes on Cutiepie, “Yeah, I do.”

---

Papers and plans surround Bea and Zoey on the floor of Bea’s bedroom, the former plotting her next move against Poppy as the latter scrolls her phone, her head on Bea’s shoulder as she works. Bea sorts through her papers, scribbling notes as she scans the pages.

Zoey glances up at her, finding her brow furrowed as she taps her pen on a page, focusing intently. Zoey sighs, sitting up and cupping Bea’s cheek to draw her gaze. She doesn’t give it, fighting to keep her eyes on the mess before her, “Zo, I’m working.”

Zoey’s palm pushes Bea’s face even farther from her paper, and she gives in with a sigh, irritatedly meeting Zoey’s gaze. There’s a crease between her brows and a frown on her lips that makes Zoey smile. Bea rolls her eyes at the quirk in her lips, “What, Zoey?”

She raises her other hand, cupping both sides of Bea’s face and uses her thumbs to lift the corners of her lips, “Turn that frown upside down,” she murmurs softly with a grin.

Bea’s jaw falls open as she stares at Zoey, whose gaze is trained on her lips, fingers still brushing the corners. She swallows thickly, “I, uh, that’s why you interrupted me?” she chokes out through a throat that seems impossibly dry.

Dark eyes finally meet her own, “Yep,” she beams. “But now that I have your attention,” she drawls. Her hands spring from Bea’s face, grabbing her hands as she jumps up, “Movie night!” She drags Bea along before she’s even on her feet, pulling her out of the bedroom and into the common area. She sets her on the couch, pushing down on her shoulders to get her to sit.

“Zo, I need to finish -”

“Nope!” Zoey cuts her off, looking at her sternly, “Movie. Night.” She turns, grabbing the remote and pulling her phone from her pocket. She passes the remote to Bea, giving her a sharp look when she attempts to decline, and pulls up Postmates on her phone.

They spend the night on the couch, ignoring the problem of Poppy, ignoring the plans Bea’s been working on, ignoring their homework and all the assignments Kingsley needs graded. They ignore everything outside of the dorm for the night, gorging on Chinese takeout and watching bad movies that make them laugh until they cry.

---

Bea and Zoey sit at a picnic table on the courtyard, eating burritos and scrolling their phones, occasionally showing each other funny videos and posts. It’s a calm day in the courtyard for once, no events or billboards of hog calling.

Well, it was a calm day, but Poppy’s intent on ruining that. She storms across the courtyard with Chloe hot on her heels, eyes trained on the back of Bea’s head as she sips an iced coffee, laughing at a dog video Zoey just sent her. “Farmsville!” she screams across the space.

Bea glances over her shoulder, shrugging as she spots the fury on Poppy’s face, and turns back to her lunch, still tapping away at her phone. Poppy muffles a scream, striding directly to Bea, “Farmsville!” This time she doesn’t even get a glance.

She stops at the table, grabs Bea’s burrito, and throws it as far as she can, leering down at her. Bea stands meeting her gaze, “What, Poppy?”

“You leaked my credit cards?!” she hisses, snarling like a wild animal.

Bea grins, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Bull. I know it was you.”

“Do you now?” Bea asks calmly, reaching for her coffee and taking a long sip, meeting Poppy’s gaze coolly as she does.

“This part of your little vengeance plan for New Money?” she leers at Zoey, still sitting at the table and eating quietly. “Why do you even care about her, Farmsville? I get that she’s a little useful, but she’s still replaceable, just like anyone else,” she scoffs.

Bea slams her drink on the table, startling Poppy briefly as rage immediately takes over features, “Is that what you think Poppy?! That no one but you matters?! You think you’re so important and above everyone else even though you don’t do shit!”

Zoey’s abandoned her lunch now, crossing over to the opposite side and hovering warily behind Bea, close enough to intervene if necessary but far enough to let Bea handle it. It’s part of her plan, after all.

Poppy scans the pair of women before her as if she’s unimpressed, “No need to get so worked up, Farmsville. This never would have happened if you hadn’t picked her. Just find someone that’s not a criminal,” she shrugs.

Bea flies forward in the blink of an eye, tackling Poppy to the ground and towering over her, Zoey shouting behind them in shock, “Bea!”

Before she can do anything, Bea punches Poppy right in the jaw, sending her head flying. She punches once, twice, and is rearing up for a third hit when Zoey’s arms slip around her torso and jerk her backwards, pulling her back as she squirms and fights in her grasp, “Let me go, Zo! Let me fucking go!”

“You’re gonna get expelled!”

“I don’t care!”

Zoey’s lips drop to her ear, “You promised me.”

Bea immediately goes limp in her arms, all the fight knocked out of her in a fraction of a second. “Thank you,” Zoey whispers again, Bea’s feet slipping beneath her body to hold her up.

“You fucking animal!” Poppy shrieks, still sitting on the ground as Chloe pokes at her jaw, only pissing her off even more.

“At least I can admit it!” The fight’s back as she stands properly, slipping out of Zoey’s grasp, even as the other woman attempts to keep her back. “At least I can admit that this is all ridiculous! At least I can admit that it’s pointless and stupid! Can you admit it, Poppy? Can you admit that your precious crown has no worth? That you have no worth?” She stands over the strawberry blonde, staring down at her intently.

“Fuck off, Farmsville,” she scoffs, stumbling to her feet by gripping Chloe’s shoulder and shoving the blonde to the ground. “Run back to your cave with your little felon friend. At some point you’ll realize just how little she matters,” Poppy spits.

Bea meets her gaze easily, jaw clenched tight, “She matters more than you. She matters more than me. She matters more than anybody, and at some point you’ll realize that, when she’s more successful than you, more popular, more wealthy, more respected. You’re a vile creature, and somebody you’ll lose your power and sit sulking as everyone stops caring about you. Because you. Don’t. Matter.”

“Bea, that’s enough,” Zoey slips an arm around her, carefully leading her away, their lunches abandoned. And this time Bea doesn’t resist, doesn’t fight back, doesn’t try to squirm away to fight with Poppy more.

She lets Zoey lead her back to their dorm, sit her at the kitchen counter, and make her a cup of tea. She lets Zoey turn on 90s music as she dances around the kitchen, trying to lighten the mood and resolve some of Bea’s anger. She lets her wrap her in a hug when the music and dancing doesn’t work, let’s her tell her to let it go and move on, to forget about Poppy and all her bullshit.

“I can’t just forget it, Zoey, I can’t let her get away with everything she’s done,” she meets dark eyes, her own shining as she silently pleads for Zoey to understand, to give her permission to carry on this path that will only lead to destruction.

Zoey sighs, her head dipping as she thinks. She looks back up after a minute, meeting Bea’s gaze, “If we’re doing this, we’re being smart about it.”

“I’m doing it, Zo. You’re staying out of this,” her brows knit together, her face serious as her eyes pour into Zoey’s.

“Nuh-uh,” Zoey shakes her head. “You just attacked Poppy. You need me to keep you in check, babe, hate to break it to you,” she smiles teasingly.

“She already -”

Zoey cuts her off, “I don’t care. You promised me you’d stay safe, and clearly you can’t do that on your own, so suck it up and get over it, Bea.” Her words are sharper than she meant them to be, harsher as she stares down the woman across from her.

Bea sighs, her head falling to the counter beneath her arms. “Fine,” comes out muffled against the countertop. “But if she ever throws another tomato at you, I’m killing her on the spot.”

Zoey laughs, “Alright, deal. Luckily, I don’t think tomatoes are her choice weapon,” she grins down at Bea’s hunched form, relief spilling over her at Bea’s acceptance of her plan.

A hand slips in her own, Bea squeezing tight as she weaves their fingers together, “They better not.” Zoey squeezes back, lifting their locked hands to kiss the back of Bea’s, her thumb tracing her knuckles gently.

They miss the rest of their classes that afternoon, Bea plotting intently as Zoey reels her in on the crazier ideas. They order more burritos and watch the chaos of Bea posting Poppy’s cards on The T, all the purchases people made, all the people complaining that the cards were declined, and all of Poppy’s messages urging people to stop and telling them off when they don’t.

It’s amusing, Zoey has to admit, watching Poppy suffer and face backlash, to be the one under the criticism of the Belvoire public, be the one struggling and hurting. It’s nice, to get revenge and not even have to feel an ounce of guilt.

And it’s nice that Bea’s the one that got it for her, the one that decked Poppy in front of dozens of students because she talked trash on Zoey, the one that took tomatoes to the head to help Zoey.

Maybe it’s just Bea that’s nice, Zoey decides as she watches Bea break from her work to grin at Zoey, butterflies whirring in her stomach as she meets that smile, a tornado of fluttering wings whirling in her gut, a sickening but thrilling sensation filling every ounce of her body, an overwhelming but welcome presence. Yeah. That’s it; it’s just Bea that’s nice.

[ayatosmlktea]

Hello! I would like to request an angst turns fluff imagine! Levi x reader where they have an arguments about something serious and reader doesnt want to be a burden to levi

A/N: Sorry this got so long…

𝑼𝒏𝒊𝒎𝒑𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒕 ❤️

“Are we really having this conversation again?” Levi groaned one hand gripping his hair in frustration, Y/N bit her lip digging her nails into her palms to keep angry tears at bay.

“I already told you that I’m going to be busy tomorrow night. I’m sorry but I just don’t have time to meet your parents.” Y/N was both angry and hurt, she had been dating Levi for almost a year and in that time she had fallen head over heels in love with him. She admired his dedication and work ethic but sometimes he lost sight of things that were important outside of paperwork.

“It’s not going to take long Levi, they just want to have dinner and meet you and that’s it. You can leave after dinner!” Y/N argues, she didn’t feel like she was asking for much and Levi was making this thing a lot harder than it needed to be. Hell he could use a few hours away from his desk.

“I’m not going to say it again Y/N! I don’t have time to waste right now” His words stung like a slap to the face.

“So that’s how you see me then? A waste of time?” She really cared for him but sometimes he could be a snappy asshole when he was in a mood.

“You know that’s not what I meant, God why are you being like this?” He snaps, he couldn’t take it anymore. She was being too pushy, how many times did he have to tell her he was too busy with work to meet her parents.

“Is it really that awful for you take two hours out of your day to meet my parents? This is important to me Levi!” Y/N doesn’t mean to yell but he was getting under her skin and being unreasonably selfish. Maybe he was purposely putting off meeting them because he didn’t take their relationship seriously. It would make sense, he always had work to get him out of things like meeting her friends and now her parents. The possibility struck her suddenly, just the though of Levi not wanting to be seriously involved with her was enough to settle her mind.

“Actually never mind it’s fine, forget I asked” The angry expression she’d had on her face the entire argument quickly fading into nothing, her face giving away nothing as she silently collects the few things she’d brought to spend the night at his place.

“What the fuck are you doing? You don’t have to leave” Levi huffs, yet not tearing himself away from his spot on the bed, laptop still opened on his legs.

“I think it’s better if I go home” she mumbles, exiting the bedroom to slip her shoes on. Her eyes burn with tears but she refuses to cry in front of him, what was the point. He clearly prioritized work over their relationship, he hadn’t even gotten up to stop her from leaving. Throwing her key on the kitchen table she leaves the apartment, the sound of keys tapping confirming how much Levi valued her.

It was well into the late hours of the night, Levi was still hunched over his computer a cramp forming in his neck. It had been almost two days since Y/N had left and he hadn’t bothered to text her. His head was swimming with information, work had been extra demanding lately and while he liked to pretend that he could handle the heavy work load it was clearly putting a strain on his life. In all honesty he had expected her to message him first but he supposed that he deserved the silent treatment. 

The day she had asked him again if he would be able to make it to dinner had been bad timing, he had just gotten off a long phone call from one of their clients who had a knack for being particularly difficult. Her insistent begging had been the final straw causing him to unleash his temper onto her. It hadn’t been the first time either. Since they had started dating he found it easier to take his anger out on her than deal with his own issues. She always forgave him after, brushing it off like nothing happened.

Thinking back to her blank expression made him cringe, she always tried to hide her emotions but he was pretty good at reading her. Her eyes gave everything away. He had seen how hurt she was and had chose to ignore her. 

“I’m a fucking dick” he sighed, leaning his head back against his chair. He knew it was late but figured that waking up to an apology was better than waiting until he could see her and apologize properly in person.

Hey babe, I’m really sorry. Call me when you get this

Levi’s couldn’t take it anymore, closing his laptop he trudged to the bathroom for a quick shower. Crawling under the covers he checked his phone just in case Y/N was miraculously still awake. Unsurprisingly there was no text or call waiting for him. Sighing deeply he pulled the covers over his head burying his face into the pillows.

Levi was only slightly disappointed when he woke up with no news from Y/N, he rolled his neck wincing at the knot that had formed in his sleep. Despite having slept for a good six hours he felt cranky and unrested. His day only got worse from there, clients were consistently unhappy with the changes they had specifically demanded for and Levi was beginning to lose his mind. Maybe he needed to take a vacation, spending a week or two on a beach in Bali with Y/N sounded like a good idea. 

When his day had finally ended all Levi wanted to do was go over to her place and take a nap with her body snug against his. So he did, only to end up waiting outside for nearly half an hour. He tried texting her, calling her even face timing her but she wasn’t answering her phone. Levi knew for a fact she wasn’t working today so why wasn’t she around.

Where are you? Can we talk?

Y/N?

Please talk to me

Baby…

Levi waited another ten minutes before sitting down on the doorstep or her apartment. Y/N was clearly giving him the silent treatment and he knew he deserved it. She had never ignored him like this before and it made him feel even worse for his actions. Were they breaking up? The empty feeling that followed as he imagined his life without her served as a much needed wake up call. Levi knew he needed to apologize, he had been taking her forgiving nature for granted. He knew she would either have to leave her apartment eventually or be coming back so he made up his mind to wait for her. It was the least he could do after hurting her.

Y/N was stunned when she had come back to her apartment that night, she hadn’t expected to find Levi leaning against her door dozed off. Her heart tugged at the sight knowing that he must’ve been waiting for her for a while. It wasn’t something he had ever done before and she wasn’t sure how to feel.

“Hey Levi, wake up. You must be uncomfortable” she says gently nudging his shoulder. Immediately aware of his surroundings he looks up at Y/N, his entire body flooding with relief. He quickly stands on his feet ignoring the soreness in his spine, he takes her hands in his.

“Y/N I’m sorry, I was stupid and I took you for granted and I will do whatever it takes for you to forgive me” Y/N couldn’t say anything, Levi had never apologized like this before. He looked disheveled and tired, the circles under his eyes darker than usual.

“You don’t have to do anything. I’m sorry, I don’t want to burden you with my problems. I should’ve just let you work.” She moves to pull her hands out of his feeling like she didn’t deserve his attention but he only holds on tighter pulling her closer to him.

“You’re not a burden to me, never. It’s my fault for putting those thoughts into your head and I will spend the rest of my life proving you wrong if you let me.” His grey eyes looked so sincere she felt her resolve slipping away under his gaze.

“Please let me make it up to you” Y/N bites her lip turning her face away from Levi. She really wanted to forgive him but how could she trust that he was actually going to change?

“Let’s talk inside” she mumbles, pulling her hand way to grab her keys and unlock the door. Levi was on edge the entire time he watched her shift around her apartment trying to find any excuse to prolong their conversation.

Y/N was a bundle of nervous energy, she didn’t like confrontation even if it was her own boyfriend. Walking over to the cupboard she placed two mugs on the counter.

“Do you want tea?” Levi couldn’t take it anymore, the past few days had been hell without her and he needed to know where they stood.

“Tell me what’s wrong babe” His arms encircle her frame halting whatever she was doing.

“I don’t know if I can trust you to not keep doing this. I know your job is really important to you but what about us? I don’t want to sit around waiting for you to decide you want to spend time with me, Levi. I’m not here for your convenience.” The words come out harsher than she had intended but her feelings were all over the place.

“I know I can’t take back how I’ve been treating you but please let me make it up to you. I need you in my life Y/N, you’re the best part of my day. I miss you” He whispers against her ear his arms circling around her waist pulling her back flush against his chest.

“Okay, make it up to me then.” She mumbles after a few moments, yelping in surprise when Levi spins her around to face him his eyes locked onto hers.

“I love you” Any attempt at holding back tears failing as they all fall at once. Levi rarely told her he loved her, usually expressing his feelings through actions but the times he did say it were always special. He wipes away her tears with the pad of his thumbs, leaning forward to kiss her his nerves on fire at the feeling of her lips finally on his again.

“Let’s go to bed, I slept like shit without you”

Masterlist

[delos-mio]

Death of a Bachelor - Part 16

A/N: The bitch is back! Thank you EVERYONE who has showed me love and patience and grace while I took time for myself to get back in order. If you’d like to refresh your memory or catch up, you can do so here. This is by far the longest chapter of DOAB so far, because no one can make messes like the Delos’ can. Tags are at the end, please let me know if you no longer want to be tagged! (or, if you want to be added) There is a scene akin to a panic attack if that’s a trigger for anyone- please proceed with caution! Alright, I think I’ve talked enough. Please enjoy Sweet 16!

The night before Jim’s retirement party, you were curled up next to Logan. Both of you couldn’t be bothered to get dressed after soaking, and perhaps a bit more, in the bathtub together. Since there were still so many last minute details to take care of, Logan had been out of the house most of the last week. You hadn’t seen him for more than the 5 or so minutes when he came home and kissed you goodnight before sliding into bed next to you since last Thursday. He still found time during the day to text you, telling you how much he missed seeing you, how that kiss he got at the end of the night, when you were still half asleep and flushed, was the best part of his day. Sure, Logan could be a shithead, but he was sweet when he wanted to be. And he was yours.

His skin was still warm and just the slightest bit slick as he propped himself up over you, eyes searching over your face.  The look on his face, the soft one with the adoring eyes and just slightly upturned lips, was your very favorite expression of his and one you simply couldn’t resist. “I missed you. I missed this,” you murmured, moving your hand over his collarbone and down to his bicep.

“Promise I missed you more,” Logan smirked and nuzzled into your neck.

You arched up enough to press your lips to his, savoring the fact that you could finally take your time kissing him. Logan was eager to acquiesce and slowly, teasingly, ran his tongue along your bottom lip. Just kissing him was already making you ache for round two. But just as you were about to grab his hips and drag them over yours, Logan pulled back and looked you in the eyes again.

“You’re everything to me,” he mumbled, running his large palms over your hips. You couldn’t help the stupid, dopey grin that spread over your face.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he smiled. Logan surprised you then by rolling off you and walking out of the bedroom without saying a word. You snapped to attention and sat up in bed, letting the blanket fall around your waist as you debated whether or not to follow Logan. But, he returned only a moment later, now with his hands behind his back. Still standing in the doorway, he paused and let out a breath. “You look so beautiful right now,” he mused, unable to tear his eyes from you.

“C’mere.” You smiled and patted his side of the bed. Logan quickly complied and sat down, taking one of your hands in his. He looked a little nervous and you couldn’t pinpoint why.

“I know I haven’t been around a lot over the last couple months, and really not around this week. But I hope you know that I would always much rather be here, rolling around naked in bed with you,” he smirked. You let out a single laugh and squeezed his hand.

“I absolutely believe that,” you giggled.

“So, I kind of got you something. Just to say thank you.” Logan pulled a larger, flat black box from behind his back with a black silk ribbon around it. You took it from him, still looking in his eyes.

“Lo,” you started, smiling, “You didn’t have to get me anything. You know I understand.”

“Yeah, but,” he shrugged, almost looking a little bashful, “It’s something I want you to have.” You tugged the ribbon loose and opened the top of the box on its single hinge. Inside, there was a breathtaking diamond pendant necklace. It was simple and elegant and totally you.

“It’s beautiful,” you breathed out. “Thank you, Lo.” He could only nod his head, his gaze now fixed on your still joined hands.

“The, um,” he started, his voice shaking just a little before he was forced to clear his throat. “The stone is from one of my mom’s rings.” Your gaze snapped up from the necklace to Logan, your mind going completely blank. “I meant what I said, princess. You’re everything to me. And I was hoping maybe you’d keep a little bit of me with you.”

The Logan you met in the coffee shop, the Logan who hung over girls and guys to make you jealous, the Logan who damn near overdosed to forget who he was…all those Logans had grown and morphed into the man sitting beside you. You couldn’t wrap your mind around him giving up something of his mom’s willingly. This was a lot for him. This wasn’t him just custom making some expensive piece of jewelry to say sorry. He loved you. Logan Delos really and truly loved you. The tears that sprang to your eyes were sudden and free flowing.

“Of course. Of course, I’d love to,” you choked out. Logan finally looked back up then and saw your tears, which he quickly thumbed away. You understanding what he was trying to say without him having to say it took a visible weight off his shoulders. He leaned back against the headboard and let out a breath he must have been holding. You wasted no time climbing into his lap and peppering his face with kisses. Finally, Logan broke into a grin, which you couldn’t help but kiss straight on. “Thank you, baby. I love it. And I love you.”

“Anything for my princess,” he mumbled against your mouth. And, yeah, you believed that.

-----

The guests were all just beginning to arrive. You recognized a good handful of them, familiar faces from other Delos events. But a lot of them were old friends of Jim’s. They all had that distinct look of asshole with way more money than brains and old enough to be the father of the girls they had hanging from their arms. The sight made you a little more than uncomfortable, but it seemed very on brand for the company Jim kept.

Juliet, and Logan to a smaller extent, had done a beautiful job putting together a retirement party worthy of a billionaire. Jim fawned over Juliet, going on and on about how wonderful she did, bragging proudly to anyone who would listen. Though he acted like he didn’t care, and truthfully, it was what he’d come to expect from his father, Logan could be seen in quiet moments with just the barest trace of a frown. True, he hated Jim, but that was still his father. And his father was still refusing to acknowledge any of Logan’s successes, even the small ones like picking a five star caterer. Even though Juliet had taken up a lot of the actual planning and arranging, it was still Logan’s idea to event throw this party. Logan was still technically the one hosting. It broke your heart. After over a year, it had become a familiar sight, but time did nothing to dull the pain it drove into your chest.

As you scanned the rest of the crowd, sending a close mouthed smile to a woman you recognized, you felt John slide up next to you.

“Logan ditch you?”

“Momentarily,” you said with a small laugh. “Something about Jules and puff pastry.”

“Sounds about right,” John smiled. “Who knows what kind of disaster there would be if he wasn’t there to intervene!”

“You say that like he wouldn’t be the one causing the disaster,” you laughed as you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist.

“You are so cruel. All the time.” Logan’s lips connected with your next once and then twice before sporting a full grin.

“You’re in a much better mood than this morning,” you noted, leaning your head back against his shoulder.

“No fucking joke. You were a little bitch this morning,” John laughed. Honestly, John wasn’t too far off the truth. Logan was worried about being able to pull off this party the way he had planned it out in his head. So, once you got to the Delos compound that morning, he went from 0 to 60, ordering staff around and groaning over wrinkles in his dress shirt.

“You know what, fuck you both,” Logan said with absolutely no bite. If anything, his grip around you tightened. “I can’t believe Billy is late to this. Jules is going to fucking kill him.”

“Hopefully,” you and John said in unison. It was odd, though, that William hadn’t showed up yet. He was already a fashionable 30 minutes late to his future father in law’s retirement soiree. And, to his knowledge, this was the same man whose company he was taking over, so it was not a good look for him to be running so late. As if she could sense the topic at hand, Juliet stormed over to your group, grabbing a flute of champagne off a tray and downing it in a single go.

“He’s getting on my last goddamn nerve,” she all but growled, staring at the front door, waiting for her fiancé to slide in.

“I’m sure he’s on his way,” you said, resting your hand on her arm comfortingly.

“He knew, he KNEW how important this was to me and he couldn’t even be bothered to get here on time! Dad’s supposed to hand Delos over to him in front of all these people. You’d think he’d show a little more respect.” Juliet crossed her arms and looked down at the floor, disappointment lacing her voice. Logan conveniently lifted his drink to his mouth as she spoke, not wanting to make Juliet feel worse about her piece of shit fiancé.

From the corner of your eye, the front door opening drew your attention away from the conversation at hand. William was walking in with a slender, beautiful blonde woman you didn’t recognize. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he looked guilty as hell. “Jules,” you said quietly and pointed your chin toward the door. She let out and exasperated sigh and shot him daggers.

“Darling, I’m so sorry,” William tried, leaning in to kiss Juliet. All he got was her cheek as she turned away from him. “Jules, please. I had to pick up the pianist like you asked me to, remember?” he said gently, not wanting to incur any more of the younger Delos’ wrath. She looked back him at the mention of that. Evidently, that was something she had tasked William with.

“Fuck. I forgot. There’s been,” she let out a breath, “There’s been so much going on.”

“I know. But, I got her here!” he said with a cruel smile. His expression confused you. But when you felt Logan freeze completely, you knew whatever it was that William did, he did it for the express purpose of making Logan uncomfortable.

“Thank you so much for having me. This is a beautiful home,” the pianist said with a pleasant smile as she shook Juliet’s hand.

“You have to be fucking kidding me,” Logan mumbled to the group before releasing you and taking off for the staircase, not stopping for anyone in his way.

“I should…” you started before following the path he took up to the second level. All of the doors were closed, which made finding Logan a little more difficult. But, you remembered from coming her a handful of times before which one was his childhood bedroom. You knocked lightly on the door. “Lo? Baby?” you called, not getting a response. Gently, you opened the door and saw Logan sitting at the foot of the bed, his head hung down with his fingers laced together behind his neck.

You could see his toe tapping erratically on the floor, a tell-tale sign he was anxious. With the door shut behind you, you kneeled down in front of him and put your palms low on his thighs. “What’s going on?”

“I can’t do this,” he said softly. “I can’t…Fuck!” he cried out, tugging at the roots of his dark hair.

“Shh, babe,” you cooed, rubbing your hands in gentle circles. “Take a deep breath.” It took some effort, but Logan managed to gulp down a shuddering breath. “One more.” He repeated the action with more success. “Talk to me, Lo,” you said, encouraging him to open up. Logan had made so much progress with opening up and being vulnerable with you, it broke your heart to see him shut down so completely.

“She…” he began. So, it was the pianist. Perhaps she was a former lover. Did he know by now you wouldn’t care if she was? You trusted Logan and you knew there would be an ex fling or twenty still around LA. The thought didn’t bother you. Was there something about this one? He said he’d never been in love before, so what could be so bad that would send him running on sight?

“Who is she?”

“It’s Delores.” That was not an option you had considered. In your mind, you’d placed Delores into a box of ‘evil robot still in Westworld’ and therefore unable to get to your Logan out here in the real world. You had assumed he was safe now. He was healing. Shit, he was thriving. But she walked into a day Logan had planned out from sunrise to sunset and completely threw him off course.

“Oh, baby,” you cooed. “What can I do? What do you need?”

“I don’t know,” Logan sighed. “How many fucking piano players are in LA? There have to be hundreds! And that stupid fuck had to bring her here. He had to pick the one person he knows will rattle me.” He let our a sharp breath, running his hands down his face. “And he fucked her! He fucked her and fell in fucking love with her and brought her around Jules?” You could feel his blood pressure rising even from where you were kneeling on the floor. “I hate him. I him, baby,” he said, his eyes glassy as he finally looked at you.

“He’s a piece of shit, Lo,” you said simply. Logan was still being tortured by a man who very clearly had no sense of respect or decency. The thought of the hurt he was causing Logan and Juliet, if she knew about his clandestine relationship, was enough to make you charge back downstairs and lay him out yourself.

“This is so stupid. I shouldn’t freak out just seeing one stupid robot,” he muttered.

“Hey.” You pulled his hands away from his head and stood just enough that you could hike up your dress a bit and straddle Logan. His arms instantly wrapped around your waist and he let his head rest on your shoulder. “It’s not stupid. They both did unthinkable things to you,” you whispered into his ear. “I’m sorry she’s here and this is happening to you. But Lo,” you lifted his chin to look into his deep, dark eyes, “I am so proud of you. You worked so hard on not just this deal or this party, but on yourself. And I know how hard it’s been for you. So you’re allowed to freak out a bit, ok?” You both laughed lightly, but a lone tear fell from his eye, which he quickly wiped away.

“I don’t say it enough, I know. But you know how much I love you, right?” Logan asked, his gaze soft as his palms moved along your sides. The light reflecting off the necklace he gave you the night before caught his eye, and just the barest trace of a smile formed on his lips. He looked so handsome and so open, you couldn’t resist leaning down and placing a single long, firm kiss on his soft mouth.

“Of course I know. I love you too,” you smiled and he grinned right back.

“Mmm, say it again,” he smirked and you shoved his shoulder.

“I love you, dummy.” Just as you threatened to laugh, Logan tilted his chin up to kiss you again, this time taking control and letting his tongue trace over yours. The spark between you ignited immediately and Logan pulled your hips just a little bit closer to his. His half hard cock was noticeable as he adjusted you in his lap. Your heart was hammering in your chest as Logan moved his lips from yours to trail along your jaw and down to your neck. Logan took his time kissing that spot right at the base of your throat that he knew you loved. “Logan,” you breathed out.

“Hmm?” he mumbled against your skin, unwilling to move his lips too far from you.

“We should consider heading back downstairs,” you said before moaning at his teeth scraping that same sweet spot.

“Or,” you could feel Logan smirk against you, “We could stay up here for a bit and you could ride me.” Given what Logan was currently doing to you and what was going on downstairs, you were greatly tempted to give in to him. But you knew he was hiding behind sex again, which you didn’t mind, but the sensible part of your brain knew there was unfinished business to attend to before you could give Logan the kind of sexual attention he deserved.

“How about we go back downstairs and get this day over with and then tonight, I’ll let you do whatever you want to me out on the deck?” you bargained, knowing he likely wouldn’t say no to semi-public sex.

“Anything I want?” he asked with an arched eyebrow and you nodded. “And I can do it out on the deck where I can show everyone how fucking incredible you look with me inside you?”

You nipped his bottom lip before standing up and holding your hand out to him. “Anything for my love.”

His eyes went bright as he looked over you, his smile soft. Logan pulled you tight to him and placed a light kiss on the top of your head. “Thank you,” he whispered.

“I’ve got you. I’ve always got you,” you whispered back before kissing him one more time.

The two of you walked back downstairs to rejoin the party, Logan waiting at the bottom of the staircase to take your hand and help you the rest of the way down. Now that he had calmed down a bit, he kept your arm in his as an anchor, something to ground him and keep his thoughts occupied. You gladly accepted the job and squeezed his bicep reassuringly.

“There you are!” Juliet was clipping up to you and Logan, irritation burning in her eyes.

“Here I am,” Logan smirked.

“Shut up. Dad’s about ready to make his little speech, so I need you up front.”

“Why? So he can look at me like I’m a piece of shit while he gives my company over to Billy?” Logan bit back.

“Please don’t do this right now,” Juliet sighed. “I just need you to smile for five minutes and then you can go right back to wishing he was dead.”

Logan conceded and kissed you once more before following Juliet outside where the bulk of the party goers had gathered. You spotted John up near the front and made your way to him, not wanting to be left alone in a sea of billionaire strangers. John made room for you and threw his arm over your shoulder.

“You ready for this?”

“I really don’t know.” You were nervous. You worried about any potential fallout and just wanted Logan to be happy at the end of it all. That was all you really wanted these days.

“Attention, attention,” Juliet sang out as she gently clinked a fork against her glass. “First, I want to thank you all so much for coming. It means a lot to our family that you’d be here to celebrate my father and his many accomplishments.” There was a small bout of applause and you couldn’t stop your eyes from rolling. “I know he wants to make a few remarks of his own. So, without further ado, Jim Delos,” Juliet said with a smile.

Jim took the spotlight and gave her a tender kiss on her cheek. “Thank you, Jules. Can we have another round of applause for the wonderful job she’s done putting this event together?” The crowd clapped and you could hear Juliet try to say something along the lines of ‘Logan too!’, which Jim promptly ignored.

“I started Delos 30 years ago with the hope of changing how the world viewed VR and on a broader scale, the world around us. In those 30 years, I made a lot of sacrifices to grow Delos into the corporation it is today. If I were asked to do it all again,” You looked to Logan and saw the little glimmer of hope in his eyes, “There’s not a goddamn thing I’d change.” You couldn’t bear to look at him a second time. There was no way you’d be able to stomach the hurt we was undoubtedly trying to hide on his face.

“And while I initially set up my succession to have the business stay in the family, I was presented an offer I couldn’t turn down.” Murmurs broke out among the crowd, trying to understand what Jim was trying to say. William stood tall with his jaw set, confusion set on his face. Juliet had an almost identical look on her face as well. Next to you, John started to move forward, but not before shooting you a comforting wink. “It’s my pleasure to announce the new owner of Delos, Mr. John Collins.”

Confused and scattered applause started up, most of the guests still confused by what was going on. William had been acting head for some months now, so the sudden change was throwing nearly everyone present for a loop. “Thank you, Jim.” The two shook hands and Jim gave him a hearty clasp on the back. “J&L Ventures is very excited to be embarking on the adventure that is owning Delos. We have a strong vision on where we see Delos 5, 10, even 20 years down the line. And, yes, Jim is correct in calling me the owner of Delos. But I’m just the charming, eloquent half of the J in J&L.” John succeeded in getting laughs. John did have that bit of charm about him that people seemed to latch on to immediately. “Please, L, join me up here?”

Logan took four proud, certain steps forward and stood at John’s side, smug and sexy as he’d ever been. Now it was time for the crowd to gasp and loudly chatter. It was comical, you thought, the collective clutched pearls of those around you. You were so taken by how proud Logan looked that you almost forgot to check for William’s reaction. He was bright red and downright murderous- at Logan or Jim, you weren’t sure. Perhaps both. Juliet looked like she had seen a ghost and all color had drained from her face. It would have been nice if she’d been able to be looped into all of this, Logan had regrets about having to keep this from her. But, he also knew there had to be as few people as possible who knew about the sale of Delos.

“WHAT?” The roar from Jim pulled all attention to where he stood.

“L. You know, like for Logan? My name?” Logan chirped back. “Let me recap- you sold Delos to John. John is my business partner. John is also my best friend. It’s not my fucking fault you weren’t around enough growing up that you can’t even remember what my best fucking friend looks like!”

“How dare you speak to me like that!” Jim bellowed. He began to berate Logan as another argument broke out between William and Juliet.

“Did you know about this?” William growled, violently taking her arm in his hand.

“Does it look like I knew about this!” she yelled, yanking her arm away. “Don’t you ever fucking touch me! You really think I’d keep a secret like this from you? Do you know me at all?”

“Well, I thought I did. But maybe you’re just a cheat like everyone else in your goddamn family!” He was spitting mad and inching closer and closer to Juliet. But, being the big brother he was, Logan stepped between the two, pushing William back by the chest.

“Take another step closer to her and I’ll fucking kill you,” Logan said plainly. He didn’t need any theatrics for William to know he was serious. He stormed off into the house, leaving with a huff and pulling at his hair. Logan turned then to check on his sister, who was thankful for his intervention but clearly hesitant to even speak to him right now. You couldn’t hear their conversation, but it must not have gone in Logan’s favor. Because just as you approached, she threw her hands up and also made for the house.

“Hey,” you said, putting a hand on Logan’s back.

“Hey, princess.” Logan pulled you into him and kissed the crown of your head. “Was that enough of a show?”

“You always did know how to steal the spotlight,” you laughed. “Are you ok?”

“Well, my dad really hates me now and Jules is a little pissed at me. But, I’ve never been better,” he smirked, leaning down to kiss you softly. “I should go find Jules though. I suppose I have somethings to explain.”

You nodded and walked into the great room with him, hand in hand while he tried to find Juliet. It was a scream from down the hallway that drew both your attention. There was banging and yelling coming from the library. Logan pulled you with him to find the source of the commotion.

“GET OUT!” It was Juliet screaming at the top of her lungs. Suddenly, the door flew open, William tumbling out of it into the hallway and landing flat on his ass. His shirt was thrown at him from beyond where you could see. The shirt was followed by a vase, which shattered as it hit the wall behind William. All you and Logan could do was watch as the scene unfolded. Delores was pushed out next, looking disheveled in a distinctly sexual way. You knew William was capable of evil, but you didn’t think he was dumb enough to fool around with another woman right under his fiancé’s nose.

“How long?” Juliet cried out.

“Remember when we took that trip to Westworld?” Logan interrupted. Juliet snapped her attention to him. “I didn’t want to hurt you, so I didn’t say anything. But damn, Billy. You really are good at pissing off everyone around you, huh!”

“Oh, and I suppose you think you’re some saint, huh? You stop shooting heroin for 8 months and suddenly you know everything? You only fuck one bitch and now you’re the relationship expert?! Well, congratulations on doing the bare fucking minimum!” William laughed. That was it for Logan and he was charging at him and grabbed William by the shirt he had shrugged on.

“You can disrespect me all you want. But you’re never going to fucking talk about my sister or the love of my life.” Logan spat. “Get the fuck out of our house.” He released William roughly and herded him down the foyer.

The Delos’ siblings glowered as William grabbed his jacket and let himself out. Delores was still hovering in the doorway. Logan nodded toward the front door. “Sorry, was that unclear? That get the fuck out extended to you too.”

Delores looked down as she shuffled out of the Delos compound and into the passenger seat of William’s car. The peeled off into the California twilight, hopefully not to be seen again. Bombs had been dropped that night, now all that was left was to sort through the debris.

TAGGED: @thesandbeneathmytoes​ @marvelcapsicle​ @something-tofightfor​ @songtoyou​ @abroadcastofthemind​ @its-my-little-dumpster-fire​ @gollyderek​ @dylanobrusso​

[valkyrieskwad]

I HAD A DREAM ABOUT ROJASCORP FUCKING AGAINST A FRIDGERATOR IM FREAKING OUT

here you go, my friend. dreams do come true.

you want it all (but you can't have it)

AO3 LINK

tagging @narraboths just because.

___________

Miraculously, the only thing keeping Lena from dying of sexual frustration is the heat.

It is so fucking hot outside: hot enough that the tiny summer house that her and Andrea call "the hotbox" feels more like the devil’s armpit during a Vegas trip, hot enough that they’ve started sitting in lawn chairs in the garage, taking turns sticking their heads in the deep freezer as Andrea tries her best to get Lena into Faith No More, singing while the sun goes down.

It’s hot enough that Lena’s hair is sweated to the back of her neck and her clothes are sticking to her skin, and even though they’ve been drinking since the late afternoon, the beers still aren’t managing to settle concretely in their system. Not like Lena wants them to, at least.

She wants to be drunk. She wants them both to be drunk, both at that point where the world is twirling and nothing really matters because everything is fucking funny, at that point where Lena could open her mouth and say i sometimes think about you when i touch myself, and Andrea would just throw her head back and laugh at it while Lena thinks about putting hickeys on her neck.

But they’re not drunk.

They’re both tipsy at best, and fucking touch-starved, and Lena hasn’t shaved in three weeks because it all seems less important when she’s down to showering every two days. She doesn’t know how much longer she can survive this quarantine, like jesus fuck. If the heat doesn’t kill her, the fact that she hasn’t been having sex with Andrea probably will.

"If I could only listen to five songs for the rest of my life, this song would definitely be one of them," Andrea says, pulling her knees to her chest and resting her feet on her lawn chair. "It’s amazing, right?"

Lena doesn’t really care for it, so instead of answering she asks, "Which one is this again?"

"Lena," Andrea drags out, letting her feet fall back to the garage floor. Truthfully, Lena knows the song, but listening to Andrea talk about music is almost as good as getting to touch her. "It’s Epic. It’s pretty much the one song you need to know even if you forget everything else. Mike Patton rapping is so fucking infectious, I swear. Another day of listening and you’ll be singing along."

"I’m sure," Lena smiles, then Andrea smiles too, and it makes Lena’s belly drop thinking about licking her lips. "Is it my turn for the deep freezer or did I go last? I can’t remember anymore, too fucking hot to think."

"Who knows," Andrea shrugs, sighing and settling back in her chair. "If you want it, it’s yours. I think I’ve given up trying to survive and accepted defeat."

"I’m almost there with you," Lena says, fumbling out of her chair, leaving her beer on the floor as she walks over to the deep freezer. It’ll be too warm to drink by the time she goes back to it, but it’s too hot to care about how much she’s been wasting all day. She throws the lid to the freezer open and leans inside of it. "We’ve had the air fixed twice, why’s it still not working?"

"Maybe we’re being punished for something we did in an alternate universe," Andrea says, and her voice feels closer, Lena thinks, right before she feels Andrea sliding next to her. They decided earlier that it was too hot to share the freezer, but maybe Andrea’s forgotten about that. "Do you think we’re friends everywhere in the multiverse?"

"I don’t think I could ever not love you," Lena responds without thinking about it, and then her body flushes so fast she feels prickly all over. It’s not even a big deal, she tells Andrea she loves her every day, but in her heart she knows it’s not what she meant this time.

Still, she lets it sit between them.

Andrea just hums for a second, then she says, "Yeah, I don’t think I could ever not be with you, like. Fuck, it’s so dumb, but sometimes when I look at you, I feel like, I don’t know." She laughs a little, then she finishes the sentence— "I just feel how Adam must have felt looking at Eve, like you were made from a part of me or something."

"Oh?" Lena asks.

"Yeah, it’s fucking stupid, sorry," Andrea gushes. "Is it too weird? It’s too weird."

"No," Lena says fast, and then, before she can stop herself, "I think about you sometimes when I touch myself, so. You’re not weird, I am."

"That’s not weird," Andrea says, so fucking nonchalant, and Lena makes the mistake of twisting her head to see the crisp blue of her eyes. "I mean, I think about you too when I do it. It’s just normal, right?"

"I guess it is," Lena mumbles, heart in her fucking throat, belly twisting in knots imagining Andrea imagining her when she’s, god. Lena looks away, drops her head further in the freezer, not blinking until the cold starts to sting her eyes. Fuck it. "I think about kissing you, too. All the time. I can’t help it. Sometimes sitting next to you on the couch, I just. My mind gets stuck on it, you know? Like, what if we made out?"

"What if we made out?" Andrea says back, and Lena’s ears burn the three seconds she thinks she’s being mocked, before it hits her that Andrea’s actually asking.

"What?" she asks, lifting her head again, looking at Andrea again, drinking in her eyes and her lips, and her lips, with very little regard for subtlety. "What do you mean?"

"Make out with me," Andrea shrugs. "I mean, we have shit else to do, so."

Lena wants to kiss her with every single fiber of her being, and that's maybe why she shouldn't. She stands up straight, turns toward Andrea, and starts with, "Andy," to let her know she's being serious. "I was just saying. We don't have to, though."

"But I want to," Andrea says, and it's hard to argue when she's three inches away, when she puts her hands on Lena's hips, hot against her skin even through her tank top. "I know you want to, too. You just said."

"Okay,” Lena says, and she's not sure what to do with her own hands. She knows what she wants to do, wants them in Andrea's hair, wants to feel her, to touch her, to explore every inch of her until they find a way to melt together in this fucking heat. But she's not exactly sure what's appropriate.

"It's okay, just go with it," Andrea says, and then she leans in and kisses Lena, and Lena's hands find a way to her hair, anyway.

She wants to describe the kiss. She wants to be able to think about it as they do it, so she has a reference point, a way to go back to it in her brain and replay and replay and replay it later. But she can't think. Her body feels like one giant nerve as Andrea spreads her hands out across her back and ass and skin, tasting Lena's lips, licking in her mouth, making it so hot between them that Lena feels like she has to choose between kissing and breathing. Between living and dying to live.

It gets more intense by the second, though, more frantic desperate needy, until they're both grabbing at anything they can, breath hot, lips and teeth and spit clashing between them.

"Fuck," Andrea pulls away, then her voice drops as she whispers, "C'mere," and Lena's heart stops beating as Andrea undoes the string on her shorts. Everything is moving so fast and so slow, like time doesn't know what to do, like they're dodging bullets in the Matrix. "I wanna touch you, is that okay?"

"Um," Lena says, rough like she's out of breath suddenly, heat tugging her belly so low it only aggravates the pulsing between her thighs. "I haven’t um, in a while," she mumbles, dumbly, hoping Andrea gets what she means.

Andrea laughs, pressing their mouths together again to kiss Lena, hand slipping beneath the elastic of Lena's boyshorts. "I literally could not care less," she says against Lena's mouth. "Let me touch you."

"Okay," Lena agrees. "But, pretend you like it. Tell me only hipsters prefer hardwood over carpet."

Andrea laughs again, this time deep, from somewhere in her belly. Lena laughs, too. The way she only does with Andrea on a hot summer night, standing over the blast of the deep freezer with the garage door half-open. "I don't have to pretend," Andrea tells her, fingers inching down until she finds Lena's clit, skin practically burning against it. "I love every second of this."

Fuck, Andrea makes it feel so familiar, like it's just another Tuesday and Lena's not slow riding her hand as she gasps against her mouth. She makes it feel like it's okay to be doing this, like Lena's safe and can be open, soft, vulnerable. She makes it feel like everything is okay, so the longer they shift together—kissing touching moaning—the more Lena feels like it's safe to want more. "I want you inside of me," she whispers, seconds or minutes or seriously, what the fuck is time later, hot and slick and so fucking sweaty that Andrea's hair is damp twisted in her hand.

"You want to go upstairs?"

"I think I'd die, fuck, m'already drenched in more than just the intended way."

"Here," Andrea giggles, pulling away a bit and nudging Lena's hip until she turns. And then Lena's being leaned over the deep freezer, thinking god this feels fucking amazing just as Andrea starts to tug her shorts down. "We could do it like this," she says. "You want that?"

"Yeah," Lena breathes, letting her head drop lower. "I want it."

So, Andrea gives it to her, slowly at first. Just one finger and then two, and then Lena's rocking back against her fast enough her mind is blanking and no amount of cold could make her feel less hot. She comes like that, over the freezer, with Andrea inside her, sweat and tears, probably, dripping down her face.

"You're so fucking hot," Andrea says, spreading her hand over Lena's ass, and Lena feels like she's breaking. But she also feels content for once, like she's settling, like her well isn't so full it's overflowing anymore.

She feels good. She feels so fucking hot she wants to strip even her skin off, but she feels good.

[eryiss]

Chapter Ten - The Hollidays

Summary: Freed and Laxus live incredibly different lives. Freed is a corporate lawyer in the capital city, and Laxus works as a handyman in a countryside hotel. Despite their differences, their lives collide when Freed inherits a house in Laxus’ village, and hires him to make the derelict building liveable. But the closer they get, the more they seem to offer each other. [Fraxus Multi-Chapter]

This was written as my admission for Fraxus Day 2020, hosted by @fuckyeahfraxus​. Happy Holidays Everyone. Hope you enjoy the chapter.

You can read this under the cut, on Fanfiction, or on Archive of Our Own. You can find the chapter masterpost here.

Chapter Ten – The Holidays

They hadn't spoken about it. They hadn't spoken about anything. They hadn't even seen each other since it happened.

Laxus had woken up in Freed's bed, wrapped up in the man's crisp sheets without a bedpartner. The sound of movement had stirred him, and through bleary eyes he had seen Freed moving through his bedroom. He'd watched as Freed had retreated quietly into the cottage's bathroom, followed by the sound of a shower. He returned a little bit later, to dress himself, and for reasons he couldn't explain Laxus pretended to be asleep.

With closed eyes, he had heard Freed's sigh. He'd shaken Laxus' shoulder to wake him, but the blonde continued to keep up the pretence of sleep. He had eventually given up, and the sound of pen against paper filled the room. Laxus should have made it known he was awake at that point, but he didn't.

And then Freed left, but not before gifting Laxus a featherlight kiss and whispering, "Happy Christmas my love."

Laxus only opened his eyes when he heard the locking of the front door followed by the sound of Freed's car engine starting. When he did, he sat up in Freed's large bed and rested against the headboard with a sigh, already regretting his stupid decision to remain silent as Freed woke. But he couldn't hang out the window, yelling in the hope that Freed would hear him and turn around so that Laxus could…

Could do what exactly?

Thank him for a night he would most likely never forget? Try to take back his words and all but beg for the opportunity to see if a long-distance relationship could work between them despite his disdain for them? Convince both Freed and himself that he wouldn't mind battling Freed's job for the man's attention for as long as they were together? It wasn't… those weren't things that Laxus could do.

So instead, he had sighed, and looked to the bedside table where Freed had written a note for him to find. A note that Laxus still had on his person, tucked into his jeans pocket, a week later.

It was pathetic really.

New Year's Eve was meant to be a night of celebration for young people, if Laxus could still be considered young. Admittedly, living in a town like Magnolia meant there wasn't much to do on New Year's Eve other than a few bars, but at least that would have been something. But, instead of doing that, he found himself at his grandfather's party, surrounded by people considerably older than he was. He was sat on the sofa, attempting to find some entertainment in the TV coverage of New Years in Era.

The location felt like a kick in the teeth. Because Freed would most probably be out there somewhere, with Evergreen and Bickslow, enjoying themselves and taking advantage of the night long party that the city became. Perhaps Laxus should have asked Freed if he could go with them.

He'd been tempted. But after what had happened, Laxus didn't know what to say to him.

They'd texted a couple of times, but never anything of substance. Laxus had wished Freed a Happy Christmas, they'd had some small talk but that was it. Laxus had wanted to ask how he was coping without any family members throughout the day, remembering how bad the holidays had been without his mother for his first time, but couldn't find the guts to press send. It was ridiculous, because before their night together things had been so easy. But after, Laxus didn't quite no where he stood with Freed.

Because the end date was coming. Only the bathroom needed to be finished in the house, and that would take a few days at most. Once that was finished, Freed would look into selling it, and his time spent in Magnolia would be over. And Laxus couldn't help but wonder if their promise of only having one night together was meant to be an ending to their relationship as a whole.

It was a thought he tried not to linger on.

And to stop it from ruining his mood, he stood and walked to the kitchen, where an array of drinks had been placed for anyone to take. Laxus picked up one of the flimsy plastic cups and assessed all of the drinks on offer, before settling on beer. He doubted his grandfather would be pleased to find a pint of his wine gone.

As he gulped down the drink, he unfortunately didn't instantly forget his anxieties about Freed leaving his life, but it at least gave him the confidence to be optimistic. Because Freed wasn't just going to pack up and leave his life like that; he was the kind of man who made friends cautiously but stuck with them through thick and thin. Even in the note he had left Laxus, he mentioned wanting to continue their friendship.

Pathetically, he found his hand grazing his pocket as the urge to reread it grew.

But the urge was more powerful than any good sense that he had left, so he reached into his pocket as he leant on the kitchen counter. He unfolded the now crumpled paper, placing his beer to the side of him, and began to read through the words that he had already committed to memory.

He tried not to let the feeling of melancholy consume him as his eyes roamed the page.

~~~

"You know, if you're gonna be like this all night, you could at least tell me why."

At Cana's words, Laxus let out a small grunt. She and Mirajane had arrived at Makarov's party a few hours prior, which had been enough time for Laxus' mood to get worse and worse. The more he stood around Makarov's house, surrounded by old men and women who had known him since he was born, the more he was reminded of his life before he had met Freed and his life had gained more purpose.

Because this party was what his life had been. Just standing around with nothing to do, wishing the hours away and the day to end, only to have another day of the same boredom. Every day had been like that, and Laxus had a horrid feeling that it would be like that again.

At least with the party, he could step outside and get away for a while.

"You should at least try to cheer up before he gets here," Mirajane sighed.

"Before who gets here?" Laxus muttered, taking a drag from his cigarette.

"Your boyfriend, dipshit," Cana taunted, and Laxus' eyes flickered to her in alarm. Her expression faltered. "You do know he's coming, right?"

Laxus shook his head, a little dumbly.

Why didn't he know that; he should have known that? He was, at least to Laxus' knowledge, the only real point of contact that Freed had in Magnolia. How would Freed have even found out about the party, since Laxus had never mentioned it was happening? And even if someone had mentioned it to him and invited him, surely he would have at least told Laxus to expect him there. Their texting had been limited, but it had still been there.

A flush of both excitement and dread filled the blonde. It was very possible that every concern and worry about the future of their relationship would be either confirmed of denied very quickly, and he hadn't been given the time to prepare.

"Lisanna's getting him from the train station right now, she left a while ago," Mirajane explained.

"Why her?" Laxus asked, though the real question of 'why not me?' was obvious.

"When Freed was staying at the hotel, they saw a lot of each other. She insisted on waiting his table when he had breakfast in the restaurant," Mirajane shrugged a little. "I think that, other than you, she's probably the person he's closest to in Magnolia. Apparently he wanted to talk to her, but I wouldn't worry. It's not like she's Freed's type."

"Maybe he wants to make you jealous," Cana grinned. "Maybe he thinks it'll make the lovin' bett-"

"Can you just stop with that shit for one fucking night," Laxus raised his voice, aggression clear as he glared.

Nobody spoke for a moment.

"I'm gonna get a drink," Cana muttered, leaving the front garden, and going back into the house.

Laxus sighed. "I didn't mean to be-"

"I know you didn't," Mirajane smiled placatingly. "She's just a prideful woman, and she can take things too far without realising it. I should go and check on her," She pushed off from the wall she was leaning on and smiled at Laxus. "And, if the reason you're feeling down is because of Freed, then try and make up."

"It ain't him," Laxus lied.

"Well then you should make the most of him being here then," She suggested, though Laxus doubted she had believed him. "Because he makes you happy, and that's important. Don't throw it away."

She walked into the house, and Laxus raised the cigarette to his lips again, looking up the road in the hopes of catching sight of headlights coming towards the house.

~~~

A car eventually did show up, and Laxus' heartbeat increased sporadically when he saw that it was Lisanna's. He quickly dropped the cigarette to the ground and stomped it out, not knowing what Freed's opinion on smoking was; whenever he had smoked over the past few months, he had done it in private and never where Freed would find him, though he'd found the urge a lot less overpowering and had indulged a lot less since meeting Freed.

He supposed it was the by-product of having things to do with hit time.

The car pulled up on the road outside of Makarov's house, and out from it came both Lisanna and Freed, dressed in his obnoxiously tempting suit; made more tempting now that Laxus knew what lay under it. That thought went as fast as it came, however, as when their eyes met Laxus found his mind blank.

Lisanna said something to Freed, patted the man on the shoulder and walked into the house, smiling at Laxus as she passed him. This left the two men alone in the cold night air, looking at each other in a moment of almost stupefied silence.

"Laxus," Freed eventually said, and the sound of his voice was like music to Laxus.

"Hey," Laxus said, and his voice only barely wavered. "How are you?"

"I'm good," Freed nodded a little. He visibly swallowed, and took a step towards Laxus. "Could we talk, please?"

"Yeah, sure," Laxus also moved, meeting Freed in the middle. He motioned to the small brick wall that separated the front garden from the pathway. "You wanna sit?"

"Thank you," Freed nodded again.

This wasn't going to be a good conversation, Laxus could tell. The very fact that Freed was willing to sit in the cold winter air near the middle of the night said quite a lot. But, Laxus could see Freed gently grazing the palm of his hand while he moved, a nervous tick that Laxus had picked up on a while ago for when Freed was feeling overwhelmed and nervous. This couldn't be a good conversation, and Laxus forced himself to breath calmly before sitting beside him.

"I should apologise," Freed began, his voice low. Regretful. "For kissing you, and certainly for suggesting that we have a night together. You made it clear that it wasn't for the best, and I should have listened."

"I wanted it as much as you did," Laxus admitted. "I enjoyed it, so you don't need to feel guilty. It's just, that's all it could be."

"I know," Freed sighed, looking down at his lap rather than at Laxus. Laxus wished he was looking at him. "But that doesn't change the fact that, the reason I did it was because I was being selfish. I was too focused on what I wanted to think about what was best for us both, and I am very sorry for that. Because if I hadn't kissed you, if I hadn't wanted more from you than I should have, then we'd probably not be out here, having a conversation like this. We'd be inside, enjoying ourselves. But we can't do that, can we?"

"I guess not," Laxus sighed, admitting to a truth that he hated. Because as much as he wanted things to be normal, they weren't.

"I really am sorry," Freed whispered. "Everything you said was right, though. Why we couldn't be together. But I need you to know-"

"Freed," Laxus quivered. "Don't."

"I need you to know that I want to change. That I'm trying to-"

"Please don't do this," Laxus' plea was barely audible.

"-become a better-"

"Freed," Laxus almost begged, voice cracking and getting Freed's attention fully. "You can't do this, you just can't. Because the more you speak, the more I'm gonna believe you. You're like a… a fucking drug to me. I don't get why exactly but I knew you were gonna be big in my life the second I saw you but… I can't get addicted to you. Because it's only gonna end badly."

"Why do you think that?" Freed asked, voice bordering on breaking.

"Because it would," Laxus swallowed. "Because your moms dead and you're refusing to deal with it, and I know what happens when you do that. Because you've got a job and a life that I don't know anything about, and I couldn't work with. Because you're not the kind of guy I could have something casual with. For whatever reason Freed you're the first guy I know to ever make me want more than just a quick fuck or a few weeks together. What I want from you, you can't give me right now. And if we get together, and if you keep saying that there's a chance we can work out, then one day it'll all go to hell."

"Laxus," Freed started again. Laxus wouldn't let him.

"You said one night, that was it," He tried to make his voice strong. "And that's what we did. And I can't risk tainting it. You're more important to me than you know, and I can't ruin it. And I think if we do anything more, then I can't see a way that we end up happy."

"I see," Freed whispered.

Neither spoke for a while after that, instead sitting side by side as the cold winter air flowed over them. Laxus found himself blinking back tears, unable to look anywhere but at his feet as seeing Freed might be too painful. He suspected that Freed might have been doing the same.

"Laxus," Freed said eventually. "Do you remember when you invited me to live in Magnolia? You told me that, in certain circumstances, you can't just carry on doing what you're doing because its easy, and that you sometimes need to remove yourself from a situation to find out who you are now," Laxus nodded. "I think I need to find out who I am without you. Or at least without the possibility of something happening between us."

And didn't that feel like shit.

"So you need to take a step back from me," Laxus whispered, blinking harder now.

"I think so," Freed sighed. "Not permanently, I hope. But you're right, the more time we spend together, the more I'll want to be with you. And if you're as certain as I believe you are, then I think we shouldn't see each other for a while. That we shouldn't… torture ourselves with something that we can't have."

"Yeah," Laxus voice broke. "Makes sense."

"I'm sorry Laxus."

"Don't be," Laxus forced himself to shrug. "I'm the one saying we can't be anything. You're just respecting that."

"Are you okay?"

"Fuck knows," Laxus laughed a little. "You?"

"No," Freed admitted. "I think I should leave, though. There's no good that can come from dragging it out."

"Guess not," Laxus took in a quivering breath. "You wanna call a taxi or something?"

"I'll stay at the house tonight, I can walk there," Freed sighed. "I really am sorry, Laxus."

"It's not your fault," Laxus whispered. "It just is what it is."

"I suppose so," Freed's voice wavered. "Goodbye, Laxus."

"Goodbye, Freed."

With an audible, quivering sigh, Freed stood up. The sound of shoes on tarmac became quieter and quieter as Freed walked away from Laxus, and the blonde only looked up when he knew that Freed was out of sight. He let out a strangled breath, looking at nothing as a wash of misery overtook him. He found his hands moving towards the note in his pocket without realising it, and a moment later he was looking down at it with tears prickling at the corners of his eyes.

'Dear Laxus,

I would first like to explain why I'm not here for when you wake. This was in no way my intention, but my train to Era was looming and, despite my best efforts, you are nearly impossible to wake. You have a rather endearing habit of gently snoring, so I can forgive you for that. I do wish I could have spoken to you before I left though.

Our time together last night was incredible, I expect I won't ever forget it, and it is entirely because I shared it with you. You seem to enlighten my existence in a way I can hardly put into words, even though I intend to try. You seem to brighten me, challenge me, and make me a better man. It's as if I have been struck by lightning just by being in your proximity, and your influence on my life has been only positive. When we kissed, it felt as though life was reinvigorated for me. Please know that you are one of the best people I have met, and your kindness is something I'll never be able to thank you enough for.

But I understand why last night is all that we can have as anything other than friends. I know why we can't be more, and as much as I would love to indulge my urges to keep you in my arms for as long as you'd have me, I understand why we can't.

I only wish we can still remain part of one another's lives still. I hope to see you soon, my love.

Freed.'

As the fireworks exploded behind him, bringing in the new year, Laxus let himself cry.

[ericsonclan]

The Color of Inspiration

Summary: Sophie is struggling with artist's block and doesn't know what to do when suddenly Marlon helps inspire her.

Word Count: 1868

Read on AO3:

Sophie glanced down at her blank canvas. This was stupid. Her brain was stupid. Sophie knew what she wanted to make, she wanted to create a painting for Renata. It wasn’t for some special friendiversary or her birthday. Sophie wanted to make her best friend a gift because she felt like it.

She knew that Renata would be happy with any sort of painting or gift that Sophie made but still for some reason she was having artist’s block. Her mind spun with countless ideas and yet none of them inspired her. None felt like the piece she wanted to make in this moment. With a frustrated groan Sophie took off her baseball cap and ran a hand through her hair.

“Come on, brain. We gotta come up with something great here!” The redhead tapped her knuckles against her head in hopes of waking up her brain. “It's just you and me and the paint cans,” Sophie sighed when she was still stuck. This sucked. All she wanted to do was paint something for her friend but no, her brain had to be a jerk.

Sophie turned her cap around and stuck it back on her head. With a frown she rested her chin on her two fists as she glared at the large blank canvas. “You could share some ideas too y’know,” Sophie grumbled to the canvas but it remained silent. “Heh, figures,” She blew some air up to get a stray strand of hair out of her eyes. The redhead was completely lost in her own thoughts and annoyance at this artist’s block, so much so that she nearly jumped in the air when the door to the backyard opened. Looking back, her eyes immediately sparkled when she saw Marlon.

Her boyfriend strolled up, a warm smile pulling on the corners of his lips as soon as he spotted Sophie. “Hey there, Soph. Tenn let me in and told me you’d be back here. I thought I’d surprise you with a date but it looks like you’re busy.” Marlon walked forward and stood beside the open paint cans. His eyes looked down at the blank canvas then at the paintbrush that Sophie picked up and was now spinning in between her fingers. “Got another commission to do? Did Lou put you to the task of painting a portrait of Clem now?” Marlon gave a smile towards his girlfriend who chuckled.

“Heya, Mar! Nah, surprisingly I have no commissions right now. This is actually a painting for Ren,” Sophie explained and made the paintbrush twirl around her fingers on one hand before transferring it to the other.

Marlon’s eyes grew large at her words. “Shit! Did I forget her birthday? I thought it wasn’t until November,”

“It is. This is just a gift because I felt like it,” Sophie noticed Marlon’s shoulders relax and she couldn’t help but smile up reassuringly at him before taking his hand. “Babe, I would’ve warned you if you were about to miss a birthday.”

“I know, babe, it’s just I panic sometimes,” Marlon awkwardly scratched the back of his head.

“I think it's sweet that you care so much,” Sophie kissed his hand which made Marlon blush. He looked at Sophie and the two locked eyes for a moment.

“So, did you just start?” Marlon noticed the small frown appear on his girlfriend’s lips and his nose scrunched up in confusion. Had his question caused that?

“No, I’ve been staring at this stupid canvas for over an hour. I guess you could say that artist’s block and my brain have become very good friends again,” Sophie crossed her arms and sighed.

Marlon wanted to give the perfect words, the ones that would magically get rid of this artist’s block and make that frown on Sophie’s face turn upside down. His hand slipped down and brushed into one of the open cans. He was so focused on his girlfriend though that he didn’t seem to notice the blue paint on his fingertips when he reached up and placed his hand on his chin. Marlon made a loud thinking sound without realizing it, causing Sophie to look up at him. A snort from Sophie made Marlon glance over and raise an eyebrow.

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing. I just think your new beard is very hot,” Sophie’s words confused Marlon. He didn’t have a beard. His eyes scanned the area, looking for a mirror of some sort to check out his face but there was none. He opted to grab his phone and that's when he noticed the blue paint on his fingers. Marlon gave a small groan which made Sophie laugh louder.

Soon a chuckle escaped Marlon’s lips. “Thanks for the compliment. I always wanted a blue beard.”

“Good to know,” Sophie jumped up and gave Marlon a quick kiss. Marlon was shocked for a moment before he stole a kiss from Sophie who deepened it. He awkwardly tried to make sure his hand didn’t get paint on Sophie’s face or clothes as the kiss continued.

Sophie pulled back with a playful smile before her eyes flickered with inspiration. “That's it! That’s what I’m going to paint!” She scampered over towards the paint cans.

“What? A kiss?” Marlon asked and leaned over to see what Sophie was doing.

“Good guess, babe, but nope! I’m gonna fingerpaint this art! I have no idea what the piece will look like or what it will be until I finish! It’s perfect!” Sophie beamed and moved the paint cans of red, green, blue and yellow over towards the canvas. This was the perfect type of painting for Renata. It was the right balance of chaos and order.

“Ooo! That sounds fun! Would it be alright, that is...” Marlon scratched the back of his neck with his paint-free hand. “Could I help?”

Sophie looked up at her boyfriend, her fingers covered in different colored paints. “Yes! I would love that! You probably should take off your jacket though. Art can be messy.” Sophie returned her attention to the canvas and began to brush her fingers against it. Soon yellow, red and blue covered a small portion of the canvas.

Marlon shifted off his jacket and tossed it on a chair. It was a good thing he had brought an old shirt in case some paint got on it. He quickly coated his fingers in yellow and green paint and began to paint beside Sophie. The two smiled and laughed happily as they spread the paint across the canvas. Minutes passed and they continued to paint, jumping over each other to reach different spots and complimenting each other’s artistic abilities. Sophie’s warm laughter made Marlon’s heart grow all warm and fuzzy and a mischievous idea entered his mind.

“Hey, Snickerdoodle,” Marlon’s voice made Sophie look over and she noticed his playful smirk. Before she had a chance to react Marlon booped her nose with blue paint. “Gotcha!” He planted a kiss on her cheek then gave a smug smile.

“Oh, so we’re playing that way, Marlon Davis,” The fact that Sophie had used his full name made Marlon know she meant business. This would be war. “Watch out, Mars Bar! You wouldn’t want your beard to be lonely!” Sophie lunged forward and pressed her thumbs coated with red paint under Marlon’s nose and ran them across his face, giving the ends little twirls. She scrambled on her feet and giggled. “Just need white and then you’ill look like America!”

“Hey, get back here, you sneaky little- What does that even mean?” Marlon chased after Sophie and waited for the perfect opportunity. “Gotcha!” He spread yellow and green paint across Sophie’s face as he swiped out.

Sophie quickly backstepped with a laugh and was on the move again, this time with the white paint. Coating her fingers with paint, Sophie charged forward. Her feet danced around Marlon and she sprinkled his face with some more paint.

“Well played, Soph, but I’m gonna win!” Marlon declared proudly and got his second batch of paint. With some fast footwork he gave Sophie a yellow and blue paint mustache.

“Mar, I have a serious question,” Sophie’s tone made Marlon stop his onslaught of paint combat.

“What?” “Are those pants important?”

The question made Marlon scrunch up his nose. “No? Why?”

“Secret! Which I reveal riiiightttt...” Sophie ran fast, slid behind Marlon and whacked her hands on his butt. “Now!”

Marlon yelped and jumped for a second while Sophie sprinted away, glancing back at the green and white handprints on Marlon’s back pockets. Marlon turned sharply on his heel and was off like a shot after Sophie. “I’m warning you, Sophie. I’m gonna getcha!” Marlon reached out for Sophie’s waist and began to tickle her. Her white painting shirt was slowly growing colorful.

Sophie wheezed from laughter, tears pricking her eyes. “That’s a sneaky trick, Mar!” She devolved into another fit of laughter and Marlon began to laugh as well. His arms suddenly wrapped around Sophie’s waist and he lifted her up in the air, spinning her around again and again.

“Everything is fair in love and paint wars!” Marlon spun once more before starting to get dizzy and the pair ended up tumbling to the ground. They rolled around on the grass for a moment then halted. The two of them laughed happily and Marlon began to get up when he noticed that his lips were hovering above Sophie’s. The two looked into each other’s eyes then down at their lips. Sophie’s hands reached up and she pulled Marlon into a kiss.

The kiss made Sophie’s heart soar in happiness and based on the fact that Marlon deepened it she knew he felt the same way. After a few moments they pulled back and Marlon rolled over to lay down next to Sophie. Both of them caught their breaths before glancing over and laughing. Marlon’s hand reached out and his fingers slowly intertwined with Sophie’s.

“Let’s call that a draw,” Marlon glanced over at Sophie who gave a bright smile.

“Deal! Y’know, I think we made some pretty good art today,” She motioned over with her head towards the canvas that stood out proudly, decorated with various colors of paint. Even though it wasn’t finished yet it already felt like a piece of art that held the spirit of Renata.

“I think it looks great,” Marlon gave Sophie’s hand a gentle squeeze. “Before you finish up the painting, you wanna just lay here for a bit? Maybe look at the clouds,”

Sophie leaned over and kissed his cheek, making sure to dodge the paint splotches. “I’d love that,” Sophie shuffled over closer to her boyfriend and the two soon got lost in the fun of making the most wild declarations on what the clouds looked like.

Sophie gave a happy sigh of relief as she listened to Marlon, her eyes focused on his smile. She had been able to get past her artist’s block today and it was all thanks to Marlon. Well, him and the paint cans. She really was grateful and she had even gotten a paint battle out of it. It had definitely turned out to be a wild, fun afternoon.

[nebulastarss]

Another Danganronpa AU because I have a problem. Also because I've been reading a lot of time loop fics, don't judge me.

Whenever I go off on a tangent, I'll try to mark it with () or []

I've not managed to find one where Shuichi is the time traveler, but there's a fuckload of Kokichi. Yep, I'm actually including drv3 this time. A miracle. Let's take all the side antagonists, Byakuya Togami, Nagito Komaeda, and Kokichi Ouma. These little shits are uncooperative as all hell, but at least Byakuya is emotionally attached to his fellow survivers by the end.

Nagito and Kokichi both died, but for slightly different reasons, despite both trying to make an unsolvable murder.

Now that you know what characters I'm using, allow me to spill my ideas in a way that might not make much sense.

In all of their rooms, once they finish the first loop (canon) they find an extra tablet. That or an extra feature on the monopads. This allows them to chat with each other as they realize that they're all in the same situation.

Kokichi is already kinda attached to his classmates but paranoia and trust issues like to bite him in the ass. Nagito legit dies to try and kill all of them so he takes a while to come around. (Specifically after Byakuya ask Junko about the ultimate despair and why they follow her. "Manipulation and a hell of a lotta brainwashing!" Or something.)

Everytime they die, or finish the game wrong, the go into a blankness. Just an empty void that they stay in until the others also die/finish incorrectly. They all start the time loops at the exact same time, no matter when they finish.

Once Nagito gets aware of the goal (get everyone out alive) he tries it. He's the first to get out. Ultimate Luck and all that, also the fact that he was the one who initiated the murder.

I hear what your saying, "what about the fourth chapter" and to that I respond with what I remember from the game, "it's only real because you think it's real." If Nagito told them and convinced them it was virtual by then, they'd be fine. How'd he know it was virtual? He's already gotten to the end multiple times, just never with everyone.

That's enough about dr2 for now though, I talk about it too much anyway. Byakuya goes through his fair share of "fuck this" and is not ok. He and Kokichi both starve themselves before they realize the goal (they both realized during the same loops thanks to Shuichi and Makoto) meanwhile Nagito is fucking around because hey, what if I fuck with Fuyuhiko so much, he traps me in a tree and cuts off my fingers? Maybe that's the answer.

Look at the self-deprecating dumbass go-

Kokichi is trying his best, but he's really not sure how to pass the fourth or first chapters without someone dying. That's what most of his loops are, him dying while trying protect someone so he can get this shit over with.

Let's just say, Tsumugi often hits the gremlin child and the avocado. Once he figures out how to get past that (who knew bringing another person into the library would be so useful?) he's so fucking relieved because he can stop Kirumi a lot easier.

(Once they get past a motive with no death and then sleep, their progress "saves" so they don't have to keep doing it, and wake up in bed)

Byakuya is having a bad time, because there's Toko, but then Oogami, and oh fuck he forgot about Mukuro. Damn. Don't forget that Monokuma isn't above bending the rules! He'll gleefully execute the wrong person if their annoying enough.

The amount of times Byakuya got framed for murder and executed is so much higher than the other two, but it still happened occasionally. It happened to Nagito the least tho.

(At one point Kokichi fucks up and everyone thinks he's a girl, Nagito has to tap dance to distract everyone from murdering, and Byakuya is forced into gymnastics. Byakuya cussed one time in all of this, and it was when he first saw Makoto's dead body and Kyoko being framed. When he confessed this to the chat, Kokichi started spamming swears, which nearly gave Nagito a heart attack when he got online about halfway through.)

In this au, drv3's canon ending is bullshit because fuck that noise. As well as a little rewriting of dr3's future version. Byakuya is now an expert at doing stupid shit but no one dieing, so he does exactly that. He somehow wiggles into the meeting and (thanks to his painfully acquired chemical resistance) doesn't pass out.

He pretends to tho and basically breaks all of dr3 future version's canon. No one dies and Monica gets sent to Jabberwock Island where she freaks the fuck out at Nagito acting differently. Byakuya sighs as his time traveling friend tries to calm down a screaming child.

Of course, I went off on a tangent so here's drv3! They all get out, Tsumugi doesn't die (Kokichi learned his lesson about that already) and they get out, dragging a tied up Tsumugi with them.

Junko isn't dead either btw. Makoto is trying to reform her and kinda failing, but at least she isn't trying to kill him constantly.

[Her plans were always foiled by Byakuya cuz apparently he's still in the time loop. Every time someone (important) dies and he sees the body he wakes up that morning or yesterday with enough time to stop it. He's not sure why. The same thing starts happening to Nagito when he gets out, but they always loop together. Dr3 was a nightmare for Nagito, because he didn't know what was happening to Byakuya]

Kokichi steps out and finds that, instead of it all fading to black like normal, it fades to white. He smiles as it fades because that means he did a good job, even if he hasn't been able to talk to Nagito for seven loops or Byakuya for two.

Then he wakes up and finds them both standing over his hospital bed. (they sent pictures of themselves in the group chat) and it turns out that Junko had kidnapped them when they were children and forced them into multiple killing games, that they'll never remember, but the fake talents they have now are practically real talents, so they're artificial just like Hajime's.

Then, because drv3 is a literal teen and not an adult with only their teenage memories like dr2, the whole cast gets practically adopted by the adults. Their parents are all dead.

(all the backstories are kind of similar to reality. Kokichi was in an orphanage with a small group of friends that liked to play pranks. Shuichi's parents were abusive so his uncle took him in. His uncle in dead now soo-

Hurt/comfort saiouma and you can't stop me. Mutual healing is what gives me life. Also neagirigami. And komahina. Let the antagonists be gay/bi for the protagonists/heroine.)

Kokichi's game ended only a few months after Nagito's.

Let me know if this is kind of hard to understand because of how much I jumped around, and I'll try to explain whatever confused you!