#he can’t find the place where calm and peace and love and adoration exist next to or inside the chaos of culinary life

[poppytuft]

trying not to talk too much abt the bear s2 but im Really fuckin frustrated that even with everyone demanding that they’re sooo media literate and sooo smart that no one has talked about claire and the way she sparks audience discomfort. like, she feels out of place within the show because CARMY cannot accept that he is getting this good thing—she feels out of place in HIS life. she’s actually crafted to be the ideal girlfriend, with glowy bokeh lighting in a grocery store and beauty shot close ups and a sweet instrumental leitmotif to show to you, an audience member, that she’s too good to be true in carmys eyes. if you’re an audience member, she raises alarm bells in YOUR head because she raises alarm bells in HIS. he literally tells us that—that’s the crux of his final monologue, that he doesn’t believe he can have the life of food and wines best chef and a life of love and human connection. he doesn’t believe he’s deserving of good things because his family has always been so fucked, because nothing he’s ever tried to hold together has held together—except for his cooking. it’s done this way on purpose, to make you feel that anxiety that he feels around this relationship, and to make you question why you feel it too

[smuggsy]

i would love to see #11 for the prompt thing (just want to say i adore ur current ed/oswald/omc series btw im excited for more! <3)

owww, thank you so much <3 it's nice to hear ppl are actually enjoying it bc i've got almost no feedback. another chapter is coming soon (;

but now onto the whump below the cut. #11 “Please, let me help you.” 

Getting used to his impaired vision is no easy task, he'll admit. Now that the doctor's made a thorough job of cleaning the wound and administering antibiotics to prevent infection and prescribed him two different kinds of painkillers and now that the initial shock of it all has passed. Now it downs on Oswald that this is who he's going to be from now on, that watching his step carefully when he goes down the stairs and bumping into walls that are closer than they seem is something he's going to have to get used to. 

As if walking around with a limp and a cane wasn't demeaning enough already. He lets out a grunt as he finally makes it to the kitchen, everything is sunk in darkness and he fails to turn on the lights two times before he finally finds the switch.

He sees the switch. He knows where it is. It's always been there, in that exact same spot, and he's walked into the kitchen in the middle of the night to fix himself some tea countless times before.

Now the switch has moved.

"Urrgh," he grunts one more time as he turns around and collides against the kitchen aisle. He nearly grabs one of the chairs and tosses it across the room, a sudden rush of adrenaline and fury coursing through his sleep-deprived mind.

There's a pang behind his eyepatch as if mocking his helplessness but he calms down soon enough, closing his good eye and taking a deep breath to brace himself against the counter. He manages to put the kettle on without any further incidents, but when he stands on his toes to reach the cabinet —how many times has he told Olga to keep that stupid tea-set at hand?!— he topples over and ends up sending two very nice cups to their deaths.

They crash on the floor with a piercing sound and Oswald startles and grits his teeth at the commotion. 

Deep breaths, deeeeeep breaths.

Choosing to ignore the incident he turns around to switch off the gas with trembling hands and pour the water into the one cup he did manage to obtain. 

Except, of course, his mind is still foggy from restless sleep and drugs so he misjudges the angle entirely and ends up pouring it all over his hand holding the teabag in place instead.

He lets out a yelp and drops the kettle instantly.

"Ow! Shit! Stupid little—!"

The water drips onto the floor unceremoniously as he tumbles over to reach the water tap and put his hand under it.

Ed barges into the place only half a minute later wielding a handgun, with hair sticking out and with his glasses askew. Oswald barely spares him a glance, blood boiling under his skin and dangerously close to the edge already.

"Oswald, what—"

"Nothing!" he blurts out almost immediately. Edward bearing witness to this mess is the last thing he needs right now, "just go away."

But, of course, he's Edward.

"What happened?" his friend asks, pistol forgotten on some nearby shelf and rushing over, words the slightest bit slurred by slumber and Oswald thinks lucky you, being able to get a wink of sleep, and takes another of those deep breaths that are doing a poor job of slowing down his heart rate. 

"What does it look like it happened, Ed?!"

Edward stares at him numbly and then his eyes dart around the place like he's only now taking it all in, seeing the shattered china on the floor and the pool of water by their feet. Immediately he brings both hands to Oswald's under the cold water from the tap and tugs at it.

"Let me see."

Oswald jerks him away.

"No— I'm fine!" he bites out, "go back to sleep."

Despite his ill-mannered humour, Edward doesn't move. Oswald doesn't look at him while he stands next to him in silence, letting the waters cool, clearly giving him a moment to backtrack on his request. And then, ever so softly, Ed's hands return, to his elbow this time. A touch too gentle it almost makes Oswald let out a whine — because he's tired, and aching, and sleepy and nothing turns out for him as of late.

"Please, let me help you."

His words are a caress in Oswald's ear. Barely there. Ed keeps his warm fingers on his arm and slowly brings the hand to his chest for inspection. Oswald lets him, this time. All energy seems to leave him with that puff of breath and he lets Ed guide him to one of those chairs he was contemplating taking all of his frustrations out on just a minute ago.

There's a slight hiss of sympathy.

"Should be alright with a little cream and a bandage," is Edward's assessment. 

Oswald rolls his eyes and fights down a sappy retort much like: yes, I know that, I'm not so incompetent that I need you here to issue an official diagnosis, just leave me to rage in peace. He nods tiredly instead, shoulders slumped and yawn unavoidable.

"I'll be right back," Ed says with a hoarse voice, moving around quickly despite his dishevelled appearance, looking perfectly awake now but sounding nothing like it. 

Oswald doesn't try to stop him. Because he knows it'll be a lost cause and because he's afraid if he starts poking too much at the situation he'll end up embarrassing himself and crying out his frustrations on Ed's shoulder.

Not ideal.

So he keeps silent instead, watching Ed's expert hands apply that cold salve on his knuckles and wrap his aching red-looking skin in a white bandage, giving up on not looking miserable because what's the point.

He is miserable.

"There, all done."

Ed pats him twice on the thigh as if comforting a hurting animal and Oswald can only offer a small scoff in return. He can smell Ed's shampoo from where he's standing so close and he keeps his eyes fixed on that loose crumpled white shirt he wears to sleep, afraid to look up into the gentle eyes he knows he'll find behind those glasses.

Because he might start blurting out stuff that shouldn't be blurt out if he does, as helpless and exhausted as he's beginning to feel.

"Now let's get you that cup of tea."

Ed turns around to make himself busy and Oswald takes the opportunity to scatter away.

"Where—"

"Sofa," he crooks out deadpan. 

That's where Ed finds him ten minutes later, staring at the unlit fireplace as if willing it to come to life on its own. Sitting on his usual spot with the lights off and a glassy look of resignation. 

"Chamomile," Ed says as he offers the steaming cup. Oswald doesn't have the heart to tell him he's changed his mind and would rather down a glass or two of that aged Scotch instead. He takes a sip without muttering out a word. Ed sits down just beside, clearly not taking the hint, "you're uncharacteristically quiet."

Oswald shrugs.

"Just tired," he offers, and then, only to put Ed's mind at ease, gives him a practised look of reassurance and a smile, "I didn't mean to wake you up."

Edward turns the attention back to him, ignoring the clear dismissal implicit in the words.

"Did you go to sleep at all?"

"Yes."

"Is your eye bothering you?"

And then the Oswald from the kitchen returns without a warning and he lashes out.

"Goodnight, Ed."

Edward goes to speak again but stops himself when Oswald sends him a sharp menacing look. He looks nothing short of a kicked puppy as he gets on his feet and turns around to leave.

And then he doesn't leave.

"I could start a fir—"

"Goddamn it, Ed! Just leave me alone!"

And just like that the fourth and last cup of that lovely set ceases to exist, turned into another pile of shattered porcelain on the floor. Because Edward Nygma is a pain in his fucking ass, and he doesn't know how to read an indirect and back down and just disappear. He pokes and pokes and pokes—

—and when Oswald turns to look at him with that murderous glare, he sees no reaction from him. Clearly, this was his intention all along, from the very first moment he walked into that kitchen, to see just how much he could take, to push until he broke, to make him talk about it.

Oswald should have learnt to read Edward Nygma by now. Should’ve seen it coming.

As Ed strides back to him with purpose and swiftly sits back down on the sofa and leans in to wrap him into an embrace, Oswald understands he definitely still hasn't learnt to read Edward Nygma. 

"What are you doing?" he pushes him away half-heartedly with his good hand. Edward doesn't let go, an unmovable brick wall that cannot be swayed.

"I'm hugging you."

"Let go—"

"No."

Oswald blinks. Then lets out a breathless laugh. He can't seem to fathom any other reaction to this — provided this is actually happening. Provided it isn't a secondary effect of being drugged up to his eyeballs for a whole week, now. 

He stops trying to tug Edward away and instead slumps against him, head resting on a slim shoulder and cold and runny nose poking Ed's neck as he keeps giggling at the unprecedented gesture. 

Edward's hug is implacable but awkward. He doesn't move, his broad hands against Oswald's back just pin him in place almost in a possessive fashion. He's clearly unskilled in the ways of physical reassurance.

Oswald realises those nervous giggles he's letting out are actually sobs.

[aeonghaseyo]

Around You

Summary: The actions of a street cat taught you to shoot your shot and approach the older Kambal. But it didn't necessarily mean you had to change into a cat yourself to get his attention. ...right?

Word Count: 1459 AO3 link

Relationships: Crispin x CatSigbin!Reader Category: F/M Characters: Manang Muning, Crispin, Basilio Languages used: English, Tagalog Author's Note: I saw @adarlingwrites's sigbin OC in her Tumblr and I thought, why not write a fic with a cat sigbin reader? And here we are. 'Sup Crispin simps, I dedicate this to you. I hc that he's fond of cats, but that will have to wait until the next chapter. Enjoy! Inspired by the song Around You by LOONA Hyunjin

Chapter 1

“Halika dito anak, kumain ka muna.”

Manang Muning’s hushed tone beckoning you to join her and the rest of her feline family for dinner gave you a sense of comfort amidst the turbulent feelings that stirred your being. Normally, someone like you, who thrive among the middle-class folk in Malate, would help themselves to a pint of ice cream just for love troubles. But then again, you couldn’t refuse freshly-cooked daing straight from the old woman herself, which was why you went to her stall that one peaceful evening.

Out of the need to seek comfort through food prepared by your favorite vendor by the church, you quickly wolfed down the pieces of smoked fish in your plate, of course trying not to ingest the spines that clung to the meat. It didn’t take long before Manang Muning noticed your troubled disposition mid-meal and placed a hand on your back soothingly.

“(Y/n), anak, parang nagdadalamhati ka yata,” she spoke, which got your heart fluttering in surprise.

After swallowing that one last bite of your meal, you turned to her and said, “Okay lang po ako Manang. Wala lang ‘tong iniisip ko.”

Another wave of surprise caught you on your toes when Manang Muning once again asked, “Tungkol ba ito kay Crispin?”

Eyes widened, you mustered a quick response that turned into yet another question, “P-paano niyo po nalaman?”

Your inquiry made the old woman laugh heartily while a tuxedo cat nearby sauntered towards her, nudging her forearm to ask for more pets. As she let the cat settle on her lap, Manang Muning finally replied, “Anak, malapit ang loob natin sa isa’t-isa. Tuwing nakikita ko ang paningin mo, parati kong nakikita ang pagmumukha ng lalaking yun. Mukhang sinusundan mo yata pagkatapos mong samahan ang aking mga pusa kapag malapit sila sa pinanggalingan nila ng munting Trese.”

You didn’t think that every time you would be in your cat form tailing after Alexandra Trese and her adoptive twin brothers, your beloved old friend would tap into your vision just to see how you were doing. It was apparent that you weren’t bound to make advances of your own towards the trio in black, especially the short-haired twin, and even in plain sight you weren’t much noticeable. After all, who would pay mind to a small house cat, let alone think that it had emotions of its own?

Your heart sinking within your chest, you let your head bow down and your eyes closed as you dwelled in your disappointment. Trusting in Manang Muning, you let out the woes that plagued you that involved you, Crispin, your habit of stalking him whenever he’s nearby, and how you couldn’t get yourself to approach him and let him know you exist.

A chuckle made its way through the old woman, then she wrapped her arm around you, squeezing the farthest arm of yours from her soothingly and began to impart advice of her own. “Anak, talagang hindi mo makukuha yung taong gusto mo kapag naghihinayang ka masyado. Talagang kailangan mo siyang lapitan para mapansin ka niya.”

It didn’t help that whenever Manang Muning would soothe you with advice of her own in such a comforting manner that your eyes would tear up automatically. As you heard her tranquil voice speaking to you, your eyes were glossed with tears which also somewhat accumulated on your lower eyelids.

So you inadvertently looked like the puppy eyes emoji in Facebook Messenger when you looked at her and said, “Di ko po alam kung paano.”

“Anak,” Manang Muning calmly chided as she stroked the tuxedo cat who was nestled on her lap, “tignan mong mabuti itong alaga ko. Kanina, gusto niyang haplusin siya kaya niya hiningi ‘to sa akin. Hinaplos ko siya at hanggang ngayo’y hinehele ko siya gamit ang haplos ko. Alam mo kung bakit nakuha niya ang haplos na gustong-gusto niya?”

You glanced both at the cat in question and looked back at the old woman. It was then that you realized what you could do to charm the demigod you were yearning for.

---

From the way you held your ice cream cup as you feasted on the frozen dairy treat, you were nervous as hell, and it was very telling. You could have sworn that your ice cream permanently rendered your hands akin to popsicles as you stared at the dessert on your non-dominant hand. You knew what to do the next time you encounter Crispin, but how would you pull it off smoothly?

Remembering that one night when Manang Muning imparted a valuable lesson to you to limit your hesitations and shoot your shot with the demigod, you knew very well that she meant to tell you to just approach him. It didn’t mean she recommended you to change into your cat form and get his attention the way that other cat did to your beloved manang. But then again, it was your idea. You told her you were going to get Crispin’s attention as a cat. Everyone loves cats right? Besides, it was better than stalking your object of adoration from the alleys and in plain sight, even just as a regular house cat. (Or street cat? Technically, you did have a home.) Love really makes you come up with stupid ideas for sure.

Speak of the devil.

The demigod twins were right at your proximity, and you could tell from the ringing of the entrance door which revealed the both of them entering the premises. Basilio, the younger, long-haired twin, was chattering away while Crispin seemingly paid no mind to him. It seemed strange, however, that their Bossing was not with them. It didn’t take long for you to notice that you were staring at them as the older twin glanced at you for a moment, prompting you to look away and finish your ice cream. What you failed to see next was him smirking to himself before he went to the food aisle.

Your thoughts plagued you as you paused and stared at your now empty cup.

‘God, I can’t believe that shameless idea came to mind. If this backfires I’ll never find love again. Why is this so hard?!’

The stress that accompanied your thought made you unknowingly snap your tiny spoon in two with one hand. It did not help that since the twins were nearby, the sound was enough to make them notice, so their heads immediately turned to where you sat.

“Yikes, the spoon did nothing wrong,” said Basilio in a joking manner as he got a bag of chips from the display rack.

Clearing your throat, you muttered a "sorry" as you got up from where you were and walked to the cashier with your wallet in one hand, wishing to buy another cup of ice cream to calm yourself down. You immediately asked the cashier to serve you that same flavor of ice cream that you loved so much, but as you fished through your wallet for a smaller bill, you noticed that all you had was a 1000-peso bill. As soon as the young man behind the cash register handed you the frozen treat, you blurted out, "I'm sorry, I don't have a smaller bill, do you have change for 1000 pesos?"

The cashier, checking the cash register for enough money for your change, grimaced slightly as he said, "Sorry ma'am, we don't have enough change for that."

Your heart sank all the more as you realized you technically had nothing to pay with, but all of a sudden, you felt as if that heart of yours was caught and gently lifted up as someone handed the cashier the exact amount of money you were supposed to pay the him. You looked closely at the arm and the man it belonged to, and your heart skipped a beat as you noticed that it was actually Crispin who handed the money.

A blush formed on your cheeks as you thanked him for the treat. "I-I have to repay you that same amount next time, don't I?"

Crispin winked at you and replied, "Of course not. Unless you wanna see me again. Now go enjoy your ice cream before it melts."

That smooth motherfucker.

'Jokes on you. I'm the one who's melting, not the ice cream.'

You walked back to that same table you sat by, savoring your first small scoops of ice cream with a new spoon as you glanced back at your crush and his twin brother. By the looks of it, the younger twin seemed to be teasing his kuya, nudging him a few times with a shit-eating grin on his face. Maybe you finally got through to Crispin?

Now you began to second-guess turning into a cat to get his attention.

[jetaime-jespere]

Prompt #125

Back on these, after a slight hiatus. Set during 6x18, if Lauren had a different ending. Slight Emily x Ian, more in memory only.

#125: Make A Wish

“Make a wish, Lauren.”

The voice behind her is as cold as the gun placed at her temple with a sure hand, his other clamped firmly on her shoulder. That voice is completely devoid of the lust it used to hold when he would speak to her, when it was the two of them, him and her, in a world of their own. A world that was dangerous yet exhilarating, yet a place she somehow never questioned if she belonged. Not that she had a choice. It started as an obligation, part of the raw deal that came with infiltrating an international terrorist organization. There was no limit in her quest to prove her loyalty, she quickly learned through the nights she spent in his bed, the mornings that followed. He worshipped her body with his own, took her past her own limits only to lull her to sleep in his embrace. She earned his trust but he also gained hers, and only after he uttered the words I love you did Emily realize just how entrenched she was, the only way out meant sure death for one of them. Ensuring her own survival meant further entangling herself in lies and believing them with all her heart. If you play, you play for keeps. The only thing she didn’t expect was for the lies to become the truth, because after a while, each time she repeated his sentiment, she meant it just a little more until she wasn't sure she knew the difference anymore.

Except this isn’t Tuscany or Galway, Rome or Dublin. Gone are the beautiful views from the balconies of his villa, where she could at least pretend like this wouldn’t all end horribly one day. The green pastures of Ireland don’t exist here, the springtime sun is gone. Instead, her ankles and wrists are bound to a chair in the middle of a cold warehouse in the middle of Boston, and she has mere minutes left to breathe, because she’s about to die at his hand.

“Lauren, are you ready to pay for what you’ve done? I told you I was going to take your life.” Emily closes her eyes and takes a few deep breaths. It’s been years and yet hearing his voice again, even after all this time, is like a window into the past.

Her security was built on a web of fallacy, it had been all along. Hushed promises behind closed doors in sound-proofed rooms in the middle of European cities that it was over, that she was safe, were mere falsehoods. She left Lauren Reynolds and the world of Interpol behind years ago, a conscious choice that was never regretted, only remembered from time to time in the quiet silence accompanied by the unrelenting pull of too much alcohol. She never lingered on it for too long, wouldn’t let herself go down that path, until she had no other choice, when she saw the messages from Sean that pulled her right back in.

Ian Doyle had escaped from prison. The moment Sean uttered those words Emily knew he would find her eventually; it was only a matter of when. She just hadn’t expected it to be so soon. There was hardly any time to get things in order, to arrange for them to be taken care of, to ensure her team would be safe in the days, weeks, months, even years after she was gone. Whether that meant disappearance or death was anyone’s guess, but not a choice she’d have to worry about because it wouldn’t matter. Emily lured him out of hiding in DC, followed him to Boston a few days later as he rampaged his way through her friends systematically one by one. It essentially stole any chance of saying goodbye, and she’d turned away from them one last time, through the doors of the BAU, only giving in to the sob she’d been holding in her throat once she was safely in the car.

“Are you afraid?” Ian asks, his hand moving from her shoulder to the side of her face. His palm is rough, hardened from his years in prison, yet there’s something fleetingly reverent about it. Emily always marveled at the contrast of his hands, responsible for the pain and suffering of so many, could be so gentle and adoring with her. But that was long ago; the tables have long been turned.

“No,” she lies, and he just laughs, brushes his thumb over her jaw almost adoringly.

She straightens her back, her arms trembling and her heart pounds through her chest. The gun cocks in her ear; she feels it brush her temple again.

“Make a wish, Emily. It’s time. You have ten seconds.” When she hesitates, her body tensing at his words, he chuckles. “Close your eyes. Sometimes it helps.”

She obeys, and, it’s Aaron’s face she sees, brief moments in time as her life flashes before her eyes.

“Ten.”

It takes almost a month to speak of the first kiss (it happened after a few too many beers one night with the team) and two more weeks before there is another. The second time around they’re stone cold sober (it’s better that way), and when he asks if she’d like to go out with him sometime, she blushes with a resounding “yes.”

“Nine.”

Their first date is one she’s always held close to her heart. He’d made reservations, planned dessert, and on a whim, she bought a new dress just for that occasion even though there were more hanging in her closet than she could count. This one was dark green, with an open back, and she knew right away it was the one. Except they never made it to the restaurant, because a case in Memphis called them away the morning before. She only smiled when there was a knock at the hotel room door late on the evening that should have been spent with their heads bent together over a table in the back of a picturesque Italian restaurant. But instead he held a bag of takeout, wearing a grin while uttering the words “Plan B?”

“Eight.”

He’s still inside of her for the very first time, unable to focus his mind on much of anything because Emily is still panting his name in his ear, when he decides he doesn’t want to be with anyone else, ever again.

“Seven.”

In Colorado, mere hours after the compound went up in flames, Aaron can hardly be objective as she ambles toward the hospital exit with discharge papers in one hand, the other cautiously guarding her broken ribs. Her face is bruised, her clothes dirty, and while Reid is just a few feet away dozing fitfully in chairs, Aaron goes right to her, thumbing her cheek in a rare display of public affection. “I’m alright. It’s not as bad as it looks,” she tells him bravely, even though she’s already sore, muscles aching, exhaustion starting to cloud her every thought. “I just want to go home.” In those moments, Aaron realizes he is the closest thing to home she has right now, and he doesn’t leave her side for the rest of the night.

“Six.

As she stares at JJ’s newborn son cradled in her arms, Emily wonders, with a fleeting glance at Aaron, if she’ll ever have the chance to do the same thing. Now, she never will.

“Five.”

On many mornings, Aaron wakes her up with coffee on the nightstand and gentle hands pulling the covers from her legs, pushing the hem of his shirt past her hips as he settles her legs over his shoulders. Her eyes aren’t even open before she’s already rocking her hips up towards him, an uncoordinated hand grappling for something to hold onto. The way he moves, slow and determined, is a contrast to the speed at which they’re used to, frantically moving from one case to the next. He’s taught her to be patient; he’ll get her there eventually, but she’s not in the mood to wait this morning. “Aaron,” she breathes his name, but he shakes his head in tandem with the flicks of his tongue. “Soon,” he assures, a promise he’s never broken. And true to that promise, he sends her spiraling into bliss a few moments later.

“Four.”

“I want to tell Jack,” Aaron says one evening when they’re sitting in traffic in the middle of Dallas, on the tail end of a case as she gazes out the window. “About us.”

“Three.”

“Can Emily stay for dessert too?” Jack asks innocently, his face covered in spaghetti sauce as the plates are cleared from the table. It’s about time they told him why his father’s pretty friend from work was spending more time than usual at the apartment, why a sweatshirt was left on the couch the week before, why there’s an extra toothbrush in the bathroom and a few extra bottles in the shower. It’s been something they’ve held off on, Haley’s death still fresh and the timing not quite right. But the look on Jack’s face tells him everything they need to know, and Emily’s heart swells when Aaron smiles and murmurs, “sure, buddy.”

“Two.”

The two and a half years they spend together, in some semblance of the word, one way or another, are some of the happiest she’s ever known, the most peace she’s ever felt.

“One.”

I hope you can forgive me, for never telling you the truth, she thinks as she pictures the hurt and pain that will darken on his face when he finds her body. Emily knows they’re coming, but they’ll be too late. Tell Jack I’m sorry too.

Her eyes flutter closed again on their own accord as her lip trembles in unbridled fear. It’s so silent in the warehouse she hears the gentle scrape of Ian’s boots on the ground as he steps back, taking a steadying breath of his own, his finger curled around the trigger.

This is it. Make a wish.

The gun fires; she’s acutely aware of the throbbing echo in her ears as the sound reverberates, which confuses her, because it’s not supposed to be this way. It’s a dissonance of sounds - things she shouldn’t be cognizant of because the bullet that pierced the air is supposed to be in her head. But another voice - she recognizes this one instantly too - bellows something she can’t quite decipher, calm and steady, accompanied by the thunderous footsteps of a team of agents that sweep into the room. Glancing down at the concrete ground Emily sees Ian’s body, his gun a few feet away. A pool of blood seeps around him, her stomach lurches at the sight of his head split open, and she has to look away toward the small window, where the dawn of another sunrise has started to bleed through the sky.

They made it.

“Emily!” It’s the same voice as the one from moments before, and when she realizes what just happened, Aaron is already kneeling in front of her, frantically working at the plastic zip ties that have cut welts into her wrists and ankles. He’s shouting at someone that isn’t her, something about hurry up, and soon she’s freed, but her limbs don’t want to work correctly or coordinate at all. They don’t have to, because strong arms are pulling her into his chest, her chin hits his vest, and the scent of him nearly splits her heart in half as he lowers her to the ground.

And for the second time since this hell began, she starts to cry, her fingers clenched around the fabric of his shirt. Through the deep sobs she attempts to speak, apologies that aren’t even close to coherent, the adrenaline that’s coursed through her already starting to give way to exhaustion. But words won’t work either, and he shushes her with a finger to her lips, matted hair pushed out of her face as Aaron thumbs away the tears that collect in her eyes.

“It’s over,” he soothes, repeating the words over and over, until they both believe it. He’s unaware of the extent of her injuries, won’t risk adding to them as he signals for a medic. She breathes through the tears, her chest heaving, the only thing she’s remotely aware of is the beat of his heart, unsteady against her own.

It’s over, she reminds herself as she takes one last look at Ian’s dead body a few feet away, a reassurance to herself that this is in fact real, that he can’t haunt her again. And as she lays on the ground, enveloped in the protective embrace of Aaron’s arms, Ian’s words linger in her mind.

Make a wish.

[yolkyeomie]

Improv Game | Yang Jeongin

summary — maybe following the script of what’s ahead isn’t for you and a little bit of improv is all you need to make it better

word count — 1.9k words

pairing — gender neutral!reader x jeongin (ft. x hyunjin)

genre — high school au, transmigration(?) au, fluff, cliff hanger

disclaimer — this is VERY loosely based off of series like Extraordinary You and the awfully popular reincarnation webtoons i’ve seen like… everywhere. I JUST NEEDED SUMN TO WRITE OKAY?

You strained a smile at the boy in front of you, rhythmically tapping your fingers on the desk in hopes that he’d pick up your annoyed undertone. Though to no avail did he notice. He simply took it as your way of attentively listening to him speak and that’s all he would ever take it as, he was rather oblivious after all. You couldn’t exactly blame him for this unfortunate trait of his but you couldn’t stand it either.

“Oh, Y/N, if you don’t mind me asking…,” the boy began, leaning back in his chair as he held onto the desk for support. His eyes wandered from the front of the classroom then to the classroom window where the cherry blossoms were on full display to finally your eyes.

You didn’t mean to make direct eye contact with him but he caught your gaze a lot quicker than you could look away. With a deep sigh you stretched your arms out before turning your genuine attention to him, “What’s up, Hyunjin? Go ahead and spit it out.”

He cleared his throat for the moment, his eyes darting away from your connected gazes before mumbling something out of his mouth. The boy glanced at you to see if you had heard him and when you showed no signs of understanding, he cleaned his throat again. “I said if you’re not busy any time like… I don’t know— tomorrow? If you wanted to hang out? Like go to the park or an arcade or—“

“—like a date?” You questioned, raising a brow in suspicion.

Hyunjin immediately started to crumble, his face flushing a beetroot red and his ears practically steaming from your words. “No, no! Not a date! I would like… never ask you on a date! Unless you want it to be a date…? I mean if you don’t think it’s a date then it’s not a date—!” The boy continued to ramble, nearly forgetting about your existence as he tried to cover himself.

You were in a very… odd situation to say the least. One day you had woken in a room that wasn’t yours, in a house that wasn’t yours, with friends you didn’t know, going to a school you never went to. Only one could imagine the amount of disarray you were in as you tried to traverse the day struggling to get from one place to another when you didn’t have a clue of what was exactly going on.

You thought, maybe if you just get through this day, everything will go back to normal when you wake up again? As if this was all some sort of… dream your mind had created in your slumber.

But alas, that was definitely not the case. You woke up the next day in the nearly same situation you were in before. And the same in the next day, and the day after that. Soon days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months. You were still living throughout each day as if you had never really woken up in the unfamiliar at all.

The kicker? You had quickly caught onto the fact that you were within a book, maybe even a comic who knows, and were walking around as the main protagonist. Well, quickly isn’t the right word per say. A week went by as if everything was normal until you interacted with a teacher who had asked for you after school.

The conversation was as normal as any conversation with an adult would go until you looked above their head and saw words in bold quotation marks detailing words that hadn’t been spoken yet. Without thinking, you read them out loud and the teacher responded exactly to what you had read out. You didn’t think anything of it at first until the routine you had adapted yourself to suddenly changed to fit the words you had read to him.

The world was shaping around the detailed actions and words the story was instructing you to take. Sometimes it would be something simple like helping your teachers with their work and other times if quite literally instructing you to get hit with a soccer ball in the face. You didn’t want to follow through when things like the latter were given to you, but they would just happen whether you liked it or not.

Oh and your main love interest? It was Hyunjin. You’d think having someone fated to fall in love with you and vice versa would be interesting and exciting to you, but you weren’t feeling it all.

Don’t get it wrong, Hyunjin is a very nice kid. He’s tall and handsome with a sweet personality, but he just… wasn’t your type? So trying to get your “character” to fall in love with him was hard. Especially when whatever author that was scripting your interactions together made them happen extremely frequently and in rather annoying ways.

Not a day goes by where you can get some peace and quiet. Whenever you thought you’d be free, Hyunjin would always pop up to greet you or keep you company or even pull you to the next step of your growing relationship when you really didn’t want to.

It seemed like the date-that’s-not-really-a-date-but-it-totally-is was the next step into pushing you two closer to each other. It had to be, given the fact that the next sentence that was supposed to come out of your mouth had appeared over his stressed out figure.

You concealed a deep sigh as you placed your hand on his shoulder in an attempt to calm him down. The boy immediately stopped in his tracks, turning to face you with wide and curious eyes. You flashed him your best smile possible, “Yes, let’s make it a date.”

The boy nearly popped a vein, blinking rapidly and his cheeks growing warmer and warmer at your answer. “You… Do you really mean it? Like… this wouldn’t be just two friends hanging out— this will be a whole date?”

“Do you even know what the definition of a date is? Of course it’s a whole date!” You recited, watching Hyunjin’s eyes begin to glow and his smile stretching from ear to ear.

A small hum of satisfaction left his lips as he jumped up from his seat, struggling to contact his excitement. “Okay then! It’s… it’s a date?”

“It’s a date.”

“It’s a date!” He exclaimed, catching the attention of nearly the entire class. Luckily it was a free period so you didn’t have to worry about interrupting the class instruction but it was still embarrassing. You practically sunk in your seat and covered your face to the best of your ability as Hyunjin hopped about the room in glee. “Jeongin, Jeongin! You’ll never guess what happened to me!”

Your head immediately shot up upon hearing the name uttered from the boy’s lips, your eyes glued straight onto Hyunjin’s back. The boy was jumping up and down in the door and his back was blocking the view of whoever was in front of him, but you didn’t exactly mind. You simply waited for him to stop moving before finally spotting the familiar dimpled boy in front him, his pretty smile and excited eyes on the main love interest.

Jeongin, the main love interest’s best friend and the device used to move the plot forward, that’s exactly who he was. Minus the fact that you liked Jeongin a lot more than you liked Hyunjin.

Your body so desperately wanted to move on it’s own, your eyes following the boy’s every move as he expressed his delight for the boy’s accomplishments.

The mischievous glint in his eyes every time was mesmerizing, the pretty tone of voice he had was exhilarating, and his unique features almost made him too good to be true. Not to mention how genuinely funny he was without even trying, he was much more your speed than the gullible and kind Hyunjin that you were paired with.

Unfortunately, the story you were placed in would never let Jeongin think of you more than a friend. He just wasn’t scripted that way. While Hyunjin may love you unconditionally because that was his purpose, you didn’t find it as appealing as perhaps a reader or any other normal main protagonist would be.

Plus, you had no idea how exactly you’d be able to break free from the plotline of you and Hyunjin getting together nor did you know what would happen if you did. You had always followed the path that was in front of you without question, the possibility of getting to the end of the story and escaping the book you were in had been the only thing you were reaching for.

But if you strayed from that somehow and got with Jeongin against the author’s wishes, what exactly would that entail for you? Would you still be forced together with Hyunjin? Or would the author somehow eradicate Jeongin’s existence altogether?

Big bold quotes appeared over Jeongin and Hyunjin’s heads, your next scripted words to continue the plot blasted right in your face like flashing headlights. You read them silently to yourself for a moment, glancing from Hyunjin to Jeongin with a skeptical frown on your face.

I can’t wait for tomorrow, Hyunjin!

What a simple phrase to repeat, a normal response in the situation you were in. You and Hyunjin were fated to be with each other, destined to fall in love no matter what odds were against the two of you. But… you just weren’t feeling it honestly. Who would have guessed that the obstacles that stood in between you and Hyunjin becoming a couple was yourself, the main protagonist, after all?

With a deep breath, you stood up from your seat and flagged down Hyunjin and Jeongin to get their attention. Jeongin was the first to notice, catching your moving figure in the corner of his eye and hitting the boy’s shoulder to get his attention. Hyunjin turned around shortly after, his hair whipping in the wind and landing perfectly on his shoulders thanks to his typical love interest privileges.

He smiled at you, his wide and grand smile that should have made any person fall out in adoration. You raised your hand to wave at the boys as you spoke, “Hi… Jeongin.”

Hyunjin’s infatuated gaze fell into one of confusion, his face twisting as he looked back at the friend you had called out to.

Jeongin looked just as confused as Hyunjin, unsure of whether or not he could respond to you. Though it was a little too late to not answer now, you had already made eye contact with each other. Not responding would be seen as rude to his friend’s future partner after all. “Hi, Y/N” He replied, his words seemingly unscripted from what the original author had intended. Perhaps he wasn’t supposed to say a word to you in this scene but that didn’t matter now.

You had taken the first step into straying off the path that was laid out for you since you woke up in this book’s storyline, and now you were going to run for it. Run as fast as you can to change the story to what you wanted, a story where you can have Jeongin all for yourself, and not what the author had intended for you.

After all, you're not the protagonist that the author had intended to write. You are you’re own person with your own wants and desires, you were going to get what you wanted whether the author liked it or not.

[blueprint-han]

imagine seungmin in the early mornings, during the crack of dawn(maybe pun intended). Bb is sensitive to sounds and wakes up the moment he hears birds and his eyes land on your sleeping body right next to his. He smiles in thought, and falls down with a *poof* next to your body and wraps you around in his body, tangling his fingers in your hair, smiling against your skin and whispering sweet nothings like lullabies as he falls back to sleep. wait brb hes my ult im crying-

’彡☆ early mornings with seungmin | fluff, marriage au | 1166 words | no warnings

The chirping coming from outside is a little too loud when Seungmin shifts in his place, soft mumbles and groans leaving his lips as he tries to make sense of the sudden intrusion in his sleep. The wind murmurs inconspicuous words into his ears, filled with the slight rustling of leaves and chirping of sparrows that decide to add in their sweet melody into the sound.

Seungmin wipes his eyes before getting up from the bedside, noticing the warm sunlight filtering through the translucent curtains in front of an open window, filling the room with a comfortable glow.

Ah, so this was where the noise came from. Quickly moving to shut the window — it encases the room in warmth — Seungmin feels ever-the-lethargic when he turns around, eyes meeting your peaceful, calm figure. And before he knows it, a smile has taken over his lips.

You’re wrapped completely in the heavy, cozy duvet, tucked at the sides and a soft smile adoring your face. Seungmin thinks his wife always looks the prettiest no matter what, but right now, you look so tiny, all he wants is to wrap his arms around you, swallow you into his embrace and warmly whisper tender words of affection.

And so he does, because Seungmin is a sucker for his wife.

Comfortable silence fills the room as he strolls back to the bed, gently plopping down next to you, the sheets feeling soft and slightly cold underneath his skin. But he isn’t bothered by it — because Seungmin’s eyes stay fixated on your face, like he’s so unduly mesmerized by the look of you — almost like every time is his first. 

You don’t tend to question it either. When you look into Seungmin’s eyes, all you can see is how they’re trying to capture and memorize and observe every single feature. Surprisingly, even after two years of marriage, that honeymoon glow never truly faded out of your relationship — it only added to the sparkle in Seungmin’s eyes when he looked at you, and it was a dangerous look. Because it always made you want to kiss him.

Seungmin sighs, slides under the duvet with you and then revels in the feeling of the warmth seeping into his skin, all whilst he silently throws a leg around your waist and an arm under your torso, silently pulling you closer to himself.

You shift at the sudden feeling of his soft lips pressed against your collarbone fluttering ever so lightly, over and over again until the feeling spreads to your jaw, and that’s when you open your eyes. You take in the light of the morning sun before letting them focus on your lover, who’s currently way too busy trying to smother you in love — Seungmin can’t help it. Looking at you always makes a warm feeling erupt in his chest, and he needs to let it out in some way — and what better way may there be than to appreciate his wife, the love of his life?

“Mmhh, Seung—stop, it’s too early...” Your voice is raspy when it forms the first words of the day, but you still smile sleepily in your daze, never being able to handle your husband’s sudden outbursts of affection, especially after your marriage. You’d think that you’d grow used to it, but getting married only made you feel more shy, more flustered — and Seungmin loves it when you got flustered, so it works.

You hear him chuckle as he moves his arm to rest under your head, his fingers immediately tangling with your soft hair, coming through it to remove any knots that may have formed. Both the actions combined only lull you into a spiral where you can’t make out anything except for your husband and yourself, and frankly, you don’t mind it one bit. Seungmin was at his best when he was affectionate.

“Good morning, you...” He lifts his head up finally, finally before pressing a kiss to your lips, to which you dizzily respond with a — “What’s up with you today?”

“What is up with me, love?” You feel Seungmin’s other hand slide from your waist to rest on your cheek, rubbing the thumb against the high-edge of your cheekbone before waiting for an answer, giving you those puppy eyes that make you melt on the inside.

“You’re being oddly affectionate first thing in the morning—” You comment and then yawn, feeling fuzzy when Seungmin laughs at how adorable you look. In his eyes, you look like a small marshmallow in his arms, and the comparison makes him want to sob. You finally open your eyes, big and bright as you wait for a reply.

“Do I need to have a reason to admire how pretty my wife is?” His voice sounds so calming, like the sound of crashing sea waves — and you feel your cheeks heat up with the sudden compliment. As much as you want to laugh and joke it off to relieve some of the romantic tension, a small part — alright, a large part of you is enjoying what’s happening right now.

“I— I guess not,” You say, tangling your legs with his as you bring a hand to brush away any stray hairs that threatened to fall into his eyes, leaning in to kiss his lips sweetly once, only for Seungmin to go back twice more, smiling into the kiss all the time.

“Then don’t question it. Let me appreciate you...” You giggle when he kisses the tip of your nose, cheekily nuzzling with his own soon after. He then kisses warm over your eyelids, murmuring inaudible praises as he continues to shower you in attention. The rustling of the leaves is more prominent now as you shyly hide your face into his chest under the duvet. When you do so, you can feel the vibrations from Seungmin’s laughter, his hand once again carding through your hair as you both settled in your own vortex of bliss, with each other.

“Hey!” You squeak out, pressing your lips to his chest as he continues to reduce you into a flustered mess, mumbling silently — “You can do that later, Min. It’s only seven, I’m sleepy…” You pout, and Seungmin only smiles at your claim. He gently rubs a thumb over the skin of your shoulder and then kisses the area gently, making your heart feel like it’s gonna flutter out of your chest.

When his lips pull into a smile, you involuntarily smile too, feeling like you’re drowning in just the sheer amount of love the man has for you. You love him, and you’re always happy to know that he’s yours.

“Alright darling, go to sleep.” Before he finishes the statement, your eyes flutter close at the feeling of pure warmth encasing you in the form of Seungmin’s hug, and soon, the both of you fall asleep, completely immersed in your own world, where only the both of you exist. Together.

‘彡☆  find the other blurbs here!

[himooonlight]

who are you? pt. 1 (reggie x reader)

pairing: reggie x reader word count: 3k warnings: sad stuff i guess? this is mostly fluff though plot: you dream about reggie constantly and when you see him perfoming with julie, you decide to ask her about him A/N: english is not my first language and this is my first fanfic, so please, be nice ok? hope you like this. oh, and i'm thinking maybe 5 parts? who knows

- I know this is going to sound weird, but do you know any Reginald who likes country music?

The girl in front of me looks at me as if I have just said the biggest nonsense she has ever heard. Her smile fades and she checks around us as if looking for someone who had also heard my question.

Julie is an intriguing girl. She seems very understandable and kind, but I feel like my sanity is in her hands, which makes her figure weigh too much on me. I can't look away from her worried features, feeling bad for making her feel like this. I know she had a terrible year having to deal with her mother's death and all the block to play and sing, but I can't help it.

Not knowing the truth is going to consume me.

- What did you say? - She asks.

Julie and I have never spoken before. I am a year older than her and our school schedules have never crossed, even though I’ve seen her in the halls before. Everyone knows the incredible voice she has, the artistic talent that seems to run through her fingers - it would be impossible not to know about her reputation. What made me talk to her, though, was Reginald.

Reggie.

A boy I thought didn't really exist until three days ago.

- I asked if you know any Reginald who likes country music. - I repeat in a lower tone. - Do you think we can talk?

She doesn't hesitate to agree and soon steps forward to go to the music room. I only know about the existence of that classroom because some of my friends like to go there during lunch hours to sleep a little before afternoon classes. She opens the door, lets me go through, and closes it behind me, making sure we're alone.

We sit in the back of the room, near the windows. The horizontal blinds are open and the weather looks happy. The sun shines brightly and there are no clouds to tell the story of the crazy girl who has been dreaming of someone unreal for months and had fallen in love with a non-existent being.

It's funny how the figurative tranquility makes me uneasy. The day seems peaceful, serene while chaos is established inside of me. The blue, maroon and white paintings on the wall seem to make fun of my nervousness; the delicate yet majestic instruments seem to want me to leave considering that my madness is too much for anyone to bear.

Julie looks at me not knowing that she is my hope and that also makes me anxious. Possibly even more apprehensive than comparing my problems with the calmness of the place around me.

- I'm not sure where to start or if you're going to believe me, but I need you to listen carefully. If it doesn't make sense to you, if you don't know what I'm talking about, please just ignore it, ok?

Julie nods and moves her chair closer to mine. Her eyes look worried and I can see that she is an ordinary person. As much as many people have put her on a pedestal, she looks normal and comprehensive at close range. She doesn't look like someone who would be evil and bitter of her own accord and it's comforting to know that even if she can't help me, maybe she can understand my torments in some way.

I let the air enter my lungs, my shoulders going up and down slightly. She doesn't pressure me to speak even though I can interpret by her fingers tapping on her leg that she wants me to say something soon.

Without thinking too much about word choices, I open my heart to her because some things need to be shared.

Even when it's not easy to start.

- A few months ago I started having dreams with Reggie. He looks just like the guy you sing in that band with, the bass player. A friend of mine showed me a video of you a few days ago and I know it's him, it can only be him. - Without thinking too much, my hands reach for hers, as if begging her to believe me. Julie doesn't back down or make a move to start laughing and that encourages me to continue, with as many details as possible. - Do you know who he is? My friend said they are holograms, but probably it's inspired by some real person, right?

My speech starts to get tangled up and Julie continues with the same expression as when we arrived, just listening to what I have to say. I feel pathetic because I seem to be performing a show for something that in the eyes of others may be irrelevant. I wish I could explain to her that I am usually a very rational person. I like reasonable explanations, the feeling of being in control of where I am going, of having a detailed plan on how to achieve my goals. In general I know that unforeseen events can happen, but the relief that organization and rationality bring me is too comforting and important for me to be able to accept Reggie in my life under normal circumstances.

However, he quickly became someone important to me and it's scary how just the thought of him can make me feel nice and peaceful.

Reggie brought me peace of the kind that you often seek while sleeping or resting. Peace of the kind that we look for when looking at the sky, at flowers, at children playing in a park happily. He, someone I didn't know, offered me happiness by just appearing in my dreams, smiling at my sleeping version. It was something about his adorable smile, his small teeth, his upturned nose and expressive eyebrows. It was something about the way he made me laugh, how he had genuine intentions about everything, how his beautiful eyes lit up when he talked about something he liked.

- I don't know anything about creating holograms, sorry. - Julie answers, smiling weakly and clearing her throat. She looks uncomfortable, so I let go of her hand. - But if I find anything about it, I'll let you know.

- Julie, you really don't know anything about him? He loves pizza, has a very peculiar sense of humor and likes children and animals. He likes it very much. He is not very close to his family, but he regards his two best friends as if they were brothers. He is kind, understanding and real. I guess truthful is a better choice of words, cause I don't know if he really exists.

I know she can see my distress from the way I'm letting the words flow, but I can't help it. Reggie not only brings me peace but also a feeling of belonging that seems to go beyond the moment.

It's not like I'm getting to know him, it's like I'm recognizing him.

- Look, are you sure you are not confusing him with someone else?

Julie herself doesn't seem to believe or agree with her question. I'm being too specific and I know it. I know this because Reggie asked for my help on Thursday night's dream, saying that he didn't know if he could make it. I know this because he told me the name of his band. I know this because he said he didn't recognize me, but that he felt the same way about me, about us.

- Julie, I know about Sunset Curve. I looked them up and I know they died 25 years ago. - I answer, looking at my own feet. I don't want her to think I'm a threat and that I'm going to expose her secret. I just want answers, I just want a chance to understand my connection with Reggie. - I just want to know if you know Reggie. If there is anyone I can ask why he appears in my dreams, why I…

I can't complete it out loud, but mentally I say "fell in love with him".

I know why I fell in love with him, to be honest.

Reggie is physically familiar. More than that, it's like meeting someone special who means a lot to me. He's someone whose beauty comes from his smile. The kind of person who is always trying to see the positive in things. Who never believes that he has actually lost anything or that he is in the wrong place. He's the type to believe that every thing he dropped on the floor and didn't see, every umbrella forgotten somewhere, every delay unintentionally; everything means something. An arrangement so that he could be in the place he is in right now and that this place could not be a mistake. He's the type who doesn't bother with something that broke, with something unexpected, with something he isn't planning because he is convinced that maybe he broke a plate today so he could go to the market and find money on the floor or just feel how pleasant the day is. That maybe he was late because the bus he was going to take was going to break down halfway. He is the type who thinks that regardless of the situation, he is in the right place, where he should be.

Reggie has an engaging aura, as much as I couldn't even explain what exactly it means. He is affectionate, funny and I don't think I could ever create him.

- Why you…? - She insists.

- Why I feel this way about him.

Julie seems to think about what I said and I choose not to press her. I pay attention to the room, on how the sun comes through the window and makes me think of the day I met Reggie.

My first dream with him was at a book club. It was a friendly place that I had never visited before; a two-story white house with a big backyard. The meeting took place outside and the residence looked like it was turned into a cultural center. About five people had books in their hands and were talking excitedly about the story, going on about the metaphors the author had used to explain the parents' suffering when they lost their child. Near the boundaries of the place, three boys who seemed out of place were talking quietly. At their feet, boxes of instruments looked like misunderstood foreigners while snacks and sweets on the table near them were very much welcomed. The blond boy next to Reggie was talking to another boy about something I couldn't hear and Reggie seemed to shine.

It was late afternoon and the sun was passing through the trees in the yard. The white fence he leaned against contrasted with the black clothes he wore, while the darkness of the fabric contradicted with the gentleness of his face. He had caught my attention the minute my eyes met his.

Without saying anything, Reggie came towards me, making me nervous. In the dream, however, I was a man. As much as I was living and seeing everything from my point of view, my body was masculine and taller. My hands were calloused for some reason that I did not know and my clothes were extremely large, almost sloppy.

- Hi. - Reggie said, smiling as if he knew me. His eyes were shining and I was sure mine were too. - Do you have a name or can I call you mine?

We were not too far away from his friends for them not to hear us. Soon they started laughing out loud, embarrassed by the pick up line. I couldn't help but laugh, even though in some part of my brain I knew that maybe if the situation was rationalized, I would find it weird. However, I felt the same way about him. The desire to meet him, to know his preferences, to feel what his hand would be like in mine.

- Maybe I went too far with that one. - He said, giving me no chance to answer. - I think I have the right to remain silent.

- Reggie, you have the right to remain silent. What you lack is capacity. - The blonde said, making the other friend laugh even louder. Some man behind us asked us to speak quietly and right then the sun stopped touching the man in front of me. It seemed that we finally understood that moment; seemed that the universe made sense.

Reginald was speechless, just like me. We looked at each other for a while, admiring each other's details. Because of that exact moment I would know how to point the timid freckles on your nose even with my eyes shut or on the way his eyes seemed to have at least four different shades of blue and green. At that moment I fell in love with his skin, his dimples, how well his hair was combed and how he smelled of jasmine.

- Hey. - I replied to him, holding out my hand. He looked into my eyes, then my lips and then took my hand in his. Time seemed to stop around us. - I guess you do have a name, Reggie, but can I call you mine?

Julie touches my arm, pulling me out of my memories.

- I don't know if I would have answers for you. - She says. - I'm sorry.

Julie gets up and goes to the door. I can't ignore the fact that my throat is dry and my hands are shaking slightly in anticipation of any more response that she wants to give me. Anything, any explanation that might justify how I feel about Reggie.

She suddenly stops and turns to me with wide eyes.

- You can't see, right? - She asks.

I don't know what she's talking about, so I just shake my head.

- Where's Reggie? - She talks again.

When I open my mouth to say that I don't know, he appears near the piano. His eyes are more intense than in my dreams and he does not smell of jasmine, but it's still him.

My Reggie.

I get up quickly and almost trip over the chair, making Julie look at me with even wider eyes. I look from her to him, repeating the process a few times.

He wasn't there a few seconds ago.

He appeared in the middle of nowhere.

Him.

He exists.

- What's going on here? - He asks Julie, but his body is turned towards me. I look him straight in the eye and walk slowly because I'm afraid this is a dream and I want to spend more time looking at him like that. - Julie, why does it look like she sees me?

- I see you, Reggie. - I speak softly, not diverting my attention from him. - You exist.

He opens his mouth a few times, not understanding what is happening and I feel the same thing that I felt in that book club.

Feels like I'm coming home, that I love him, that everything makes sense. I feel that there is too much of him in my heart.

- Can you see me? - He asks, walking slowly towards me. It seems the same distance from my first dream; the same strong feeling of belonging, of finding something that I had already given up looking for. - Do you really see me?

- I see you, I can really see you.

My vision starts to blur and I hear Julie talking in the background, but I can only look at him and ask myself if he knows who I am, if he feels the same. When a tear falls from my eyes, Reggie walks faster, ending our distance and extending his hand to touch my face. When I feel a shy and almost unnoticed contact, I close my eyes and throw myself into his arms, but I can't find his body.

Confused, I open my eyes again.

He's not there.

He disappeared in the middle of nowhere.

Him.

He does not exist.

- It's just a dream, isn't it? Is this my farewell to him? Will I never see him again in my dreams? - I ask Julie. I touch the piano that seemed so close to Reggie before and let my fingers roam the black top of the instrument. I just wish I could feel him the same way. - I could have swore that this is real, but I think I love Reggie so much that he made me like being asleep more than being awake. It is terrible to love him in my dreams and not have him when I wake up in the morning.

- You love me?

I hear his voice behind me and when I turn, he's there.

- Who are you? - I ask, like an idiot. I know who he is, but I need to understand a few things before I completely freak out.

Julie walks over to me and touches my wrist. She seems to be asking me not to scream or pass out. Something in Reggie's eyes is apologizing silently and I'm afraid of his answer.

- I'm Reggie. - He smiles weakly and it hurts me because it's a sad smile. - And I think you're my unfinished business.

[ddarker-dreams]

What it’s like living with Yandere Overhaul, Dabi, and Tomura

a/n: the short version of this is that it kinda sucks but lowkey

Overhaul:

The circumstances of him becoming yandere for you play into your living conditions a bit. But for the most part being taken away by Kai is probably not that bad, depending on how you look at it. He would be the most pleasant of the three, even if his stoic personality is unnerving.

Normally, you’ll see him in the morning and at night. On days where his presence isn’t required at work, he’ll work in his office on things and exchange pleasantries with you.

Either has someone cook your meals, or if he trusts you enough will allow you to cook. If you’re upset with him though he’ll just decide what you eat, it’s normally very healthy stuff. 

His entire living space is squeaky clean, as one would expect. Your own living quarters are clean as well, it almost feels sterile. But if you’ve been behaving he’ll allow you to decorate where you live a bit with things from before. 

Your presence helps combat any loneliness he feels. If he’s having a stressful day, he’s likely to just order you to sit in his presence. Whether you talk or not is up to you, but when he starts feeling better he might start up some conversation with you.

On the days where he’s gone, he’ll have guards stationed nearby. You can’t see them most of the time but you know they’re there. He’ll have one of them bring you the meals you need during the day, and any other small things you request. 

They’ve been instructed to talk to you as little as possible. If you ever get bored and try striking up a conversation with you they’d be kinda nervous. If any guard starting to really warm up to you they’d be taken care of. 

There are cameras everywhere so Kai can check up on you when he’s away. It actually brings him a strange sense of peace, to look at his phone and see his darling patiently waiting for him to come back. 

Dabi:

He’ll honestly be around pretty often. Most of his work with the League is at night, so during the day he’ll be seeking to entertain himself with you. Whether or not that’s a good thing is up to you.

Dabi isn’t the tidiest, but he’s not a slob either.

Dabi would honestly find it fun to take you out at night when he’s not working. He would make it very clear what the consequences would be if you were to even attempt an escape, so most of the time you don’t even bother.

No matter what you’re doing he’ll find a way to be touching you. You can be trying to make yourself a snack and Dabi will come up behind you, put his head on top of yours and wrap his arms around you. He’ll find it cute to see you squirm.

There are a lot of times you get bored so you’ll just start watching a movie, and he’ll always sit next to you when you do so. He isn’t really paying attention to whatever is on the screen though, he spends the time trying to rile you up.

Good luck trying to watch your movie because he’ll make it sexual pretty fast. Touching your thighs, putting his lips on your neck, etc. If you ignore him for long enough he’ll turn the TV off and hold the remote over your head when you try to get it back.

Dabi has mixed feelings if you ever get upset about your situation and insult him. On one hand, he finds it adorable. Knowing how much power he has over you. On the other, it’s irritating to know that you don’t fully reciprocate his feelings yet.

He loves coming back from work to your sleeping form. He’ll run his hands over your body gently, trying not to wake you up. In the summer it’s difficult to control himself since you normally wear revealing clothes to ward off the heat. He stares at the crux of your neck the most, which is almost always covered in his love bites.

Tomura:

It’s very dingy to say the least. There’s hoodies, empty soda cans, and some snack wrappers sprawled across the place. He isn’t big on light either, so it’ll be hard to see at times. There’s always the bright screen from his computer.

When he first abducts you, he’s so excited that he barely knows what to do with himself. He’s been fantasizing about you for so long and now that you’re finally within his grasp he’s beside himself. 

One of his favorite things that he’ll either make you do/ask you to do is to sit on his lap. He’ll wrap his arms around you and just breathe in your scent for the longest time, not caring if you get antsy. If you struggle though he’ll put four fingers on your neck and warn you against it.

Will talk to you about a variety of things. He’ll mention his plans often, his hatred of heroes, and how things will be different soon. He is not one to debate his morals so if you disagree with him too much he’ll start to get upset, it’s really not worth the struggle.

It’s kinda creepy but he will just stare at you a lot. If you’ve calmed down from your initial discontent, he could spend hours just staring at you go about your day. It feels oddly domestic to him and he doesn’t know what to do with the warm feeling you give him.

Anything he wants he’ll demand from you. If he wants to hold you, he’ll tell you. If he wants you to wear one of his hoodies because he finds it cute, he’ll tell you to. You learned quick that it’s best to give him what he wants as he’ll coo at you gently if you do.

If you spend weeks working on him, being sweet and loving, he’ll by amiable to a lot of your requests. However he’s extremely possessive of you, so it’d take a lot of pleading if you ever wanted to go out. He might get somewhat irritated by the suggestion, but would eventually give into you.

Your entire existence truly pacifies him. If there was ever a situation that had him getting upset, Kurogiri will warp Tomura to you since you calm him. 

[padfootagain]

A Sunday Kind Of Love

Here comes a new request for my 4.7k followers!! Thank you for your request, anon! The following prompts were requested for Harry Styles!

19. "Huh... is that my shirt you're wearing?"

81. "Well… that… was a good kiss…"

I wrote them in italics in the fic. This is absolute fluff. Nothing but pure cuteness, so much cuteness that even I feel like it's almost too much. But can there really be too much cuteness? I think not.

I hope you like it!

Pairing: Harry Styles x reader

Word count: 2322

It's Sunday morning.

There is rain pouring outside, but it's Fall already in England, so there is nothing surprising with the pouty weather, really. The rain makes clapping sounds as it hits the roof of your house and the windowpane of your bedroom. Through a corner of the curtain that isn't placed quite right to cover the glass, you can see the droplets rolling down the cold surface, tracing unrealistic patterns against the window. There's a little bit of condensation around the frame, blurring the dark clouds outside and the top of the orange leaves from the tree in your garden. There isn't much light in the room, because of the dark clouds, but also because it's still early, and beyond all the water darkening the sky, the sun is only shy for now.

Along with the sound of rain, you can hear the wind blowing from time to time, getting caught in the branches of your tree.

It's warm under your duvet, but you are well aware that it must be cold outside. Your nose feels a little cool, unprotected by the blanket you have tugged under your chin. Your whole world, it would seem, smells of rain, your sheets perfumed with the orange blossom of your detergent, and Harry's scent.

His Tom Ford cologne tickles your senses, familiar and warm and reassuring. It envelops you in a tight embrace, almost like a cocoon. It's your favourite scent in the world, really, because it means that he's here, by your side, instead of halfway across the globe.

And he's here alright, lying next to you in bed. For once, you're the first one awake despite Harry being an early-riser. Having a difficult time sleeping has at least one good side, you reckon. You can watch him sleep then.

His eyes are barely moving under his eyelids, but they slightly tremble still. His features are completely relaxed, and the calm he wears then makes him angelic. His eyelashes trace two dark lines above his cheekbones. He hasn't shaved in a few days and a stubble colours his cheeks, chin and space between his soft lips and cute nose. His parted lips move a little in his sleep, as if he was about to mutter something, making the tip of his nose bend to follow the movement. He's lying on his tummy, his face turned towards you and a hand hidden under his pillow. His hair is a wild and yet glorious mess of brown curls that both his night of sleep and your hands have tangled. You can barely hear his soft, regular breath escape through his nose above the sound of the rain, but it's a reassuring sound nonetheless.

You reach to rest your fingers upon his bare arm, his skin velvety under your fingertips. His body is warm and inviting, and you barely think as you snuggle closer to him, looking for his nearness like a planet is pulled towards its star.

You absentmindedly trace patterns over his arm, but stop when he shifts under your touch, the muscle of his shoulder flexing and then extending as he pushes his hand further under his pillow.

You don't want to wake him up just yet. You want to keep staring at him, enjoy the fragile moment and use it to carve the sight of him in your mind: a luminous memory to remember by.

So, you stop moving altogether, barely breathing, hoping not to disturb his sleep for a little longer, and merely stare at him, watching him lost in peaceful slumber.

Tomorrow, there will be a thousand tasks awaiting you at work. Tomorrow, there will be an early rise to get ready and hurry through crowded buses and trains to get to work. Tomorrow, there will be the stress of failure and the rush of too many things to do. Tomorrow, there will be a sandwich swallowed in a hurry to avoid losing time for work. Tomorrow there will be aching shoulders and headaches by the middle of the afternoon. Tomorrow, there will be a journey home, spent trying to fight back your exhaustion to keep your eyes open in public transports. And tomorrow night, there will be an early fall on the bed because you are too tired to do anything and gentle hands guiding you towards your pillow, and finally the scent of the Tom Ford cologne drowning you in a feeling of peace.

But this morning, there is nothing but this bed. Your stressful job is far away for now, and it almost feels as if you could forget that it exists altogether.

If only you could stay like this forever…

But eventually, after a long while – is it a few minutes or an hour, you truly can't say – Harry starts moving around a little more, and you recognize the first signs that he's about to wake up in his quiet shuffling.

And what better way to be accompanied out of slumber than with kisses?

You move your hand across his arm to rest on his naked back instead, your hand resting flat between his shoulder blades while you lean closer to kiss the cheek that is exposed to you. You drop gentle kisses there, his stubble tickling you a little, moving your lips across his cheekbone, his jaw, and finally the tip of his nose, which makes him smile.

You pull away, waiting for him to wake up, but he doesn't open his beautiful eyes like you expect him to. Instead, he frowns, and groans at you, his lips turning into a small pout.

"Don't stop," he complains, his voice rough and raspy with sleep, the sound sending electricity through your spine, despite the pillow shushing his words.

You laugh at him a little, but can't help but comply nonetheless, leaning to brush feathery kisses across his eyelid. He heaves a content sigh this time, his smile returning to his plush lips as your touch moves to his temple and forehead. You kiss the remnants of his frown away, and by the time your lips rest upon the tip of his ear, he has a grin on his face.

"Enough?" you ask in a teasing voice, having kissed every inch of his face you could reach.

"Hmm… there's one spot you've missed," he answers, opening one eye to look at you.

"Really? Which one?"

He shoots you a ridiculously bright smirk, turning his head a little more to face you, before he points to his lips.

You laugh again, but have to admit that he is right, his lips being previously out of reach for the most part, pressed against the pillow instead of facing you.

His eyes are finally open, mostly, at least, for sleep is still heavy on him. He hasn't chased the last fragments of it away yet, but it doesn't stop him from looking at you expectantly, waiting for you to yield, which you easily do. There's no way you can resist from kissing him, especially now, when it's a cold Sunday morning with rain pouring outside and you're cuddled in bed against his warm frame.

So, you kiss him, slow and deep and loving – adoring, one might even say. It's a little sleepy, but it's intimate in the most perfect of ways and it makes both of you feel warmth spread through your hearts until it feels like the organs are radiating love. It's peaceful, and complete, and it feels and tastes like home. It's all you'll ever need, really, and Harry feels just the same.

The kiss lingers, lasting until both of you are desperate for air. You're not sure when has Harry shifted enough to pull his hand away from under his pillow to wrap around you instead, but it feels good to be held by him. Safe. Sheltered. A place where you're sure you'll never get hurt, whatever may happen in the rest of your life.

When you eventually pull away, both of you out of breath, it takes him a few seconds to lazily open his eyes again. He has a dreamy look on his face.

"Well… that… was a good kiss…" he tells you, a stupid grin breaking his lips.

"Hmm… yes, it was," you nodded, brushing the tip of your nose against his.

"It was a very nice way to wake up," he praises, and it's his turn to scatter tender pecks across your cheeks, making you grin too.

"I bet it was…"

"You know what would make it even better?"

"More cuddles?"

He opens his mouth to answer, but considers your proposition first.

"Yes, actually that too," he admits. "But I was thinking about breakfast instead."

"You want me to make you breakfast?"

"I'll help too!" he defends himself.

"Will you? Cause that's what you said last weekend already, mister! And you ended up falling back asleep and not helping me at all."

"I didn't do it on purpose!"

"I know… I'm just teasing. I'll get the coffee going."

He grinned, kissing your lips again.

"Thank you. I love you, you're the best. The best!"

He wraps his arms around you, pulling you even closer and buries his face in your neck, kissing all along your skin there, nipping a couple of times to make you smile even brighter.

"Well, if you want breakfast, then you have to let me get out of bed and make it!"

He falls back further in his pillow, letting you move more freely again.

"Alright, I'll be down in a minute."

"Don't abandon me this time!" you warn him, poking at his side for good measure, making him squirm away from you and let out an adorable giggle.

"I won't! I won't! I promise!"

You kiss him one last time, before sitting up, looking for something to wear. After the activities of the previous night, you didn't bother putting on some clothes. But now, you need to go to kitchen, and you reach for the closest shirt you can find. It's the shirt Harry was wearing the night before, his Enjoy health, eat your honey t-shirt that was left disregarded on the floor as you found kissing much more important than tidying your clothes.

You put it on, turning to take a look at Harry's reaction. But your boyfriend has closed his eyes again, and you guess you'll have to wait till he gets to the kitchen.

You walked down the stairs to the kitchen, the rain still going strong outside. It's warm in your house though, and as you prepare some coffee, you admire the rain falling on the pavement. It has made puddles in the driveway already, and it seems to you that the sky is darkening.

You decide to put on some music while you gather the ingredients needed to make some waffles. You turn on the radio, and some random tune you don't recognize fill the room, covering the tapping noise of the rain.

" Huh... is that my shirt you're wearing?" Harry asks, a smug smile on his lips while he appears wearing nothing except a pair of black underwear.

He loves it. You know he does. He loves when you wear his clothes, and the way he wraps his arms around your middle from behind as he joins you in the kitchen is the final proof.

"I might have borrowed it," you answer with a grin.

"Hmm… borrowing is fine, but don't steal this one. I like it too much."

"Don't lie, you love seeing it on me."

He drops a sweet kiss on your hair.

"I do. Looks good on you."

"Better than on you?"

"Now, don't push it…"

You both laugh, while he moves to the side to grab a couple of apples and a knife, and he starts cutting some fruits for you both.

It's quiet between the two of you while you cook and listen to the music and to the steady rain. It's comfortable, the way you and Harry can stand next to each other in silence, intimate.

The tune changes to Etta James's voice. Warm and deep, her voice echoes through the kitchen and you start humming along the melody.

Without warning, Harry's hand comes to rest upon yours as you were mixing your ingredients for your waffles. You look up at him questioningly, but he merely smiles at you, pulling you close to him without letting go of your hand. His fingers are a little sticky with the juice from the apples he's been cutting, and yours are covered with sugar and flours, but none of you seem to care, and it still feel just as nice to be holding hands. His arm wraps around your waist, and before you can truly understand what's going on, the two of you are swaying across the kitchen. When you finally realize that you're dancing with Harry, you beam up at him.

"Perfect song for today," he whispers in your ear. "Don't you think so, darling?"

You hum in response. Your heart skips a beat every time he calls you with such pet names, no matter that he has done it thousands of times before.

"Yeah, I reckon it is."

He hums along to the song, and you can feel the vibration of his chest against yours. His voice is a real lullaby that could lull you back to sleep. You're safe in his arms, and he's safe in yours. Your hand is lost in his messy curls, leaving white powder in its wake, and he can swear that he's never felt more like he has finally come home.

When the voice on the radio changes, and the beat picks up to another melody, you both silently agree to ignore it. Instead, you keep on slowly swaying to the same rhythm, unwilling to let go for now.

And if the world is cold outside, there was never a place safer and warmer than your shared embrace on this lazy Sunday morning.

 **********************************************

Taglist: @ponycake27​ @horsesreign​ @xinyourdreamsx​ @jbluevelvet​ @notkeppeki @daynigt-dreamer-stuff @fudgeflyss​ @stuckupstucky @snek-shit @suchatinyinfinity​ @i-padfootblack-things  @buckybsarmy @heyohheyitsgabi​@jigsawlover10 @emyyjemyy @addictedtofictionalcharacters​ @staringmoony​

@cronias13 @stylesfics-xx​ @mellamolayla​

[geralehane]

in any world you find me (and i you) 

Lexa groans and struggles to sit up, rapidly blinking as she slowly comes to it. A quick mental check up lets her know nothing is broken – at least, nothing vital. She groans again as she rolls her head back and forth, gingerly, and reaches to unfasten her seatbelt with numb fingers.

Clarke, she thinks and barely stops herself from springing to her feet. She’ll be no use if she hurts herself. Slowly standing up, she makes her way to her co-pilot, and almost collapses with relief when she sees her chest rise up and down. Alive. She’s alive.

or, Lexa and Clarke meet their doppelgängers because multiverse. that's it, that's the fic.

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Lexa groans and struggles to sit up, rapidly blinking as she slowly comes to it. A quick mental check up lets her know nothing is broken – at least, nothing vital. She groans again as she rolls her head back and forth, gingerly, and reaches to unfasten her seatbelt with numb fingers.

Clarke, she thinks and barely stops herself from springing to her feet. She’ll be no use if she hurts herself. Slowly standing up, she makes her way to her co-pilot, and almost collapses with relief when she sees her chest rise up and down. Alive. She’s alive.

She brushes Clarke’s blonde hair away from her face, selfishly allowing herself several precious seconds of quiet adoration before gently shaking her shoulder. She grins when Clarke lets out a groan similar to hers as she wakes up, long lashes fluttering before revealing hazy blue eyes.

“Lexa,” she rasps, confused. Then, her eyes widen as she remembers the crash. “Oh fuck. Are you okay?”

Lexa silently orders her heart to calm down. Of course Clarke would be worried about her friend. “Yes. I’m fine. Are you?”

Clarke nods. “I think so. What the fuck was that?”

“Orion? Orion, are you there?” Raven’s voice crackles through the radio, and Lexa coughs before telling the spacecraft’s system to connect.

“Jester is on,” the depersonalized voice of the ship lets her know, and Lexa coughs again before speaking.

“Hey, Raven,” she croaks out, foregoing formal speak. It’s not like they need it in the first place. They are essentially space pirates, for Christ’s sake. “We’re here.”

“Jesus fuck, Lexa,” her friend breathes out on the other end, sounding half-relieved and half-furious. “What happened to you guys? You went off radar. I was ready to jump after you but--”

“Which would have been a suicide,” Lexa points out. She sighs as she slowly stands up and looks around. The ship didn’t get too banged up on the inside. No visible cracks as far she can see, but she needs a thorough examination before she can come to any conclusion. “We encountered a -- vortex, of sorts. Got sucked in. I don’t know where we are right now. Probably landed on a nearby planet.”

“You’re not hearing me,” Raven says, sounding increasingly irritated. And worried. “You went off radar. As in, I don’t see you anywhere in the Universe. I was ready to jump after you before it happened. Now, even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t be able to find you.”  

“Uh.” Lexa blinks. “What?”

“Rae,” Clarke’s standing up, now, too, and her eyes are as wide as Lexa’s. “Are you trying to tell us we’re – what? In another Universe?”

“I built the map myself,” Raven says, sounding unusually solemn. “You know what it runs on. The Eye doesn’t lie and doesn’t make mistakes.” She lets out a slow, disbelieving breath. “And it doesn’t see you now.”

Lexa and Clarke exchange an alarmed glance. “But that’s impossible,” Lexa says. It’s more to convince herself than to counter Raven’s argument. The Life Crystal that they stole for Raven several years ago that she dubbed The Eye isn’t called that for nothing. It can detect any form of life in any corner of the Universe, cyborgs included. Or, apparently, almost any corner of the Universe.

“Maybe the planet we’re on has some sort of magnetic shield that doesn’t let The Eye see us,” Lexa proposes as her mind quickly works out any possible solution to this.

“Well, it might, but if it does, there’s a high chance it might be poisonous to you guys,” Raven points out. “Wherever you are, though… I’m so fucking happy you’re alive,” her voice cracks with emotion she’s clearly trying to suppress. “For a second, I thought…”

“We’re fine,” Lexa says, softly. “We’re not on your plane of existence, apparently, but we’re fine.” She moved her jaw from side to side, thinking. “I’m surprised you got through. So the signal reaches us, but not The Eye?”

“That’s not even Twilight zone level of fuckery,” Raven confirms. “I have no idea how that’s possible.”

“I propose we explore where we are,” Clarke pipes up. She’s rubbing her forehead, and Lexa tries to ignore the sharp pang of concern in her chest. They’ll deal with this a little later. “Let’s send JD outside to get the air sample.”

“Probably the best thing you can do,” Raven tells them. “I’ll try to figure something out on my end. We’re working on getting you back, guys. Just sit tight.”

“Not much else to do,” Lexa snorts to herself. Still, she appreciates Raven’s enthusiasm and her willingness to help. “We’re gonna get JD ready and survey any possible damages to the ship. Keep you posted.”

“Alright. Talk to you soon.” With that, Raven disconnects, and they are left staring at each other in what promises to soon become very awkward silence.

“Alright, well, I’ll go--”

“I’m sorry I kissed you.” Clarke’s eyes widen after she blurts that out, cutting Lexa off and causing her to splutter with surprised embarrassment. She wasn’t sure they’d ever bring it up. It was – a sour of the moment thing, or so she��s told herself. They were full of adrenaline, being chased by the Feds, fired at left and right. It honestly felt more like an act of desperation. Something to feel even more alive and revved up. Clarke’s bright eyes met hers, and next thing she knew, their mouths crashed together before Clarke pushed her in her chair and jumped into hers, buckling up and flipping the lightspeed switch.  

Lexa frowns. Lightspeed. They travelled at lightspeed without giving the ship clear directions, and it took them to the vortex – and now they are here. That is a vital piece of information that they definitely should have disclosed to Raven.

And they will once she gets her mouth to work and replies to an expectant Clarke. “Uh.” So far, so good. “Why?” Clarke begins to frown, and she hurries to correct herself. “I mean – I’m not sorry you did.”

“Oh.” Clarke’s voice is small, unsure. “But – you’re the Commander. And I’m – me.”

Lexa gives her a muted smile. “Are you worried about violating the Code of Conduct? Because last time I checked we didn’t have any. Since, you know. We’re intergalactic criminals and stuff.”

“I was thinking more of Robin Hood and his Merry Men kind of thing,” Clarke says. A tentative smile blooms on her lips, and Lexa wants nothing more than to kiss it until it grows and spills into laughter. Maybe she’ll actually get to do that. “It’s not about any Code. I just – I kind of ambushed you without checking if you’re okay with it.”

“Tell you what,” she says, grinning. “You can ambush me any time you want. Because truth be told, I’ve wanted to do the same pretty much ever since we’ve met, but I, too, was worried about… ambushing.”

“Oh. Oh-kay,” Clarke nods to herself, like an diligent student. “Ambushing is on the table. Good to know.”

“Yeah. And -- oof!” She’s noticed that sometimes Clarke is too quick to act on things. Right now, however, she doesn’t mind.

When they break apart, it’s slow, with neither willing to let go just yet. “Duty calls,” Clarke whispers, regret coloring her voice. Lexa chuckles.

“That, and I really wanna get out of here so we can do this more.”

Clarke’s beautiful when she blushes, she decides.

***

JD, their rusty but trusty robot that’s especially beloved by Raven due to being one of her first successful projects, beeps readily when Lexa finishes programming him to get the air and ground sample. He whirs as he turns around himself and wheels into the small hallway. Lexa waits till he gets in there and shuts the door, ensuring the ship’s sealed and foreign air won’t get in. Then, she pulls the lever to open the external hatch. Most of the things around the ship have to be done manually, but that’s what she loves about it. She specifically didn’t let Raven tinker with the system, only allowing her to install the navigation. Everything else, she can manage just fine.

They split up and quickly check the ship for any damages while JD is at work. Aside from a few dents, it’s not too bad. Yet, the attempt to take off fails.

“Must be something outside,” Clarke notes apprehensively. “I hope it’s not the engines.”

“What else could it be?” Lexa states more than asks. Clarke shrugs.

“I don’t know. Maybe we’re just stuck.” She shrugs again when Lexa throws her a look. “What? Just trying to keep the morale up.”

“I appreciate your efforts,” Lexa deadpans, but that doesn’t work, because Clarke only grins and pecks her lips. If that’s how it’s gonna be from now on, well – she’s at peace with that.

JD comes back in twenty minutes and brings a curious discovery with him. Apparently, the atmosphere outside is identical to that of the Earth. Clarke and Lexa glance at each other, bewildered.

“That’s next to impossible,” Lexa voices what they’re both thinking. Her co-pilot hums, thoughtful.

“But not impossible,” she points out. “Congratulations, babe – we might be the living proof of string theory.”

She can’t resist. “Babe?” she asks, quirking an eyebrow. Clarke scoffs, failing to hide her blush.

“Shut up.”

“Make me,” she teases.

“Not the time, but maybe later,” Clarke fires right back, a lopsided grin playing on her lips. “Also I can’t believe you’re flirting with me when we’re standing on the verge of the most important scientific discovery.”

“Do you really think we’re in a parallel universe?”

She watches as Clarke bites her lip, clearly excited. “What else could this be?”

“Well,” she stands taller and straightens her leather jacket, feeling determined. “I suppose there’s only one way to find out.”

***

They jump out of the ship, blasters ready. Lexa inhales the air, frowning. “Smells like spring,” she says quietly, and Clarke hums in silent, astonished agreement.

She doesn’t know what she expects to see once they climb out, but that’s not it. The scenery is rather dull. It reminds her of those old sci-fi movies from the last century. And of the Grand Canyon from the inside. Sand and rocks and occasional shallow caves.

It’s the caves that have her worried. She immediately recalls everything she knows about space parasites, and shudders at the thought of contacting one. They are definitely not going in there. They’re not going anywhere, period. Lexa decides then and there that they’ll check the ship, fix whatever it is that doesn’t let them take off, and get the hell out of here.

Clarke, however, clearly has other plans. “Lex,” she whispers urgently, nudging her with her surprisingly sharp elbow. “There’s someone in there. Looks human.” And points at one of the caves when Lexa glances at her.

Fantastic. She sghs and comes to stand in front of Clarke, looking her in the eyes. “You’re probably imagining things,” she tells her calmly. “We’re worked up, it makes sense. Let’s fix out ship and go home.”

But, as it often happens, Clarke doesn’t listen. “There!” she quietly exclaims, looking over Lexa’s shoulder. “It’s a girl. A human girl. What if she needs help? What if she’s hurt?”

“We don’t help, Clarke,” Lexa says lowly. She tries her hardest not to sound threatening,, but she’s not sure she succeeds.

Blue eyes meet hers, defiant. “Except you helped each and every one of us,” she says, almost accusingly. “If it weren’t for you, half the crew would be dead in a drug den on the outskirts of the Leo Cluster.” She pauses, gauging Lexa’s reaction, and nods, clearly satisfied with what she sees. “She could be in danger. Maybe she got here the same way we did.”

“Escaping the Feds?” Lexa snorts. “All the more reason to stay away from her.”

“Fine.” Clarke raises her chin, and Lexa groans inwardly, because she knows what’s coming. “Stay here and fix the ship. I’ll go to her.”

“Yeah, I will allow that to happen,” Lexa deadpans, and tightens her grip on her blaster. “Stay close to me and don’t hesitate to shoot. Remember shapeshifters from CG18?”

Clarke shudders involuntary. “Roger that. A kid tries to bite my hand off, I shoot.”

“Good.”

***

Not only Clarke doesn’t shoot – she doesn’t let Lexa do that, either. Granted, there are no bloodthirsty children involved this time, but this can’t be normal. Lexa’s more than convinced those are closely related to CG18 bastards. Have to be same species. Because how else would she explain meeting their doppelgangers?

“Lexa, wait!” Clarke cries out, grabbing her hand with the blaster just as another Clarke dives at another Lexa, shielding her from them.

“What the fuck,” she sighs, annoyed. “I thought we had a deal.”

“Shooting ourselves wasn’t the deal,” Clarke states indignantly.

“Are you hearing yourse—they are not us!”

“Lexa,” Clarke slowly, loudly breathes out through her nose. She’s more than willing to bet that she’s counting to five in her head. “We’re operating under the assumption that we ended up in a parallel universe. Which, if it’s true, means that there are parallel versions of us.”

“We’re not from here,” Clarke – another Clarke – pipes up, then. She looks as close to fainting as Lexa feels, and her blue eyes, so familiar yet foreign, are wide with astonishment as she looks between them. “We have no idea how we ended up here, or what here even is.” She gulps as her gaze falls down to the blaster in Lexa’s hand. “Look, we’re totally harmless. I’m still in high school, I mean – come on,” she chuckles nervously. Lexa – the other Lexa – blinks at her before glancing at them.

“Yeah,” she says. “Um – could we stand up?”

Her Clarke gives her a look that’s both begging and warning, and she sighs, lowering the blaster. “Fine. Get up. Slowly.” The others nod and hastily scramble to their feet. Now that she has the chance to really look at them, she notes how young they are. They can’t be older than eighteen. Her gaze stays on the other Lexa a bit longer.

She definitely wasn’t this scrawny when she was eighteen.

The other Clarke is probably thinking the same thing, because right now she’s looking between her and the Lexa she came with, and her eyes are sparkling with curiosity and, dare she say, appraisal.

Her Clarke sighs. “Cut it out,” she tells her younger copy. “Focus. How did you get here?”

“We don’t know,” the other Lexa speaks up. She finishes methodically dusting herself off and fixes her buttoned up shirt. Lexa rolls her eyes when she notices her Clarke’s gaze soften. Now who needs to focus? “We were in my room, and then there was this swirly thing--”

“A vortex,” the Other Clarke helpfully supplies, making the Other Lexa sigh.

“Whatever. Point is, we got sucked in and now we’re here.”

“Well, what were you doing before the vortex appeared?”

Both the Other Clarke and the Other Lexa blush, and Lexa thinks she has a hunch. “Pretty sure there were tongues involved,” she murmurs to her Clarke, turning to her and lowering her voice. “Also pretty sure they’re not gonna tell you about it.”

“We were -- studying,” the Other Clarke says meekly. Lexa sighs as she feels a headache approaching.

“I’m still not convinced you’re not some type of space parasites,” she tells them warningly.

“I swear we’re not,” the Other Clarke says. “So, is this like – Mars, or something? Are you guys astronauts?”

Lexa lets out a dark chuckle. “Do I look like astronaut?”

“Not really, no.”

It’s during that awkward lull in the conversation that a blinding flash of light sends them scattering for cover. Lexa grabs the Others and shoves them behind her as she points her blaster forward, discouraged because she can’t exactly see what she should be pointing it at.

Just as quickly as it appeared, however, the light disappears with a loud clap. In its wake, two bodies are left rolling on the floor, familiar groans making Lexa sigh. She’s the first to stand up and slowly approach the newcomers.

“Let me guess,” she says, offering her hand to a new Clarke and helping her up before doing the same with the new Lexa. “You got sucked in a vortex.”

“Yeah,” the New Clarke says, awed. “And I did not expect to end up in Heaven.” Her bright gaze dims somewhat when she looks around and sees the other versions of herself next to different versions of Lexa. “Oh,” she says, sounding mildly disappointed. “Okay. I can work with that.”

“I wish I didn’t know what you’re thinking about,” Lexa tells her sincerely before glancing at the New Lexa. She’s older than the Other, much closer to her own age, and much more confident, too, as she meets her gaze with her own steely one. She takes an extra second to appreciate the dark blue suit. Raven would probably make fun of her for a month if she ever wore something like that, but damn if it didn’t look good.

She doesn’t even flinch when the light flashes again.

***

All in all, they end up with three pairs of the copies, excluding themselves. Lexa doesn’t quite know what else to call them, but she’s wise enough to keep that to herself. She’s still not convinced this isn’t a parasite playing tricks on their minds.

“This is probably mass psychosis, or something,” Kid Lexa mumbles to Kid Clarke, whose eyes flash with fear. “I don’t think we’re even here, physically. It’s one big hallucination.”

Lexa hates to admit that she’s a little hurt by that. No one’s ever called her a hallucination before.

“I feel pretty real,” Corporate Clarke – Lexa’s not proud of the nickname, but it seems the most fitting considering her and her Lexa’s outfits – says, frowning. “Can’t say the same about all of this.” Her eyes meet Lexa’s, and she hurries to avert her gaze, blushing. Lexa guesses she was still dazed from the vortex experience when she unabashedly flirted with her earlier. She sighs.

“Maybe you know what’s going on?” She addresses Lexa the Scientist, and immediately cringes at the name. Sounds like a cartoon character. But, given the situation they’ve found themselves in, maybe they are all exactly that. This is too surreal to be a part of real life.

Scientist Lexa nervously straightens her glasses, and Lexa barely refrains from grimacing at that. She does not do nervous. “Well -- if we don’t settle for the mass psychosis theory…” Kid Lexa perks up at that, but Lexa shakes her head, and she deflates. “Um, we could be at the intersection of several parallel universes. The vortex is a portal of sorts.”

“Really helpful,” Lexa scoffs.

Clarke places a hand on her arm, giving her a pointed look. “Be nice,” she warns softly.

“I have to remember that,” Corporate Clarke murmurs. Her Lexa shoots her a quick smirk in spite of her tense posture. She clears her throat, then, gathering everyone’s attention.

(Lexa can’t help but be amused by Kid Clarke’s blush whenever she glances Corporate Lexa’s way. She really needs to find herself a suit, if only to test a theory.)

“While I am, no doubt, as interested in the inner workings of the Universe as all of you,” she says, calmly, “I am more interested in getting back to my universe first. Any ideas how we can make that happen?”

Lexa inwardly groans. She can’t believe that in some universe, she’s the type of a person they rob and make fun of on a regular basis. She’s never been more thankful for Reyes’s absence, because that’s not something she would’ve ever lived down.

She quickly considers renaming Corporate Lexa to Rich Jerk Lexa, but ultimately decides against it. That’s the level of self-hatred she hasn’t mastered. “Would we be standing here with you if we had any?” she settles on replying. Corporate Lexa’s green eyes narrow at that. It’s barely noticeable to any outside observer, but she knows herself, and she knows she’s irritated.

“We will employ your services if the answer turns out to be brute force,” she lets her know. Lexa sighs, mildly disappointed. That was way too obvious. Not on the level she’s expected.

“Yeah, I’m the muscle, what a low blow,” she deadpans. “Luckily, we do have the brain.”

Everyone, aside from Corporate Lexa who’s eyeing her now, turns their expectant gazes to Scientist Lexa. She swallows. “Well, uh – I don’t really know how to get back to our respective universes. But I also d-don’t really think we need to do anything in order to go back.”

Lexa quietly implodes when she doesn’t continue. “Oh, my God, can you just tell us why?”

“Hey, chill out,” Kid Clarke demands and she suppresses the urge to throw her hands up in air and walk away. But because it’s Clarke – young, bratty version of her, but still her – she doesn’t.

And because it’s Lexa she’s just snapped at, her Clarke throws her a disapproving look, leaving her feeling both warm and frustrated. She’s ready for all of this to be over.

“She can speak for herself,” Scientist Clarke speaks up, then, giving Kid Clarke a dirty look. “But also – you do need to chill,” she tells Lexa next.

Lexa only shakes her head.” Are you seriously jealous of yourself?”

“Well, aren’t you?” Corporate Lexa chooses this moment to snidely ask, and Lexa thinks about her Clarke trying not to look too much in her direction and grinds her teeth together.

“How do we send your asses back.” She states, trying not to glare at Scientist Lexa, whose adorable fiddling with glasses and the sleeves of her cardigan must’ve awoke the soft side of all Clarkes, because they all collectively frown at her harsh tone.

Maybe she can convince her Clarke this is the space parasite after all, when she’s done killing them.

“Well,” Scientist Lexa starts, increasingly more nervous, “I don’t know if it’s the same in all of the universes, but in ours, there’s been a discovery recently. We proved the string theory.”

“What do you mean we?” Lexa demands. There’s a coiling deep in her stomach that she does not like. At all.

“Um,” Scientist Lexa glances at her Clarke, who hugs herself. “We as in her and I.”

Lexa can practically hear the thoughts flashing through Corporate Lexa’s head. Mainly because she’s having those same ones as well. “Tell me,” she murmurs as she slowly stalks to Scientist Lexa, “that this isn’t a part of your research paper.”

“No, oh, no!” Scientist Lexa shakes her head, eyes wide with fear. “I had nothing to do with this. I just – have a hunch about the reason we’re here. Like I said, we’re at the intersection of the universes. It could be that the universes summon an identical part of themselves here in order to continue functioning. It could be something as trivial as stones, or something as… not trivial as people.”

“Why would they need to do that?” Kid Lexa asks, confused. Lexa can’t blame her.

Scientist Clarke shakes her head. “You don’t want to get into that. Especially since, if we’re right, we will all go back to our own universes any second now.”

“Our memories will probably fade, too,” her Lexa points out. “So write everything down now if you want to remember any of this.”

“I’d rather not,” Lexa quips, making each Clarke chuckle. Well. She’ll miss that, at least.

“If anyone ever wanted to make out with themselves, now’s the time, just saying,” Kid Clarke jokes. Or – Lexa’s not entirely sure she was just joking. Kid Lexa immediately blushes. Lexa only sighs with sympathy. She remembers those teenage hormones all too well.

“Alright,” she says loudly, interrupting the sudden chatter. “This has been bizarre. Nice meeting you. We should go,” she tells Clarke, who gives her a dumbfounded stare.

“We’re not going to see them off?”

“Why can’t they see us off first?” Lexa tries to argue. When Clarke doesn’t budge, she sighs. “Look, I’d rather be on our ship when we get thrown back. What if we end up back where we started, and not on our home planet?”

“Oh,” Scientist Lexa speaks up, concerned. “You will absolutely go back to the point where you got picked up. So if that was somewhere in space, I’d at least consider wearing a spacesuit.” That little shit, Lexa thinks with sudden, adoring amusement. Which feels weird, since it’s essentially herself she’s thinking about, so this is basically emotional masturbation.

She shakes her head. “Right. Thanks.” Clarke’s hesitant gaze meets her own determined one. “We gotta get back to the ship. You heard them. We could get sucked in any second now.”

“Okay,” Clarke relents, then. She throws one last look at the group of their doppelgangers, who watch them with a mix of awe and sadness Lexa’s not ready to admit she’s feeling as well. “Um. Good luck with -- everything. Have great lives, guys.”

“You, too!” Kid Clarke beams, waving. “Can I just say – I love how everyone’s ignoring the fact that we end up together in every universe.”

“Fate is a pretty heavy burden,” she hears Scientist Lexa quietly reply before she ushers Clarke away, and they jog to their ship.

Once they climb inside, no one speaks for several seconds. JD beeps at their arrival, and the system lets them know Raven’s tried to contact them twice – Lexa immediately feels bad, because their friend is probably worried sick. “Oh, damn,” she says, then, disappointed. “We didn’t ask them if they knew Raven.”

“I hope they do,” Clarke says, chuckling. “We didn’t ask a lot of things, you know.”

“I was a little busy trying to make sure we made it out alive,” Lexa points out. She feels a little silly for pouting, but now that they are back to the safety of their ship and their survival isn’t at stake anymore, her curiosity decides to wake up and drive her up the wall. How long have all of them been together? Are any of them married or about to get married? Do they live together? When did they meet? She sighs, shaking her head in defeat. Some questions just aren’t meant to have answers. But those could’ve if it weren’t for her constant worrying and—

“Stop,” Clarke demands, jostling her out of her musings. “I can see you beating yourself up. Stop. You went with your gut and focused on the important thing. Surviving. If it did turn out to be the parasite or a violent shapeshifter, you would’ve been prepared, unlike me. That’s why you’re the Commander. That’s why…” she trails off, then, and Lexa admires the pretty pink dusted across her cheekbones.

She swallows and reaches out, gently brushing Clarke’s hair behind her air. “Fate really is a heavy burden, isn’t it?” she says softly. Clarke’s lips curl in a small smile under her thumb.

“Not when it’s shared,” she whispers. Her lips taste like dust and warmth and spring, and Lexa happily allows herself to disappear in it, if only for a mere moment.

“Lexa,” Raven’s urgent voice makes them break apart, but they do so slowly, savoring each other’s taste. “Please tell me you’re there.”

She doesn’t look away from Clarke’s sparkling eyes as she replies. “Rae. We’re here, we just got back. Will tell you everything once we get out of here.”

“Not to crush your hopes and dreams, but you sound mighty confident that you will get out of there,” Raven jokes darkly. “As in, I have no fucking idea how to reach you. I still don’t know where you are.”

Lexa lifts the blinds up, and sure enough, the vortex is there, right in front of them, and getting closer by the second. She smirks. “Doesn’t matter. See you soon, Reyes.”

“I hope you haven’t gone insane,” Raven says cautiously, and they laugh.

“We’re of sound mind,” Clarke reassures her. “And we’ll leave the same way we ended up here – through a vortex.”

“A vortex? What the fuck?”

“Exactly. Don’t worry, it’s harmless.” Lexa blinks as she realizes that they probably won’t remember any of this once they are back to their universe. She looks up to find Clarke’s eyes, and reads the same thought in them.

“Mute us.” The system complies, and Raven’s line goes dead for the time being. “Should we tell her?”

Clarke shrugs. “I don’t know,” she says honestly. The vortex is almost there. “We could. But what would it change? We’re space pirates. No one actually able to do something with our discovery will believe us.”

“Right.” She squeezes her hand as they stare into the swirling void before them. “If we remember – we tell her. If we don’t…”

“…then we live,” Clarke concludes for her. In her blue eyes, Lexa sees all the universes they’ve lived in. “Then, we live.”

She thinks she can work with that. And then, they disappear.

[too-scared-to-do-this]

Of the Devil’s head

Chapter twelve - Lose a piece of that non-heart 

Sander’s sides fanfiction

Wordcount: 1529

Ship: prinxiety  (Get ready people.)

TW: So, a bunch of kissing - though no shirtless people this time; a little bit of for-play (Can it be called for-play if nothing really happens?), hard teasing, flirting, very subtle mentions of cruelty and something resembling suicide, though it is not exactly that, cursing (a lot) and a bunch of light-hearted backstory angst because why not? Let me know if anything else pops up :3

Summary of the whole story: They say, the one that wears the crown rules all - the living, the dead, the walking, the crawling, the rooted, the sane and the mad. They say, once you own the crown, you become the  most powerful being on Earth and beyond. Roman’s stolen bigger things - a measly little crown won’t present a problem, even if he has to steel it straight off of the devils head!

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Chapter twelve - Lose a piece of that non-heart 

Roman often tends to forget what it is like to be happy. That one little feeling that grows inside your chest, suffocating you in the best way possible until you blow up, smiling and grinning (in his case talking and twirling around like a little princes).

It’s been so long since this feeling grew out of proportion. Since he wanted to jump around and talk someone’s ears of. Wanted to sing out loud.

But right now, no matter how Roman’s body would be reacting to this much happiness in any other situation, he just pulled the Devil closer to him, grinning into the kiss.

V smiled too, leaning his forehead against the thief’s. “You seem awfully happy.” he murmured, teasingly. As if the pink on his pail cheeks and the way his non-heart was beating didn’t imply the exact same thing.

He was awfully happy. And judging by the way Roman was literally vibrating, he was as well.

“I just kissed the man of my nightmares, who wouldn’t be?” Ro grinned even wider.

Virgil couldn’t help but snort, shaking his head against the being’s.

“What? It’s not like you didn’t get lucky! Just look at me!” Ro pulled away, with Virgil still on his lap, gesturing at himself.

“I don’t think emotionally fragile and easily breakable is a think you should be proud of.”

“Hey! I’ll let you know! I’m much tougher then you think! I might just be tougher than you!”

“Oh really.” Virgil raised an eyebrow. “Let’s put that to a test, shall we…?” the dark toothy grin wasn’t nearly enough to forebode the kings next actions.

Roman didn’t even have time to blink before he was laying once again. Hands above his head, pinned to the bed.

Something snaked up his leg, circling around his thigh. Too high, he might ad… This was dangerous. Very, very dangerous…

“Now you can show me how though you really are.” the Devil’s eyes darkened, clouds circling around like small tornados. “When someone’s holding you down…” he leaned in close. Close enough that he could feal his breath on his lips. “…pinning you…”

“… what will the though thief do?” he hummed. Deep voice resonating through Roman’s whole body.

“He… am….” the human gulped. He hated how clipped his voice came out.

But Hades, did Virgil love the flustered expression Roman was wearing. He could hear his heart beating faster then light, blood rushing in his wains. See his brain failing to function. Cheeks flushed and eyes unable to leave Virgil’s lips. Roman was completely gone. Melting underneath the Devil.

“He what?” V smirked, voice dark with lust. Tail tightening around Ro’s thigh.

Roman yelped.

A very high-pitched, very restrained, very embarrassing yelp. And Virgil couldn’t take it. He fell back onto the thief’s thighs, tail uncurling, hand’s letting go, howling with laughter.

And Roman just laid there, a giant emotional mess watching the Devil with big round eyes.

“Oh Hades! Lord of the darkness! I can’t, I’m sorry.” the king stuttered out through laughter. “Don’t take it too seriously. I was just having some fun.”

“We’ll if this is the kind of fun you like to have…” the thief blinked, barely breathing.

But Virgil didn’t even hear him through the laughter. He just leaned down and gave him a quick peck on the lips. “You’re adorable when flustered, liveling.”

“Yeah yeah.” Ro rolled his eye, trying to collect his thoughts. He cleared his throat and took in the whole of his supposed captor. Apparently that thing that abused his thigh earlier was a long thin tail, similar to the wings he saw earlier. Huh… interesting.

But didn’t the Devil say- “Where are your horns?”

“What?” Virgil wiped of a tear, trying his best to calm down.

“Your horns. You said ‘tails and horns and everything’. Where are the horns?”

“Ah well… Their here.”

And suddenly, Roman was looking at two small horns poking out of V’s scalp. Barely visible from the hair. “Oh, dear Gods! They are so small!”

“Oh shut up.”

“No! You’ve got small little hornies!”

“Do you even hear yourself?”

“They suit your personality so much! Small and adorable! I just -”

Virgil sighed defeated. “Apparently not…”

His fun has ended…

-

Nobody knows how long the two didn’t come out of that room.

Well… nobody except Remi. He’s been lounging around the throne room for Hades-knows-how-long, sipping at his delicious coffee.

Souls, no souls, he wouldn’t have been working even if Virgil was around. But he wasn’t. He was off with that boy-toy off his doing dark-knows-what.

If you’d ask Remi, the king went soft. But he never really was tough to begin with…

All those years ago, when they used to go down to earth and do crazy shit nobody even dared to think of! That was the shit! Them - the duo. Tearing people in half and making buildings crumble and burn. But thinking back, even Remi knew it wasn’t Virgil’s free will talking. The former prince always looked back at the damage they caused with a sad look in his eyes. Guilt.

No, it was not him. It was Lucifer.

The former Devil was the truest meaning of the word. Remi hasn’t been here long enough to get to know him, but the twelve or so years spent with him in charge were enough. Abusive, power-hungry, mad. Nothing was ever enough for that creature.

Not his wife, Remi never got to meet. Not his son, who grew up to be too weak for the kings liking. Not Hell itself.

Remi wasn’t blind. Nor was he stupid. Lazy and bitchy, maybe, but those were his best traits! Besides for the obvious great fashion sense and awesome personality. But he was a mind reader for fuck’s sake. And Virgil’s thoughts weren’t exactly quiet.

Safe to say it was best for everyone involved when Lucifer got banned from Hell. Well, not exactly from it - they were demons, but not even they were cruel enough to unleash such a monster to the upper world. He got sent to the deepest darkest pit of Hell where no server had acces to. Not even the prince himself.

And after the immediate coronation of Virgil, the power the former Devil once had now belonged to V. Who never used it, unless necessary.

So yeah… maybe Remi did miss those times when Virgie was more fun, but he sure as Hell didn’t miss those thoughts of his swirling around in both of their heads.

Now at least it was mostly quiet.

The Devil seemed happy. Unusually so. Remi even got his fucking coffee! Who would’ve though?

He chewed on the straw of his almost empty drink. No matter what, the king was the king. And right now, he was locked away somewhere with his little Human doing dark-knows what. And Hell, if Remi wasn’t curious as to what it was!

And what it really was, was nothing.

V laid in his bed with his head on Romans chest, completely oblivious to the outside world. This was their bubble - their safe place.  Nobody could walk in without permission and nobody could take Roman away either.

He wouldn’t let them.

Maybe not that. But Virgil knew Ro would have to leave at some point. He couldn’t stay... Though he’d rather not think about that just yet.

Instead, he looked up at his liveling and watched him. Listened to the steady beet of his heart. Who knew it would be a Human thief that would end up owning his?

Hair still damp from the shower he took earlier. Eyes closed. Smiling.

Yeah… Virgil was a lucky son of a Devil. And nobody could deny that.

Father wouldn’t have approved, but mom… Mom would have loved Roman.

She herself has fallen for a mortal. Which ended up being her downfall. But she never regretted. She never coward.

Not once.

“Don’t be afraid love. It doesn’t hurt.” she said.

“But I am afraid, mommy…”

“Don’t be, my dark angel. I am not afraid.”

“How?”

“Because, when you love somebody enough, you’re not afraid to give up anything.”

Now, Virgil knew this was faulty logic. If she loved her son as much as she said she did, why didn’t she give up dying on the account of her supposed love? And why did she need to give up anything at all?

If she loved someone, shouldn’t they be kind and understanding enough to at least come to a compromise? Find some way for his mommy not to have to die?

The mortal probably was dead by now, forgetting all about his beloved mother the moment she stepped out of their life. But she didn’t…

It was faulty logic. Very stupid and faulty logic.

But somewhere deep down, he understood her…

She did love him. More then anything in the whole universe. But sometimes love isn’t enough.

And so, she perished. Erased herself from existence without a single tear ruining her perfect face. And a beautiful smile.

That’s what Virgil remembers. That smile.

And as he looked up at Roman, he saw the same one. Same peaceful, astonishing small smile lingering on the lips he was kissing just a moment ago.

So, he kissed them again. And let the realization of what he was about to do next swallow him whole.

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I don’t feel like this chapter is very consistent... But oh well. I refuse to sit on it any longer. I have a last chapter to write!

Not that I want to end this story, but I have such a juicy ending prepared I just can’t wait to write it!! ^^

Anyhow, this was a little bit of backstory before the actual end. Roman already had his, so now it was time for V’s. And that brings us to the last chapter coming soon. 

Also some more art because I feel like drawing V and all his forms. Ya know, all the forms of evil :3.

Okay XD It’s late and I’m just spewing out words now. 

As always, hope you liked the chapter! <3

Tag list:

@romano-hottopic

@vpow

@a-formless-entity

@lovelivingmydreams

@alice-only-me

[opalmaplehibiscus]

Love of a Fox and a Hunter

Hello @ tellmesomegoodstory!! I’m so sorry that this request took so long ˚‧º·(˚ ˃̣̣̥᷄⌓˂̣̣̥᷅ )‧º·˚ I really hope that you enjoy this and hope I actually wrote Rook well. I’m terribly sorry if he seems OOC though OTL

·       When he first stumbled upon her, he was mesmerized

·       Though it was an accident, he couldn’t believe how soft and silky her fur was, eyes bright and clear as well-cut gems

·       To be able to see such a beautiful fox in the forest behind the school… He never felt so thrilled in his whole life. Heck the feeling of excitement he was feeling could rival the times when he’s watching le Roi du Lion

·       But when he accidentally steps on a twig from where he was hiding, the fox snaps her head towards his direction before running away

·       Disappointment and regret filled his heart as he watches her disappear, thinking she was lost and that their meeting is a mere fleeting moment

·       Who would’ve thought that wasn’t the case though?

·       The next few days, Rook continued to meet the fox in the woods, never once getting tired from how beautiful she was

·       The fur that always shines under the sunlight with those same beautiful eyes – très bien! Beauté!

·       He used his hunting skills to try to get closer to her, trying to get to see how she behaves, moves, and appear up close

·       Yet, who would’ve thought that this fox was very sensitive to her surroundings? As if she could sense him when he’s 10 feet away, her eyes would meet his before she left again

·       Rook couldn’t help but think that the fox was teasing him, challenging him to try to get closer to her if he can. And as a pure, honorable hunter, of course Rook took up the challenge

·       His visits to the woods became more frequent as he already memorized the times the fox would appear. He even prepared the foods he often saw her ate and lay out traps, not to actually catch her though! Just to keep her stay in one spot so he could try to approach her

·       The determination to get close to her was to the point that Leona and Ruggie, for once, didn’t get spied on him for a whole week

·       Leona: I can finally nap in peace Ruggie: As much as I appreciate not getting my tailed pulled on, you shouldn’t be napping in the first place Leona-san!

·       Soon, a month passes and the day he succeeded was a day he couldn’t forget

·       He didn’t think the apples he used that day would’ve been so delicious as the fox, for once, got lost in eating it

·       Rook quietly gets closer to her, concealing himself and his aura until he was actually a foot away from her

·       He could hear his heart beat in his ears as crouched down and watched her, only to freeze when he noticed something strange

·       Was it because of how well-kept her fur was? Nope. How she was smiling when eating the apples? Nope

·       A hint of perfume coming from the fox and how elegant she was eating the apple, so clean and organized as if she was a human made the gears of his brain screech to a stop

·       Know that one meme with the lady and all those math equations? That was Rook during the moment. Just…with a confused smile

·       Hein? Hein? C’est quoi? Is she really a fox ????

·       His curiosity gotten the best of him as he tried to reason why the fox smelled and behaved like a human, not realizing how he was subconsciously reaching out and about to grab her, until he snapped out of it when he feels the softest fur he had ever felt in his whole life

·       Right after he touched her, the fox froze and turn her head toward him, finally realizing his presence

·       Rook tried to make himself look friendly in the eyes of the fox, waving a hand with a “Bonjour~”

·       He really shouldn’t be surprised that the fox bit his hand and ran away like usual. Doesn’t mean it wasn’t painful though

·       The fox doesn’t visit the forest for some time, putting Rook under the weather. By that, Rook often mentioning to the people around him how his cheri, seul et unique l’amour went missing

·       Rook: Ah~ Mon amour! Celle qu’a volé mon cœur ! Where are you ? Epel : Uuuhhh…what’s wrong with Rook-senpai ? Vil : Ignore him. He’s just crying over his fox again. Epel: Fox? Rook: Mon amour!!! I beg of you, come back!

·       As he waits for her to come back, Rook starts preparing another trap, this time to temporarily catch her as he knew that the next the two meets will most likely be the last

·       What seems like forever, he finally saw her again as he found her napping under a chestnut tree

·       Quietly setting the trap (yeah, he carried it with him after he completed it because he’s extra like that), he waited for her to wake up and fall for it

·       Good news, she fell for it. Bad news. Er, if it should even be considered bad news….The fox turned into a female human. With fox ears and tail.

·       It took him a while to finally realized what had happen as the now female human continued to struggle getting out of the trap

·       It was his first time seeing such beautiful person - perfect skin, clear eyes, and luscious hair

·       When she yelled at him to let her go, Rook snapped out of his thoughts before freeing her

·       Giving her a minute to rest, Rook grabbed her hands and looked at her with sparkling eyes

·       The way her eyes widened and ears perk looked cute in his eyes as he asked her if she was a beast-person

·       He ended up blushing when she was able to get out of his grip and ran away without answering his question

·       To meet a beautiful beast-person and strong, physically and magician-wise too! Merveilleux! Magnifique!

·       Soon enough their relationship changed to that of cat-and-mice, where Rook would try to get close and learn more about her while she would run away

·       During the chase, he would often ask her questions non-stop as he tried his best to get to know her more

·       Heck, he would appear and corner her at every single hiding place she knew of, making it harder for her to get him off her tracks

·       Yet, for some reason, he didn’t like it when someone was close to finding out about her existence in the forest, leading to be the reason of how she escapes him as he blocked anyone that was close to seeing her from actually taking a view of her

·       Overtime he realized that he actually fell for her

·       It became clear to him that he liked her when someone nearly saw her in her human form when she tried to get out of one the traps, he lied on the forest’s floor again

·       One thing led to another and he hid behind a tree with her in his arms, trying to keep her quiet as he waited for the student that was walking through the forest to leave the area they were in

·       When it seemed safe, he released a sigh before looking at her

·       He never would’ve thought that he would see her blush. And the fact that she was blushing made her seem adorable to him

·       He felt his heart beating faster as he saw her struggle to stay quiet and calm – her ears pressed against her head while, surprisingly, gently gripping the sleeve of his coat

·       When she finally noticed him looking at her, he couldn’t help but think that she was très mignonne

·       In fact, he could arguably say that she was more like baby fox than a full grown one

·       It was obvious that he was lost in thought as he got caught off guard when she shoved him and ran away but this time, not bothering to transform back into her animal form

·       Blinking a couple times, he blushed before his lips curled up after realizing that he, Rook Hunt, the hunter of love, is in love

·       It leads to the current situation, where he’s chasing after her again like usual. Only this time, he’s trying to get her to accept his feelings for her by carrying a bouquet of roses while running after her

·       “ Mon cheri! Attend-s’il vous plaît !!” He yells, only for her to yell back that he stop chasing her

·       It’s obvious that she was getting frustrated as he doesn’t stop, but instead, continues chasing her

·       Though he does wishes for her to accept his feelings despite getting rejected, but would’ve respected her answer had it not for the flash of fear and hurt that he saw in her eyes

·       The broken look she gave him, though only lasting for a second, made him worried and gave him warning bells. Especially, after being around her for so long, he knew something bad would happen if he were to let her run away like usual

·       It doesn’t make him feel any better, never thinking she would’ve experienced something so painful to the point of making such expression….

·       He could still feel his heart break when remember it

·       When she suddenly stops and turns towards him, he slows down and tries to walk towards her with the bouquet but ends up freezing from where he’s standing when she threatens to burn the forest if he takes on more step

·       His body feels it was poured with a bucket of ice-cold water as she growls how she hated men, especially those that were like them, going on how it was men like him that ends up just using women as they please and for their own ulterior goals

·       Feeling wronged, Rook tries to say something to her, how his feelings for her were genuine and honest

·       But, he ends up getting snapped at as she calls him a liar

·       Rook ends up going quiet, watching and listening to her past in between the insults she throws at him

·       And while doing so, he can’t help but for once, get angry

·       He rarely gets angry, as he was a hunter and hunting require patience in order to catch the best prey. Yet, he could feel the grip on the bouquet tighten while his free hand twitches no thanks to the feeling of wanting to hunt….something

·       C’est pathétique for man to abuse the love, the most beautiful thing in the whole entire world. And as a hunter of love, he is very. Offended.

·       The anger soon turns into a simmer of fury as his eyes are looking at the crystal tears rolling down her cheeks while she, now sobs, about the amount of hurt and betrayal she faced from her previous lover

·       The minute she mentions how she was a youkai, it makes Rook freeze and accidentally ask what she meant by that out loud

·       To him, who thinks laughter is also another form of beauty, he didn’t think her broken, heart-wrenching laughs are beautiful. Especially when she clarifies that she wasn’t a beast-person like he assumed but a Japanese fox-demon and ends up asking that, after finding out what she was now, is he going to hunt her too like her ex-lover

·       All patience Rook had disappeared in one go as he lets go of the bouquet, grab her hands and proclaims how he would never do that to her

·       Keeping a tight grip on her, preventing her from escaping and ignoring the threats she throws at him, Rook looks at her right in the eyes

·       His clear forest green eyes glows from the flames of anger, sadness, and the desire to heal her as he tells her that despite being a hunter, he’s a hunter of love not a hunter of killing people

·       He does his best to tell her how much he loves her, telling her how he actually fell in love with her since they day he met – loving her fox appearance very much only to fall deeper for her when she showed his humanoid side to her

·       He subconsciously shows desperation of trying to show his honesty and sincerity to hear as he continues to reveal how he much he adores her, that all his praises for her were all from his heart not from lip service

·       He never realized that he had gotten on a knee until he tells her how even if she were to reject him, he would’ve devoted himself to protect her even if it meant betraying whomever wished for him to catch her. Because to him, she was a precious and most beautiful existence he had ever seen

·       Rook could feel his heart beating pounding ferociously against his chest as he once, in a long time, felt nervous on what her reaction would be to his confession (first one didn’t count. He refuses to let it count)

·       Soundlessly, he gets up and brushes the tears from her eyes with his thumbs only to end up cradling her head between his hands as he gently tries to get her to stop crying

·       Once she calms down, he warmly smiles at her, asking if she was feeling better

·       His smile grows bigger after seeing her nod slightly, daringly kissing the crown of her head

·       At first, he didn’t catch what she said as she had whispered her answer

·       But, after hearing her reply the second time, he asks for permission before kissing her on the lips with joy and passion he felt for her

·       It only made him feel happier when he feels her kissing him back with her own free will while knowing that she actually felt the same way

[alrighttevans]

invisible strings

chapter 2: well I wonder

Ao3 link

chapter 3: dancing with our hands tied

Nothing out of the ordinary, except he was not expecting to glimpse his own green eyes looking back at him from Marinette’s notebook. He was not expecting that Marinette would have been drawing Chat Noir; that she would have been drawing him.

When Adrien woke up, he was certain he would have a happy day. His father would be out of town for the day; Nathalie had said something about an urgent matter to be solved in the English main branch of the Gabriel Agreste brand, meaning he didn’t have to worry as much as usual about following the carefully made agenda his father had for him. He also didn’t have to attend any photoshoots early that week, so he would have the extra free time he always eagerly waited for to expend with his friends, hence the long due lunch between the four of them that Nino offered to host. 

Therefore, it was settled that Alya and Nino, who had their last period in next door classrooms, would leave their classes and wait for him and Marinette, who happened to share their last period on Mondays, to join them as soon as their French class ended. Nothing out of the ordinary, except he was not expecting to glimpse his own green eyes looking back at him from Marinette’s notebook. He was not expecting that Marinette would have been drawing Chat Noir; that she would have been drawing him.

Marinette, the sweetest and most adorable girl he was ever so lucky to know had taken a soft spot for Chat Noir (for him!) and was so worried about his unusual posture in the photos running online, that she must have seen sometime during her morning — a photo that he was embarrassed for existing; he shouldn't have been that telling — or, perhaps, she even saw them herself, since he knew she was a late sleeper and her room was close from the place they had met —, that she had sketched Paris’s favourite kitten during class, for she was the most caring person to walk on earth. It filled his heart with such fondness; fondness that he already knew he held for her, but that only seemed to grow overtime, for such a remarkable girl cared so deeply not only about his Adrien persona, but about his alter ego, with the same amount of consideration as well. 

Adrien could see all the compassion she hold on her golden heart through her lovely bluebell eyes as she blushed and hid the notebook from his eyes, a bit taken back about him finding out about her worries, or as she nodded intently at him, while they made their way to their other two friends, or as she gave him her adorable smile multiple times during their lunchtime. 

And, furthermore, she showed herself as a protecting figure for him, defending his privacy from everything she dared to imagine could disturb him in any way whatsoever — and people did listen; after Alya made the post she promised to do, mentioning how Marinette had brought up the matter to her, most people deleted their own and apologized to him. He was ecstatic to see her fighting for him with such fervor. She had a very familiar fierce stare as she argued to rid Chat Noir of any inconveniences that may happen to upset him. She was so thoughtful, so sympathetic, so marvellous.

“You’re doing it again.” Plagg grumbled from his desk, where he laid on top of the remaining piece of his camembert. 

“What?” Adrien, who was lying down on his bed; his hands unconsciously placed over his heart, sat up to question his kwami with a puzzled expression, half offended that Plagg had the audacity to interrupt his track of thought when they were heading in such a pleasant direction. 

“Smiling like an idiot, that’s what. It’s annoying.”

“I am not!” He protested, throwing a scowl at the kwami’s direction.  

“Yes you are. You do that too often for me not to recognize it.”

Adrien huffed, before he allowed his softened expression to return to his face with the memory of the reason he was previously smiling “But she was drawing me!” He cried “And defended me from prying eyes! She cares about me! She’s just so lovely and she likes Chat Noir! How could I not be happy about that?” 

“Well, you don’t have to be so lovey-dovey about it.”

Adrien’s stare slipped to the group photograph he had framed over his desk, in which Alya took the photo, while Nino hugged her from behind; standing beside him, Adrien grinned, placing one hand over Marinette’s shoulder, who stood in front of him with a light blush creeping through her face — probably due to the sun; it was a hot day. He went back to the way she gave him her cute, shy smile just before they took the photo, accompanied by her bluebell eyes, so full of love, that shone just like Ladybug’s did — maybe he had a thing for blue eyes.

He snapped back from his little travel in time after hearing a long and dramatic sigh from his kwami, with wide green eyes, to look back at Plagg, who rolled his eyes at him, probably guessing where his mind had led him to. 

“Lovey-dovey? What? No! It’s just friendly. A friendly smile, that’s all.” He insisted with a nervous smile, gesticulating throughout his speech. “In fact, I should thank her. Yes, she deserves to be thanked for being so kind to me. Would she mind if I stopped by? Would she appreciate it? Would it be too much? Or would it be better if I left her a note? I'll do it, I’ll leave her a note.” 

In a quick jump, he rose from the bed and started searching for those fancy papers his father had given him to use to ‘write proper notes’ to ‘important people’, as Gabriel Agreste himself had put it. As soon as he found the familiar parcel that held what he was looking for, he took a sheet of paper and the best pen he could find on his desk. 

What should he write? He should probably keep it simple. If he said too much, he’d  probably jeopardize his secret identity. Besides, she was very intelligent. She would understand what he meant, he was sure of it.

“Time to go, Plagg.” Adrien called, as he wrapped the note inside the black envelope he had found inside his drawers, thankfully not marked with the Gabriel Agreste logo. 

From the now empty plate of cheese, Plagg groaned in discontent, theatrically placing his tiny paws over his tiny heart — it would be cute, if Adrien wasn’t so familiar with the kwami’s chaotic nature. “Why can't we stay here with good ol’ camembert instead of going out to chase girls?” 

“We’re not chasing anyone. We’re just showing our appreciation to Marinette.” He argued, as the little god sighed dramatically. “Come on, Plagg. I’ll buy you some stinky cheese on the way back.”

At the mention of his much beloved camembert, the kwami rose his head, clearly interested. Adrien smirked, he was getting through him. 

“Fine”, he finally agreed, floating to Adrien’s eye line with his arms crossed, “but just because you know I can't resist an offer like that, lover boy.”

“Plagg, claws out.”

Chat Noir leapt into his opened window, just after guarding his envelope inside his suit’s pockets, where he sat in a cat-like position, watching the parisian beautiful night sky that looked back at him with some kind of earnestness, whilst the stars sparkled just for him and the light breeze of the city of lights danced around him, bringing him the comforting sense of calmness and peacefulness.

Before he could expand his baton and fly through his city’s rooftops, his eyesight dropped to the Agreste’s garden, lying just below him. He could see the high gates and walls that guarded the mansion, the nice little path drawn between the grass and the beautiful and carefully tended rose bush.

The rose bush. 

Of course.

As quietly as he could, Chat Noir vaulted to the ground, making use of his knowledge of the mansion’s security system to carefully avoid any cameras that may spot him on his way to the rose bush. The flowers looked back at him, waiting for him to make his pick, whilst he searched for the prettiest rose he could find, for she only deserved the best, cropping said rose as soon as he found it. The scent of the flower soon reached his amplified senses, filling Chat’s surrounds with its delightful smell. It should do it. 

So, with the assistance of his staff, Chat Noir leapt into the parisian sky, cautious not to hurt the rose. 

It was like the light of the stars energized him, the night gave him strength, and the own city guided him to the Boulangerie Patisserie as he crossed all the streets and avenues that would lead him to her and soon landed on Marinette’s balcony, just above the bakery. 

Watchful not to attract unwanted attention, Chat pulled his envelope from his pocket and glanced around the environment, seeking the best place to set his note — on the door? the chair? the white box? the wall? — until he finally made the decision of placing the envelope over the small table in the center of the space, under the rose.

Smiling to his work, Chat Noir gave his back to his little treat, extending his baton to exit the Dupain-Cheng’s house, when the cry of his name had his head snapping to the floor below him, where Marinette stood, half way through her trap door, staring him in bewilderment.

With wide eyes, he froze right in the spot, hoping that his black suit could blend in with the night and make him invisible to human eyes, or that a new power of his would decided to manifest itself now, gathering the shadows to hide him or allowing him to travel between them and pretend he was never there. 

Perhaps, if he kept still, it would work. It had to work. She wasn’t supposed to see him! The plan was for her to find his note on the next day and know he appreciated her, when she connected the dots, without him having to explain himself for her! Ladybug would kill him if he ended up revealing his secret identity. He bit back a groan. So much for being stealthy.  

“You know, even though you’re not moving, I can still see you.” She pointed out matter-of-factly, almost as if she was reading his mind, when she stood on her full height on the balcony floor, folding her arms over her chest.

Shit. 

He wished Plagg would take pity on him and cataclysm him right there, but he knew his kwami all too well for that to happen.

Well, now all that was left for him was to play along and hope for the best.

Chat cleared his throat, pretending he wasn’t looking pawsitively stupid just a few seconds prior. “Good night, Mademoiselle.” He greeted her with a theatrical bow. 

She narrowed her eyes, watching him warily. “Is everything okay?” She inquired, before her baby blue eyes widened with realisation. Shit. She had figured him out. She totally knew he was Adrien Agreste and none of the lies that would slip through his tongue would convince her otherwise. “Oh, my God, is there an akuma?!” 

He didn’t think he had ever let out such a relieved sigh.

Wait.

An akuma?

Great, Agreste, he scolded, you got spotted and scared the girl. 

God, his whole existence was a catastrophe.

“No!” He was quick to deny, waving his hands frantically before her. “No worries, Princess, this cat’s got everything handled.” Chat reassured, pointing at his chest with one thumb in a familiar cocky pose, attempting to regain his composure. “Or should I say pawled?”

It was fast, and he would have lost it, if his reflexes hadn’t been heightened, but her lips quirked up very subtly in amusement, which was gone as fast as it arrived, giving place to an intrigued raised brow. “Oh, then why are you here?”

“I… I was just passing by, doing my paw-trol duties, that’s all.” Chat explained and she frowned, as if she was trailing her way into his actual reasons by looking at the holes of his story and uncovering the truth from his poor excuses. He absently scratched the back of his neck, nervously. Was he that much of a bad liar? “You know, a superhero’s work’s never done.” He was quick to add, trying to distract her with his theatricals, as he raised his hand to her eyesight and put a finger down for each item he mentioned. “Damsels in distress, ladies in waiting, I’ve got a lot of saving to do.”

“Oh, I can only imagine.” Marinette nodded, using an yet foreigner tone for him, that almost sounded teasingly, that he would sometimes catch her giving to some of their friends, before they fell into an awkward silence that hung hesitation, uncertainty and some stiffness into the air for the seconds that dreaded like hours, making Chat to unconsciously wag his tail, anxiously, before she decided to break it. 

“I… I saw the pictures.” The concern on her sparkling eyes and pressed pink lips was so pure, filled with only the best of intentions and wishes, just for him, and yet she gave him such a soft look, which almost sounded like an invitation to be loved by her. Marinette had made room for him in her heart with only the few encounters they’d had throughout the years and Chat couldn’t feel more exhilarated at the kindness she showed him. “Are you… Are you okay?” She held a lot of caution in her tone, a bit afraid to ask him the question that had been bothering her, reminding him of how shy she used to be around Adrien years back, but what caught his attention wasn’t the emotion on her voice, nor the nostalgia hanging in the air, but a detail he hadn’t paid any attention to before: her hair was not up.  

Marinette’s dark strands fell over her shoulder, like the night sky itself had decided to kiss her a blessing; like it had been so struck by her beauty that it prayed to become part of her. Adrien didn't usually see her hair down; it generally was up on a ponytail that let a few strands run free to contorn her delicate features, or a messy bun, when her usual lateness got in the way and she couldn’t afford the time to do her hair calmly — or even the ever so familiar twin pigtails, that had danced around her face throughout their younger years —, always to prevent it from falling over her face and interrupting her flying thoughts, poking her tongue out in concentration with narrowed bluebell eyes, trying (and managing) to solve all the problems that she faced. It suited her, the hair down. 

Feeling his face warming up by remembering he had yet to give her his answer instead of being enchanted by her locks, Chat looked away, sheepishly. “It’s really sweet that you’re concerned about me. You are very sweet.” At his second sentence, he peered up, too curious, too anxious, too engrossed in catching her reaction.

Through his night vision, Chat Noir managed to see signs of a light blush creeping over her own cheeks, accompanied by a light, warm smile that suited her perfectly. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“I’m purrfectly fine, I promise.” 

“Well, if you think of something, you know where to find me.” She offered kindly, tilting her head to her trap door. 

“Yeah, I do.” Chat Noir waved at her, which she responded with an encouraging smile, before leaping into the city with the assistance of his baton, feeling his heart even warmer than when he first arrived. 

chapter 4: like it was the first time

[luci-four]

I Want to Kiss You {Satan x reader/MC}

A/N: This stemmed from a daydream I had but I decided to take out my feel-good fluff on Satan because hes baby (*´˘`*)♡

Fandom: Obey Me!

Pairing: Satan x reader/MC

Satan never expected to be as close to MC as he ended up; They’re just human after all—not that he really had something against them, but why bother pushing yourself to get so close to another person in the first place? He’d seen it in dramas all of the time; Love one day, heartbreak the next—Satan never really understood what sort of feelings one could have to warrant something so exhausting when it could be spent doing other things, things that he’d enjoy doing instead. He didn’t stop to think about how vastly different it would feel to do these things with someone like MC.

Walks at night felt different when he felt the heat radiate from next to him, time spent at the library felt much more immersive, revisiting art he’s already seen at the museum looks brand new with another perspective—everything felt much more alluring when accompanied with MC’s presence.

Just as it did every day, every moment, so much so that he found himself starting to lose his grip on whatever feeling may be inside of him. Affection? Adoration? He did have a level of appreciation for the arts—all things beautiful caught Satan’s eye, so it shouldn’t have come as such a surprise that he had fallen victim to such a strange feeling within his chest each time they passed his mind. These feelings only seemed to grown no matter how hard he tried to keep them under wraps at the back of his mind; Each and every day brought him so much closer to his breaking point.

They sat next to one another in his bed, cozied up with an old film playing from a projection that he had begged MC to watch with him. It was foreign, black and white, something of true beauty that he couldn’t help but translate while analyzing each and every line for them until a heavy thud landed against his shoulder. Blue-green eyes scanned their sleeping form, gently guiding their head to a place he considered more comfortable—his chest. Heart racing and pulse struggling to keep up, he couldn’t swallow the lump in his throat as he strictly analyzed the torn piece of film that affected the movies picture in the bottom right-hand corner, no longer able to focus on the piece itself.

‘This is ridiculous,’ he thought to himself, ‘My body has no business reacting like this.’

He was right, so he thought, that it had no reason to feel like this—he had no reason to have these feelings for something he knew would be stupid to try and pursue; But he wanted to.

God, he wanted to.

If he could have held them tight enough their souls could have simply molded into one another, he would be completely okay with that; To hold them and relish in this feeling of electricity that shot through every inch of his body, the butterflies in his stomach each time he caught the slightest hint that they were around, the completely unbearable pressure in his chest that only seems to find its relief when his body is graced by even the slightest of touches from them—he would do anything and everything to bathe himself in such a blessing, but he couldn’t.

‘I want to kiss you.’

His gaze grew soft, a smile matching the tenderness grew on his lips, as he allowed his heart to whisper words into his mind rather than aloud.

‘I want to kiss you hard; I want to kiss you and kiss you again so desperately that you pull back and give me that genuine smile and adorable giggle that you do—I want to kiss you so desperately loving that you run your hands through my hair and you silently beg me not to stop with the light scratches you leave on the back of my neck. I want to kiss you, but...’

Satan reached for them, caressing their cheek ever so gently, stroking along their jaw softly to keep himself from going any farther.

‘But... I’m so afraid of having to give you back to the world because I’m so undeserving of you.’

His smile turned to a mask to hide the dejection that washed over him; Of course he was undeserving of them—they would always be something just outside of his reach as he was, quite literally, a demon born from wrath while they were nothing short of the sun. Icarus be damned—Satan had felt the pain of falling, the pain of the fire, but nothing, he thought, compared to the pain of being just out of his suns light.

They always brightened up the world with the smallest of things, it was almost blinding; The small things are what brought him to that breaking point months later, after all.

Sitting across the way from him in class, he always loved to watch the way their eyes would narrow at the words they tried to comprehend, or the bored look on their face as they attempted to keep themselves awake. Every so often, should he be so lucky, he would lock eyes with them as they peeked out at him from over their book; They would light up, crinkle at the corners, look so loving and childish as the book would move to reveal the corners of their lips curled up devilishly and their tongue poking from between them. It never failed to make him laugh as he attempted to keep those butterflies pushed down.

‘I want to kiss you.’

The stars in the planetarium never seem to match the levels of brightness in their eyes as they look around the room in awe. The different lights danced across their skin and each colour complimented every little detail his eyes could reach. Soft, beautiful, the dark was just such... an appealing, almost sinful, environment to appreciate them in. They’re so innocent, wide-eyed, and the way their jaw drops at the dumb little facts he spits at them makes it so he just cannot bring himself to look away. Every single time, he has to hold himself back before he grabs them and pulls them close.

‘I want to kiss you.’

Simply walking into the kitchen late in the morning after they’ve missed breakfast, half asleep, yawning and leaning over the counter with their face in their hands is enough to cause his heart to leap into his throat. The way they hold their head up, squishing their cheeks comically and pushing their lips into a “kissy-face” as they fall back asleep mid-sentence; He leans on the counter as well, simply admiring everything about MC with a careful smile on his lips as the breakfast he made them starts to get cold sitting between them. It feels calm, peaceful, like he can fall asleep too—if he wasn’t so focused on absorbing every little moment he got to spend with them. His eyes constantly fell on their lips.

‘I want to kiss you.’

He’s the Avatar of Wrath for a reason; Times have come and gone where he’s been on the verge of snapping-- it’s always unpleasant and the fear in MC’s eyes causes his heart to drop in an instant. Watching their frame shake, tears form in their eyes, and their bottom lip quiver is enough to make Satan feel as though he were nothing short than the scum beneath their shoes. Yet, the way they stand their ground as his voice raises, the bravery they show while telling him to calm down, the shock that fills his body as they throw their arms around him to both physically restrain and get their voice to reach his ears—he can’t help but bite his bottom lip and do his best to keep his own tears and emotions in check. Some times are worse than others, but at the end of the day, he finds himself laying lovingly within MC’s arms, his head on their chest, calming himself down with the sound of their heartbeat and matching his breathing to their own. The tender way they scratched at the back of his neck and dragged their nails up and down his back lulled him to sleep; Waking up to their quiet breathing, serene look on their face and him wrapped up in all of their warmth with their limbs entangled with one another, he felt so lucky that the sun had given him the time to warm up within their rays and greet him for the new day.

‘I want to kiss you.’

Satan had never been happier to meet so many different people in his life until he got an exclusive invite to a ball where he got the chance to bring MC along as well. Dressed up, soft lights, romantic atmosphere—he was excited to simply exist in such a setting with them let alone spend time with them in his arms. Mingling, subtly hand-feeding them from the banquet, people watching and making ridiculous stories up for each one who had passed by them—it was all such an enjoyable time he wished would never end. Sweeping them off of their feet on the dance floor, dancing and moving in ways to catch up to the slowly rising beat; His heartbeat raced much faster than the song did. They stumble, step on his feet, the two of them spin when the dance doesn’t call for it and start to make up their own ridiculous moves. He holds them close, hand on their lower back just lightly holding them against his own body, fingers intertwined with one another and held against his shoulder, their free arm taking the liberty to rest upon his other shoulder as their fingertips just lightly tease the side of his neck; The two of them exist solely in their own little world as the music seemingly disappears from Satan’s ears as he’s dumbstruck by the depth of their smile and the melody replaced by the much more angelic sound of their laughter.

‘I want to kiss you.’

Now he’s here once again, months of agony had passed, his bed a mess as they sit on the opposite side away from him, peeking over one of his books once again. The pages muffle their laughter, which he curses, but everything about them radiates pure happiness at the moment and he’d take that over anything. He pretends not to notice their foot slowly stretch out towards him, ready to kick his leg as they had several times previously only to retract it and feign pure innocence.

“Gotcha!”

Satan reached for their ankle quickly, only laughing at the mixture of squealing and giggles that passed by their lips. They wiggled their leg back and forth, their cries for freedom intermingling with their infectious laughter as he held his grip, moving forward to rest on his hands and knees.

“Freedom? You want freedom? Why, MC, freedom is impossible for the crimes you have committed,” he joked, slowly crawling forward, “Such punishable crimes you have staining your record, such a shame.”

“This is coming from who? A demon?”

“Now that,” he inched ever closer, “that is a low blow.”

They laughed once again, grabbing the pillow beside them and lightly tapping him with it until he stopped moving, giving them his best impression of shock.

“More crimes? Is that what you’re going to do now; Going to commit crimes?”

Satan joked, talking to them as though they were related to the kittens they had seen playing the night before. Such snarky responses passed those perfect lips, that Satan could no longer hold his shocked façade; He crawled closer, still.

“Crimes are punishable, MC. What shall I do with you? Imprisonment? The whip? Make you babysit Mammon for a day?”

“Well, now you just sound like Luci-”

“Don’t do that.”

Satan leveled his face with theirs, just inches apart. His eyes pierced theirs with his direct command-- they simply let out a flighty laugh that matched the mischievous shine in their eyes.

“Oh? Don’t do what?”

“You know what.”

“Do I? Can the judge read me the list of my offenses? What am I being charged for?”

The smirk returned to Satan’s lips, but only briefly; His eyes continued to wander down to their lips as his own parted. He attempted to come up with some sarcastic remark to retort with, only to find himself constantly licking his own lips in anticipation and simply stuttering over his words. Before MC could ask what was wrong—he most certainly didn’t want to hear the modest concern in their voice—he leaned in fully and finally captured their lips with his.

It started off rough, desperate, terrified of the impeding rejection; Until it turned slow, compassionate, and oh so... natural.

Satan moved closer, now on his knees with his back straightened out, his hands carefully cupping MC’s delicate face enough to feel the heat of their blush come off of them but not enough to do them harm; He pulled away only slightly before moving back in, time after time, for kiss after kiss.

His heart soared, his pulse had moved so quickly that he was afraid his heart would surely collapse from the work it was being put through. His mind raced with thoughts so quickly that they all turned to useless static, until he had finally grasped a few key points he couldn’t get rid of.

‘I want to kiss you,’ he thought.

‘I want to kiss you hard; I want to kiss you and kiss you again so desperately that you pull back and give me that genuine smile and adorable giggle that you do.’

Finally, he felt them pull back a bit—his heart sank—only to soar once more as he felt their lips pull into a smile against his. Their breath tickled at his skin, the space between them only growing warmer with each giggle they let out before he pulled them back in.

‘I want to kiss you so desperately loving that you run your hands through my hair and you silently beg me not to stop with the light scratched you leave on the back of my neck.’

Their arms wrapped around his neck, forcing him down closer to them while simultaneously pulling them up to him—they wanted to be against him, not that he minded, and let out soft gasps that ended with laughs between each kiss as his hands lightly swept down their body to press on their hips, pressing on them to hold himself up but silently let them know he didn’t want them to be anywhere but there, in that space, with him. Each kiss he gave was deeper than the last, each breath heavier, each little sound of endearment they gave him made it feel as though there were untouchable peaks to the mountains his heart had to climb.

Their nails raked the back of his neck softly, his sun being so merciful in their affection to leave burning marks across his skin to let him know he truly had been blessed in this moment.

‘I want to kiss you, but...’

He kissed them again and again, slowly melting against them each and every time as Icarus tends to do when flying far too close to the sun.

‘I know I’ll never want to stop.’

Satan could no longer feel his body. Sounds have been drowned out with the beating of his own heart in his ears. His skin burned and he knew it, but the sun had finally come into his reach and he would be damned if he wasted such a blessing.

‘So please, don’t make me.’

He slowly, painfully, pulled himself apart from them, face hovering only slightly above theirs, terrified to open his eyes. Forcing them open was a scary gesture, but the sight that graced them was nothing short of worth it—flushed cheeks, relaxed features, a look dripping in what he hoped was a similar feeling to his own.

“Please...” he started out with a whisper that fanned across their face, “Please look at me with eyes filled with nothing else but how I feel for you. Please tell me you feel this way, too—please show me.”

His forehead lightly landed against theirs, earning him a smile from MC—one that started small and shy, only to tug further than any previous smiles he was lucky to witness; Their lashes curved so eloquently, beautifully, opening slowly to reveal eyes that shined just like the sun he had been waiting for, filled to the brim with adorning admiration, affection, wonder and love.

‘Like Icarus, I am an utter fool to have committed such sin like falling in love with the sun,’ he thought to himself as a smile of his own grew to match theirs, ‘but unlike Icarus, I’m willing to fall over and over again if it means I get to return back to you.’

Satan took a deep breath, attempting to assure that his voice would come out calm and even, though his efforts were utterly futile as it came out shaky and as a hoarse whisper; He no longer had to worry about their answer, however, and for that he would be silently grateful.

“I want to kiss you.”

[ohmylove--mydarling]

It’s true what they say about your early-to-mid 20s. This particular span of ten blissful, wanton years is the only time in your entire life where you will ever feel truly invincible. And yes, you absolutely better enjoy it while it lasts. Lithe-bodied, hopeful, capable of both pounding an entire handle of rail vodka all while making it to your 8 am sociology class the next day, they’re a little like your teen years, with one prized difference. Your early-to-mid 20s are blessed with the seemingly novel, universe-bending element of freedom.

And freedom doesn’t simply mean the ability to make stupid decisions without the fear of getting grounded. It also means the freedom to live in an idyllic sort of vacuum, where you’re surrounded by friends – if we’re being honest, the family you get to choose – and cradled in this serene philosophy, this security blanket of an idea that hangs in the air but is never outwardly or directly expressed, that this, all of this, will last forever. That these people will always be there, they will always be around, floating with you in this bubble, as free and easily accessible as a coatrack or your neighbor’s WiFi. Always holding your beer, always holding your hair back (while you puke, or maybe while you cry), always holding your hand. Always at the very least in the peripheral, if not the forefront, of your vision.

During these years you know everything, and yet somehow you know nothing at all.

***

Like most of the sorority sisters I grew close with – and as is probably true with anyone else who pledged a very tiny chapter at an equally tiny school – I don’t remember much about how I met Taylor beyond the first night she “rushed.” Rush is an interesting social phenomenon, for multiple reasons. Picture a gaggle of young college-aged women who typically spend every waking hour of their day primping and glossing and adjusting for the sole purpose of the male gaze. Except this time, their attention is entirely drawn to a smaller group of girls (not that much smaller of a group, if we’re lucky this semester) that they want to impress instead. A frenzy of compliments and genuine interest, a dormant volcano of estrogen and hot girl energy and reciprocation, madly overflowing in a span of two hours over something as innocuous as an ice cream social or tie-dying a pile of crewneck t-shirts (I think we did the “hippie” recruitment theme every other semester). It is one of the very best parts of what is an often problematic-at-best Greek culture, and this rush was no different.

I’m not sure what my first impression of Taylor was, other than that we obviously had the same first name, and oh yeah, she was beautiful– effortlessly pretty but not the least intimidating. I could approach her and talk to her and not feel like a complete toad. She was a little soft-spoken, incredibly polite. I think she wore navy blue. And an aura of genuine kindness seemed to radiate from her with the soft glow of candlelight.

After rush ended and Taylor chose to join our ranks, where she belonged, it felt like she had been in my life from the very beginning. And, though this idea was never spoken, it felt like she would never leave.

***

In a sorority, there is sometimes a tendency, however unintentional, to categorize your sisters, and to turn to certain ones for different needs at different times. There’s the sister you study with, the sister you go on your morning run with, the sister(s) you are always down to party with. There’s the sister who makes amazing grilled cheese, the sister whose dorm is the only place you’ll binge-watch Supernatural. When you’re riding the waves of a breakup, you got mad options: There’s the sister who brushes your hair as you ugly-cry and choke on your own snot, the sister who pledges to hook you up with her brother’s hot friend the moment you’re ready for a rebound, the “dump him sis” sister who yanks your phone out of your hand in the middle of what is probably a very unwise text and threatens to stab him with her eyebrow razor if he so much as looks at you again, the sister who makes you forget the whole thing ever happened, that it ever even mattered.

There’s the maid of honor sister, the future fun wine-aunt sister, the sister you have on speed-dial even though speed-dial isn’t a thing anymore. There are the sisters who teach you how to do winged liner, how to hide a hickey with coral lipstick and concealer, how to chant, how to chug, how to memorize the Greek alphabet and the …numbers (at least for the ones who are most definitely going to ask). There are the sisters whose weddings you bawl at, whose babies you hold and immediately love as an extension of the incredible mother who brought them into this world.

And there are the sisters who teach you grace and humility, strength and resilience, kindness and self-love. The sisters who changed your life for the better the moment they put on your letters, the sisters who hand you the mirror and force you to see yourself just as they see you.

The thing about Taylor was that she was all of these. The whole package. Everything good, all in one.

***

Though our friendship was at its strongest during my college and immediate post-college years, Taylor remained a calming, grounding presence in my life. She married an incredible man who loved her for all the reasons we did and plenty more, and I went to her wedding and cried. She got a job as a nurse at the local hospice, a profession she seemed put on this earth to do. I could picture Taylor in her element there, literally surrounded by an entire ocean of grief, serving as an island of hope, a beacon of light and love for those who so desperately needed all those things, the things she provided us without question even when our lives were comfortable. Soon after – and this thought still makes something in my throat ache – she brought life into this world, a beautiful daughter with both her mother’s eyes and her genuine love and gratitude for life, a joyful curiosity coloring everything she did.

Taylor’s life, we knew, was finally the one she had always deserved.

***

I won’t, and can’t anyway, get into the details of Taylor’s passing. I can say that nothing about it was expected and literally every detail about it is horrific. Personally, it feels like a robbery, like something was taken from me; but on a grander scale, on a scale that actually matters, it is simply heartbreak. Riding the waves of grief not only for my own loss, but for a husband, a child, a family, a community whose lives were upended and whose hearts were crushed by something that simply should not have happened in a universe where they say justice and kindness exist.

Frankly, this grief is unlike any other I have experienced. It has a way of blanketing everything around me, like mosquito netting. It is as thick and choking as a cloud of black smoke, permeating my clothes, filling my lungs, making it impossible to see, so all I can do is desperately cling to whatever gives me the slightest amount of peace, no matter how fleeting. As someone who has always struggled with my faith (and moments like these certainly do not help), I try to remember Taylor’s. It brought her comfort and strength, the belief that God loves everyone so naturally she was going to love everyone, too. And all I can hope is that this belief of hers, this faith, manifested in her final moments. That there was a light, a voice, a presence, something there that reminded her that she was loved. That we knew she loved us, that her family will never be alone, that we will desperately miss her. That her legacy is as wide and expansive as all the oceans.

Her funeral is in a few days. Her funeral, a concept still as foreign as my own.

***

At this point it’s probably clear, but the things I want people to remember the most about Taylor are, quite simply, her kindness and her intrinsic ability to love. She was kind without questioning. She loved without strings or conditions, tirelessly and endlessly. At a time when an icy, impenetrable layer of cynicism seemed to blanket so many of our hearts – including my own – Taylor managed to crack it a little, to let just enough of her light and her warmth in to make a change.

I teased her often – probably too often –  for her unbreakable habit of bringing home literally any stray cat she ever found (and then naming it something either really cute or painfully dumb, like “Moe” or “Cheese”). But even as someone who unapologetically hates cats, and more honestly as someone who spent most of her 20s thinking that if I hardened my exterior and never let love in I was somehow protecting everything it surrounded, I viewed this habit through a secret lens of adoration. I adored Taylor’s heart. I hoped to absorb some of it, its ability to love everything, to find beauty in the darkest and loneliest spaces and to also force people to see it and feel it for themselves.

I felt Taylor was going to be around forever. It was a selfish thought. I hadn’t physically seen her in over a year (there was a pandemic and she was a nurse and I was subsumed by my own now meaningless world). I am filled with an omnipresent regret that I have no control over. I miss her so much my heart feels swollen and achy with a pining, a real grief.

There is no happy ending to this, no concise, comfortable, heartwarming way to wrap this all up in a pretty package, though Taylor was the type to want everything to have a good ending. So instead I cling to the memories, the photographs. Our banquets, homecoming, Lana del Rey, cherry blossoms. The way she rapped that entire A$AP Ferg verse one night. The way she looked in her wedding gown. The way she talked about charity and good deeds. The way she talked about God. Her love, no matter what transgression I made or no matter if I failed to give it back. I hope to love harder now, and if I can, it’s because Taylor taught me how.

I love you, Taylor. DZLAM.

[megalony]

She’s a good girl- Part 7

Here is the next part in my murderer! Ben series, I hope you will all like what I have install, any feedback is always lovely.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem​ @butlegendsneverdie​ @langdonzvoid​ @jennyggggrrr​ @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah​ @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6​ @rogertaylors-lipgloss​ @sj-thefan​ @omgitsearly​ @luckytrashgooprebel​ @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac​ @vousmemanqueez @jonesyaddiction @ambi-and-sunflowers @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me @peterquillzsblog @im-an-adult-ish @crazylittlethingg @allauraleigh

Series taglist: @onceuponadetectivedemigod​ @lelifesaver​​

Series masterlist

Summary: (Y/n) is a good girl from a church-going family and her brother, Joe is trying to put Ben behind bars. But when (Y/n) starts to fall for the dangerous killer, things get complicated.

Enjoy.

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"Are you ready?"

(Y/n)'s tired and rather distant eyes lifted from the paper in her hands to look at her father who was now out of the white robe he adorned earlier and was back in his black clothing with his white strip running through his collar. His eyes were soft and his smile showed the creases in his cheeks and underneath his own tired eyes but he looked much the same as he always had done. He didn't seem to age in (Y/n)'s eyes, even the new lines appearing in his skin didn't seem to make him look older. Only his glassy eyes showed his age because they had seen too much and tried too hard to help those in need.

Her lips moved from resting in a straight line to bending just a little at the corners like someone was trying to bend a ruler but couldn't quite manage it. Her expression was one of worry and contemplation, but not the kind that was normally on her features. (Y/n) didn't look half as worried as she sometimes did but this worry was like none other she had felt before.

When (Y/n) shook her head, she watched her father take a deep breath before placing his hand to the small of her back, guiding her over to the front row so they could take a seat in the alter and talk. Everything was packed away and everyone was either back home or outside chatting, Paul knew a few minutes in here would go unnoticed by everyone, they had the time.

"What's wrong, honey?"

Paul knew as well as (Y/n) did that this week's sermon seemed to hit her like no other. Sometimes he didn't have the time to notice how (Y/n) reacted to what he was saying, other times he could see her adoration and the way her eyes lit up and her body leaned forward so she could absorb every word he said. Only a few times more recently had he managed to see her and notice that she wasn't entirely here.

Sermons seemed to calm the whole family down, they didn't calm (Y/n) as much as they did when she was younger but they still clearly seemed to help her in some way and it made Paul happy to know her faith wasn't wavering.

"You talked about redemption earlier... do you think it's something we have to do on our own, or does he help us with it?" (Y/n) could feel the tears building up behind her eyes which she was trying so hard to keep there, she didn't want to cry right now, she didn't want her father to know how badly redemption was playing on her mind.

His sermon today wasn't focused solely on redemption but it came up a lot and it scared (Y/n). She grew up knowing that sins were hard to wash away, they were like paint, they could be covered up but they were still there, they didn't truly go away.

She wanted to know if getting rid of sins or coming to terms with them was something she had to face alone or if God and her faith could make it easier.

(Y/n) knew her father was contemplating asking her what sins she was talking about because he didn't know her to have any sins that would play on her mind this much. She also knew if she told him certain things it was always in confidence and he would listen as her reverend, not her father. But (Y/n) couldn't tell him this time and he seemed to realise it rather quickly. But it didn't stop him from reaching across to take her hand in a comforting hold that made her heart jump in her chest.

"That depends what kind of redemption you want. If you want to be saved from evil, then that is something he and only he can help with. If you're trying to save someone else then that is you and your faith, but if you're asking for redemption from your sins, I think that is more you than him. He will give you acceptance and forgive, but it isn't always his job to save you."

There was something so comforting in the way that her father could word his answers that gave her a sense of relief or understanding unlike her mother or most other people. Paul didn't know all the answers but if he didn't know them he still sounded certain and gave a proper response, he didn't beat about the bush or make something up.

It was comforting, even to know that this was something (Y/n) couldn't ask to be done for her.

"Why does he put us here if he can't always save us? Why create something if you'll just watch it burn?" (Y/n) believed in God, she knew there was some kind of other being out there that gave them purpose and guided them, but sometimes she couldn't understand God.

(Y/n) couldn't see why a being would create a world and all the people in it if he couldn't handle them all or be bothered to save them. So many people were hurt or in pain and in need of saving and he let them perish when they didn't deserve it. It seemed pointless.

"Some people don't want saving, some people can't be saved. I don't know why God created us, but he isn't our controller, he isn't the puppet master, honey. We make our own paths, it isn't in his power to save us from everything."

(Y/n) could understand that, she could relate. People had children and loved them and brought them up but they couldn't control them and their every move, they couldn't always save their children or stop them. Paul and Linda couldn't stop (Y/n) from going out anymore, they wouldn't be able to stop her from being with Ben or living her life and that might hurt them, but this is what they signed up for when they had her.

"I- I know everybody sins, no one's perfect and that's fine, but I don't get it. If God gets disappointed that we sin, why did he make so many rules that aren't always fair? Why would he contain us like that and expect so much of us? If he gets so disappointed in us, you'd think he would create us so we didn't do anything wrong or step out of line. He set himself up for failure by creating us so he can't control us and then get mad when we don't do as he pleases."

Sinning was normal, no one was made to be perfect and mistakes were how everybody learns and grows and evolves. But (Y/n) couldn't see why mistakes were so horribly bad, they weren't always on purpose or done with malice. God shouldn't be disappointed in people committing sins when he made them so they couldn't be controlled and had their own minds. No one would always do what he liked and he shouldn't make that a sin or be so displeased with them.

If he was really upset, he would create people so they didn't do anything wrong at all or he wouldn't create so many constricting rules. People were here to flourish and evolve, not live and die in strict confinements that made living just existing.

"If he was that disappointed, he wouldn't forgive so easily. I think you need to have a talk with him, try and find some peace with him. I'll be at home when you're ready, take as long as you need."

(Y/n) tipped her head down, smiling lightly when Paul squeezed her hand and kissed her head before he slowly got up and retreated down the aisle to go home. She did have some things she had to sort out with God and she hoped he was ready for what she had to say. If he didn't forgive her or give her an answer, (Y/n) didn't really mind because the peace she needed to find was with herself, not him.

Ten minutes or more passed by in a comfortable silence with (Y/n) sat with her eyes closed and one hand wrapped around the cross hanging from her neck. She rubbed the silver pendant between her fingers and thumb as she tried to see if she could forgive herself for the sins she had committed that didn't feel like sins at all.

She hadn't done anything that other people would deem as wrong, it was something God wouldn't like but (Y/n) didn't believe in a lot of his rules and ways of life that were so constricting.

Bringing the pendant to her lips, (Y/n) took a deep breath before she slowly let it fall back against her skin and stood to her feet. If she spent anymore time in here thinking about redemption and how to get it, she would drive herself insane. She needed to be out now, the church had comforted her for over an hour, it was time for a different form of comfort.

(Y/n) hooked her bag onto her shoulder before she walked out of the church, scanning her eyes around to make sure all of her family was back home before she left the gates and turned left instead of right to go in the opposite direction of her house.

She knew she had told Ben on Thursday that she would stay home this Sunday after sermon to have dinner with her family but she just couldn't. (Y/n) couldn't go back home and spend anymore time wallowing in her thoughts and drowning in fear of redemption for what she had done. She wanted to go and stay with Ben, she wanted to feel more at ease and feel his comfort and talk to him.

(Y/n) slowed down when she came close to the bus stop but then thought better of it and walked straight past it, going through the small cutting into the next street where she would be out of sight of the church and her street.

It took a good twenty minutes to drive from her home to Ben's so (Y/n) knew it would take longer to walk there but she knew the way by heart and a walk sounded nice. When the rain started to fall and large droplets fell against her, (Y/n) continued past each bus stop she walked by. She didn't want to get on the bus, she didn't want to call Ben and ask for a lift, she just wanted to walk like she didn't know where she was going. She wanted to walk and walk until the mist in her mind cleared and everything felt better.

(Y/n) pulled up the collar of her coat that had no hood, trying to keep the water from trickling down her neck but it made little difference. Her arms wrapped around her chest, locking her bag under her arm as she cut through a small path between two houses to reach the road she needed to be on which led to Ben's street.

She didn't know how long she had been walking before Ben's house finally came into sight but she knew it didn't feel like it had been long enough, the mist was still clouding her mind to the point she wondered how she could process or think about anything without getting confused.

(Y/n) desperately hoped that Ben would be home, if he was out at the club she really didn't want to walk all the way over there and scare him turning up in the mid-afternoon looking drenched to tell him she'd been walking around for over an hour. Nor did (Y/n) want to go home drenched like this and explain that she missed dinner because she'd aimlessly walked around to clear her head. Her father would be even more worried about her than he already was and her mother would throw a fit. Not to mention what Joe would say since he was at home today for dinner.

When she reached the door, (Y/n) pressed the doorbell before pulling her coat around her a bit tighter to try and stop the rain from soaking her any more than it already had done.

"Doll- fuck, please don't tell me you walked all the way here in this?!"

The moment Ben opened the door he seemed to smile for a split second before his smile contorted into a look of anger and panic. He wasted no time reaching out for (Y/n) and pulling her inside before she caught her death stood out there for much longer. He knew it had been raining for at least half an hour and it would have taken her that long to get here, possibly longer and it was now heaving down with rain.

"I thought you weren't coming round today? Why didn't you call me?" There was evident panic in Ben's voice as he thought for a split second that he'd forgotten to pick her up. But if that was the case, surely (Y/n) would have called or texted him to remind him. He remembered her telling him she wanted to stay home this weekend and he was perfectly fine with that, he didn't expect her to drop every family event to be with him.

But he wished she would have called so he could have picked her up rather than her walking all the way here in this.

Ben bit his lip when (Y/n) didn't answer, she didn't even move when he undid her coat and shrugged it off her shoulders, dumping it near the stairs since it was soaked. Her hair was drenched and a few strands were stuck to her forehead and cheeks to the point they looked like they were merging with her skin or like they were painted on her.

He could see the droplets falling from her lashes and her chin and her shirt and trousers were completely soaked, she must be freezing.

"Didn't want to go home." (Y/n) tried to smile but it was hard when she could see the panic and confusion she was causing Ben.

"Has something happened?" Ben gently took (Y/n)'s face in his hands, tilting her head up to look at him as he noticed how cold she was. The small smile she flashed was enough to calm him down a little to know that nothing drastic had happened like an argument or a fight. If he found out her father had hit her again or her mother had said anything to her Ben wouldn't stand back and do nothing.

"No, I j-just wanted to be with you." When (Y/n)'s teeth started to chatter from the sudden change from cold to hot, she noticed Ben's jaw clench and his chest tighten before she was suddenly engulfed in his arms. He wrapped her up in his arms for a few moments before slowly turning her around so her back was to his chest.

"We need to get you warmed up."

Ben ushered (Y/n) upstairs and into the bathroom before he disappeared to grab some of her clothes that she had left here. When he returned he was holding some of her underwear and leggings and one of his jumpers to make sure she stayed warm.

"Jump in the shower and warm up." His words were gentle and spoken with his lips against her forehead but when he went to pull away and leave the room, (Y/n) latched her hands around his arms and pulled him back to her. She didn't have to say it for him to see in her eyes that she wanted him to stay and join her and it worried him that she wasn't talking and the contemplation about something he could see on her face.

But he didn't question it. He turned on the shower before he slowly and carefully helped peel off her soaking wet clothes that were almost like a second skin to her now. When his own clothes were removed they got in the shower that caused (Y/n) to take a sharp breath and made her tremble at the water that felt like bullets hitting her ice cold skin.

Ben's chest tightened and felt like it was pushing inwards when he held (Y/n)'s trembling form against his chest, watching how she curled up against him with her arms encased to her chest, trapped between them both. She felt Ben pulling her forward a little until she was directly under the stream of water that no longer felt like it was battering her cold skin and she could feel one arm tightening around her lower waist as his other hand tangled in her hair. His fingers slowly and methodically massaged her scalp and rid her hair of any knots as his lips pressed to her head.

Neither of them said anything for a good twenty minutes that they were under the water before Ben slowly turned off the shower when (Y/n) steadily stopped shaking against him and he felt that she was warmed up and a bit better.

(Y/n) quickly got dried and changed so the cold air didn't have much chance to seep back under her skin and she blindly followed Ben out of the bathroom when he took her hand in his own. They headed downstairs and into the living room and Ben watched how (Y/n) curled up on the sofa, pulling her knees to her stomach and her arms to her chest, sinking into the soft cushions like she was about to disappear. There was something so sweet and innocent about the way she was sat and how she looked up at him through her lashes and it made his stomach flip but his mind fill with curiosity.

He wasn't used to her being this quiet around him, she was usually bubbly or tired or excited and talking endlessly about something she was happy or passionate or worried about and he loved her like that. Her being so quiet didn't settle well with him.

"Is something up, you're not usually this quiet and you walked all the way here in the bloody rain. You could have called, I would have come and got you straight away, you know that. You could have made yourself sick." Ben didn't want to seem like he was giving her a lecture but he was confused. Something was clearly wrong and (Y/n) came over here in a thin shirt and coat that didn't keep out the rain or the cold. She could have made herself ill coming here when she could have just rang him for a lift.

Ben reached over and gently pulled (Y/n)'s legs onto his lap as he leaned back and rested his head on his hand with his elbow propped up on the back of the sofa so he could look over at her.

"I was gonna go home like I said, but my dad's sermon just kept making me think and the more I thought... the less I wanted to go home. I want to be here but I needed the walk to think."

"What was so bad you had to walk forty minutes in the rain to think about? You're starting to worry me now, doll." Ben knew it had to be something serious for (Y/n) to walk all the way here instead of calling him, especially to walk in the rain like that which wasn't something she would have normally done. He was starting to wonder if he'd done something but then again she wouldn't have come here if he had. Something had clearly happened to make her this contemplated and unsettled.

He watched curiously as (Y/n) slowly pushed herself up until she was sitting straight but she wouldn't look at him. He noticed the way she was pulling the long sleeves over her hands out of nervous habit but Ben could still see her rubbing her fingers together beneath the fabric.

"I, um..." (Y/n) rubbed at her eyes with her sleeve when she couldn't stop the tears from beginning to fall. "I'm pregnant."

(Y/n) felt her stomach jumping when Ben's hands suddenly held her ankles that he used to pull her closer. He pulled on her ankles and moved her legs so they were either side of him like he was reeling her in until she was close enough for him to wrap his arms around.

(Y/n) held onto his arms to steady herself but her eyes were cautious and slightly confused. She didn't know if he would be happy or angry or sad, displeased or even unconcerned about this, she had no idea how he was going to react, but that wasn't what was worrying her the most. The tender smile on his lips was calming but it told (Y/n) that he wasn't looking at this in the same way she was.

"Why're you crying, this is a good thing." Ben tipped his forehead against her own as he moved his hands to her bum so he could sit her properly on his lap with her legs hooked around his back. He didn't want her to cry because this wasn't a bad or unhappy situation, they were going to have a baby and Ben was happy about this. He knew his work and who he was didn't make him seem like the fatherly type but he wanted this as long as (Y/n) did.

"Y-you don't understand..." (Y/n) moved her hands from his shoulders to gently hold his neck, brushing her thumbs over his skin as she tried to stop crying but she couldn't.

She looked at him through watering eyes with her lips pressed very tightly together until she saw the light flick on in his mind and he suddenly realised what she meant. It took all (Y/n) had not to dig her nails into his neck to try and get him to say something when all he was doing was staring into her eyes with a silent message she couldn't decipher.

"Oh. The baby can't be born out of wedlock, can it? That would go against your faith." Ben's answer wasn't patronising or condescending and he wasn't snarkily grinning at her or looking at her like he was annoyed or angry with her. All (Y/n) could see in his eyes was understanding and somehow, that made her feel worse.

Sex before marriage had made (Y/n) feel like she was going against her faith because it was morally wrong but at the same time, it didn't damage her faith or her beliefs. But having a baby out of wedlock was something (Y/n) couldn't do. She knew it was normal and it wasn't wrong and hundreds of people were fine with having a child without the need to be married and (Y/n) had nothing against people doing that. But she believed in her faith and the way she had been raised with her religion.

It was the right way to do things, to get married before having a baby and (Y/n) wanted to do that. She knew deep down having a baby without being married wasn't right for her. Marriage was a symbol between two people and it was a sign and connection to God and her faith and having a baby when she was married was another sign of her faith.

"I- I'm sorry, I c-can't... I don't-"

"Shh, doll, what are you sorry for? I played a part in this too and I may not share your religion or faith but I still respect it. I know how much your faith means to you and you should know how much you mean to me. This isn't a problem, we'll get married."

Ben could feel (Y/n)'s hands shaking against his neck to the point she was almost shaking his head before she let go of him. The way her lips were curved into a worried and rather unhappy, uneasy look made Ben confused and when she tried to pull away and climb off his lap, he wouldn't let her.

"Hey, no don't do that. Stay here and talk to me, doll you ain't going until you talk to me." Ben splayed his hand on her lower back and his other hand against the back of her neck, holding her tight enough to steady her and stop her from wriggling away but not enough to hurt her. He could see she was upset but he wasn't having (Y/n) walking away whilst she was still upset and in a state. She was staying with him so they could talk this out.

She needed to marry Ben so the baby wouldn't be born out of wedlock and he was agreeing and saying he was fine with that but she was still somehow upset or unhappy about it which meant either she didn't want to marry him or something else was wrong.

Ben brushed his thumb over the side of her neck, raising his brows as he kept her face level with his until she caved in, knowing she couldn't go anywhere and had to talk.

"I- I don't want you to marry me because you think you have to. You're saying this because of the baby and I'm thankful that you understand b-but I can't- I don't want to marry you if you're just doing this because it's the 'right thing to do.' You shouldn't be tied down to me."

(Y/n) loved Ben and she would want nothing more than to marry him and spend the rest of her life with him and their baby, but she couldn't. She couldn't let Ben say that and go through with it if he was only marrying her because of her faith and because he thought he had to. It wouldn't be fair on him and (Y/n) didn't want to marry someone who wasn't marrying her out of love. Tying Ben down to her wouldn't be fair and it would most likely mean the marriage wouldn't last and (Y/n) couldn't have that either. She couldn't have a marriage that was doomed to fail, remarrying wasn't seen as acceptable in her religion or her faith.

She couldn't have a baby out of wedlock, but she couldn't marry someone who didn't really want to marry her either.

(Y/n) almost squeaked when Ben's hands were suddenly on either side of her face and his lips were suddenly smashed against her own with intent and too many emotions to recognise. She could feel his teeth clashing with hers and it was like his lips were sending sparks against her own like he was electrified. When he pulled back, he tipped his temple down against her own so their eyes were level.

"Your faith and happiness mean everything to me but if I didn't love you, I wouldn't tell you I'd marry you, I would be selfish and go against your faith because marriage isn't as important to me as it is to you. But I love you and there isn't anyone else I would want to marry. I am asking because of the baby but that doesn't mean I want to marry you any less, with or without the baby I would have asked you eventually."

Ben knew that if he and (Y/n) were just casually dating or if they weren't close and she got pregnant, he would be selfish and say he wasn't marrying her because he didn't love her. He wouldn't marry someone he didn't love or someone he knew a relationship wouldn't last with.

But with (Y/n), he knew he loved her more than he'd ever loved anyone else before and he wanted to be with her. Marriage may not mean all that much to Ben but (Y/n) did and he could already imagine himself being married to her and telling people and introducing her as his wife. (Y/n) should know him well enough to know she was special to him, he wasn't like this with everybody and if this happened with anyone else, he wouldn't marry them.

"Stand up."

"W-why?" (Y/n) brushed her eyes with the back of her hand, looking at Ben in confusion when his words changed from gentle and loving to his usual assertive tone.

A gasp left (Y/n)'s lips when Ben's hand wrapped around her back and his other hand held her bum so he could stand up with her held to his chest. She had no idea where he was taking her or what he was doing but her confusion only grew when he walked away from the sofa and to the other side of the room before he gently set her down to her feet.

"Ben, what-"

"I'm clearly not the person you should be marrying and if you had any sense you would have run away when your brother told you about me, but for some reason you didn't. And I'm thankful you came back to meet me that next day."

Ben couldn't deny that (Y/n) was either a rebel in her heart or she had been walking blindly without her senses when she came back to see him the next day after meeting him. She shouldn't be going out with him, she should be with a good person who deserved her, not someone who killed and went against every belief she had. But (Y/n) pushed all that aside and she was with Ben and he couldn't be more thankful for that.

"Now I clearly don't have a ring yet, but..."

(Y/n) felt herself beginning to shake all over and she pressed her thumb to her mouth, biting it harshly when Ben looked at her very seriously before he went down on one knee in front of her. He didn't have to do this and he knew it but he was doing it anyway to show her that he was being serious. He didn't want to marry her out of convenience or loyalty or respect for her faith, he wanted to marry her because he loved her and he wanted to make her happy and have this baby with her.

She couldn't help the sob that bubbled up past her lips as she stared down at him, watching as he slipped one of the rings off his finger and held it up since it was all he could offer right now.

"Will you marry me?"

(Y/n) couldn't trust her voice to convey her answer so she resorted to nodding her head as quickly as she could like she was on a time limit to give him his answer. She let him take her hand and slip one of his rings onto her finger which wasn't too bad of a fit, it was a little loose but it wasn't slipping off her finger so it was perfect until he could get her a proper ring of her own.

Ben didn't get the chance to stand back up before (Y/n) launched herself at him, binding her arms around his neck and leaning against his propped up knee so she could kiss him like her life depended on it.

She knew that sooner or later, her family was going to find out and it was inevitable that they- including Joe, were going to find out exactly who Ben was and what he did for a living. She also knew that when that happened, her life was going to become much harder and worse than this. But for now, her two worlds were separate and she was going to bask in the euphoric feeling she felt around Ben and she wanted to drown in the love he was giving her.

Ben could feel her mumbling 'yes' over and over so quietly against his lips and it made him smile.

He didn't know why she was with someone like him and sometimes he wondered if he was corrupting a good girl. But he couldn't find it in himself to care. He wasn't letting her go for anything in the world.