#he chooses to not dwell on painful things and instead move forward

[cherryysundae]

You think I'm weak, don't you?

[kaiser1ns]

love it when my fellow pals make deals with humankind. you are the cutest when it comes to temptations, saying how you won't give in but guess what ... you do give in and regret it later! well, i know dear ol' endo likes to make his deals not only to satisfy himself but also to help people like you see things from a different angle. i wish you the best of luck, my little puppet! oh, send him greetings from me when you see him, and now enjoy making deals with the devil.

𝗱𝗲𝗺𝗼𝗻!𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗼 𝘆𝗮𝗺𝗮𝘁𝗼 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

DEVIL ALWAYS TEMPTINGㄑword count :: 9669 ▿ does it matter that the boy you appeared with at the party to make your ex jealous, is actually a demon hungry for deals and human souls. that sounds fun, right?

CHOOSE ANOTHER DIMENSION IN WEIRDMAGEDDON

Friday nights were supposed to be fun and relaxing, you were supposed to be with your boyfriend sitting in front of a mirror, laughing and taking ridiculous pictures as you tried Halloween costumes together. He’d tease you about the silliest ideas you thought of like dressing up as peanut butter and jelly, or Sulley Sullivan and Mike Wazovski. You could still remember how his face lit up with that precious smile when he agreed to be a pirate and you as a siren. But tonight, you were the one drowning in tears of the deep ocean called love.

Instead of brightness and laughter, there was darkness and silence. The only light thing in your room came from the dim glow of your phone screen, showing how late it was, as you lay there on the soft mattress and now the weight of your thoughts pressed you down as hot tears escaped again. You wanted to stop crying, you were hurt and you couldn't open your eyes, you didn't even want to look at yourself knowing how miserable and pathetic you were right now.

Two weeks ago, Umemiya Hajime had ripped your heart from your body with a simple break-up and his reasoning was I’m sorry…I love you but I don’t feel the same anymore. It’s better to end this. We can always be friends, right? Be friends your ass, how can you still be something after everything that happened, after he broke up with you out of nowhere. The big party you'd been looking forward to was creeping up, and you had to show up … with a date. That was the worst part, you had to show up eventually if not with him at least with your friends. They were kind enough and tried to suggest people, but it felt forced and awkward. No one seemed to make a move on you, or they didn’t want to be your “pity date”.

And why would they? You were the one Hajime had dumped, the girl who wasn’t part of the perfect couple anymore. The butterflies were long gone and the pit in your stomach deepened every time you thought about that party, about him.

A big trash bag sat in the corner of your room, filled with reminders of the love that had once been around. Everything he had ever given you—every piece of clothing he bought because he thought you would look so cute, stuffed animals and merchandise, all inside ready to be thrown away. It hurt more than you wanted to admit. It meant so much to you, but you don’t need to keep memories from the past that will only add to this sorrow, and you knew better than to not dwell on the past for too long.

You could almost hear your friends’ voices amidst the chaos in your head telling you to get up, to find someone to go with. They said it was supposed to be fun, but fun was the last thing you wanted to experience as you had no date to go with. No one you knew wanted to go with you anymore because most of the boys you hung out with were Hajime’s friends. So what now? Would you go alone or just stay home? Finding some stranger to be your date seemed equally painful — pathetic even. You don’t know which is worse … going alone or pretending everything is okay. Sighing and letting the tears fall now, sinking deeper into the dark, suffocating from the emptiness as you closed your eyes, hoping that when you opened them, things would be different. But you knew they wouldn’t.

“I’m sick and tired of this.” but you couldn't just snap your fingers and be fine, it just had to happen, unfortunately in the most absurd way. "I hate men." Reaching for your phone you took it as the bright light immediately flashed before your eyes, and it took a few seconds to get used to it. What else could you do now besides watching videos on TikTok and Instagram? As quickly as you open the apps you immediately close them. What on earth is this algorithm showing you tarot readings, heartbroken quotes, and whatnot?

Ugh ... As if the universe wasn’t already cruel enough. You sat up, staring at the ceiling. If only there were a way to escape all of this sadness. Suddenly your phone buzzed because you forgot to turn it off, and a video popped up on the screen, grabbing your attention. It was some girl with bright eyes and a confident smile, talking about shifting and manifesting your desires. It sounded like another piece of nonsense you had seen a hundred times before, but something about the way she explained everything made you watch it till the end.

“But please be careful, okay guys?” she warned, her voice more serious, “If you see a tall black figure, it’s said to be the devil. He’ll want to make a deal with you. Do not look at him and run away. Trust no one.” She laughed softly at the end, maybe to make the viewers less scared by the information she just dropped. But you know what they say curiosity killed the cat. Shifting? Manifesting? A way to control your mind and your reality? You’d heard crazier things. Right now though, you were desperate and had nothing better to do. What else did you have to lose?

Wiping your face from the last tears, you took a deep breath and followed her instructions. Slowly, you calmed yourself, your breathing became even as you focused on the mental images she described. First came the colors—shimmering blue hues like the ocean, soft pink like the cherry blossom, and glowing golds. Then, shapes, doors, corridors, and rooms that were upside down twisted in the most impossibly and inexplicably ways. 

No, wait. You were dreaming. Your mind was creating all of this. It felt strangely lucid, as if you were half awake, half asleep in this vivid and colorful dream world. The corridors around you stretched out, leading to endless doors, each different from the last. But one door stood out from the rest. It was black, with tints of teal and all kinds of symbols drawn—triangles, stars, Roman numerals—it was like the graffiti that you see in town every day.

Without thinking, you walked towards it, your hand reaching before your mind could catch up. It’s just a dream, right? Nothing can hurt you here.

The door cracked open, revealing a large living room. The walls were adorned with paintings, most abstract as they gave more life to the black and white furniture. A massive couch sat in the center, inviting but oddly out of place. You stepped inside, scanning the room and on the nearby table, papers were scattered everywhere, filled with drawings. Picking one up, noticing how detailed it was. A wolf and a cannon and the word Frank stylized under it. Every line and stroke was done to its perfection, maybe the artist poured their soul into the work.

But just as you were about to check another one, something snatched the paper from your hand. Your breath caught in your throat as you looked up. A big mistake.

There it was. The black figure.

It loomed over you, tall and shadowy, no face or nothing. Its form is undefined and menacing. You couldn’t make out a face, the presence was enough to freeze you in place. Panic made its way through you and you bolted towards the door. Run. You have to run and get out of this place. Oh, no. The door is locked and it doesn’t want to open, no matter how hard you pull the handle. This is just your dream. You can change it. You can control it. 

Stopping dead in your tracks, closing your eyes. A big, fluffy cat, you thought. That’s what it should turn into. Something harmless. 

When you opened your eyes, the black figure hadn’t turned into a cat. Instead, standing where the shadow had been was a boy. He looked about your age, his skin covered in tattoos—the same symbols that are drawn on the door, now etched across his arms, neck, and even fingers. His black curly hair fell slightly into his eyes, and he wore a sleeveless black tank top, a checkered jacket thrown over his shoulder, and dark pants. He looked completely normal, and even reminded you of the famous singer you adored.

“It's rude to come uninvited, you know?” he didn’t even look at you as he organized the drawings, which you assume were his. “It’s even more rude to stare at someone. Cat got your tongue, doll? You don’t like it here?”

You swallowed hard when you heard his voice. It was calm but had that teasing tone, almost mocking you in some way but at the same time it was nice, it wasn’t impolite. You wondered what to say, how to answer this mysterious person, and all that came out was a weak whisper. “I… I didn’t mean to …”

He chuckled slightly, leaving the stacked papers on the table as he looked over at you and you closed your eyes. Do not look him in the eyes, do not open them at any cost. The black-haired male raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly. “Don’t be shy now. I was thinking of making changes to this place anyway. Do you have suggestions?” His eyes were sharp, piercing through the haze of your dream but you stayed quiet, nails digging into the palms of your hands. “What a pretty and sweet thing. Come one, open your eyes. I don’t bite…” Your heart pounded in your chest when you felt fingers under your chin tilting your head up. “Unless you want me to.”

You realized that, somehow, this boy wasn’t just a figment of your imagination. He was and felt very much real. He turned your head slightly, you couldn't see him but you could feel his eyes on you, lingering, waiting. What’s happening? You wanted to look, you wanted to see him again. You wanted to ... Then why don't you do it? It's just a fantasy, a dream. There is no logical explanation for what we dream, it just happens. 

You were imagining all sorts of horrors the boy could unleash, but instead of something terrible, you were met with an unexpected warmth. Slowly, almost unwillingly, you peeked through your lashes. There he was. Not menacing or cruel, but sweet. Warm. His blueish-teal eyes were soft as they locked onto yours, the light in the room reflected in them. His features were sharp, but not harsh, with the kind of effortless charm, the perfect balance between beauty and mystery that made your heart about to burst out of your chest. Is this the man of my dreams? You weren’t sure, but the longer you stared, the more your world started to turn upside-down, the more you felt the dizziness.

“Hi,” he finally said, his warm smile morphing into a devilish grin, and your stomach dropped. “Took you long enough, angel. Making eye contact is important when you meet new people.” He tilted your chin up with his hand, making sure your gaze stayed on him before letting go, running his fingers through his tousled black hair as he casually walked to the couch.

He sat down with his legs straddled, sinking into the cushions like he owned the place, his confidence radiating. With a lazy wave of his hand, he motioned for you to come closer. But you stayed pressed against the door, unable to just go to him like you were the best of friends.

“Who are you?” you blurted out, voice shaky. Your back stayed glued to the door, not ready to take any steps forward just yet. “And why are you in my dream?”

For a moment, his expression shifted. It wasn’t a surprise, more like he was amused as if he expected you to ask this but still found it entertaining. He raised an eyebrow, leaning back against the couch.

“Who am I?” he echoed, tapping his chin like he was deep in thought. “Well, I’m a single lady waiting for someone to put a ring on my finger.” You blinked, staring at him in confusion. Was that supposed to be funny? He looked at you, expecting a reaction, but you just gave him a blank stare. 

“Not funny?” He tilted his head, his grin faltering. You shook your head, still baffled. The corner of his mouth twitched as if suppressing a laugh, and then he shrugged it off. With a snap of his fingers, the click echoing in the quiet room, you were no longer by the door. You were sitting right next to him. "I'm many things, I can't tell you exactly who I am." he wrapped his arm around you pulling you closer to him, and you felt the warmth of his body.

Every time you blinked different types of food and drinks appeared on the table in front of you. You were very confused and still had no answers to your questions. It's just a dream, you tried to convince yourself, but you couldn't concentrate with the stranger’s hand on your shoulder. "And can I know your name so that I can take your sou–” he paused before clearing his throat and giving you a slight squeeze. “I mean soup recipe! I have been dying to try new things, so hopefully you can help me out.”

You glanced at the table again, more confused than ever. Soup recipes? This is ridiculous. But… maybe ridiculous was exactly what you needed right now. Slowly, you began to relax, letting the strangeness of the situation wash over you. Nothing bad can happen. It’s just a dream.

“I’m Y/N,” you said, testing how it felt to reveal something so simple. “And… well, is that even the right thing to tell someone new?”

“Shoot,” he replied, not missing a thing as he casually got a piece of cake from one of the plates. He took a bite, chewed a little loud, then held the fork towards you, offering a taste. You hesitated but then leaned in, accepting the bite. The cake melted in your mouth, unexpectedly delicious. I will do it, I guess? It wasn’t that bad, free food and a hot stranger. It was nice indeed.

You swallowed, and before you could stop yourself, the words came tumbling out. “So… my boyfriend, well, now ex broke up with me. And I just feel so… ugh!” You groaned, waving your hands in frustration. “I’m sad and angry and… just everything. He lost feelings? Like, what does that even mean?!”

His eyes widened, and leaning in slightly. “No way!” he gasped, playing into your exasperation as he talked with a full mouth. “Is he for real?”

“Yes!” you blurted, grateful for his dramatic reactions. “For real! He said he lost feelings out of nowhere and just ended things. It’s like I don’t even know what I did wrong! How do you just lose feelings like that?”

He made a face, shaking his head. “Do you want him to lose his mouth so he can stop with the bullshit?” You blinked, caught off guard by the suggestion, though there was a part of you—maybe a very small, vengeful part that found the idea almost tempting. “No, I mean… is that even possible?” you asked, your curiosity rising despite yourself.

He grinned, leaning back into the couch now drinking from a cup that you were not sure if it was a real skull or not.  “Sweetheart, look around you. Everything is possible.”

You took a breath, looking around at the room that constantly shifted and changed with every blink of your eyes. He wasn’t wrong. Everything here feels possible. You shook your head lightly, laughing at the absurdity of it all.

“So…” you began, narrowing your eyes slightly. “If everything’s possible, does that mean you can finally tell me who you are?” You leaned in, feeling more comfortable now. “It’s only fair, right? Sharing is caring.”

He chuckled softly, his gaze flickering with that same mystery. “Fair enough.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he looked at you and suddenly the atmosphere changed, you could feel the tension. “But where’s the fun in giving away all my secrets so soon?” Glancing at you again, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “Maybe you’ll figure it out. Or maybe…” He paused, his voice lowering into something more suggestive and dangerous, “I’ll tell you when I’m ready. Either way, angel, you’re in for a ride.”

Was this boy real? Or was he just another part of this wild, impossible dream?

But for now, you didn’t care. Something about him made you want to stay in this dream, even if just for a little longer. You trusted him, but at the same time, would you really trust someone who doesn't exist? They say that a person you don't know, but just passed by can appear in your dreams. It must be that, but why was it all so ... real? His touches, the taste of food, reactions, and feelings. 

“You’re no fun,” you teased, rolling your eyes as you reached for another bite of the various cakes displayed on the table. But before you could take it, he laughed and it wasn’t a genuine and comforting, more like a mocking laugh. “We’ll see about that pretty soon,” he said, his grin widening. 

Suddenly, everything vanished. The food, the room, him…all of it blinked out of existence in an instant. You gasped, finding yourself surrounded by pitch-black darkness. There was nothing but silence, your own breath echoing in your ears. Where did he go? As you stood there, frozen in time and nothingness, trying to make sense of it all.

But then, just as quickly as the darkness came, you blinked and opened your eyes—this time, for real. Your room greeted you with its familiar shadows and the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the curtains and shining upon the many posters of your favorite band on the walls. You were back in bed, breathing heavily, your chest rising and falling as you tried to steady yourself. Sweat clung to your skin, your hands trembling slightly.

It was just a dream. Nothing more, you told yourself. You inhaled deeply, letting the cool air calm your nerves. It felt so real, but it wasn’t. It couldn’t have been, you wanted it to be. The nameless boy who gave you the attention and comfort you sought and longed for.

You shifted under the covers, pulling the fluffy blanket closer to your body, sinking into its warmth. The tension began to go away as you reassured yourself again. Just a dream. A strange one, but still… just a dream. Relaxing fully, you let your eyelids grow heavy, your mind slowly drifting off once more, feeling peaceful and safe in your own world.

What you didn’t know, however, was that you weren’t alone.

As you slipped into a deep slumber, a presence quietly joined you. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close into a snug embrace. You felt the warmth against your back, but it was subtle, comforting enough that it blended into the haze of sleep. Fingers gently traced through your hair, playing with the strands, and a soft whisper tickled your ear.

“Good night, doll.” the familiar voice murmured, but you didn't hear or feel him because he was no longer a fragment of your imagination, but a real person...at least for what he would present himself to be.

And then you drifted off into the deepest, most relaxed sleep you’d had in weeks, unaware that the stranger from your dream had followed you into your reality.

The next morning, the first thing you felt was warmth—an unusual, comforting heat that made you snuggle deeper into your blankets. Your face nuzzled against something soft but firm, and without thinking, you wrapped your arms around it, sighing contentedly. You had no intention of waking up. It’s Saturday, no need to rush.

"Good morning, sunshine." the voice was sweet and teasing, as you let out a sleepy groan, burying your face further into what you assumed was your favorite plushie. “Mmm, five more minutes…” you muttered, your voice muffled by the warmth. You squeezed tighter, expecting to feel the familiar softness of your stuffed animal. But instead, your fingers brushed against something warmer, something that wasn’t soft cotton or fabric—skin.

Your eyes shot open, heart pounding as you jolted upright, realizing that what you were holding wasn’t a plushie but a human body. You gasped, scrambling back and tumbling off your bed with a loud thud on the cold ground, trying to piece together what was happening.

A head poked out from the top of the bed, black curls and teal eyes sparkling with nothing but playfulness. It was him—the boy from your dream last night, the same one you were sure had only existed in your imagination. But now he was, in your bed, looking down at you with that familiar devilish grin.

“I thought I was supposed to fall for you,” he said, raising his eyebrows in surprise. “But apparently, the roles are reversed.” He chuckled softly, clearly enjoying your reactions and how he could smell the fear and panic. Your heart raced in your chest as you opened your mouth to scream, but before you could make a sound, he snapped his fingers. Instantly, your voice was gone, leaving you mute. You clutched your throat in horror, your mouth still wide open, but no sound came out. You tried again—nothing.

He leaned over the side of the bed, looking down at you with a smug expression. “Be quiet now, angel,” he said, his voice low and calm. “I don’t want you screaming…not yet.”

Your mind raced, thoughts going from point A to point Z. Who is he? How is he here? What is he? You crawled backward, pressing yourself against the wall, eyes wide with fear. He watched you, his head tilted slightly, clearly enjoying your reaction because to him this was just another game with humankind. He loved it when they showed fear, how afraid a person can become when they see him out of nowhere. It was priceless, the reactions and the emotions. You should see your face, he can’t stop staring at it.

"I know you have questions," he said casually, stretching his arms as if waking up from a peaceful nap. "But we'll get to that in a moment." He paused, looking around the room and how you decorated it, he will take some inspiration to his own if you don't mind. "First, let's make sure you didn’t hurt yourself with that fall, okay?"

With another snap of his fingers, you felt your body lighten. The fear that had gripped your chest was starting to leave, and though you still couldn’t speak, the panic was slowly being replaced by confusion—and maybe curiosity. You looked at him, trying to make sense of everything, but nothing added up.

"Better?" he asked, leaning back on his elbows, clearly far too comfortable in your bed. Managing to nod slightly, though your mind was still racing from the supposed dream to this pleasant morning surprise. Just what exactly was going on?

"Good. Now, let’s have a little chat, shall we?" he said, flashing you that grin again. You stood up and didn't sit on the bed next to him, but on the chair in front of your desk, pointing to your mouth, showing him that you really can't talk “Oh, yes. Sorry, doll.”

Watching him move around your room as if he belonged there. Every gesture, every glance he gave you made the air in the room feel heavier. His presence was suffocating, yet alluring in a way you couldn’t explain. He walked like he had always been there, but when he turned to look at you, it was as if he already knew what you were thinking—like he had known you for far longer than just this dream.

"So you want to make that jerk jealous, right?" he asked, his voice casual but sharp enough to pierce through your thoughts. You didn't answer right away, instead staring down at your hands as you played with your fingers.  “Eyes up here, darling,” he commanded, and despite not wanting to, your gaze lifted to meet his. It felt unnatural like some kind of spell was pulling you in, forcing you to obey. The moment your eyes locked with his, you felt that strange magnetic pull again, something dark yet engaging about him.

“I do… yes,” you finally answered, your voice quieter than you intended, because something was unsettling about how easily he was reading you, how he seemed to know your desires before you even thought about voicing them.

"And you want me to help you with that," he continued, circling you like a predator eyeing its prey, his smirk never faltering. "But, of course, you know that I’ll want something in return." His tone was teasing, yet you could sense the serious undertone that followed.  You stared at him, swallowing hard. “My soul right?” you asked, knowing full well who he was by now—though you were still processing the absurdity of it. Making a deal with the devil was a gamble and usually, the mortals always lose.

"Straight to the point. I like that. A bit impatient, but we’ll work on that." He chuckled, his fingers trailing over the objects in your room touching every piece of your life. His eyes flicked over to your wall, landing on a particular poster. It was of a musician you had a bit of an obsession with—tattoos, piercing on his eyebrow and mouth, the typical bad-boy image.

“The dude with the tattoo sleeve on the poster. You like him, huh?” he asked, turning his gaze back to you. Your face heated, embarrassment rushing over you. It was awkward enough to have a stranger in your room, but a boy commenting on your obsessions? That was a whole new level of awkwardness.

“Yeah, but what about it? You think you can pull off looking like him or something?” you fired back, your tone slightly defensive as you crossed your arms.

His grin grew wider, mischief dancing in his eyes. “Even better, sweets. Even better.” And with a snap of his fingers, you found yourself pressed against the wall, his body close, caging you in. Your heart raced as you stared up at him, your mind spinning at how effortlessly he had shifted reality.

“Let’s make a deal,” he whispered, his eyes flashing a deep, unnatural black, and for the first time, you noticed the small horns beginning to grow from his head. A black tail curled around your leg, sending a chill through your body. “I’ll be your boyfriend for the party, and you…” He leaned in, so close you could feel his breath ghosting over your lips. “You’ll pay me back when the time comes. Don’t worry about it.”

You were both stunned and terrified, his presence overwhelming as his words echoed in your mind. Was this even real? Could you trust him? The truth was, you knew the answer already. You couldn’t trust the devil. But the temptation was there, and it made you desperate to unfold it and take it.

“How can I trust you?” you whispered, your voice shaking. His head rested on your shoulder as he chuckled softly against your skin, the vibration making goosebumps appear as you tensed at his sudden physical affection.

“My little puppet… wait, that’s not my line,” he murmured, the grin evident in his tone as he lifted his head to meet your eyes again. “My sweet doll, I can do things you wouldn’t even dream of. With a snap of my fingers, I can teleport you to the future, change the present, twist the past. I can give you everything you want.” His words were hypnotic, each syllable wrapping around your thoughts, making you wonder—what if?

It was true, everything about him screamed power. And you knew you deserved better than what your ex had given you. But this? Making a deal with the devil himself?

"You know you deserve better than that scumbag," he said, his hand grazing your cheek. "So, my offer stands—I’ll be your date to the party, and when the time comes, you’ll pay me back. Simple as that." His eyes glowed as he leaned closer, the danger in his smile was more than just a warning.

You took a shaky breath, trying to think rationally, but it was hard with him so close, his offer so tempting. "You know about the party? How?"

"I told you, I know everything." He stepped back slightly, giving you room to breathe as a swirl of blue flames danced in his hand. His grin widened as if he could sense the battle raging inside you. He stretched out his hand, the flames flickering and welcoming you.

“Deal or not?” He needed to convince you because you were perfect and he loved when girls turned up to him for help, especially with their love lives. But the thing is you never searched for him, you just found him on accident and that to him was something new. This never happened before, he was always summoned but seeing how scared to how comfortable you could get with him in seconds ... He wanted to have you all for himself.

You stared at his hand, the weight of your decision pressing down on you. This was a perfect opportunity, but was it right? You wanted to show up with a date, and you did want to take revenge. But you have morals, at least you thought you did. If Umemiya can't love and satisfy you then another man will. And yet…what would the cost be?

But before you could stop yourself, your hand was in his, shaking it.

"Endo Yamato, pleased to date you," he said with a sly grin. The blue flames also engulfed your arm and you expected them to burn you, but they were surprisingly warm and didn't cause any pain. Looking around you saw most of the objects were in the air, you were also levitating until the flames disappeared and everything fell into place.

"Y/N is everything alright?" your mother's voice echoed as you heard the footsteps approaching. Still holding his hand and panicked because, in a few seconds, your mother would see you with a strange guy in your room. What would she think, finding you and him? Surely, she’d freak out. 

"I-I..." you looked at Endo expecting him to help you but he just grinned, clearly enjoying the chaos, making you sit back down on the bed as if nothing had happened. He, however, took a seat at your desk, turning on your computer and launching a random game as if he’d done this a thousand times before. It was disturbingly domestic like you were truly a couple who had just spent the night together again.

The door opened, and instead of the explosion of anger you expected, your mother greeted you with a warm smile. She walked in with a plate of cake. "Oh, Yamato! What a pleasant surprise, I didn’t know you were staying over." She didn’t even blink at his presence, as if he had always been a part of your life.

Your heart nearly stopped. How did she know him? You stared at her, mouth hanging open, while Endo merely smiled, leaning back in the chair with waving his hand, pausing the game he finished in milliseconds, and it took you a whole week to do it.

"Good morning, ma’am! Y/N told me you make the best cake. Figured I'd stay and have some," he said, and you could almost hear the teasing in his voice. Your mother chuckled, completely unfazed. "Well, I’ll get another plate for you then. I’ll be right back." She turned and left the room, leaving you in a dead silence.

The door clicked shut, and you quickly turned to him, eyes wide. “What the hell just happened?”

Endo didn’t look concerned. If anything, he looked pleased with himself. "Relax, sweetheart. I just adjusted things a little. In your parents’ minds, I’m your new boyfriend. They know me, they like me. I even got your mom to bake me a cake. Now that is what I call power." He winked, leaning forward in the chair.

"You… you messed with their minds?" you stammered, scared of how much he messed up with their minds and you hope he only did that and nothing else.

"Yeah.." He stretched his arms lazily getting up from the chair. "Now I exist to them. To everyone who matters, I’m your charming boyfriend, Yamato. And no one will think twice about us going out together or hanging around. I made myself part of your world."

You sat there, heart racing, trying to process it. It felt like you were in some type of movie, in Wonderland but after everything else—the dreams, the flames, the deal—it was hard to deny. He really was in your life now. And worse? He was making himself comfortable.

"So," he continued, his eyes sparkling with what you want to think of was the life he took from you, "how about we go shopping for those Halloween costumes? I want to make sure we’re the best-looking couple at this party."

You blinked, trying to shake off the lingering shock. “Costumes? Already?” He grinned, standing up from the desk. "Why not? You want to look perfect, right? And I’ll be the perfect date. Trust me." You hesitated, but part of you, maybe the reckless part, was curious. This strange, devilish boy had thrown your life into chaos, but he offered something hard to resist: a way to take control, to show up at the party with someone who’d make your ex regret everything.

"Fine," you muttered. "But, I need to get dressed first."

"Sure," he said, not moving. Instead, he leaned casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, and didn’t mind if you changed in front of him. But you did mind because you wanted your privacy, at least whatever you can call alone time now.

"Please get out!" you repeated, voice more forceful this time, pulling your shirt halfway up your stomach before realizing he wasn’t leaving. His gaze lingered, his lips curling into a smirk. He was like a snake, a beautiful but venomous snake ready to strike you down anytime. "Why? You’re my girlfriend now. You shouldn’t be shy around me," he teased, his eyes trailing down to where your skin was exposed. The way he said it, so matter-of-factly, made your stomach flip.

You flushed, face hot with embarrassment and frustration. Grabbing him by the sleeve of his jacket, you marched him toward the door. “Go eat some cake while I’m getting ready,” you muttered, pushing him out. Endo chuckled, hands raised in surrender. “Alright, alright. But don’t take too long, doll. We’ve got a date to plan.” He shot you a wink before disappearing down the hall.

You closed the door and leaned against it, letting out a deep breath. What have I gotten myself into? You couldn’t deny the thrill, but the danger was just as real. Endo Yamato wasn’t just some ordinary guy—he was trouble in every sense of the word. And now, he was your devilishly charming boyfriend.

Was this the biggest mistake of your life? Maybe. But there was no going back now. With one final look in the mirror, you shook off the nerves. If anyone could make Umemiya Hajime regret breaking up with you, it was Endo Yamato. And you will embrace your new life, whatever it offers you will take it. You just signed a deal with the devil, so take advantage of the luxury.

The mall was full of people as ever, the noise of chatter and music echoing in the background as you and Endo wandered through store after store. His hand was warm in yours, firm, yet oddly comforting despite the strangeness of everything that had happened. It had been his idea to treat you, to buy you something nice, and while the gesture was sweet, it left you feeling... a bit out of place.

You stood in front of a full-length mirror, dressed in a short white dress that hugged your figure in ways you weren’t used to. Your boyfriend stood behind you, watching with a satisfied smirk as you hesitated, his reflection staring back at you. He held a few more clothes in his arms, ready to spoil you with more options.

"You look so good," he said, his voice soft but confident. He reached out and held up the same dress in different colors. "There's also a pink and blue one. Which do you like more?" But instead of picking, you just stared at yourself, a sadness creeping over your features. You weren’t used to wearing things like this. It fits you perfectly, accentuating curves you usually hid beneath looser clothing. When you were with Umemiya, he never cared what you wore—he let you stay in your comfort zone, never pushing you to try anything new. Now, here you were, feeling exposed and unsure, your usual self-confidence slipping away.

Endo noticed immediately. He glanced at you in the mirror and saw the doubt on your face. His smile faded slightly, replaced with something more thoughtful, "What's wrong?" You hesitated, still looking at the reflection instead of him. “I’m just… not used to dressing like this,” you murmured, “What if people stare at me?”

Ah, so that was it. His eyes narrowed slightly, and his grip on the clothes tightened as he processed your words. He could tell you were beautiful, no matter what you wore, but he also understood. You were stuck in a box, never exploring past the boundaries you’d built around yourself. You deserved more than what you’d allowed yourself to have. He had something in mind for that. 

He turned to you, his expression more serious now. “I’ll be honest with you,” he began, stepping closer so you could still see his reflection standing tall behind you. “No one’s going to care. And if they do stare, let them. Who are they to you?”

His words hit hard. You looked up, meeting his eyes in the mirror, and they were trying to convince you. "Nobody," you said softly, realizing that he was right. The people out there, the strangers, their opinions didn't matter. But still, that nagging self-doubt clung to you.

Endo’s gaze softened as he gently placed a hand on your shoulder, turning you slightly to face him. “You can’t let yourself stay trapped in this comfort zone forever. If you do, you’ll keep missing out on new things, new sides of yourself you haven’t even discovered yet.” He was deadly serious now, his tone steady. “You’re beautiful no matter what. But you deserve to see how much more there is to you than what you’ve been hiding behind. So don’t let anyone, not even yourself, make you feel less.”

You sighed, your eyes flickering between him and the clothes he was holding. You knew he was right, but stepping out of that comfort zone was easier said than done. Still, something about his words made you feel… braver. You could take that step, even if it was small. Finally, you took the clothes from his hands.

“I won’t even try them,” you said, suddenly resolute. “I’ll just buy them.” Endo’s lips curled into a proud, satisfied smile as he watched you head back into the dressing room to change into your original outfit. When you emerged, his eyes lit up, and he couldn’t hold back a wide grin. "Now, that’s my girl."

You smirked back, feeling lighter than before. “You’re paying, though.” He laughed, seeing how he provoked you into doing something so simple. “Of course, doll. Anything for you.”

As you walked together to the cashier, hand in hand, you couldn’t help but feel like things were changing. Maybe Endo was right—maybe this was the start of something new, a side of yourself you hadn’t known before. Whether it was him or the situation, you weren't sure yet, but you knew that stepping out of your comfort zone felt a little less terrifying. Having the devil as your boyfriend was an experience of its own: both thrilling and exciting, and you couldn’t wait to see Umemiya’s reaction. 

After Endo paid, the two of you walked out of the store, your hands weighed down with at least three shopping bags filled with clothes that were far beyond your usual style. You felt strange and satisfied yet guilty at how much you bought. But somehow, that discomfort that had followed you earlier was fading. Maybe it was his influence or the fact that he had pushed you out of your little box, but the worry was no longer coming at you. 

The devil walked beside you, his hand still casually intertwined with yours, his other hand holding his bag from one of the stores where he insisted you pick out something cute because spoiling you was part of his fun. He is your boyfriend, it's his duty to make you feel good and enjoy yourself.

"We’ve got you new clothes," he said, glancing down at the bags swinging by your side. “Now, for the Halloween costumes... What do you want us to be?"

You hadn’t even thought about the party since all this craziness started. But Halloween was coming up in just two weeks, and you needed to decide. The two of you made your way to a nearby Halloween shop, the sound of spooky music and the bright displays pulling you inside. You wandered through the aisles, surrounded by racks of costumes and props…You were not using the costumes you bought with Umemiya, totally not. So it’s time to think of something new.

“Maybe something simple?” you suggested, looking through the shelves of cheap costume accessories. Your hand landed on an angel halo and some flimsy white wings. You held them up and smiled, “I could be an angel.”

Endo raised an eyebrow, “How fitting,” he said, voice laced with irony as he reached up to pat the small horns protruding from his head. “You know I don’t need a costume, right?” Somehow, you forgot what happened in the morning and how he turned into his true form with horns and a tail, wrapped around your leg. Good for him, because he can pretend they are real unless someone wants to try them on. Oh, well that’s a problem for the future.

“Right, you already come with the horns and tail. Guess we’re going as the classic angel and devil couple, then.” You tossed the wings and halo into your basket and turned to see him eyeing some fake devil horns hanging on a rack. He glanced at them before shrugging. “I think I’m good,” he said, pointing to where his horns were supposed to appear.  “I’ll just wear what I’ve got.” 

Once you had everything you needed, the two of you left the store, the cool evening breeze hitting your face as you walked out of the mall. It was such a good day today. Going towards the parking lot, Endo stopped for a second, turning toward you and before you could ask what he was up to, he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. 

You froze, your heart skipping a beat as warmth flooded your face, your cheeks burning bright red. The butterflies you thought had long since died after Umemiya’s betrayal? They were very much alive now, fluttering like crazy in your stomach. 

He pulled back, his smirk widening as he took in your reaction. “You’re blushing,” he teased, eyes full of satisfaction. You couldn’t deny it, the heat in your face said it all. “I-I’m not!” you stammered, trying to play it cool, but the way your voice wavered gave you away completely. You know this boy for not even 24 hours and he is already making you feel like this. It’s the magic, most definitely you will blame it on his magic.

“Sure, angel,” he said with a chuckle, wrapping his arm around your waist as you both made your way back to the car. “But I think I’m starting to grow on you.” You couldn’t help but smile to yourself, letting out a small sigh as you rested your head on his shoulder. Maybe this wasn’t going to be the biggest mistake of your life after all.

“Wait, hang on…” you asked removing your head from him as you looked at him, because why are you in a car, and not at the bus station? “We came with the bus, how do you suddenly have a car? And so much money?”

“Less questioning, more watching the pretty sunset.” his hand gently turned your face to the window to watch as the sky was tinted with pink and yellow hues, making you forget about everything as he stepped on the gas. Maybe deals with the devil don't sound so bad after all.

It was October 31st—Halloween night. Ever since Endo had stepped into your life, he had turned everything upside down. He wasn’t just the devil you made a deal with, he had become the best boyfriend you had ever had. He was doting, caring, and spoiling you beyond measurements. One night, while your parents were asleep, he teleported you away to Paris to have croissants under the twinkling lights of the Eiffel Tower. Another time, you skipped school just to marvel at the Sistine Chapel together. Whatever you asked for, you’d get. But you were careful not to ask for much because the payment would escalate quickly.

The magic wasn’t just about the exotic trips. Endo made you feel more confident, you were finding yourself in ways you hadn't before, and he loved watching you fly with your new wings. He encouraged you to push boundaries, be bold, and stand up for yourself. It wasn’t just a Halloween costume you were slipping into tonight; it was a new version of yourself, and you could tell he was proud of that.

Tonight, though, he was being extra annoying, and was testing your patience. Standing behind you in the bathroom as you applied your makeup, his tail had found its way around your waist again, tugging you close as you tried to focus on getting ready.

“Yamato, I told you to stop wrapping your tail around me,” you said, trying to keep your voice calm as you swiped the red lipstick across your lips, making a satisfying pop sound. Pulling away from the mirror, examining your reflection. The white dress, the halo perched above your head, the wings—it all screamed angel. But what kind of angel were you really? A fallen one perhaps.

He grinned, his sharp teeth peeking through as he rested his chin on your shoulder. “Can’t help it, angel. You’re stuck with me.” His voice was playful, reminding him how much he enjoyed teasing you. You rolled your eyes. “Remove it before I cut it off,” you warned, turning slightly to meet his gaze. His tail loosened immediately, slinking back, but his grin remained as wide as ever.

"What happened to ‘I love you’, ‘You are the best’, ‘Please, harder and fas–" You put a hand over his mouth and he pretended to be defeated, but there was pride in his eyes. He was happy to see how much you had changed over the past two weeks. The girl who once doubted herself had become confident and bold, and he loved every second of it. 

He watched as you adjusted the final touches of your outfit. “Look at you now," he said, his voice low and almost admiring. "Such a pretty and bossy woman. I love that new side of you.”

You slipped on your white heels, the final touch to your angelic costume. But as you looked at yourself in the mirror, you couldn’t help but question. What was even angelic about you anymore? You had let him claim you in every possible way. Your body, your soul, everything was his, and you didn’t regret it as everything happened so fast that you wouldn't be surprised if he used his magic to make Halloween come faster.

Grabbing your phone, you prepared to upload another Instagram story with your devil darling. Ever since you posted him for the first time, everyone who had ignored or unfollowed you was suddenly watching your stories again. Funny how that worked. You smirked, knowing that tonight’s post would send them reeling and you will know the gossip because of your friends. They always tell you if someone is talking behind your back, someone like Hiragi insulting Endo, or Tsubaki being disappointed in you…and Umemiya saying he is fine but he isn’t fine.

“Showing me off again?” He asked, leaning back, watching you swipe through your phone. You nodded, snapping a quick picture of the two of you in the mirror. “Of course. People love the drama between me and Umemiya.”

You were no longer the quiet, shy girl who stayed within the lines, living by the rules set by others. You had stepped out of the zone and were living in a big mansion, filled with adventure, luxury, and a man who encouraged you to rise higher instead of keeping you stuck in one place. The devil had taught you something valuable: first, to believe and love yourself, and second, to choose a man who would elevate you, not hold you back.

“Ready for tonight?” he smiled, his horns gleaming in the bathroom light, perfectly matching your halo. “I’ve never been more ready. Let’s show them what a real angel and devil look like.”

Match made in Heaven—is what he enjoyed telling everyone and only the two of you knew the meaning. One thing was clear: You were in love with the devil, and he didn't just want your soul for the deal—he wanted everything from you. Endo Yamato wanted you. Make sure to repay him fully because the devil is always tempting, and he hates to wait too long.

It was like time had stopped, and you couldn’t help but glance at him, hoping he hadn’t done anything that involved magic for this dramatic entrance. Everyone turned their heads to watch as you walked through the crowd with Endo. But his smirk told you he hadn’t done any tricks, much surprising to you—tonight you were simply the topic of discussion.

His arm tightened around your waist, and the big room was filled with whispers and glances, and it made you uncomfortable at some point and he sensed this, leaning down playfully whispering in your ear. “Just ignore them, angel. We're just giving them a free show~”

Well, if it wasn’t your best friend the fate itself when you found yourself face-to-face with none other than your…ex. He was accompanied by Hiragi and Tsubaki, the two friends you’d once spent so much time with. Umemiya looked at you and you could see the surprise, confusion, and maybe even regret in his eyes. He managed a weak smile, but couldn’t take his eyes off Endo, who only gave him that signature devilish smirk.

“Hi,Ume!" you greeted cheerfully, waving to Hiragi and Tsubaki, trying to make this less awkward and with how Umemiya barely reacted, still, clearly caught off guard by the presence of your devilishly attractive date. “Hi,” he muttered, eyes lingering to Endo.

"So what do you want to talk about?" you asked wanting to just have fun without thinking so much about past relationships. Umemiya'a was a wonderful boyfriend, but Endo was out of this world. 

An uncomfortable silence fell over the group until Umemiya finally cleared his throat, "Y/N, can I talk to you for a second?" he asked as you glanced at your boyfriend, and he just shrugged, releasing his hold on you, as if he knew that whatever conversation you had with Umemiya, it wouldn’t change a thing. “Go ahead,” he said, giving you an encouraging nod.

Taking a deep breath, you followed Umemiya to a quieter corner of the room, away from prying eyes but close enough that you could still feel Endo's gaze, watchful and reassuring, grounding you in your decision to move forward.

“So...uh,” Umemiya began, keeping his eyes on yours trying to search for an answer, trying to search for the real you. “You really...you’re really with him?” 

“Yes, I am,” you replied, keeping that calm and confident tone, because you needed to assure him that everything was fine, even without him. “Is that what you wanted to talk about?” Umemiya’s jaw clenched, and he looked away as if trying to gather his thoughts. 

“Look, I know things got...weird between us. I never thought you’d—” He hesitated, eyes flicking back to Endo, who was currently chatting with some other partygoers, yet somehow still looked every bit as menacing. “I mean, him, really?” 

“Yes, him. If you are going to judge me, just let's drop this conversation and have fun?” you said, getting a little annoyed but you understood his concerns. However, he is an ex for a reason. “He treats me well, listens to me, and I’ve been happier. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Umemiya frowned, he was frustrated “I didn’t think you’d… move on so fast.” He looked at a loss for words, struggling with the effects of his own choices. You took a deep breath, finally feeling closure start to settle over you. Whatever you’d once wanted from him—an apology, an explanation—no longer mattered. You’d moved on. “Look, I hope you will have fun despite everything. Past is past, forgive and forget, right?” you said, ending the conversation with that same smile you gave to him when he was feeling down.

As you turned to walk back to Endo, you felt at peace. Your past with Umemiya was just that—your past. Rejoining him by the drinks, he looked down at you, so curious. "You came back very quickly. How did it go?" he asked handing you a drink which you drank immediately. He knew how it went, what the conversation was, after all, he is the Devil... he has eyes and ears for all evil. "Nothing much. He's just sad, I guess. But I don't care." He just nodded and looked at you with that look, as if you were something so sweet and lovely, like a dessert ready to be savored. He was sure to savor every last bit of you when the time came for you to repay him.

"Yamato, are you listening?" waving your hand in front of his face you slightly worried for him. "Yeah, yeah. You wanted to fix your make-up?" He chuckled, leaning down closer to you. Smiling, you took his hand, guiding him through the crowd toward the restroom. As you walked, people parted to make way, their eyes on the angel and the devil, perfectly matched.

By "fixing your makeup” you hadn’t meant making out, but Endo had other plans. His lips met yours as he leaned in, pressing you gently against the wall. You closed your eyes, letting the world fall away. His hands found your waist, holding you close as he deepened the kiss, and your mind went blank as his lips brushed against your neck, leaving traces of his dark lipstick on your skin. You weren't the only couple being all over each other, so who cares what you do?

When you finally caught your breath, you opened your eyes, only to see his smirk—sly and devilish as he pulled away, leaving you flustered and breathless. "Why did you stop?" You didn’t immediately realize why he’d pulled back until you followed his gaze. Standing a few feet away, looking as if he had seen a ghost, was Umemiya. Endo’s teal eyes were exactly like his flames, burning and full of what one could say is lust and joy, as he caught your ex’s gaze and, finally showed his real black eyes and sharp fangs.

It was Halloween, after all. Strange things are bound to happen, and if anyone asked, it was just an impressive costume trick, okay?

Endo’s hand found its way back to your face, and he kissed you once more, gentler this time but no less possessive. "Just relax and give your soul to me," he whispered against your lips, the words a promise that felt as luring as his embrace. "Give me everything so I can give you so much more."

You closed your eyes again, the feeling of being in his arms somehow made all your doubts, insecurities, and the heartache you’d carried from your past with Umemiya fade away. For the first time, you felt completely, unapologetically loved.

When you finally pulled away, the Devil watched you catch your breath, your heart racing as he could feel how you were wanting and begging for more. "Come on, angel," he said, brushing his thumb over your cheek with a grin. "This party is boring. Let me show you how demons like to have fun." Tonight, you were in his world, where the rules didn’t matter, much more than any exes of yours.

Tonight he will show you how much fun is to make tempting deals with the Devil, so enjoy yourself to the last bite of the apple—temptation is the key to your soul.

WEIRDMAGEDDON VICTIMS :: @maruflix @exkiusme @17020 @stunies @y2kuromi @seneon @littleplantfreak @meidiary @heartkaji @nyxypoo @ryescapades

©2024 kaiser1ns do not copy, repost or modify my work

[reallygroovyninja]

Something Blue

Clarke stood at the foot of the stone steps leading up to the grand church, her eyes tracing the intricate carvings on the archway. The air was filled with the scent of fresh flowers and the distant sound of joyous music from inside, but for Clarke, it all seemed distant, almost surreal. 

As she watched couples and families enter the church, laughing and chatting in their elegant attire, a sense of dread settled in her stomach. She was supposed to be one of them, full of anticipation and joy, but instead, she felt like an outsider looking in. 

Her hand instinctively went to the necklace Finn had given her, a habit she hadn't been able to break even months after their breakup. They had talked about marriage, about a future together. If things had gone differently, if they had still been together, maybe it would have been them sending out wedding invitations, choosing flowers, and tasting cake samples. 

But that dream had crumbled just like their relationship, leaving her with a heart still tender from the loss. She remembered the nights she spent planning their hypothetical wedding, the places they would go, the life they would build. And now, standing outside this church, those dreams felt like echoes from someone else's life. 

Taking a deep breath, Clarke adjusted the clutch in her hand and forced a smile. She was here for her friend's happiness, not to dwell on her own broken fairytales. Yet, as she took the first step towards the church entrance, each movement felt heavier, weighed down by the ghost of what could have been. 

Inside, the wedding would be a celebration of love, a reminder of the commitment she once thought she'd have by now. But Clarke Griffin was no stranger to overcoming pain and adversity. With a final glance at the church's ornate doors, she steeled herself for the flood of emotions that awaited her and stepped forward, leaving her lost dreams on the steps behind her. 

Inside the church, away from the bustling crowd of guests, Lexa found herself in a quiet corner with Lincoln, the groom. The grandeur of the church's interior, with its stained glass windows casting colorful patterns on the floor, formed a stark contrast to the nervous energy emanating from Lincoln. 

"Hey, let me help you with that," Lexa offered gently, noticing Lincoln fumbling with his bowtie. Her hands were steady and skilled as she reached out to adjust the slightly askew accessory. 

Lincoln gave her a grateful look, his hands falling to his sides. "Thanks, Lexa. I can't believe I'm still nervous about getting this right," he chuckled nervously, trying to mask his pre-wedding jitters. 

"It's normal to be nervous," Lexa reassured him, focusing on perfecting the bowtie. "It's a big day. But you know, everything's going to be great. Octavia is lucky to have you." 

As she smoothed out the fabric, Lincoln's gaze was thoughtful, almost introspective. "I'm the lucky one," he murmured. "I never thought I'd find someone who understood me like she does." 

Lexa smiled at his words, a tinge of wistfulness in her eyes. "That's what makes it all worth it, doesn't it? Finding someone who gets you, who stands by you no matter what." 

Lincoln nodded, his expression softening. "Exactly. And hey, don't worry, Lexa. Your person is out there too. Someone who will see you for the amazing person you are." 

Her smile was a mix of gratitude and melancholy. "I hope so." 

With the bowtie now impeccably in place, Lexa took a step back, giving Lincoln an encouraging pat on the shoulder. "There, you're all set. Octavia is waiting for you. Go make some beautiful memories." 

As Lincoln moved towards the altar, Lexa lingered in the shadows, her gaze drifting across the church. She couldn't help but feel a sense of solitude amidst the celebration of love around her. Yet, there was also a quiet strength in her stance, a resilience that spoke of her journey and the hope that still lingered in her heart. 

As Clarke entered the church, she felt the weight of dozens of eyes glancing her way. A friendly usher, noticing her hesitation, offered his arm. "This way, Miss. You're seated on the bride's side." 

Gratefully, Clarke accepted his assistance. As they walked down the aisle, her gaze swept over the opulent decorations. The church was adorned with an array of beautiful flowers, their fragrance subtly perfuming the air. Above, the stained glass windows painted the interior with a kaleidoscope of light, casting ethereal patterns on the guests. 

The guests themselves were an assortment of familiar and unknown faces. Couples whispered to each other, children fidgeted in their seats, and older relatives looked on with sentimental smiles. Each person seemed to radiate a sense of joy and celebration, yet Clarke couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy at their apparent contentment. 

Her eyes then fell upon the groom, Lincoln, standing at the altar. He looked both nervous and excited, embodying the very essence of a man on the brink of a new life chapter. Beside him stood a woman, her back turned to Clarke, skillfully adjusting his bowtie. Something about her posture, the confident way she moved, piqued Clarke's curiosity. 

As the woman finished her task and stepped back, she turned slightly, allowing Clarke a glimpse of her profile. Even from a distance, there was an unmistakable strength and grace about her. Clarke found herself momentarily captivated, her own anxieties momentarily forgotten. 

The usher gently guided Clarke to her seat, breaking her line of sight. As she settled into her place, she couldn't help but glance back towards the altar, the image of the mysterious woman lingering in her mind. The ceremony was about to begin, but Clarke's thoughts were already weaving a story about the stranger who seemed so at ease in a moment that felt so pivotal. 

After ensuring Lincoln was ready, Lexa quietly slipped away to find her seat on the groom's side. The church was filled with a gentle hum of anticipation as the guests eagerly awaited the ceremony's start. Lexa moved with a quiet grace, her eyes scanning the rows until she found her designated spot. 

As she settled into her seat, the lights dimmed slightly, signaling the ceremony's commencement. The guests hushed, turning their attention to the back of the church. The opening notes of a soft, melodic processional filled the air, and all heads turned in unison. 

Then, there she was – Octavia. She appeared at the entrance, radiant and ethereal, her gown flowing behind her like a cascade of liquid moonlight. Every detail of her attire, from the delicate lace to the subtle shimmer of her veil, spoke of elegance and grace. 

Lexa watched, a warm smile playing on her lips. She had seen Octavia go through highs and lows, and now here she was, taking confident, poised steps towards a new chapter of her life. Lincoln's face, awash with emotion, mirrored the awe and love that filled the church. 

The guests were visibly moved, some dabbing their eyes, others smiling broadly. Lexa's gaze briefly swept over the crowd, noting the varied expressions of joy and sentimentality. Her eyes briefly met a blonde across the aisle, a fleeting connection that lingered just a moment longer than necessary. 

Clarke's heart swelled with affection for her friend; Octavia, who had always been more like a sister, was about to embark on one of life's most beautiful journeys. 

As Octavia gracefully made her way down the aisle, Clarke's eyes were drawn to her, witnessing each confident step that brought her closer to Lincoln. There was something incredibly moving about the scene, something that stirred a mixture of emotions within Clarke – joy for Octavia, nostalgia for what could have been, and a lingering sense of loneliness. 

In a brief respite from her emotions, Clarke's gaze wandered across the aisle. It was then that her eyes met a brunette’s. The connection was fleeting, a mere moment in which two strangers acknowledged each other's presence. Yet, in that brief exchange, Clarke sensed an unspoken understanding, a shared feeling of being solitary in a room full of paired souls. 

The brunette’s eyes held a depth that intrigued Clarke, a hint of empathy and strength that resonated with her own feelings. The moment passed quickly as Octavia approached the altar, but the brief connection left a lingering curiosity in Clarke's mind, a small spark amidst the solemnity of the ceremony. 

The ceremony was a tapestry of emotion and beauty, woven with the threads of love and commitment. As Octavia and Lincoln exchanged their vows, their voices filled with the depth of their feelings, the church was enveloped in a sense of sacred solemnity. The vows echoed not just as promises to each other but as affirmations of the power of love. 

Clarke, watching from her seat, felt a whirlwind of emotions. The sincerity in Octavia's voice, the way Lincoln's eyes shone with unshed tears, all of it reminded her of the fragility and strength of love. Despite her own heart's recent scars, she couldn't help but be moved by the beauty of the moment. It was a poignant reminder of what love could be, what it should be. 

Across the aisle, Lexa observed the ceremony with a quiet respect. The depth of the couple's commitment, the way their hands clasped tightly, spoke volumes about the journey they were embarking upon. As someone who valued strength and loyalty, Lexa found a deep appreciation for the solemnity and joy of the occasion. 

When the officiant finally pronounced Octavia and Lincoln as husband and wife, the church erupted in applause. The sound was like a wave of happiness washing over everyone, uniting them in a shared moment of joy. As the newlyweds turned to face their guests, their faces radiant, Clarke and Lexa joined in the applause, each lost in their own reflections. 

The moment the couple walked down the aisle, petals and light surrounding them, Clarke caught the brunette's eye again. This time, the connection lingered a bit longer, a silent acknowledgment of the beauty they had both witnessed. There was an unspoken understanding, a shared experience that momentarily bridged the distance between them. 

As Octavia and Lincoln passed by, their happiness seemed to light up the room. Clarke felt a smile tug at her lips, genuinely happy for her friend, while Lexa's eyes followed the couple with a soft, reflective gaze. 

The reception was held in a beautifully decorated hall, where tables adorned with elegant centerpieces and soft, ambient lighting created a welcoming atmosphere. Clarke entered the hall, her eyes scanning the room for her assigned table. The chatter and laughter of the guests filled the air, mixing with the soft melodies playing in the background. 

She navigated through the crowd, her hands lightly brushing against the fabric of her dress. The table numbers, elegantly written on small placards, guided her through the sea of guests. As she located her table, a sense of relief washed over her. The thought of finding a familiar face in the crowd had been a small beacon of comfort. 

Approaching her table, Clarke glanced at the place cards, searching for her name. Finding it, she sighed softly, preparing herself for an evening of polite conversation with acquaintances. However, as she took her seat, she couldn't help but notice the person seated to the right of her spot. 

It was the brunette. 

The same woman who had helped the groom with his bowtie, the same woman she had shared a fleeting, yet memorable, glance with during the ceremony. Lexa was already seated, her posture relaxed yet elegant, a glass of wine in her hand. She looked up as Clarke approached, their eyes meeting once again. 

"Hi, I'm Clarke," she said, extending her hand with a polite smile. 

"Lexa," came the reply, accompanied by a firm, warm handshake. There was a hint of recognition in Lexa's eyes, a subtle acknowledgment of their earlier encounter. 

Clarke took her seat, feeling an unexpected ease in Lexa's presence. The coincidence of their seating arrangement seemed to break down the initial barriers of conversation.  

As the reception carried on, with guests milling around and the soft clinking of glasses punctuating the air, Lexa turned to Clarke with a curious tilt of her head. "So, how do you know Octavia?" she asked, her voice carrying a genuine interest. 

Clarke paused for a moment, her gaze drifting as she gathered her thoughts. "We grew up together in Arkadia," she began, a hint of nostalgia coloring her voice. "It's a small town where everyone knows everyone. Octavia and I, we've been through a lot together. It's one of those friendships that's as much about surviving the bad times as it is about celebrating the good ones." 

Lexa listened attentively, her eyes reflecting a deep understanding. "Sounds like you've shared quite a journey. It's rare to have that kind of lasting connection from childhood." 

"Yeah, it is," Clarke agreed, her smile softening. "Octavia's more like a sister than a friend. We've supported each other through everything – family dramas, school, the whole rollercoaster of growing up. And now, seeing her get married, it's like a new chapter for her, for both of us, really." 

The conversation flowed effortlessly, with Lexa sharing bits of her own experiences and Clarke elaborating on her childhood in Arkadia. They talked about the adventures they had as kids, the challenges of finding their paths as adults, and the importance of having someone to rely on through it all. 

As they spoke, Clarke felt a growing sense of connection with Lexa. It was comforting to talk to someone who understood the value of deep, enduring friendships. Lexa's presence, her easy conversation, and her empathetic listening made Clarke feel at ease, a feeling she hadn't expected to find at the wedding. 

As the night progressed, the atmosphere in the reception hall grew increasingly festive. Music filled the air, mingling with the sounds of laughter and conversation. Clarke and Lexa, lost in their own world, found their glasses refilled more often than not, the flow of alcohol mirroring the flow of their conversation. 

The more they talked, the more relaxed they became. The initial formalities and polite small talk gave way to deeper, more candid exchanges. Stories about their pasts, their dreams, their disappointments, and their triumphs were shared over the clinking of glasses and the occasional laughter. 

Lexa's humor, dry and well-timed, had Clarke laughing more freely than she had in months. In return, Clarke's openness, and her ability to see the beauty in small things brought a smile to Lexa's face, one that seemed to light up her entire being. 

With each sip of wine, their guards lowered further. The alcohol, acting as a social lubricant, erased the last remnants of any awkwardness between them. They teased each other, challenged each other, and found comfort in the easy banter that had developed. 

In a room full of people celebrating love and union, Clarke and Lexa found themselves exploring a different kind of connection – one born out of chance, nurtured through conversation, and solidified with a mutual understanding and respect. 

The reception, with its joyous celebration, had unknowingly become the backdrop for the beginning of a beautiful friendship. As they continued to talk, the possibilities of where this newfound bond could lead seemed as endless as the night itself. 

As the reception reached its peak, with the music growing louder and the crowd more animated, Lexa leaned closer to Clarke, her voice barely audible over the din. "Would you like to step outside for a bit? It's quieter out there," she suggested, a hint of eagerness in her tone. 

Clarke, who had been feeling slightly overwhelmed by the noise and the bustle of the reception, nodded in agreement. "That sounds great," she replied, grateful for the offer. 

They excused themselves from the table, weaving through the throngs of dancing and chatting guests. The contrast between the boisterous atmosphere inside and the tranquility of the outdoors was striking. As they stepped outside, the cool night air was a welcome relief, carrying with it the scent of the evening flowers. 

The venue's garden, beautifully illuminated by soft, twinkling lights, offered a serene escape from the festivities. Clarke took a deep breath, feeling the noise and clamor of the reception fade away, replaced by a peaceful stillness. 

Lexa led the way to a secluded bench under a canopy of stars. They sat down, the quiet enveloping them like a soothing blanket. The distant sounds of the party became a gentle hum, allowing them a space to talk without having to raise their voices. 

The calm of the night seemed to open up a different space between them, one where words flowed more thoughtfully, and silences held a comfortable ease. Lexa's gaze on Clarke was attentive, her presence both grounding and reassuring. 

Sitting there, under the night sky, Clarke felt an unexpected sense of contentment. The chaos of her thoughts, the reminders of her past that had haunted her during the ceremony, seemed to dissipate in Lexa's company. 

They spoke about everything and nothing – the stars above them, the dreams they harbored, the simple joys of life. It was a conversation that meandered effortlessly, punctuated by moments of laughter and reflective silence. 

In that quiet garden, away from the eyes and ears of the world, Clarke and Lexa found themselves sharing not just words, but parts of their souls. It was a connection that neither had anticipated, a serendipitous meeting of hearts and minds that neither would soon forget. 

As the night wore on, Clarke and Lexa remained outside, engrossed in their conversation under the vast, star-studded sky. The world inside the reception seemed a distant memory, and the tranquility of the night enveloped them in its embrace. 

The stars shone brightly above, casting a gentle glow over the garden. The air was cool, but the warmth between Clarke and Lexa seemed to defy the chill. They talked about everything from the constellations above to the little intricacies of their lives, each revelation bringing them closer. 

In those quiet hours, a subtle shift occurred between them. The laughter and conversation gradually gave way to moments of comfortable silence, where words were no longer needed. They sat close, their shoulders brushing occasionally, sending a tingling sensation through Clarke. 

Lexa turned to Clarke, her eyes reflecting the starlight, and in them, Clarke saw a depth of emotion that resonated with her own feelings. There was a question in Lexa's gaze, a silent inquiry that seemed to hang in the air between them. 

Clarke's heart raced as she met Lexa's eyes, the world around them fading into obscurity. In that moment, there was only Lexa, her captivating eyes, and the unspoken connection that had been building throughout the evening. 

Slowly, almost hesitantly, Lexa leaned in, her gaze never leaving Clarke's. Clarke's breath hitched, anticipation and a rush of emotions flooding her senses. Their lips met in a kiss that was gentle at first, but quickly deepened with the pent-up emotion of the night. 

The kiss was a fusion of everything they had shared – the laughter, the stories, the understanding, and the undeniable attraction. It felt right, like a missing piece falling into place, a sweet culmination of the connection that had sparked between them. 

As they pulled away, their eyes locked once more, a new understanding passing between them. The kiss had changed something, neither of them had expected but both welcomed. 

In the aftermath of their first kiss, Clarke and Lexa's eyes lingered on each other, an unspoken question hanging in the air. The initial softness of their embrace evolved into something more, a tangible electricity that coursed between them. 

Lexa's hand found its way to Clarke's cheek, her touch tender yet full of intent. Clarke's response was immediate, her own hand reaching up to gently rest on Lexa's. The world around them seemed to stand still, the distant sounds of the reception fading into nothingness. 

Their next kiss was initiated by Clarke, bolder now, a reflection of the desire that had been simmering just beneath the surface. Lexa met her with equal passion, their lips moving together in a dance as old as time. The kiss deepened, fueled by the emotions that had been building throughout the evening - a mix of newfound affection, attraction, and a hint of something deeper. 

The garden around them, bathed in moonlight and shadow, became their sanctuary. The kisses grew more fervent, more insistent, as if they were trying to communicate all the words they hadn't yet spoken. Each touch, each caress, spoke volumes, telling stories of longing, discovery, and a budding love. 

Clarke felt herself being pulled into a whirlpool of sensation, each kiss igniting a fire within her that she hadn't known existed. Lexa's presence, so strong yet gentle, was an anchor in the storm of emotions Clarke was experiencing. 

Their kisses were like whispers in the night, fervent and full of promise. In those moments, nothing else mattered but the feel of Lexa's lips on hers, the taste of a beginning, the sensation of falling into something new and terrifyingly beautiful. 

As they finally broke apart, breathless and with hearts racing, the reality of their surroundings slowly seeped back in. The distant music, the gentle rustling of the leaves in the breeze, the soft glow of the lights in the garden – all bore witness to the transformation of their relationship from strangers to something more profound. 

Under the canopy of stars, Clarke and Lexa found not just a connection, but a passion that promised the dawn of a new day in their lives, a day they were both eager to embrace. 

From the balcony overlooking the garden, Lincoln and Octavia paused in their festivities to take in the view below. Their eyes landed on Clarke and Lexa, visible in the soft light of the garden, caught in an intimate moment.  

Lincoln raised his eyebrows in surprise, but Octavia merely smiled, a knowing look in her eyes. "I had a feeling about those two," she said to Lincoln, her voice laced with a hint of satisfaction. "When I was planning the seating arrangements, something told me to put them together. Looks like I was onto something." She leaned against Lincoln, her expression one of contentment, happy not just for their own union, but for the potential new beginning blooming in the garden below. 

[braindamagedrizz]

Plz explain your raptor man biology I am fascinated even if it's just ‘i fucked around’

OKAY SO 90% of it WAS just me going "hehe we do a bit of trolling" BUT. Okay, and here me out, I am working of a 'logical' way the tailed awoken thing came into place. I'd like to preface this by saying I know nothing about Biology, so if any biology majors see this, no you don't. Okay so alot of the inspiration is a phenomenon in human babies known as Vistigial tails which are kinda pseudo-tails that are removed shortly after birth in babies. BUT, Ruxiz had this as a child, it was removed but when he became awoken on the Yang Liwie the reformation of his body sort of accounted for this 'extra piece' and treated it as a missing limb. It remade his body when he became Awoken with this added appendage, which became a full tail. This does mean his skeletal structure is a little bit different from other awoken to account for a tail but otherwise he's entirely 'human' in other aspects. I imagine out of everyone on the Yang Liwie, at least a one or a few handfuls of others may have had the same condition Ruxiz had making him one of a few awoken who had tails. (The feathers are just me going 'haha raptor man')

This new aspect did pass to one of Ruxiz's children, so I imagine tailed awoken are just a sub-species of awoken that are mostly similar to other awoken say for some physical abnormailites. They hardly differ and take on the same tasks as Techeuns, Crows, and pretty much anything else. When risen the tail is treated as another part of them as can be healed and reformed by the Light when damaged.

There are some differences to account for in my headcanon of tailed awoken, Ruxiz is slightly more prone to bad posture and back pains, he may lean forward more when running just to account for the tail and it's purpose in assisting his balance. He has a very strong pelvis, and in general is just very muscular in the hip area to account for his tail. Tails need to be trained like any other limb! Ruxiz trains his and so it's fairly muscular and he even uses it in close-hand combat, but some awoken may neglect that resulting in more flimsy and sleek tails. He typically uses his tail to keep his body weight on his intended target and ensure they can't kick him off easily, though he does use it as a sort of heavy hitting 'whip' or just slaps combatants with it. Ruxiz's tail is semi-prehensile, he can control and move it around but it has some limitations in how well it grasps objects. He can coil it around a person to attack them but he can't use it to hold smaller objects in day-to-day life. It acts mostly like a rudder when running and mostly keeps his balance upright.

To account for the extra mass and calorie needs to support another limb, Ruxiz does eat alot more than others and burns that intake much quicker, especially if he's out in the field and fighting alot. I headcannon that tailed awoken were more prone to being  Eccaleists when the Distributary was in its growing stages of existence, though the ones that chose to join the city-dwelling awoken saw no real change in how life went on with their tails. Well there would be some changes required for tailed awoken, that being clothes and likely even custom armour for it, Tailed and non-tailed Awoken live life side by side without much difference in their ways of lives. Some have even come to ignore the presence of tails altogether due to how little awoken pocessed the feature and how little they accompany everyday life.

Fashion is definitely a hot-topic among awoken for tails, while the few who pocessed them in the Yang Liwie choose not to fancy up their appendage and instead bare casual armour for it or just leave it as is. I imagine the children who inherited the feature love playing dress up with their tails and will actively choose to invent new fashion trends for them inluding jewellery and clothing pieces. Ruxiz chooses to ignore his on most occassions, though he will wear clothes to fit it on fancy events or adorn it in armour pieces, it's just there for him and typically just acts as a aid in battle. Though he does let children preen the feathers or dress it up if he's not busy. He also has a habit of using it for intimidation or other factors, I.E. He'll flare the feathers when angry or threatening someone, or it'll wag, or tucks between his legs when scared. He's got a pretty good hold on forcing it to stay still, but sometimes it just happens. Hope you enjoy my rant lol

[mschupacabra]

❤️🐐

tagged by @asprinklingofleaves for the FIRST LINES MEME: “List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. Then tag 10 of your favorite authors!”

Tagging: @modisalive, @bambeptin, @sparky-cryptidcrafts, @verntheauthor, and anyone else who feels comfortable enough to participate in this game.

Fanworks: 

1. [The Multiverse’s Loneliest Repairman - Marvel] 

The most painful part of rekindling a relationship was realizing all the little qualities and quirks he missed the first time around.

Harry was more interested in athletics than he was in academics. If Norman had paid more attention the first time, perhaps he could have nurtured that talent and helped him on his way to becoming a star athlete. The way his son talked about different sports teams demonstrated an aptitude for a field Norman had previously disregarded as worthless. Truthfully, when Harry had begun to perform miserably in school, Norman had given up. He had given his son all the support he needed to be successful, sending him to the best schools; their family had so many resources at their disposal. He couldn't understand why his son underperformed in everything he had a headstart in.

2. [Summer - Marvel] 

The natural landscape of the earth had been sidelined to make way for the sidewalks and roads. Any trees or shrubs allowed to stay remained at the edges of his sight. They were still lovely in the summertime: lush, dark green, and at their peak richness. Whatever bloomed were hardy bushes– roses mainly, the state flower. It was the transition period between two seasons, before the arrival of the oppressive summer heat and after the torrential downpour of spring. Peter had stuck himself onto the side of a pedestrian bridge, mask rolled up to his nose, glumly starting on his bagel. It was pretty pathetic that he’d been looking forward to it all day. He could have moaned at the taste of the cheese spread hitting his tongue but thankfully bit it back, letting the pleased sounds die in his throat. On the second bite, he did actually make a sound.

3. [Malunion - Generator Rex] 

As a rule, it was white pieces that moved first in the game of Chess.

'Better you than me,' she thought without real pleasure at the raw screams flooding the hall. Only a tortured expression of agony carried the weight needed to pierce through the thick walls. It was agony and it was fear; the terror of a man who was going to die, but could not so much as think of death because the pain wouldn’t let him.

4. [Brown Eyes - Generator Rex]

Rust ate at the inside of the walls, the stench of corroding metal putrefied the prison cell’s little space. He tried not to dwell on the burning in his nose; while difficult to ignore, it was bearable. Instead, Caesar directed his thoughts toward more productive avenues, the only thing he was left capable of doing. Isolated from his team, his only company was thought, which he considered a small mercy. It was not that he needed the mental escape. To pretend that his circumstances were different would do him no actual good. Never once in his life had he ever tried fooling himself about anything. He appreciated the straightforward truths of reality that many often saw as cruelty. He knew better. Fact was benevolent enough not to lie.

5. [The Other Brother - Generator Rex]

Caesar was a huge freak. Sometimes his behavior was just too much to bear– like his annoying tendency to lose his disgusting lab rats in the house. Inevitably, his stupid rodents would find their way into other rooms, tearing through electrical wiring, books, and clothing. Rare were the days Rex didn't have to watch his step in fear that he'd crush one, but the temptation was certainly always there.

6. [Las Mañanitas - Generator Rex] 

"This is the morning song that King David used to sing. Because today is your birthday, I’m singing it here for you. Wake up, my dear, wake up! Look at what has already dawned...”

The lights were abruptly switched on, making him squeeze his eyes shut tighter. He was roused from his sleep much earlier than he would have ever voluntarily risen. In annoyance, he tried to go back to sleep and blot out the sound that was irritating his ears. Rolling over onto his stomach, he yanked a pillow over his head to hide from the brightness of the room. His sleep-addled brain could barely process that he was being sung to. The lyrics were just noise to his ears; it was too much noise for the early morning.

7. [Say it with Flowers - Generator Rex] 

The chores given to him that day were completed. Six's lessons were finished too. He was often left unable to concentrate on the academic aspects of his studies when so much energy went dedicated to his combative training and on the island’s maintenance.

8. [SoulMates AU - Generator Rex] 

She found out at midnight; although, she had already been somewhat aware from her observations of others. Her peers had a preoccupation– a fixation spread onto them by fairy tales. She had not caught the social contagion and likely never would. The dynamic shared between her own parents proved how inconsequential it all was.

9. [Circadian Rhythms - Generator Rex]

Never could he recall being so fond of little silences. If anything, the quiet had previously unnerved him. Perhaps being trapped beneath the Consortium’s thumb for so long had given him a better appreciation for moments of peace. There were no competing voices present to command him and drown his own thoughts out. All of his monitors at his desk were shut off and the morning was nearly still. It was a bit too early for work to begin. The only agents ready for work had delivered White Knight his breakfast.

10. [Caesar’s Personal Dumpster - Generator Rex] 

The Null Void was a sea of endless horror. Its most defining quality was the abject lack of hope that could never exist in such a place of despair. The Plumbers had no problem throwing in whoever they considered to be the worst the Universe had to offer. They left them there to rot and forgot about them until the end of time. But even the universe’s worst rejects struggled to endure the hellscape for the rest of their lives. And humans? They could go mad.

11. [He Who Fights Monsters - Generator Rex]

The color white had a pristine quality that made Providence Headquarters appear tidy, neat rooms disguising the state of disarray they were attempting to manage quietly. Black Knight knew the truth. The Consortium wouldn't have considered promoting her if there wasn't a mess left for her to clean up. That was who she was, a failsafe for the moment White Knight slipped. Losing one of the Consortium's assets officially landed him in their superiors' little black book. She couldn't say she was pleased, but couldn't deny the amusement she took from hearing that White had fallen short of their expectations.

Original Works:

1. Cascabel - Unpublished Draft

Summer had bid the wood goodbye; warmer colors were swept in by the winds of Autumn, contrasting the cool air they arrived with. September showered the little apple orchard with brittle leaves, blanketing the floor in amber and red foliage. Fruit that had not yet been stolen by the swallows was slowly spoiling off of its branches, pelting the ground with an abundance of half-fermented apples. Amid the yellowing grass, a small body began nodding off after having taken advantage of such easy access to food. Fresher fruit was always difficult to obtain when a number of birds wouldn’t hesitate to tear smaller, fragile creatures to shreds. It wasn’t impossible to reason with them. Corvids and owls especially loved to haggle but because of the danger they posed, not many dared.

2. Untitled - Unpublished The only thing pretty about the face staring back at him was the fact that it was being reflected off of the shiny side mirror of a beautiful car. It was a black convertible, one of those sleek Impalas with a retractable roof he would only ever have the privilege of brushing clean. Though beautiful, it was in horrid shape. The door was riddled with small, dime-sized holes. He didn’t know how a car could get so wrecked to shit, but he didn’t ask questions-- not because the customers were all shifty fucks. Even if they hadn’t been, he plainly didn’t care. He was too tired, too ready to drop dead to be wide-eyed and curious. Maybe that was healthier.

He was among the living, he guessed. 

3. Goat - Unpublished

To keep the meat from rotting, the store was kept at near-freezing temperatures. She could see her breath from her unmasked lips ghosting in front of her like the spirit was leaving her body. When she moved near enough to inspect the display case of meats, the warmth from her breath made the cool windows fog up, too. Behind the glass sat a selection of beef, chicken, pork, and fish in orderly containers within the refrigerator. Death was not very romantic; the butcher’s shop was proof. The entire shop smelled like raw animal carcasses, sterile cleaning products, and faintly of blood. Certainly, it was true that death could be brutal and violent; red stained the butcher’s cutting board as he did away with the head of dead poultry in the back room.

The movies and books had it wrong, though.  

Romantic?

No.

As messy and painful as death was, it was very simple: one moment you were here and then you weren’t.

My favorite opening Line: I like the way I started Malunion, but it’s difficult to pick a favorite because I only remember being stuck trying to figure out how to start.

Recurring Pattern: When I don’t know how to begin, I tend to describe the environment, which I didn’t notice before. Thank you for tagging me in this game to give me a chance to reflect. 

[steelycunt]

18 please, things you said when you were scared! ❤️

hiiii! thank you! i took liberties with this one a bit but im having lots of fun using this game as an excuse to write all the scenes ive thought about before but never had a reason/place to write <33 cw for a little blood in relation to ear piercing/general piercing squeamishness!

[also kids please do not follow sirius black's home piercing methods he's fourteen and dumb and i advise you to look it up online to do it safely and sterilise your equipment instead of trusting a word he says!!]

18. things you said when you were scared.

“You look scared,” Sirius tells him, drying the safety pin on his shirttail. “Don’t be. It doesn’t hurt that badly—I did my own ear fine, didn’t I?”

Remus scoffs, a rough, biting sound that ricochets against the toilets' stone walls and slices Sirius across the abdomen in the process. “I’m not scared. I’ve managed to build up a fairly high pain tolerance over the years, you know,” he replies, dryly. “Can’t imagine why.”

“Well, tell your face to act accordingly, then. Stop wincing. I haven’t even touched you yet.”

“I’m not wincing. I just don’t want it to look stupid,” Remus says.

Sirius frowns at that, touches a finger absently to the silver hoop cutting through the meat of his own lobe. He sits back on his heels. “Mine—mine doesn’t look stupid, does it?”

“No,” Remus mutters, glancing away. “Yours looks cool. But I don’t—you know. I don’t very well look like you, Sirius, do I?”

“…What d’you mean?”

The tap Sirius used to clean their equipment drips, miserably. Moaning Myrtle is sniffling to herself in the furthest stall from where they’re sat (they both declined a date in a U-bend with her). Sirius leans, ducks to try and meet Remus’ gaze, stumbles face-first into the green of his eyes.

He’s got rather nice eyes.

“Nothing,” Remus says, finally, giving an awkward little shrug and a jerk of his head. “Never mind. Come on, then. Let’s get on with it. I think I want it in my left ear, alright?”

“Al—alright.” Sirius straightens; as he tosses dark, feathered strands of hair from his face, the room tips back onto some prior, balanced axis. He plucks up his safety pin and the rubber they took from Remus’ pencil case, sword and shield. “Okay. Okay, so—tilt your head to the side a little? Bit more. Yeah, like that. Alright, uh—”

Choosing decisively not to dwell on the stretched, upturned junction of Remus’ jaw and neck, Sirius shuffles closer on his knees. Remus closes his eyes, gold-brown lashes dusting the tops of his cheeks. There’s a hard, porcelain something clattering furiously against the backs of Sirius’ teeth as he holds the rubber behind Remus’ earlobe.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, the word trembling between its syllables. He presses his thumb gently to the shell of Remus’ ear, steadying, and watches him shiver softly. “My hands are a bit cold, I think.”

Remus’ Adam’ Apple jumps beneath the pale skin of his throat. “It’s fine. Just, er, try and get the piercing sort of central,” he mumbles. He sounds a bit hoarse.

“Yeah. You…you don’t have to hold your breath, Moons.” Sirius edges forward, knee knocking against Remus’ crossed shins. He wets his lips, tries to still his hand as he positions the needle of the safety pin. Either Myrtle’s done weeping, or the sound just isn’t reaching him anymore; everything bar the two of them suddenly feels very far away.

“You’ll barely feel it. Promise.”

“I know. I’m—I’m not. Just do it,” Remus replies, “just do it, now,”, and so Sirius does: counts, silently, one-two-three-fuck, drives the point through the flesh of Remus’ ear and into the rubber behind it. Remus exhales as the metal moves, slowly and calmly through his nose.

“Done,” Sirius announces, tossing the rubber down and pushing the safety pin closed. “I think that’s pretty good, but I need to—s’bleeding a little, wait…”

He reaches blindly across the floor behind himself until his fingers close around the damp rag he’s looking for, brings it up to Remus’ ear and dabs, light as possible, against the welling beads of red. A pearl of pink water rolls down the side of Remus’ neck, slips beneath the collar of his shirt, and Sirius says, “Sorry.”

“S’fine.”

“It’s better than mine was. I bled all over the sink, had to ask Reg to help.” Sirius balls the rag up, worries his tongue between his teeth as he finishes mopping around the safety pin. “Uh, sorry, I need to…” he trails off, resting tentative fingers against the nape of Remus’ neck. Sirius guides his head forward to reach what’s left of the blood at the back of his ear, and realizes only then—not for lack of attention, but for lack of a single sense loud enough over the horrible throbbing of his own heart against his ribs—that Remus has gone very, very still.

“There,” he says, lowering the rag. “You’ll have to—leave that in, for, uh, twenty minutes or so, and then I’ll swap it…swap it out for an earring.”

Remus says nothing. Hovering over him like this, Sirius can feel his breath, hot, as it flutters the fabric of his shirt. He urges Remus’ head upright again, palm sweat-slippery and lingering against his skin even afterwards, burning along its creases.

“Well?” Remus blinks at him, rapidly, once, twice. “How does it look?”

Sirius drags his eyes away from Remus’, flicking over to the safety pin in his ear. He drops his hand into his lap, curls it into a fist. “Looks cool,” he answers, stiffly, truthfully.

“Yeah?” A smile collects in the dimple of Remus’ cheek, fine like silt.

“Yeah.” Here, Sirius is near enough to see the split skin of Remus’ chapped bottom lip, little white cut curling down his chin; he coughs, looks upwards. “Yeah, it suits you. You look, uh—I mean, yeah, Moons. You know, you always...I always think you’re—”

But Remus gets there first, finishes his sentence for him by leaning forward to press his own mouth to Sirius’ gaping one, just for a moment, chaste and quiet and palm cupping Sirius’ cheek; a few bone-brittle seconds that are over before Sirius can catch up.

They pull away; Remus’ eyebrows lift. Sirius parts his lips to say something, comes up empty.

“Sorry,” Remus cuts in. “You just—you looked a little scared.”

[sassycassie-s-writing]

Hold My Phone

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): A Court of Thorns and Roses Series/Rhysand

Rating: PG-11/T- (v seductive flirting)

Original Idea: Modern!AU (kinda sorta not really)

Notes: (Masterlist)(By Character)(About Me) This one is so ridiculous. It’s basically a “Everything is Pretty Much the Same but They Have Phones” AU, not really a modern AU because I figured this would be how Rhys would handle having a phone with the High Lord act, lol

^^^^^

My phone buzzed in my pocket. In a meeting with some Autumn Court emissaries. I’m bored. Entertain me? Rhys’ text said.

Why are you texting me? Just use the mating bond, I texted back.

Yeah but I want these idiots to *know* that I’m bored of them and can’t be bothered to give them my attention.

Playing games with them?

Always.

Exactly how do you propose I entertain you?

It took his answer a few minutes to arrive. I wondered if it was because he was thinking about the wickedest, most flirtatious thing to say or something came up in the meeting that he did actually have to give his attention to.

What are you wearing right now? I shouldn’t have been surprised that was his reply.

My purple outfit. The dark purple one with the stars embroidered into it.

I’m debating asking you to send me a picture of you in it or asking you to take it off and send me a picture of *that*

I am not sending you any pictures while you’re in a meeting. I hadn’t replied to a text that quickly in a while.

His reply came quickly too, Send it down the mating bond then. No records ;)

I rolled my eyes and got to my feet. Up in our room, I stood in front of the full-length mirror, stared at myself while lowering my mental shield, shot the image I was looking at—fully clothed—down the bond, and then slammed my shields back into place.

It took seconds for an answering image of Rhys licking his lips with a feral gleam in his eyes to bump into my shield. I rolled my eyes. My phone buzzed. Delicious. As always, darling.

Happy?

Deliriously.

Go back to your meeting, you flirt. I’ll see you later.

But I’m still bored.

Don’t be a baby. I have a meeting in 30 minutes I have to get ready for with the governor of the Palace of Threads and Jewels.

What are you meeting with the governor for?

I don’t think it’s any big deal. Probably just going over some requests from patrons who have gathered together a bunch of things rather than hauling themselves up 10,000 stairs to the House.

Good luck.

You too. I set my phone down on my vanity. I hated getting rid of the loose pants and sleeves but I knew for a meeting like this that I’d need a gown.

I sent Rhys mental images of every gown I tried on before selecting one, and every hairstyle I thought of doing, asking his opinion and ultimately ignoring it when he seductively told me he liked the most revealing dress with my hair unbound. I definitely called him a name I had no plans on apologizing for before replacing my shields.

I ended up going with a modest midnight blue gown glittering with silver threads that would be appropriately formal, but not so formal it felt like an occasion. Instead of a tiara or crown or diadem I kept my hair out of my face with a comb that was made of black metal and studded with diamond dust to look like the night sky. Crescent moon-shaped sapphire taking up most of the space in the middle.

Nuala and Cerridwen approved of my choices and I shooed myself out to go see the governor.

—

I collapsed on the bed after leaving my dress abandoned on the floor. The meeting was exactly what I thought it would be and after all the requests I was tired. I genuinely cared about my people but putting forth the mental strain of trying to figure out how to fix so many problems at once I started having to pretend to be chipper.

I hadn’t realized I dozed off until a weight falling onto the bed beside me woke me up.

Rhys fell in such a way that he could sprawl his wings above me, taking up a good portion of the bed. He was in casual clothing—silver-buttoned black shirt with the top button undone to let his tattoos peek out, black pants, low black boots—but I knew him better than to think he’d gone to the meeting in them. As he fell, he sighed. “That was tedious,” he remarked, setting a hand on the top of my head and scratching my hair. His fingers brushed my comb and he stopped.

“Tell me about it,” I grumbled.

He sat up to lean over me. He gave me a long, slow kiss as he removed the comb from my hair. “You didn’t wear the dress I chose,” he teased.

“I asked your opinion, not to choose for me,” I countered. “Besides, I doubt you’d even want another male to look at me in a dress like that.”

“Fair enough,” he conceded playfully. He kissed the hollow behind my ear. “You can model it for me later.”

“Flirt,” I accused.

“Spoilsport,” he retorted.

His phone started ringing in his pocket. I recognized the personalized tone. He only personalized a few. Azriel’s, Cassian’s, Mor’s, Amren’s, and mine.

Heaving another sigh, he extracted the phone from his pocket. “What do you want, Cassian?” There was no bite at all to the words, just resigned fatigue. He listened to words I couldn’t quite make out as he fidgeted with my comb in his other hand. He rolled his eyes. “That can wait. I’ll squeeze it in tomorrow, okay?”

More babbling from Cassian’s end of the call. I thought I caught snatches of Azriel’s voice too.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’ll deal with it tomorrow. Bye.” He hung up, but I could still hear them talking as he ended the call. “Can never get one hour of peace with those two,” he muttered, silencing his phone.

He tossed it somewhere behind him and I heard it thunk on the rug.

“For tonight, darling, I have some much more entertaining events scheduled.” He bent over me and pressed another kiss to my lips. I kissed him back enthusiastically, reaching up to brush my fingers into his hair. He relaxed slightly, the weight of his head growing against mine as his neck tension softened.

“Let me silence my phone,” I said.

He waved a hand vaguely over his shoulder. “Done,” he said.

I smiled. “Bath before or after?”

“Hmm… after.”

“Fine with me.”

—

Both of our phones vibrating wildly on the end tables of our bed woke us the next morning. I jolted so hard I bonked my head on Rhys’ wing bone where he’d draped it over me as we slept, as he often did.

I reached out for my phone. There was no caller ID and the combination wasn’t one I recognized. That happened all the time. I answered anyway, assuming it was a matter of state, as usual. “Hello?”

“High Lady?” The voice was small and trembling. Not young, but frightened.

“Yes?”

“There’s something in the harbor.”

Before I could ask for more details, the caller hung up.

Rhys answered his phone much more lazily than I had. “This is Rhys,” he said. He never used his full given name to answer the phone. High Lord Tamlin, his enemy, could be calling and he’d still use Rhys.

He bolted up in bed so abruptly, his wing bone hit me in the back of the head. Thankfully the talon missed me. We both winced at the pain as he mouthed, Sorry, and leapt out of bed to get dressed. I figured I’d probably need to go investigate the harbor so I got up too and found a pair of pants, shirt, and overcoat. Socks and boots followed before I wound my hair into a bun so I wouldn’t have to braid it yet.

Rhys hung up. “Was your call about the harbor too?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I replied. “Though, whoever it was didn’t say much.”

“Same here. Ready?”

I put the same comb I’d been wearing the day before into the top of my bun so I had some sort of ornamentation on. “Ready.”

He grabbed me around the shoulders and winnowed us out of the house.

We reappeared on the docks.

A dark shape was moving around under the surface of the water. I grabbed the railing and peered over it. “Too fluid to be a whale,” I said, noticing a small gathered crowd taking pictures on their phones, some recording videos.

Rhys’ hand settled on top of mine. It’s moving like a serpent, he said down our bond.

My grip on the railing halted. A serpent? Now? Like—like a sea serpent?

He didn’t reply. His dark eyes following where the head’s shape appeared to be.

“Hold onto this for me,” he said, pulling out his phone and holding it out. I took it out of habit, barely noticing his wings extending.

“Wait—Rhys—don’t—!” Too late. He used a powerful launch from his wings to get him over the railing before plunging into the water. As he dropped, I saw his clothes change from the casual dark shirt and pants to his fighting leathers. I wasn’t even sure any of the faeries around us noticed the change. A few of them yelped as his splash sprayed into the air.

I clung to the railing, staring into the depths.

“Rhysand…” I complained. “Stop being so reckless.”

I heard that, he teased.

I meant for you to, I retorted.

Wanna see?

I’m holding your phone. I’m not getting in that water.

You know that’s not what I meant.

I sent the sound of my sigh down the bond and felt his chuckle in return. Fine.

A crack opened in his mental shield. I slid into it, keeping a tether to get me out whenever I wanted if I got freaked out. My eyes glazed over as I started looking through his.

The harbor water was relatively clear, but a bit blurry. I—no, Rhys—flexed his magic to clear up his vision. My—his—hair drifted in front of his eyes a bit.

A large, deep red sea serpent twined around ahead, barely visible through the murk. Large fins were tucked against its sides.

Wings? I asked Rhys.

Yes. For jumping out of the water and snatching sailors from their ships. Among other things, he replied. They usually dwell in the depths. Wonder what it’s doing here.

I didn’t reply as he swam closer. Inside his mind, I could feel him dismiss his wings to reduce drag. Feel the strength in his shoulders as he stroked forward. In his mind, I had no private thoughts, so I knew he felt my anxiety. My fear for his safety. I felt him send a wave of calm through himself. He wasn’t nervous at all—for whatever reason.

The serpent caught sight of him. My breath hitched, but Rhys didn’t even flinch. Gold eyes bored into him, fangs revealed in something of a snarl.

Sorry, love, Rhys thought, I need to speak to it mind to mind, and don’t want you here for it. Too hard to concentrate on two minds at once.

Fine with me, I replied.

He shoved me out of his mind.

I shook my head, blinking, as my consciousness returned to my own body. My hands were so tight on the railing that my knuckles were white.

Something tugged on my tunic. I turned.

A small faerie child with violet skin and long silver hair was standing beside me, looking up at me. “Are you alright, High Lady?” Innocence and genuine concern were in its voice. I knelt to be on the same eye level as the child, my hands resting on the phone in either of my pants pockets.

“Yes. Yes, I’m alright. Just concerned for Rhys.”

The child looked into the harbor. “Mama says the High Lord is very powerful. He’ll be okay.”

I smiled at the child. “Yes. Yes he will.” I reached into the pocket of my tunic, pulling out one of the small candies I kept in there for when children stopped to talk to me—and Rhys usually. I offered it to the child. Everyone in Velaris knew their High Lord and Lady kept candy for children on them, so the child accepted without hesitation. They took off the wax paper wrapper and stuck the candy in their mouth before running back to their parents.

Rhys appeared on the dock behind me, dripping wet. “What’d I miss?” he asked.

I jumped to my feet and whirled around. “You okay?”

“Fine. I convinced it to leave.” He nodded toward the dark shape slithering out of the harbor now. “It was actually lost, I think. I managed to give it directions.”

I chuckled. “Never a boring day in Velaris.”

He joined my chuckle. “Not at all. Cassian’s gonna get a kick—” He swore. “I forgot. Cassian needed my help. You still have my phone?”

As I pulled it out of my pocket, he waved a hand to dry off.

He plunked in Cassian’s combination. “Hey, it’s me. I’m on my way.” He reached out a hand for me. I took it. Dark wind whipped around us as we winnowed away.

[askthekuvaqbrothers]

Seagull giving Rufus hell over wrecking sth. and the brothers (and Hermes) reacting to that. Your choice if you make it angsty, mischievous or hurt/comforty

(TW: Blood, Injury, Child Abuse (Seagull is a bad human))

“Now, this is going to the mayor-”

“I'll take it!!"

Rufus leapt from his seat, dashing and jumping for the box that was much too high to reach.

“Now Rufus, this is fragile, so I don't think-"

“Pleeaaaase! I promise to be careful! Promise promise!"

Cletus swung his legs, absently patting Poisonous, “Why do you really want to go?"

“I wanna go see the Mayor! He's a big important guy who found clean water and made all of Kuvaq! Dad says we should be thankful to him for giving us a home, and I bet he has all sorts of neat stuff in his house.”

“And there it is, stuff.” Cletus rolled his eyes at his brother’s kleptomaniac tendencies, but Rufus seemed undeterred.

“Pleeeeeeese!”

Hermes stared down into those pleading eyes and felt himself melt. He knew he’d gotten soft after building the prototypes, but playing the role of Father to these three had been swaying his objective views to subjective ones.

“Alright, but be careful.”

He rested the item in Rufus’ hands, not letting go until he was sure the boy had a secure hold on it. Rufus grinned up at him, and with a small skip in his step, hurried out the door. Neither Cletus nor Argus spared a look, but Hermes' gaze lingered after.

“…Could you two please follow after him? I worry-”

Cletus sighed, “That's all he brings-"

Argus snagged his brothers’ sleeve, fixing him with a ‘don’t start’ look.

“We'll go.”

With an audible groan, Cletus let himself be dragged out the door. The two didn’t have to travel far to catch up with Rufus, who had quickly given up on the more energetic movement, and was now slowly strolling across town, twisting his delivery in hand.

“If you break it, Dad won’t trust you with anything anymore.”

Startled, he almost dropped it, but managed to resecure his grasp and glare over his shoulder.

“Why are you here?”

“Dad sent us to keep an eye on you because, you know...” Cletus made a general gesture to his hazardous brother, though Rufus didn’t look to understand.

“He doesn’t trust you.”

Argus’ blunt words got through faster, and now Rufus chose to get upset.

“Why would he not trust me?! I’m SUPER trustworthy!”

There was an intake of air from Cletus, which was quickly stopped by an elbow to his ribs. Choosing the option of least argument, Argus pushed Rufus and dragged Cletus along, following the most direct path to the mayor’s private residence. It was a separate building behind the Town Hall, though almost equally large, apparently filled with belongings that didn’t fit in his office. A steep ramp angled up to the front door, where Rufus stopped their parade at the bottom. He turned to his brothers, and pointed to the ground.

“Wait here.”

“What? After coming all this way?!”

“Yes, Dad put me in charge of this, and I don’t want you messing things up.”

“Me-?!”

Cletus got a hand over his mouth, while Argus’ other hand waved Rufus on.

“Yeah yeah, hurry up.”

With a wide smile Rufus dashed up the ramp, knocking on the mayor’s front door. After a moment, it was opened by the mayor’s secretary Plovera.

“Delivery for Mr Mayor!”

The lean woman stared down, expression entirely blank, save for the eventual twitch in her eyebrow.

“Oh, please come in. The mayor won't be long.” She ushered the boy inside, “Please refrain from touching anything. You may wait on the chair over there.”

She pointed to a lone chair next to a statue of a large, furry beast. As Rufus wandered in, completely distracted by everything before him, Plovera closed the door behind them.

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

Time was passing slowly without their whirlwind of a brother around.

Argus kicked at the dust and Cletus plucked at a loose thread on Poisonous, neither particularly focused. Due to the heavy metal sheets that built up the walls, they hadn’t heard anything from inside, though normally not even the laws of nature could prevent the sound of Rufus’ destructive force. Cletus opened his mouth to suggest they wait in the comfort of their own home rather than the filthy outside-

There was a ground shaking THUD, ringing through the metal behind them. The two shared a look at finally hearing a typical Rufus caused noise, though the sound of someone else shouting was growing louder too.

As Argus and Cletus turned towards the mayor's dwelling, the door flew open, and the body of their brother came tumbling down the ramp, stopping as an unceremonious heap just past the end.

“YOU INFERNAL LITTER BUG!”

The booming voice of Mayor Seagull called out as he stormed down toward the boys, furry in his face and posture, and a sudden burst of flames licking at his heels from the building behind. Both Argus and Cletus recoiled at the unbridled rage he radiated, stepping back in time with his own steps forward. When their heels collided with Rufus’ twisted limbs, they both snapped out of their trance.

Argus turned enough to check his red-haired brother, carefully making out the shaky rise and fall of his chest. Alive- good, but hurt, the sight of blood and fast forming bruises triggering something in his mind. He glanced up to check on Cletus, but his green-haired brother was already gone, so his attention returned to Seagull. Something deeply ingrained in his core was telling him how to act, reminding him of the two things he’d always been aware of;

Directive One: Protect and Serve Elysium(?) Hermes.

Directive Two: Protect and Serve the Organon(?) his brothers.

At this moment, with his brother lying still, Directive Two was compromised, so counter action was called for. Argus knelt and plunged his hand off the side of the walkway, clenching a fist around the first thing it touched, wrenching a piece of metal free from the rest of the junk. It was rough edged and not very long, cutting into his own hand, but it classified him as armed and that was all he needed to run at Seagull. The man seemed to startle at the intended attack, but quickly recovered and stepped aside, easily avoiding the boy’s short reach.

They both turned back to face each other, and Argus charged again. The large man was ready for him this time, kicking as he came into reach, foot colliding with the boys’ upper arm and sending him flying.

“The INSOLENCE, the AUDACITY! Has no one taught you MANNERS, BOY?”

Argus picked himself up, adjusted his grip, and charged again. Seagull didn’t move this time, grabbing the arm with the weapon when it came in reach, holding it out to the side as he glowered down at the struggling child.

"Pay attention when your elders are talking, boy.” He twisted the limb enough to make him drop the improvised weapon, “I should have recognised from the start that your family was more trouble than it’s worth. Nothing but discarded scrap!”

He had nothing to say to the man, and his wriggling failed to loosen the grip, so instead Argus curled himself in on Seagull’s arm. He dug his free fingers into the soft joints of the trapping hand and wrapped his teeth around the largest soft space, earning him release and a shout of pain. In the free moment, Argus retrieved his weapon and swung it with all his strength into Seagull’s thigh, breaking through fabric and skin.

“YOU MONGREL!”

Seagull swung downwards, fist colliding with Argus’ brow. Skin split and flecks of blood flew, but Argus caught himself before he completely dropped, glaring up through the haze of red slipping into his eye. Seagull pulled back and moved to swing a kick, but found a weight around his ankle.

Looking down, Rufus was awkwardly wrapped around the mayors’ leg, uselessly biting into his pants. With a growl of frustration, Seagull added enough power to swing the boy along with his leg, colliding brother with brother to send them both tumbling away. When they came to a rest, Argus forced his clear eye to open, only to see the mayor swiftly approaching again. From his position sprawled over his chest, Rufus coughed, showering Argus’ arm in red flecks.

Seagull was towering over them again.

Metal piece still in hand, Argus threw it at the man’s head, hoping for the throat or an eye, but only managing to catch him in the cheek. In response, with a loud growl, the man drew a leg up and brought it down on the two of them, drawing out a strangled noise as the air was knocked from their lungs.

“What is going on here?!”

Hermes and Gizmo arrived on the scene, with Cletus closely trailing behind. Both men looked shocked at the sight before them, with Hermes paling when his eyes fell upon his bloodied sons. Gizmo hesitated in the moment, but when Seagull went to swing at the downed children again, he flicked to law enforcement mode and stepped in to restrain him.

“Stop! This is excessive force!”

Seagull writhed in the hold, pointing towards Rufus, “This is self-defence! That one almost killed me!”

Gizmo did spare a look between the child and the flames still flickering in the building, but he remained firm in his first choice.

“Hermes, take your boys to my clinic and do what you can while I secure the mayor.”

He snapped out of his shock, “R-right, of course.”

He quickly moved in, stooping down to pick up the worryingly still Rufus. Cletus moved with him and offered a hand to Argus with controlled reluctance, lifting his brother to his feet. Hermes spared one look up into the face of the man who had once offered shelter and work to a complete stranger, before the hateful glare became too much. He stood without further delay and headed directly to the ever-familiar clinic.

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

Hermes fumbled with a roll of bandages, muttering under his breath as he failed to untangle the length. There was a shake in his arms, and his old heart felt as though it would give out if it continued to beat at its current rate. He couldn’t get that angered face to leave his mind, and it was dredging up memories he’d longed to forget.

“Dad?”

He was doubting everything again, all his life choices he’d made to this point. He was trying to do better, trying to do what he could to better the lives of those around him, but still he couldn’t find a solution to make everyone happy. If he couldn’t even help this settlement, how could he find a new solution to save both Elysium and Deponia-?

“Dad…”

A small hand laid atop of his own. Hermes stopped fiddling, raising his gaze to Argus. He was sitting on the edge of the examination table, eye swollen closed with blood still dribbling down to stain his now torn shirt. Despite his injuries, his expression remained determined, and his posture was taught, ready for another fight.

“…I don’t believe it’s safe here.”

“What tipped you off?”

Cletus was seated on the floor by the clinic's entrance, similarly ridged with Poisonous in a death grip. His eyes flicked wildly anytime there was a noise.

“It’s okay now, Gizmo is handling the mayor. We’re fine.”

Neither of the boys relaxed. Seeing them like this truly reminded him what they were: children in form, but programmed soldiers, made to serve their purpose to the death. It had been wishful thinking they would break their instilled nature with a bit of civilian life. He rolled the ball of fabric in hand, and it unravelled.

“To remain would be too great of a risk.”

“And where do you suggest we go? Find a hole somewhere?”

They spoke around him. Standard Organon would follow procedure and upper command, but these three had more free thought that conflicted with each other, letting them discuss and plan. He carefully began wrapping Argus’ head, the boy ignoring the action.

“There are other settlements.”

“That are very, very far away. And could potentially be worse than here.”

“A potential threat is better than an imminent threat.”

“A hundred potential threats are MUCH worse than one manageable threat. Besides, you haven’t really proven yourself capable of even defending one little idiot from a threat.”

As Hermes tied off the bandage Argus dropped his head, glancing back at Rufus who was lying behind him. His external injuries were covered, but he was still breathing shallowly. They had to wait for Gizmo before they could find out what internal damage there really was.

“…”

After checking the damage to his boys, Hermes understood what they were talking about. He’d put trust in Seagull, and ignored the man’s shortcomings over the generosity of a home and job, but he knew deep down there would be no forgiveness from the mayor. He would now be a constant antagonist in their lives should the grudge hold, and they’d have to watch their step at every point in town. Perhaps it really was time for them to move on. The only settlements he knew were close to Ascension stations, and therefore Organon bases, but maybe this was a sign he should return and try to convince Ulysses and the Elders once more. The only problem would be what would become of the three-

Rufus groaned, which suddenly became coughing as he stirred. Argus spun to inch closer to his brother, putting his hands down to stop him from trying to sit up. Hermes did similar, though he chose to rest a hand on his head, avoiding the suspected broken bones and bruised organs.

“Shh, it’s okay. Just stay there, don’t move. We’re here.”

The coughing continued, and when he managed to turn his head a trail of spit and blood ran from the corner of his mouth. Hermes grabbed a rag to wipe it away, waiting as seconds ticked by before the coughing subsided into shaky breaths. Argus remained still watching closely, and to Hermes' surprise, Cletus was now standing by the bed too. Finally, Rufus managed to open an eye.

“… ‘s wr-ng ..ur face?”

Cletus snorted, though his shoulders relaxed a little, “Should I fetch a mirror?”

Argus made a shooing motion, but kept his eyes fixed on Rufus, “Can you tell us where you’re hurt?”

Lips twisting into a slight pout, Rufus subjected his family to an agonizingly slow blink, long enough that Hermes almost considered shaking him to check if he was still conscious. Once they were open again, his gaze fell somewhere in the distance.

“…’vrywher-?”

“Very helpful.”

Hermes allowed himself a small smile, glad to hear his son's banter again, but his nerves were still running his heart. They were made to be hardy, but internal injuries were still a potentially fatal thing, and Gizmo was taking longer than he’d hoped. He patted Argus on the shoulder.

“Don’t let him fall unconscious again, best to try to keep him talking. I’m going to find Gizmo.”

Before he could turn a hand grabbed the sleeve of his shirt, while another balled around his trouser leg. The looks of concern he got were both heart-warming and eerie, with even Rufus managing to swing his eyes over. They were probably worried about him coming across Seagull.

“Please, it’s okay to worry about yourselves, I’ll be fine.”

Their looks continued, tiny fists grounding him on the spot. The longer he looked, the more their wide eyes shimmered, flicking to each sibling briefly, and after a long moment it began to dawn that he was wrong.

They were worried about themselves, about each other.

And they were looking to him for guidance, for reassurance as a figure of authority- no, as their guardian.

He’d thought he’d gone soft and was playing the father role well, but it was now clear that wasn’t true. He’d still been Hermes the Engineer this whole time, trying to do his old work in a new environment, still hung up on his past failures, still seeing his creations as things when right now it was clear that they were children; hurt, scared, unsure and looking to the one person who had always been there for them.

He had to realise that he wasn't responsible for the world’s problems; he had his own little world right in front of him.

And he needed to make them his priority right now.

He needed to be their father, first and foremost.

[littlemissaddict]

Crazy For This Girl - Bobby x Reader

She rolls the window down And she Talks over the sound Of the cars that pass us by And I don't know why But she's changed my mind

“What the hell are you doing here?” y/n exclaims as the door in front of him opens before he even has a chance to knock.

“Well that’s no way to greet a friend” he teases, laughing as she pulls him into a hug, “That’s better now come on we’re going for a ride” he says when she pulls away. She disappears into the hallway for a moment before coming back with shoes on and a jacket in her hand. She calls to let her parents know she’s going out before following him to the car.

Out of the corner of his eye he can see her watching him when turns in his seat and places a hand on the back of her seat as he reverses off of the driveway before he pulls away from her house and begins navigating the streets of LA with no particular direction in mind. Y/n, of course notices this and is quick to question him.

“So where are we going?”

A quick glance at her reveals her fiddling with the car's aircon which he knows is broken so she isn’t going to get anywhere with it and he chuckles to himself when she finally realises. She sighs leaning over and opting to open the window instead, letting in a rush of warm summer air and the sound of passing cars. When she clears her throat, it snaps him out of his thoughts and he remembers that she’s waiting for an answer.

“Somewhere? Anywhere? Nowhere?” he shrugs, seeing the questioning look that she shoots him before he adds “I just needed a break”

“Yeah I’m surprised you managed to get Luke to agree to that this close to a show, especially one as big as The Orpheum” she sounds skeptical. She’s known Luke as long as he has and knows how hyper focused Luke can get before a show, insisting that they practice in any amount of free time they get. He even once managed to convince them to skip class to rehearse which didn’t end well.

“Well it was either we got a break or I broke something” he tells her as they stop at a red light and he looks over to her to see her already watching him, “Probably Luke” he adds under his breath when he turns back to the road but she hears him and laughs at the remark.

Her laughter fills the small space of the car and he fights the temptation to look away from the road again just so that he can see her smile. He can already feel the tension leaving his body after just ten minutes with her and it leaves him wondering what a lifetime spent with her would be like.

Would you look at her She looks at me She's got me thinking about her constantly But she don't know how I feel And as she carries on without a doubt I wonder if she's figured it out I'm crazy for this girl

It’s getting late when he finally drops y/n back off at home and he knows when he gets back to the studio Luke is going to be pissed but it doesn’t make him hurry.

“Thanks for coming with me” he smiles, reaching over to grab onto her wrist to stop her from getting out of the car just yet. 

She froze for a second before slowly sitting back down and closing the car door. He watched as she turned to face him, her eyes scanning his face as if searching for something. He didn’t know what but whatever it was she either didn’t find it or choose not to as she settled her gaze onto his.

“Anytime Bobby, you know that but I really do have to go” she almost whispers as she leans across to press a kiss to his cheek, a small smile crosses her face as she climbs out of the car and walks up the driveway to the door. Looking over her shoulder she leaves him with one last wave before going inside and leaving him alone.

Boby spends the next minute or so staring at the doorway where y/n was standing until he remembers where he is and where he is supposed to be going but he’s finding it hard to leave. His cheek tingles from the feeling of her lips pressed against it and it’s hard for him to pull his mind away from her as he drives back towards the studio.

The way she held his gaze also played on his mind, it was different to how she usually looked at him, full of longing and it seemed as if she’d wanted to tell him something but he wasn’t sure if he'd just imagined it. If he’d just been projecting his own feelings onto her in hopes that she felt the same way. Either way he was back at the studio and he didn’t have time to dwell on it as Luke was onto him straight away about how long he’d been gone when they should have been rehearsing, blocking out Luke’s rant he picked up his guitar as his mind wandered back to the girl he was crazy about.

She was the one to hold me The night The sky fell down And what was I thinking when The world didn't end Why didn't I know what I know now

"Bobby what-what are you doing here? What happened to the show?" Y/n asks, confusion in her voice as she looks around as if expecting the boys to turn up. 

Her brow furrows as her eyes take in his appearance, his slumped posture and the fresh tears stains on his face. He knows he looks a mess but with everything that has happened tonight he really couldn't care less. 

"Bobby, whe-" she tries to ask but he cuts her off knowing that she's only going to ask what happened and where the boys are but he's not ready to talk yet so he decides on something short and straight to the point so that hopefully she won't ask more tonight. 

"They're gone"

Fresh tears escape his already red eyes as he steps forward to pull her into a hug, seeking comfort in her embrace and she responds quickly wrapping her arms around him. It takes a few moments for Bobby's words to sink in as she finally puts the pieces together, "Oh Bobby" she mumbles, her arms tightening around him and then she's crying too. He feels her tears as they drop onto his shoulder and he realises now that she's clinging to him just as much as he's clinging to her.

When he shivers in her hold she seems to remember that they're still on the doorstep and it takes everything in her to pull away from the boy.

"Do you want to stay here for the night?" She asks softly and he nods in reply, he doesn't want to be alone but he needs someone who understands the pain of the loss of the boys like he does.

She takes his hand and pulls him inside, closing the door behind them before they make their way up to her room. She gets him to sit on the bed as she tells him to wait and that she'd be back. He tries to protest her leaving and she sighs, standing in front of him as she reaches over to push his messy hair out of his eyes so that she can look at him.

"I just have to tell mum and dad that you're staying and then I'll be right back I promise" she tells him, hand caressing the wet skin of his cheeks before she's turning around and leaving him to the quiet of her room.

Running a hand through his hair he winces when it catches on his rings. He lets his gaze wander around the familiar surroundings of her room, the untidy desk by the window, the bookcase filled with the stories she allows herself to escape in and finally to the closet which never seems to close properly. He lets out a shaky breath as a tiny fraction of the hurt that’s weighing him down is lifted just from the comfort that the room brings him, that y/n brings him.

At the sound of her footsteps he looks up to find her standing in the doorway, "You're good to stay the night and I brought some of my brother's things for you to change into so you don't have to sleep in your clothes" she says, her voice quiet as she tries to hand him the clothes. When he doesn’t move she drops the clothes on the bed next to him, reaching a hand up to cup his face and stroking the pad of her thumb soothingly over his skin "C'mon Bobby" she pleads and he finally moves to get changed. 

Right now Face to face All my fears Pushed aside And right now I'm ready to spend the rest of my life With you

A lot had changed between that night and now. First off had been the boys funerals which had been the most difficult days for Bobby since the night they had died but y/n had been there by his side for it all. He had also taken a break from music only finding heartbreak in it as it reminded him too much of the times they’d had as a band and that it was never going to be the same again, that was until both Rose and Y/n had convinced him to start again. Rose had even helped him to write a song that he had played at an open mic night that got him noticed by a manager and they were in talks about signing him to the label.

But the most important change for him was that he had finally told y/n how he felt about her and not only did she not hate him for it she told him she felt the same which is how they had ended up moving into a small apartment together.

“Whatch’u thinking about?” she asks, turning on her side to face him as she reached up to gently thumb over the frown that she’d noticed appear on his face in the past couple of minutes.

“I just don’t think I’d be able to do it without the guys, the dream was for us to do it together but without them just feels wrong” he admits, his voice quiet.

“You all supported each other, right?” she asks and he nods in response “So you don’t think that they’re not still doing that, cheering you on from wherever they are right now, urging you to live the dream” she smiles.

“I guess”

“Besides you’re not alone, you’ve got me and Rose and we’ll be with you every step of the way just like the boys would have been, we can do this for them” she tells him, her words easing his worries as always.  As the fears recede he smiles back at her ready to face whatever the future has in store for him knowing that she’ll be by his side no matter what.

----

Taglist: @90ssunsetcurve​ @lovesanimals​ @lilostif16​

[bokunoheroanalysisforthefuture]

And the aftermath of the first battle. Featuring more OFA talk!

[No. 34 - Victory or Defeat]

The cover art for this chapter is actually pretty gorgeous. Like, wow, that HAIR. It looks so damn soft I can’t even.

Getting into the chapter itself, we get just shy of a page of flashback to Shinsou’s middle school. Several students are talking about how cool Shinsou’s quirk is, how they’ve never heard of a quirk like it, how jealous they are. One student comments on how he could make all kinds of trouble with it, while another adds on that it’d be without getting his hands dirty. She then asks Shinsou not to go around controlling them. 

Past Shinsou just laughs it off and notes how everyone says that, with his internal narrative thinking about how he’d also expect bad things from someone with his ability. That person would probably turn into a criminal - a villain, even. So he’s used to everyone implying that about him. That’s just how the world works.

Back in the present, we see Shinsou gritting his teeth, while Izuku is standing over him, a bit bloody and beaten, but still victorious. Present Mic again confirms Izuku is going to the second round. Up in the stands, Kaminari nudges Katsuki’s shoulder with his own, noting how Izuku had also gotten him with that shoulder toss. Katsuki looks a bit put out, I guess? Or just distracted. He calls Kaminari dunce face, which gets a fantastic face out of Kaminari.

Artwork. 

There’s a bit here about Izuku using a baiting tactic that I’m not sure whether is from Katsuki or Aizawa, since Aizawa’s thought process continues in the next panel. In either case, I am certain it’s Aizawa noting how Izuku was concentrating his quirk in just his finger, like the strength test and the throw in battle training. Izuku’s been learning from those experiences - or rather, said experiences have forced him to adapt. 

As Shinsou and Izuku bow (or at least Izuku does), Present Mic comments on how the event is off to an uneventful start, before encouraging the crowds to put their hands together for their fierce competitors. As the crowds do so, Izuku is thinking about Shinsou’s words, being ‘naturally blessed’ and ‘getting to follow his dreams.’ Eventually, Izuku asks why Shinsou wants to be a hero. Shinsou turns away to start leaving the platform while replying that ‘we don’t get to choose the things we naturally admire.’

Izuku vibes deeply with this, thinking about how those feelings are just like how Izuku was before he got One For All. But as he is now, what does he say to that?

Shinsou gets his own surprise, however, when his classmates start shouting their praises from the stands above the entryway. One says how awesome Shinsou had been out there, another on how he’d had them on the edge of their seats, a third on Shinsou being the shining star of the general studies guys, and a fourth on how he’d done just as well as the guy who’d gotten third in the obstacle course (Katsuki). Shinsou looks like he has no idea how to process this. And if that’s not enough, the heroes in the crowds are also talking about him and his quirk with no small amount of admiration.

...oh man, wait, do I spy Miss Joke there with the crowds?

Why, yes it is! I don’t know if her character was fully planned or background developed at this point, but I suppose Hori must have elevated hr to more than a one-off appearance at some point. Perhaps liked her relatively simple design?

But yeah, we shift back to Shinsou and the other gen ed students as the latter point it out, and repeat how awesome he is. Shinsou says nothing for a moment, hesitating at the entrance, before speaking to Izuku. UA will consider transfers to the hero course depending on the results here. Remember that. Maybe he failed here, but he’s not giving up. He’ll show UA he’s got what it takes to make the hero course, and he’ll become a greater hero than all of the other students. 

Izuku accepts this driven challenge, only to get caught in Shinsou’s quirk again. Izuku’s confused, because the match is already over. Shinsou comments on how people who respond to him tend to stiffen up like that, and how it’d be easy to mess everything up for Izuku just now. But instead he just demands a promise as he lets Izuku loose from his quirk - don’t lose in a sorry way out there. Izuku agrees again, only to again be temporarily caught in Shinsou’s quirk.

Also, it's a teeny thing here, but I know there's been people (not necessarily in here, but in general) who've questioned how shinsou's quirk works, and from here in the sports festival, what I can at least determine is this:

-his quirk can affect multiple people at once

-people don't remember what they were doing under the quirk's effect (barring Izuku for Reasons)

-his quirk takes effect when he chooses after someone responds verbally to him (sign language or writing don't work)

-it can be a statement or question someone responds to!

-general non-word noises, or non-directed sounds (ie izuku's growls of exertion) don't work as targets for shinsou's quirk

Anywho, with that, we transfer over to Recovery Girl’s temporary office, where Izuku is getting himself healed up while Toshinori hovers nearby nervously. Izuku admits that he couldn’t smile at all, and Toshinori considers that and figures this must have been a tough battle for him, given what Shinsou was saying. Izuku replies that that doesn’t make it okay for him to lose; when you’re aiming for the top, that’s just how it is, right?

Recovery Girl is not impressed with the ‘life lessons’ Toshinori is passing on to Izuku, spinning around to wallop Toshinori on his non-injury side. Toshinori tries to reply that it’s all necessary, only to be interrupted by said wallop and yelp in pain. While Toshinori is nursing his poor abused ribs, Izuku brings up the vision he had. 

He saw eight or nine shadows - not sure on that - when his mind was lulled from the brainwashing, the vision appeared and snapped him out of it. In that instant, he was just barely able to move his fingertip. One of them had Toshinori’s hairstyle… so could it have been the souls of the people who have inherited One For All?

Now, a few things I have to say to this: 

First off, holy SHIT did Izuku already pretty much hit the nail on the head for what’s happening here. We obviously don’t really get more about this for, what, a hundred and fifty or so chapters? I dunno when the JTA is in the manga exactly, so I’m probably off, but even before then, there’s only a few hints here and there about the whole ‘ghost’ thing happening - and yet, Izuku already is kinda sus of what’s happening after just one vision. 

Secondly, while it’s way more likely that it’s Izuku being scared and confused that has him questioning the number of shadows he saw there, I also really love how it’s a perfect set-up for something Fishy if Hori so wants, while also allowing an out if he doesn’t want. It’s like, does the number mean something, or is it just a scared schoolkid struggling to remember details he only glimpsed for a moment?

In any case, we move on to Toshinori’s response to this strange vision. Mostly in that he finds it kinda scary. Izuku is confused, because he was sure Toshinori would know. Toshinori admits that he did see them once when he was young, and that it’s a clear sign Izuku is getting used to One For All. 

At Izuku’s visible confusion, Toshinori continues - the shadows are traces of the quirk’s past bearers. But whatever they are, they can’t directly interfere or influence Izuku. Nor can Izuku affect them. In other words, that vision wasn’t what undid the brainwashing. Rather, it was Izuku’s protagonist powers strong will that allowed him to see those faces - and as far as Shinsou’s brainwashing, Izuku overcame it! Just for an instant! He managed to move that fingertip all on his own.

Izuku isn’t convinced, but Toshinori chastises him, telling him not to dwell on it, and shouldn’t he be worrying about his next opponent instead? Izuku agrees, and thanks both him and Recovery Girl before heading out. Only once Izuku is gone does Recovery Girl note that Toshinori’s shadow had been there too. Toshinori replies how that’s not a bad thing.

My take on this whole scene?

But yeah, it definitely is interesting how early Hori outright told us what was happening with One For All, only for it to be dismissed by Toshinori and a good chunk of the audience. I mean, I don’t know if Hori was planning everything with the vestiges and the other quirks at this point, but he sure laid the groundwork here, and I kind of love it. 

Anywho, moving on from that, we shift over to Shouto making his way towards the arena for his own fight, only to run into the last person he wants to see - Endeavor. Shouto tells Endeavor to get out of his way, but Endeavor ignores him, instead calling Shouto a disgrace to him. He harps on about how Shouto could have crushed the obstacle course and the cavalry battle if he’d used his left side. Shouto says nothing as he marches himself past his father. 

Endeavor tells Shouto to grow up, and stop rebelling like some petulant child. His duty is to surpass All Might. He’s different from his siblings - Endeavor’s greatest creation! Shouto asks if that’s all Endeavor has to say, then states how he’ll win this with his mom’s power alone. He’ll never use Endeavor’s power in battle. Endeavor states how that might be good enough while he’s a schoolkid, but he’ll reach his limit soon enough. 

Shouto is… not in a good headspace. As we’ll see momentarily. 

Izuku joins Ochako and Tenya in the stands while Present Mic starts to announce the participants of the next match. Sero Hanta, the cream of the crop, and yet somehow still as plain as they come! Versus Todoroki Shouto, the best of the best, strongest of the strong! 

The match starts as Sero finishes stretching himself out, stating how he doesn’t really feel much like winning. His arms then snap forward, the tape rushing out to wrap around Shouto. Sero tugs back, yoinking Shouto into position to be swung out of the arena. Present Mic hypes up the surprise attack maneuver, and how it’s probably the best strategy for him, overall complementing how Sero’s giving it his all. Shouto, still somewhat mad-eyed, apologizes, and then-

...yikes. How Sero (or any audience members in the way) didn’t die here is a show of Shouto’s astounding control here, even if it doesn’t seem like it. The entire stadium is dead silent as Sero calls the move a bit overkill. Midnight, half-frozen as well, tentatively asks Sero if he can move. Sero asks if she’s kidding, before the frostbite starts getting to him and he starts biting back pained hisses. Midnight announces Sero’s loss, and the crowds are… pretty sympathetic, calling out good tries to him. 

Shouto steps forward to start defrosting Sero, apologizing for overdoing it, stating that he’d just been annoyed. Up in the stands, Izuku watches on, with his future narration noting that, lost amid the cheers that arose from the audience, he saw Shouto defrost his own frozen self with his left hand. And to Izuku… something about Shouto seemed really sad. 

Shouto is announced to be moving on to the second round, and the chapter closes.

Holy shit. This chapter is actually really something, and not just because of One For All. But still, it really is fascinating to see what groundwork laid early on in the series ended up being used way down the line by Hori as he got more comfortable with the direction he wanted his story to go in. 

Anywho, see you next time for the last chapter of volume four! Which means the next bonus material post is upcoming. And I can just say there’s some interesting stuff in that as well…

[vesuvian-american-fics]

better with time. Ch 7

one step forward.

While you recover from your illness, you and Levi grow closer, learning more about one another. (AO3)

Words: 1,749

“Y/N” you whispered, misty eyes staring at the page before you. There was a stunned audience before you. Erwin’s thick eyebrows rose in alarm, his lips parted in a silent gasp, Hange squealed, and although Levi looked to be unfazed as always, his cool grey eyes widened just a fraction before reverting back to his usual bored expression.  

Then finally it hit you like a ton of bricks just as Hange squeezed the air out of your still aching lungs, lifting you off the ground and giving you a celebratory spin. You spoke. For this first time in over a hundred years, for the first time in the weeks that you’ve been human again, you finally spoke. You gave a small gasp before placing a hand over your throat. You cleared it before trying to speak again.  

“Hello!” You said, although this time your voice sounded more like a toad’s croak and the strain was painful. Embarrassed at the sound you slapped you hand over your mouth to hush yourself, face reddening in humiliation. Levi clicked his tongue before crossing his muscular arms over his chest.

“Just a fluke...” He stated, unamused and slightly disappointed. You heaved a dejected sigh before plopping down onto the infirmary bed, a slight pout plastered onto your face. Erwin shook his head disapprovingly at Levi before placing his heavy hand atop your head.  

“Progress is progress.” Was all he said, showing you a reassuring smile before making his way to exit the room to handle his business at the base. Levi gave you a curt nod, possibly his way or telling you to keep up the good work, before he followed Erwin’s lead. Hange kneeled down in front of you, a wide grin growing across their tan face.  

“He’s right! The more we work at it the sooner you’ll be back in tip top shape, now say ah!” Hange comforted you, and they were right. This is progress, you can finally start communicating with these people and tell them everything you remember. Further gaining their trust and learning more about where you are and what the world is like now.  

“Ahhh...” Hange swiftly pressed a flat wooden stick onto your tongue to have a proper look at your mouth and throat, it’s a little red and swollen back there but that’s mostly due to the pneumonia you’re still battling. You were given new medicine, a book to try reading aloud, and ordered back under the covers.  

You had a few hours of alone time before Captain Levi came back in, you had been practicing your reading aloud but being timid you silenced yourself when the door knob started to turn.  

“Don’t stop on my account.” He mumbled between sips of his warm tea. You frowned a bit, really not feeling comfortable with the way you sound right now. Your voice was dry and cracking after every syllable. It fried your nerves for even Hange, your favorite person to hear. As the awkward silence drew on Levi released an exasperated sigh and pinched the bridge of his slender nose.  

He sat at his make shift desk before beginning to sign off on reports before he spoke again.  

“How are you feeling?” He said, sounding a bit impatient and irritated. You simply shrugged your shoulders nervously, however Levi made a point to not look up from his work to see your silent answer .  

“I can’t hear you...” He chided, he was going to make you speak one way or another. You huffed before clearing your throat softly, praying to whoever was listening to not embarrass you in this moment.  

“Fine.” Was all you mustered, your voice sounding strained and scratchy. Levi fought the urge to cringe at the noise, instead choosing to ask a new question.  

“Tea?” He offered, flipping and shuffling the pages on his desk to work on the next stack of reports.  

“Yes, please.” Levi quirked his brow at your politeness, usually you'd offer him a fake smile before trundling off to the desk you had in the cellar to read. Maybe being sick calmed the attitude you seemed to have with him. He huffed internally; he couldn’t lie he felt inadequate wondering how he hadn’t noticed you were getting sick until mere moments before it was too late.  

You coughed, you started sleeping in, you were sluggish for a time. He just figured you were the lazy type, or maybe he was neglecting your health because you were a titan. It pissed him off like no other thinking maybe he ignored the signs and allowed you to get sick. However, having noticed your questioning expression he shoved the intrusive thoughts to the back of his mind to worry about later in his free time. For now, he needed to worry about your tea.  

<3 

Another coughing fit had you doubled over in pain, Levi frowned and sucked his teeth listening to your groans and whimpers of discomfort. Of course, pneumonia won't heal in just one day, but was it normal to be in so much pain. Couldn’t you just be doped up on drugs and put to sleep for a week? Levi sighed before swiftly heading out the door, minutes later he returned with Hange holding them by the back of their collar. Seems he dragged them here to make you feel better, you gave him a thankful smile before another wave of wet coughs tore out of your burdened lungs.  

The taste of iron ever-present on your tongue; you were thankful to wash the medicine down with the minty tea Levi brewed. The warmth of the tea tied together with the drowsy side effect of the medicine quickly lulled you to sleep. Levi’s eyes raked over your resting form before he shuffled in his chair to finish his reports.  

Hange placed a warm wet cloth over your forehead before humming in satisfaction at your snoozing face. They hummed dreamily before turning to strike up conversation with Levi.  

“How’s her voice, then?” They whispered cheerily , clasping their calloused hands together.  

“Shitty as expected...” He said noncommittedly, refraining from tearing his concentrated eyes away from the papers before him. Hange chuckled quietly as not to wake you.  

“Surprised you came to get me, I got lost in my work and missed the hour I was meant to come give a second dose of medicine.” Hange admitted sheepishly, while Levi checked his pocket watch for the time. Scowling at the hands pointing toward five o’clock in the evening, noticing Hange decided to be generous with their tardiness they were actually two hours late.  

Levi narrowed his steely eyes at Hange threateningly before getting back to his report signing.  

“Get back here in three hours. If you’re even a second late I won’t let you leave this room again!” He ordered watching Hange step away a safe distance before responding.  

“You’re rather protective of her now, you get soft over the sick eh Levi?” They joked, not thinking the man would bother with a reply.  

“No use letting her die now, whether I like it or not she’s essential presently. Now get out.” He answered nonchalantly. However, deep down it wasn’t just that you had knowledge locked deep inside your mind, he was feeling just a tad sorry for your condition. It’s not something he can change now however so it’s no use dwelling on the what-ifs, he thought.  

<3

Three weeks passed of the same old routine. You wake up, cough a bit, read, and have small talk with Captain Levi over tea. The conversation was dry but from time to time you found yourself laughing at something he said rather funny. He’d tell you how the morning training went with the scouts, and how his favorite, Eren Yeager, was always so troublesome. Other scouts would ask how you were feeling, if you were alive still, and if they learned anything about who you were. He always ignored their pestering questions but he didn’t let you know that.  

Insults seemed to be Levi’s only form of humor but you didn’t mind so much now that you’ve learned more about him as the weeks drew on. You were happy to talk with him, it eased the tension you once felt when you were around the man. He was still intimidating but you learned that his ever-present scowl was just his resting face.  

Levi was an intelligent man, a clean freak, outspoken, and reliable apparently since you learned he’s humanity’s strongest soldier. You felt a little lack luster in comparison given you don’t remember much about yourself but he seemed to be picking up on the ghosts of your personality over the weeks.  

You’re shy but no push-over, mild mannered, kind, and to Levi, a little irritating. You weren’t afraid to show your distaste in something he said, that signature pout you would wear when he insulted you a little too harshly. The scoffing you’d do when he complained about your shitty handwriting, how he wouldn’t let you out of his sight for more than an hour. He kept you on a tight leash, but now that your health was finally starting to improve it seemed he’d get only stricter from here.  

“Unbelievable.” You grumbled. Scrunching up your nose at the fact that you’d finally be able to leave the infirmary behind and move into a bedroom of your own, however, Levi was in charge of the key for your door.  

“Good night.” He replied, shutting the door in your face and locking it shut from the outside. In the hallway Levi and Hange heard your fist rap against the sturdy wood of the door a few times before you gave up and fell onto your stiff bed.  

Levi smirked as he heard you coughing most likely from the dust you displaced by sitting on the bed. Hange noticed the minute smile and gave a hearty laugh before patting their friend on the shoulder.  

“You two seem to be on good enough terms.” They commented with a cheeky grin. Levi rolled his eyes dramatically and scoffed, waving off the comment.  

“Absolutely not.” He said before stalking off towards his office in the room across the hall, Hange barked with laughter once more before heading down the hallway towards their own office.  

After dusting yourself off and changing your old ratty sheets to fresh ones from the infirmary you got back into your bed staring up hopefully at the ceiling.  

“Maybe things can be okay here.”  

[lavenderlucy]

Untitled 4x9 AU part 2

The plot bunny in my mind isn’t quiet finished yet. Here’s the second part to my very first piece Untitled 4x9 AU (I’m terrible at coming up with titles). This one has more angst than the last, but I will be making up for it with a third and final part coming soon. Thanks for reading!

Part 1 is here

Caroline was surprised to see a police car in Tyler’s driveway when she arrived early that morning. After spending a sleepless night battling her conflicting emotions about the night before she decided to check on Tyler before she made her way back to the cellar. She assumed he had already run from Mystic Falls after his plan to take down Klaus had failed, but she hadn’t heard anything from him since before Hayley snapped her neck in the Grille. She parked her car and got out just as the front door to the Lockwood manor opened to reveal two of her mother’s deputies leaving the house with grim expressions on their faces.

“Officer Sanders?” Caroline questioned one of them, “what’s going on?” She couldn’t help the nervousness seeping through her tone. Last night’s massacre must have already been discovered. She wondered how the Sheriff’s department was going to cover this one up. A few “animal attacks” were one thing, but 12 dead and dismembered hybrids on the Mayor’s lawn were another.

“I’m sorry, Caroline. This will be public by tomorrow, but I can’t discuss an active investigation. Tyler is inside. He can tell you.” Officer Sanders and the other deputy walked passed her and made their way to their car.

Caroline was surprised that Tyler was still in Mystic Falls. She walked through the door to the manor, worry clouding her mind. If Klaus found out Tyler was still in town there would be nothing stopping him from coming over here and killing him. She heard the sound of a sigh, Tyler’s, coming from the sitting room. As she walked down the main hall and turned to enter the room she smelled liquor and tears. She could feel the heavy feeling of grief all around her. She found Tyler sitting on a sofa with his head in one hand and a tumbler of what looked like scotch in the other.

“Tyler?” She questioned as she moved towards him. He looked wrecked. His eyes were bloodshot. His shoulders slumped. Caroline vaguely wondered if Carol was home. She made her distaste at seeing her son drink while he was technically still underage clear.

“Tyler?” She tried again. Finally he looked up at her. The broken look on his face gnawed at her heart.

“Care...” he tried to continue but a pained sob left his lips instead. Caroline flashed forward and stopped just a few inches from him.

“Tyler I’m so sorry. I tried to stop him, but I was too late. They were dead by the time I got there. I’m so so sorry.” Caroline finally felt the grief she had been putting off for the 12 hybrids. The reality of what Klaus had done was setting in. Tears threatened to spill over. For Tyler and his friends and for the friendship that had been tentatively building between her and Klaus. There’s no way she could feel anything for the man that slaughtered his own pack so willingly she thought to herself. A lie, her mind told her, but now was not the time to dwell on that.

“What are you- you don’t know, do you?” Tyler’s voice interrupted her thoughts and brought her back to the present.

“Don’t know what?” Caroline questioned. Dread suddenly filled her.

“After Klaus murdered the others he came here and he...” Tyler trailed off and a look a pure rage took over his features.

“What did he do, Tyler?” She asked afraid of the answer.

“He killed her!” Tyler shouted, standing suddenly making Caroline stumble a few steps backward. “He killed my mom to get back at me. That sick fucker came here and drowned her in the fountain.” He swallowed the remainder of his drink, the crystal tumbler still clutched in his hand.

Tyler was seething. He never had great control over the beast inside him and it was evident in the way his wolf pressed against his skin now. His eyes were gold and veins trailed from his eyes down to his cheek bones.

“What?” Any color that Caroline had in her pale features left her suddenly. She felt as though her knees would not continue to support her.

“HE KILLED HER!” Tyler screamed. The glass in his hand was suddenly shattering into pieces against the wall behind Caroline.

“I’m so sorry, Tyler. I had no idea. I tried to stop it, but Hayley got to me before I could. That bitch snapped my neck. I told you this whole thing was a bad idea. I’m so s-“ Caroline started but Tyler interrupted her before she could finish.

“Seriously, Care? You told me so? My mother and my pack are fucking dead and that’s your response?” Tyler took a step towards Caroline, his eyes still golden and enraged.

“That’s n-not what I m-meant,” Caroline stammered. “I’m so sorry, Tyler. That’s not what I meant.” Her foot was firmly in her mouth. Her tendency to say the wrong thing reared it’s ugly head.

Tears spilled down her cheeks now. She reached for Tyler to wrap him in a hug, but he stepped away from her. Caroline felt the sting of rejection.

“You should leave. I have things to handle with the police and my mother’s,” Tyler cleared his throat, “my lawyers.” His wolf receded from his face and he now looked like it was taking all of his strength just to remain standing.

“Tyler, you shouldn’t be alone. Why didn’t you call me last night? I’m here for you. Let me help,” Caroline pleaded. She stayed where she was even though all she wanted to do was wrap Tyler in her arms and comfort him. Even though their relationship had been slowly falling apart in the past few weeks, or months if she was being honest, she still cared for the boy in front of her. The boy who was now an orphan.

“Just go, Caroline. I don’t need you. I need to find Hay-.” He stopped talking and his jaw clicked shut. He looked like hadn’t meant to mention the girl that betrayed him and his friends, who had snapped his supposed girlfriend’s neck.

“Hayley? You need to find Hayley?” Caroline’s voice became louder and full of anger. “That backstabbing bitch sold you and your pack out to Klaus. I found out last night right before she snapped my neck and left me on the floor of the bathroom in the Grille. I was trying to stop her and save you all, Tyler. Klaus wouldn’t have had an advantage had she not run to him and told him the whole plan. Maybe he wouldn’t have killed them if we tired to reason with him. He probably felt cornered so he lashed out.” Caroline knew mentioning Klaus right now was a terrible idea, but Tyler had to realize that Hayley betrayed him.

“So now you’re defending Klaus?” Tyler’s anger returned in full force. “That’s really nice, Caroline. You’re defending the bastard that killed my pack and my mother not even a full day ago.” Tyler’s eyes started to bleed gold.

“I’m not defending him! Hayley betrayed you. This whole mess is her fault! I saw Klaus last night and-“ She wasn’t able to finish her sentence before Tyler flashed in front of her, his face just inches from hers.

“You saw him last night?” His voice was quiet and accusatory. Caroline could feel his anger radiating from his body.

“Yes. I was looking for you,” she began evenly, hoping to calm him down. “I was worried about you. I found him out in the cellar. We only talked for a couple of minutes and then he left.”

“Let me guess, you batted your eyes and he let you go,” Tyler sneered. “Typical Caroline, flirting with monsters to make herself feel better.” The look he was giving her was one of pure disgust.

“No! I mean yes, he left without hurting me, but I didn’t bat anything at him, Tyler, and I certainly didn’t flirt with him!” Caroline was becoming annoyed. Tyler was grieving, but that wasn’t an excuse to speak to her that way.

Tyler and Caroline were silent for several long moments. Their annoyance with each other hung between them. Caroline’s thoughts drifted to Klaus without her permission. He had let her go last night. He could have killed her in a second with no effort and he had let her live. He had been so gentle when he pressed his lips to her mouth and cheek, like he was scared she might break. It was hard for Caroline to reconcile the broken man last night with the man who murdered Tyler’s mother just minutes after nearly kissing her. Klaus was a monster, yes, but weren’t they all? Hadn’t they all killed to protect themselves or their loved ones? Hell, hadn’t they all killed for no reason at all other than they lost control? How many times did Tyler expect he could provoke Klaus before he lashed out?

“Tyler...” Caroline didn’t know what to say to him. She wiped her tears from her face with the back of her hand and took a breath to ground herself.

“Go, Caroline. Just go. Please.” Tyler looked like he was going break down. Caroline had barely taken a half step toward him when his eyes flashed yellow and his fangs emerged from his gums.

“GO!” He shouted.

Caroline knew in that moment that they were over. He would rather look for the bitch that had sold out his pack and almost gotten him killed instead of be in the same room as her. She knew it was selfish to think this way when his grief was still fresh, but she didn’t care. Her fear that he had been cheating on her didn’t seem so far fetched after all. Their show at the pageant just a short while ago didn’t seem so much like a ruse now. Tyler clearly had feelings for Hayley if he still wanted to find her after all of this. She met his eyes and tried to convey something, anything to make him see she wasn’t the bad guy here. His glare was still full of rage so she turned and flashed out of the house.

Once she was in her car Caroline felt anger rush through her. How dare Tyler choose the girl that betrayed him and his friends over her? How dare he accuse her of flirting with Klaus? How dare he dismiss her? Caroline needed an outlet for her anger. She knew she would get nowhere with Tyler today so her mind settled on Klaus. How dare Klaus make her care for him despite everything that he is and then murder his hybrids? How dare he give her jewelry and romantic drawings and then drown Tyler’s mother? Caroline’s anger quickly turned to rage and she sped out of Tyler’s driveway toward the Mikaelson mansion.

Her car was barely in park before she whipped open her door and stalked up to Klaus’s front door, her blonde curls bouncing with each step.

“Klaus!” She shouted while banging her fist on the door. After a minute with no answer she banged louder. “Come out here you unbelievable bastard!” She was about to start yelling louder when the door was suddenly ripped open and an enraged looking Klaus stood in the doorway, eyes flashing gold. The sleeves of his dark gray henley were pushed up to his elbows and Caroline could see small flecks of paint on his hands. Klaus opened his mouth to growl something at her, but Caroline beat him to it.

“How could you? How could you be such a monster?” She shouted, her hands shaking with rage, as she took a step up towards him.

Klaus’s eyes narrowed and he stepped out of the doorway to meet her on the top step of his porch.

“How could I?” He gritted out between clenched teeth. “How could I kill the mutts that Lockwood and his little friend unsired and turned against me? HOW COULD I?” He raised his voice louder until he was shouting at Caroline.

Caroline opened her mouth to speak again, but this time Klaus interrupted her.

“Or are you talking about his mother? She was a fighter you know. She fought until her very last second, desperate for air.” He taunted with a wicked smirk on his lips, eyes sharp. Caroline gasped, shocked at the way he spoke so casually about killing Carol.

“He took EVERYTHING from me,” Klaus spat. “It’s only fair I finally take something from him. You lot have been trying to kill me since I returned to this infernal town and now you’re shocked that I exacted my revenge. You called me a monster, love. This is what monsters do.”

“Carol was innocent! She didn’t deserve to be a part of your twisted game! God, I don’t know why I ever gave you even a second of my time. You’re clearly not worth it!” Caroline shouted back at him. Had she been in a more rational state of mind she would have been almost afraid to shout at the man who just murdered 13 people, but her heightened emotions clouded her judgement.

Klaus’s features turned darker and before Caroline could blink he pulled her across the threshold by her upper arms and slammed her against the wall of his lavish foyer, the plaster cracking around her. The breath left Caroline’s lungs and her eyes widened as she took in his golden eyes and double fangs. She realized how stupid she had been to come here and pick a fight with Klaus. She let out a pained cry as she felt her ribs and spine protest. She was pretty sure something was fractured at the very least. Klaus grip loosened infinitesimally until he saw tears form in her blue eyes, threatening to spill over her cheeks.

Klaus removed his hands from Caroline’s arms and took several steps back from her. Something that looked almost like regret for his rough treatment of her flashed across his face. Caroline slid slightly down the wall before she locked her knees and caught herself. There was no way she was going to give Klaus the satisfaction of seeing her fall.

A moment passed and Klaus slowly moved forward with a grace that only came with age until he was close enough to touch her. He slowly lifted his hands so he didn’t frighten her and once more gripped her upper arms. Instead of bruising his touch was soft yet firm. He helped Caroline to stand up straight and held her there while her bones fused themselves back together. A single tear escaped and made its way down her face. Before it could reach her jaw Klaus moved one hand to cradle the side her face and brushed the tear away with his thumb. Caroline moved her free arm and grasped Klaus’s wrist with hesitant fingers. She hadn’t meant to touch him, but her body acted on its own accord. She could feel his slow pulse and his warm skin beneath her fingers. She could smell the blood running through his veins. The two of them stood there unmoving and staring at each other for several long minutes. Regret clouded Klaus’s face. Caroline wondered how many times in his long life he’d ever been sorry for anything he’d done.

“Not many,” Klaus answered softly, “but I find myself making exceptions for you, Caroline.”

Caroline realized she’d spoken out loud and blushed slightly. Klaus moved his thumb over the light pink on her cheek, looking as though he was fascinated by the color. She knew she shouldn’t be so comfortable in Klaus’s embrace, especially after she had seen Tyler’s grief stricken face earlier. She shouldn’t be so comfortable with a murderer’s touch, but she couldn’t bring herself to move. Something in Klaus’s touch ignited something in her that she had never felt before. A feeling of completeness. A feeling that someone truly cared for her. A feeling that she was finally enough.

[roscoe-dream]

Heartbreaks in Decision Making || Peter Parker

request: “I’m in an angsty mood lol so could you please write a Peter Parker imagine where the reader finds Peter kissing MJ even though he kissed her the day before and she makes him choose between herself and MJ. He chooses MJ but realizes a few weeks later after the Far From Home trip that he likes the reader.”

A/N: i’m sorry this took so long, but i hope it meets your expectations!! i added supporting characters of my own as well. thank you for such a juicy request!! NOT PROOF READ YET.

word count: 2342

WARNINGS: angst. cursing, and heartbreaking in my opinion.

You didn’t understand.

You definitely weren’t the ‘go-getter’ type, nor were you the kind of girl who just says what’s on their mind or heart. When the cook at a restaurant got your order wrong, you would smile and say ‘thank you’ instead of letting them know. You’re the kind of person that would stick around with whoever you were with until they were ready to go instead of finding a comfortable place to be by yourself. So when you had feelings for a boy, a boy like Peter Parker, it would be almost instinctive to either deny or hide those feelings as best as you could.

But you didn’t do either.

Instead, when the class got back to the hotel in Prague, you marched up to his hotel room with your hand curled into a fist, ready to confess your feelings for him when his door was yanked open. He was staring at you in shock while you gaped at him before nervously smiling and asking to talk. When his eyes moved away from yours and onto something ahead, you didn’t think much of it — but god, you wished you did.

You managed to do the hard part, and confessed how you felt to Peter. Granted, the message was relayed in a mixture of needless, nervous rambles. Your cheeks were red and you felt like your body was lit on fire under his eyes. Your heart was racing, but it practically stopped when he stepped forward, face inching towards yours and eyes closing shut. You stood frozen in place, letting his lips close to space between yours.

You let him kiss you.

But what you didn’t understand was how Peter could do something like that after what you had confessed to him, yet have his arms wrapped around another girl while their lips molded together. His eyes were shut and his pleasure filled face held a red tint. However, you knew Peter, and you knew he had a sixth sense, so you watched as his eyes sprung open during the kiss and began to swell with fear.

That was when your vision was blurred with tears.

He didn’t pull away from the girl, rather letting the kiss carry on with his eyes trained on you until she decided to pull away. She did eventually, and you could faintly hear the shy laughs they shared from where you were. You watched a few words be exhchanged and you wanted the floor to swallow you whole every time his eyes flickered to yours. Then, like anybody would, she turned around.

And when MJ sent you a tight lipped smile, it made sense. As much as it pained your heart to admit, you finally understood. The night before, you were looking for Peter, and he was looking for her.

Tears rolled down your cheeks as you scoffed, your arms wrapping around your body to act as a shield when MJ walked towards the entrance doors of the hotel, and Peter approached you hesitantly. The lights from inside the hotel was enough to see his tear-pricked eyes and guilty face when he was close enough in front of you. There was an aching silence between the two of you, but you didn’t dare to break it. You couldn’t bring yourself too.

“I’m sorry.” Peter whispered, his voice cracking as he tried to swallow down the rising bile in his throat. You brought your arms closer to your chest, chewing on the inside of your cheeks to try and prevent the new wave of tears threatening to spill. You didn’t meet his burning gaze, strictly staring past him. You couldn’t meet his eyes, hearing his voice told you enough. He was guilty, but wasn’t apologizing for what he did — he was apologizing for being caught.

It was silent again, and just as painful as the last time. You were racking your brain for something to say, questions popping up one after the other and it made your head throb, so you settled on the simplest one yet, asking, “Why?”

If it were any louder, you were certain Peter wouldn’t have been able to hear you. There was about six feet of space between the two of you, a brutal opposite to the night before — the memory made your stomach churn. With furrowed brows, Peter’s lips parted to speak, but after a few split moments, his mouth shut.

“I don’t know.”

Hearing his words made your head snap in his direction, a bewildered yet angry look in your eyes as you gaped at him. “You don’t know?” You repeated, taking a bold step forward with a clenched jaw. “You let me fall for a lie, Peter. Had I not been outside of this damn hotel, you wouldn’t have stop kissing MJ.” You spat through gritted teeth, feeling yourself grow hot at the fact that he was acting this way. Acting so remorseful for something he wanted to do.

You watched as Peter’s hand repeatedly clenched at his side, and he looked away from you. From this angle you could see a single tear fall from the corner of his glazed eyes. He was holding back, but you didn’t want him to. You wanted to truth.

“Y/N, you know I’ve liked MJ for a while now.” He muttered, actively avoiding your pained expression and flinching at the sound of your dry laugh. You knew this, you knew that Peter has had this crush on MJ since your sophomore year — so about a little over a year. Knowing this made telling Peter how you felt all the more nerve-racking, but it didn’t matter, he made the confusing choice of kissing you, and in turn complicated everything.

“Then why did you kiss me?!” You shouted, the sound of your voice echoing into the dark night. It was poetic, really. Getting your heart broken by the boy you love on a beautiful bridge at midnight in Europe. “It doesn’t matter!” Peter was now facing you, his heaving chest pairing with his bloodshot eyes that locks with your own. “This isn’t a game of bachelor, Peter.” You sniffled, casting your gaze away from him to get a chance to breathe because every time you looked at him, your throat closed up.

“So,” Peter cleared his throat, but the lump remained, making his voice strain. “So what are you saying?”

What were you saying? You didn’t exactly know. What you did know, however, was that as strong as you felt for Peter, you were not going to let yourself be treated second. Your bottom lip trembled as you released a shaking breath, locking with his.

“I’m saying you have to choose.”

As his eyes bored into yours, as the tension grew painfully thick in the silence, you knew. Just by the look in his eyes. The look in his brown orbs wasn’t one of someone who didn’t want to choose, it was the look of someone who didn’t want to tell you they weren’t choosing you.

And you knew.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀* * *

“I’m just saying!” Your friend, Lina, held her hands up in defense while you looked at her incredously. “He was too much of a nice guy! Guys like him always have something wrong with them.”

It’s been a few weeks since the incident with Peter that went down during your class trip to Europe, and by now, you have told your two closest friends, Lina and Meredith, who were absolutely livid upon hearing the news when you came back to the states in shambles. Meredith stared at the blue haired girl with a slacked jaw, her hand reaching over to flick her in the forehead. “God, Lina, you can’t just say shit like that! Y/N has been in love with him for like, ever.”

“You guys!” You sighed, crossing your arms over the cafeteria table and shaking your head at the both of them. “I’m right here, you know. You guys have been talking about what happened for the past fifteen minutes.”

The girls stared at you solemnly, casting their gazes down when the guilt began to eat at them. “We’re sorry, Y/N, it’s just- I can’t believe he would do that to you, his best friend of all people, and not have a care in the world flaunting his relationship with MJ like he didn’t hurt you to get it.” Lina said gently, placing her hand on top of yours and squeezing it.

She was right, both of them were. However, as hurtful as it was, you didn’t want to dwell on it forever. Sure, he made you believe in something false, but you’d rather say it could’ve been worse.

“Listen, I’m fine!” You laughed lightly, sending both girls a tight lipped smile which they weakly returned. “What’s done is done, and if he’s happy with MJ and how things turned out then.. then so be it.” You finally said, brushing off the fact that your words were beginning to sound like they were moreso said for you then for them. As you waited for a response from one of the two, your brows scrunched together when watching Meredith’s gaze drift and her elbow jutting into Lina’s side to bring it to her attention. “Mer, what’re you looking a..” Your voice trailed off as you turned around in your seat, eyes widening at the sight before you.

Peter.

“Can- Can I talk to you?” His voice stuttered with hesitance, averting his eyes away from the two girls behind you that were staring at him with vicious glares and kept them on you. “Please?”

A small huff came from your nose, and you turned around to send a simple nod to Lina and Meredith before getting up to follow behind Peter.

He ended up leading you into an empty science room, deserted lab tables with the lights turned off to leave the skylight from the windows to do it’s job. With crossed arms, you watched as Peter grew anxious. Even with his back to you, you knew that he was most likely fidgeting with his fingers while he was bouncing on his foot.

“I lied.” said Peter suddenly.

He turned around to face you, and you could now see his hands quickly wringing together. You stared at him blankly, cocking your eyebrow up at him to silently tell him to carry on.

“I do know why I kissed you that night in Prague.” He admitted, watching carefully as your eyes slightly widened at the confession. Too many questions whizzed around in your head in that moment, it was beginning to overwhelm you. “It wasn’t because I was trying to spare your feelings, or to make you feel good. It was because I like you- no, no, I love you.” Peter’s eyes never strayed from yours as he spoke clearly, and for the first time talking to him since that night, he didn’t stutter. He meant it.

The thought alone made tears prick your eyes.

“Why are you telling me this, Peter?” You croaked, your tearful eyes searching his wide ones frantically. He was with MJ, you thought. He chose her, he’s happy with her — so why was he telling you all of this now?

Peter pursed his lips, letting his gaze fall to the floor as if there was something of interest there. “Because I-” He sighed, his shoulders tense with nerves before he boldly caught your stare, saying, “I made a mistake.”

A mistake. The words nearly made you laugh.

“A mistake?” You repeated, lips parted to just let it all out before you stopped. Instead, a scoff emitted from your throat, pairing with your shaking head. “There was no mistake in what you did, Peter. You chose her and-”

“And it should’ve been you.” He interrupted, daringly taking a small step forward that you allowed, only because you were too in shock at what he said. You stood there, frozen with a slacked jaw and bulging eyes. His words should’ve have, but they managed to pull at numerous heart strings and make your stomach churn. “It should’ve been you because it’s always been you, Y/N. I made a mistake because, I-I don’t know maybe I didn’t want to accept the truth, or maybe I didn’t want it to ruin anything. But I’m here now because I love you.”

Hearing his words should’ve made your heart flutter. You should’ve let a smile so wide it made you squint, take over your face. You should’ve jumped into his arms and kissed him ‘til the end of time because he does feel the same way.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you let the tears roll down your face. You looked away from him, and let your arms fall at your sides. “No.” You shook your head, looking up to see confusion swirl about it Peter’s brown eyes. “If you loved me, you wouldn’t have to be with another girl to realize it. If you loved me, you wouldn’t have told me, to my face, that you’re reasoning for kissing MJ was because you’ve liked her for a long time.”

You shook your head at him in disbelief, slowly backing up towards the door of the science room and placing a steady hand on the handle. Your fingers brushed at your cheeks to rid them of the tears that fell, and you sniffled, straightening out your composure.

“You may have made a mistake, Peter, but I will not let you hurt two girls in the process of making yourself happy.”

With that, you turned away from him, walking through the door and back to your friends who stared at you expectantly.

Peter stayed there. He stood in the front of the science lab with a dazed look in his glazed eyes, jaw clenched shut. Then, he let the tears fall. The tears he held in until you left, he let them glide down the sides of his face while putting his head in his hands.

He made a mistake, and he was going to have to live with that forever.

[lov3nerdstuff]

Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 7.11}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student, blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 4.2k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

______________________________

While Robin's wound really did only feel like a pulled muscle at this point, she still had had to agree that their last excursion which had been planned for this Saturday should better be canceled for the sake of her recovery. Thus they spent the remainder of the day mainly by reading, working on editing the handbook, and drinking too much coffee for their own good. However it was only when evening rolled around that they finally decided to take a look at the damage beneath the bandages that were still wrapped around Robin's middle, only to find that the only reminders of the previous evening were an admittedly horrendous bruise, and a pink scar that ran along the arch of her lowest rib at the length of about a finger. Oh well… it wasn't pretty, but considering the circumstances, Robin still found herself glad that it wasn't worse, and Snape simply didn't comment on it at all. Indeed, he seemed to be rather relieved when she dropped the hem of her t-shirt back down (and thereby covered the bruised skin of her stomach), which was a reaction Robin simply refused to think about in either direction.

After that the evening trickled by comfortably like most of their evenings did by now, calm and easy and filled with conversations about everything and nothing, and before long they made dinner like they usually brewed their potions; late at night, together, and each knowing their perfect place in the process wordlessly. Robin appreciated every single second of the evening, like she had loved every second of the day. But that made it all the more painful to think that this wouldn't last, not even beyond morning. Most likely was that it would never happen again, none of this, and that thought was what twisted her heart and put a lump into her throat as she was sitting on the sofa in front of the lit up fireplace once more, a good while after their meal.

It was a surprisingly cold and stormy night for late August, even for England, and while the rain was whipping against the windows now, and the wind howling through the small cracks and gaps in the walls, Robin couldn't bring herself to enjoy it. She had wrapped herself into the blankets again, trying to focus on the book in her hands while Snape in the armchair nearby was doing the same. But no matter how much she tried to keep the gloomy thoughts at bay, the feeling of painful loss just wouldn't leave her alone, and the fact that she couldn't possibly miss something she had never had in the first place irritated her enough to draw every focus away from the book and into her own head. Why was she feeling so sad all of a sudden? The day had been lovely, the evening too… and yet here she was, trying not to cry over absolutely nothing. It wasn't just the realization that the day had been too good to be true, that it would never last, that it had only been an exception… none of that would suffice to upset her like this. They'd had times like this before, in a different way, and they would have them again. She wasn't concerned about that, not really… but then what was it that troubled her mind?

"Stop it." Snape's voice disrupted her downward spiral of thoughts, and Robin tried to open her eyes only to find that they were open already, and staring into empty space. Probably had been for a while at this point.

"Stop what?" She asked in mild irritation and looked over to him instead, not without taking notice that he had placed his book down and was returning her gaze. Probably had been for a while at this point, too.

"Getting lost in your own head. Letting your thoughts drag you to dark places you have no need to dwell in."

"How do you know that that's what I was doing?"

"Was it not?"

"Yes, but how do you know?"

He sighed softly, then sat up straighter. "You haven't turned a page in half an hour, which is the time you usually would need for a quarter of an entire book of this kind. Then, while you obviously have been thinking, you did not make an attempt to share your thoughts with me, which is what you usually do with anything that isn't negative. In return, this means that whatever you have been thinking about is unpleasant for you. But if it was a problem of any kind, one that required solving or was at least possible to solve, you again would most likely tell me about it at this point, which you did not. This leaves as the only possibility that you were overthinking something of no immediate relevance, or at least were dwelling on something that made you sad. Which I would like you not to do, nor to be."

Robin's lips curled into a small smile before she could help it, and a little of the gloom melted away as it was replaced by warmth and adoration. "I didn't know you understood me better than I do."

"I merely pay attention to the details. Would be quite impossible to keep up with you otherwise."

"Am I really that complicated?" She couldn't help chuckling at least a little, deeming it more a compliment than anything, and seeing as finally enough tension had left her body, she let herself sink further into the cushions.

"No. Complex perhaps, and challenging. But complicated would be the wrong word for it."

"I'd really rather be complex than complicated; one speaks of intelligence and character, the other of drama and effort. Then again, I surely cause you enough trouble to be called complicated indeed."

"Life is complicated either way. The true art in it is finding what makes the trouble worth it."

Robin didn't even have to think to know that she had found exactly this for herself a long time ago. Primarily, the very person in front of her. Really, she had no doubt that she would go through absolutely anything for him, with him, no matter what. Then –on a secondary level, or a different kind of level rather– she had found her passion for her research. Either way, she wondered what made life worth it for Snape. His job perhaps, his work as well… she could very well imagine that it was potions indeed. But she could also imagine other things, and she would fare better if she didn't imagine anything at all. Time for a subtle change of topic.

"You really have learned to be more positive, you know that?" She smirked at him with a quirked eyebrow, hoping that it would suffice to act over her own emotions beneath the fragile surface of her facade.

"Say that again and there will be consequences." He drawled in a feigned scowl, and Robin had to grin even more.

"Like what? I'm already sleeping on the couch with a healing stab wound. There's little you can do." She teased on even though she knew very well that there actually was quite a lot he could do, giving him a sassy shrug nonetheless, which actually threatened to make him break his facade. Robin saw the humor in his eyes, so obviously that it almost screamed at her, until it suddenly was replaced entirely by neutrality. Half a second later he rose to his feet in one swift move, killed the fire at the same time, and was already halfway across the small room before Robin even knew that was going on.

But once her mind snapped into place, she jumped into action instinctively and lunged forward in such an uncontrolled quick impulse, to catch his arm before he was out of reach, that she couldn't catch herself anymore and tumbled over, off the sofa and onto the hard floor. An action that would've hurt even without a healing wound. But she had gotten a hold of his sleeve at least, even if it was of fairly little use now that she was in a heap on the floor once more, drawing in a sharp breath against the rush of pain.

"Bloody hell…" She groaned after the initial stinging had dimmed down, and found that when she opened her eyes, she was met with a deep and concerned frown.

"What, pray tell, were you trying to do?!" He asked a bit too harshly, but Robin figured that it was because he probably was as surprised as she was herself.

"Stopping you from leaving." She defended her own action rather weakly, feeling way too insecure as she let him help her back onto the sofa where he sat down next to her. "I… I don't know what it is that I did, but I swear I didn't mean to upset you."

"You did nothing wrong, and you certainly did not upset me. You worried me with that stunt right there, but that was entirely my own fault as it seems." He said, and if his facial expressions had ever been obvious, it was now. Regret, anger and concern, all put on display for Robin to see without a doubt. "I failed to come up with a decent reply to your tease, so I thought I might simply prove that there is one thing I could do to get a reaction from you after all, but I had no intention of actually leaving nor did I think it would end like this. I'm sorry for crossing the line."

Fear dropped from Robin's heart as suddenly as it had been placed on it, and perhaps that was why she gave in to this most desperate urge without resistance. In an instant, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders tightly, kneeling on the sofa next to him as she buried her face in his neck and she hugged him as close to herself as she possibly could. Insufferable idiot… going too far while teasing was her speciality, not his! He never did… until now, it seems. It didn't matter, Robin still clung onto him with no intention to let go, and after a second of initial surprise, of freezing like he did so often, he placed his arms around her in return.

"Don't do that to me… Don't leave me like everyone else did." She breathed after a while, and as she spoke her lips barely brushed against the delicate spot of skin above the collar of his shirt. "You're… I… I can't have you leaving me as well."

"I would never." He replied so quietly, so seriously that a shiver ran down Robin's spine. "I am not going anywhere unless you want me to."

"You will still have to leave tomorrow, no matter what I want."

"If you want me to stay, I will."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

Again, it took Robin a few seconds to process the overwhelming amount of emotions ebbing through her in return, to convince herself that he was only saying this because of what had happened yesterday. He only wanted to make sure she would be alright. And she would be, but only without the guilt of getting in the way of how things were supposed to be on her conscience.

"You have no idea how much that means to me… but it would be incredibly selfish of me to ask that of you when there's no good reason to stay, but many reasons to go. I will be just fine on my own, I have been for years. It's just one bloody week, and it's an important one." She finally said, in more or less certainty of her words. "You have to go."

"I know you will be fine." He returned calmly, yet in the same seriousness as ever. "You always are."

"Unless I get stabbed, or cursed, or tortured, or eaten alive by a bear, or-..."

"You are making it really difficult for me to go."

"Sorry." She breathed, but a smile tugged on her lips no less. It didn't matter why he didn't want to leave her… the fact alone was enough for now. More than enough, actually.

When he eventually started drawing tiny patterns on her back again, Robin finally realized that she was leaning against him with her entire weight by now, her head resting on his shoulder just like yesterday, and she knew that if she didn't put an end to that now, it would also end exactly like yesterday.

"I should probably let go of you now." She sighed under her breath, more to herself than to Snape, but as much as she knew she should indeed, her body would not obey her rational mind.

"And why is that?" He asked in return, and his hands stilled on her back while his hold on her however didn't loosen up in the slightest.

"I'm falling asleep." Robin breathed sadly. "And if you don't want a repetition of yesterday, I have to let go now."

For another moment neither of them moved at all, leaving Robin to wonder if she had even spoken up in the first place or merely dreamed her words, but when she finally forced herself to lift her head and then started pulling away, his arms around her tightened in an instant to keep her in place right where she was. An immediate shiver ran through her body when he leaned back into the sofa without a word and simply pulled her with him, their embrace never once faltering, while the movement left them in a far more comfortable position than before. Robin didn't mind in the least that it had her resting against him more than sitting like he still was at this point, and indeed, if there was such a thing as a highest place of comfort, she was sure to have reached it now.

Perhaps it was only a dream. Perhaps she had fallen asleep long before, and none of this was real. But when she focused on his chest rising and falling beneath her, on the scent that was so uniquely him, on his hands splayed out across her back… she knew that no dream could be positively overwhelming like this. Beyond anything she had imagined would ever be a part of her reality. Perhaps it would become one of those things they didn't talk about, that simply were without ever being addressed. Like their coffee habit used to be in the beginning… or the perpetual fact that they had been each other's not-date to the ball for years now. It likely would become one of those things, one of those wordless events neither dared to speak of… but Robin didn't mind at all. For once, she wouldn't question why he was allowing this to happen, wouldn't overthink what it did or didn't mean. She had given him the fair chance to escape the situation, and he had pulled her closer in return. It was easy as that, and allowing herself to simply enjoy it in return was even easier for once. Without the war within herself but with his arms wrapped around her securely, she was asleep within seconds.

… … …

Sunday came far too quickly and before long, Snape had to leave, which meant that Robin had all afternoon to explore the house she would have all to herself for a week now. Admittedly, she did understand now what he'd meant when he had said it was a telltale of neglect, but then again she absolutely didn't mind in the least, and actually found the aesthetic of it quite charming. The only thing she had to agree on was that the neighborhood was a literal nowhere. That much she discovered when she took a walk to get some fresh air on Sunday night, and she found that while the area was very much rundown and tainted by poverty, it otherwise didn't differ all too much from her parents' fancy Oxford suburb. Both were practically void of people, overcrowded with buildings and narrow streets and pathways, and most of all they both were so desperately void of nature that Robin was almost happy about the weeds growing through the cracks in the pavement. And still, she was beyond happy to have a roof over her head for the time being, and even happier that the space was filled with more books than she could read.

The week went by surprisingly fast, Robin spent the first few days reading and allowing the remainder of her injury to heal, and only on Friday she went to London to do the mandatory school shopping with the precisely calculated galleons that she had put aside nine weeks ago specifically for this reason. Honestly, she had been surprised when she had found the yearly letter from school on the doorstep on Monday morning, but when she'd thought about it, she wasn't at all surprised that Dumbledore would know where she was currently staying. He had been aware of her friendship with Snape in the first place, so why wouldn't he know that she was staying at Spinner's End at the moment? That man had eyes and ears everywhere; or perhaps Snape had simply told him about it, who knew. Then on Friday evening her very last overall money had gone into dinner, the only meal of the day, and she was actually quite happy with the fact that she would only have to spend Saturday and half of Sunday without anything to eat. That still was better than what she had calculated a few weeks ago.

When Sunday morning finally lit up the sky with a beautiful sunrise, Robin made sure to leave the house as spotless as possible, going through every single room four times, and still she arrived half an hour too early at the platform. Gods, she didn't even know what she was more desperate for at this point… a meal, the castle and highlands, or seeing Snape. Probably a good combination of all three. This year, for the first time, she found Cas and Jorien in advance to getting on the train, and when they left London fifteen minutes later, Robin found herself sitting in a compartment not only with her two roommates, but also with Simon and his two friends. Honestly, Robin had all the understanding in the world for Cas and Simon; after not seeing each other all summer, they surely deserved to sit together now at least. It was only the two other boys who irritated her quite a bit, for they kept shooting her odd glances for wearing sunglasses inside and even for only bringing one backpack as her entire luggage, and Robin found herself wondering if they were just particularly judgy or if her antics really were that odd and everyone else she usually surrounded herself with had simply gotten used to it by now. Either way, she tried to politely ignore them and their stares.

"So, how did traveling and finding plants and stuff go?" Cas finally asked after half an hour of being too busy with Simon to even look at anyone else. Robin thought that half an hour was a new record; Cas was getting better at remembering she had friends too!

"Oh, the usual…" Robin replied with a sigh and a small smirk, as she leaned back in her seat. "Walked over water, went sightseeing in Greece, almost got eaten alive by a bear, got stabbed, went-..."

"Wait, what?!"

"Yeah, there was this bear-like creature in a cave in Sweden, but we could make an escape at last after-..."

"That's probably an interesting story, but I meant the part about getting stabbed!" Jorien gave her a look, and Robin sighed again while everyone else in the compartment grew suspiciously quiet. Why on earth could she never keep her mouth shut?!

"Well, it's no big deal." She finally started addressing the topic when even the two Ravenclaw boys were staring at her with deep frowns. "I kind of broke in somewhere and then someone stabbed me in the stomach. Or… the ribs, rather. Between both."

"YOU broke in somewhere?!" One of Simon's friends blurted out before anyone else could give a more subtle reaction.

"You seem surprised." Was all Robin returned with a perfect neutral expression that had both Cas and Jorien snorting within seconds. Yeah, Robin had missed the girls after all.

"Well, uh…" The boy fought for a decent reply, but it was his friend who finally answered. "The Robin Mitchell we heard about just didn't seem like someone who wouldn't break into places."

"Perhaps you shouldn't believe everything you hear, then." She replied calmly, with a condescending edge to her tone she just couldn't help. They were a year below her, sure, but also a head taller each.

"Rumor has it you're a total overachiever in your year, or… in any, really."

"And just because I get good grades I automatically have to be boring and more by-the-rules than the headmaster himself? Is that what you mean?" Robin quirked an eyebrow at them, and the giggles coming from her roommates almost made her want to break her facade and smile as well.

"No, of course not, it's just… your reputation, and…" The poor guys looked miserable under Robin's scrutiny, scared almost to speak up, and she found that she wanted to know why.

"What other rumors are there about me, then?" She asked with a pointed expression, staring at the two Ravenclaws so intently that they looked desperately uncomfortable.

"Well, people say that… that you can read minds, and that you can curse people without even a single word. They say that you're so good that even the professors are afraid of you! Some even say that you're insane, or straight out evil… and many say that you have no emotions." The first boy replied reluctantly, and when Robin's gaze didn't falter, he added, "But we never believed any of that! Seriously, we just… thought that you really must be an overachiever if you made it to honour roll in two subjects a year earlier than everyone else! Honestly, the entire school seems to believe that you're someone not to be messed with… But we only ever believed the things we had physical proof of!"

"Really?"

"Yes! Absolutely!" They both nodded. "We would never blindly believe any reputation someone has among the students…"

"Good. Honestly, I couldn't care less about my reputation, and it's everyone's right to think about me whatever they please. But it's not my responsibility to meet their expectations." She stated with a smile now indeed, and she was met with three smirks in return and two almost relieved faces. "I do get good grades, but I'm neither a bore nor an insane genius."

"It's so funny how people always seem to think you're either just a scary psycho or a walking library." Jorien chuckled and leaned back in her seat as well while she turned to the two Ravenclaws. "Guys, Robin is one of the nicest people I've ever met, and definitely the most caring one. She literally saved my life, which almost got her killed in return! And on the other side, if there's anyone who literally never follows any rules other than her own, it's Robin. Do you guys even know that she's been excepted from most of the school rules for literal years?!"

"Really?" Simon asked now, frowning first at Jorien, then at Cas by his side, and finally at Robin. "A-about the rules, I mean! Not the… the nice part. I know you're very nice, Robin. To the people you like, at least."

"Thank you for that very accurate assessment, Simon." Robin couldn't help smirking and shook her head to herself in amusement. "I feel honoured."

"I told you she's always gone until who knows when at night! Roaming the castle and working in rooms none of us even knows about! And I told you how she's given us detention before, or how almost all of the professors actually respect her! How she knows more about potions than Professor Snape! I told you, Simon!" Cas defended herself then, and Robin tried not to snort yet again. It all was true, in a way… Well, almost all. She didn't know more than Snape, she merely knew different things than he did. Perhaps she would have to explain that to them at some point.

"I know you did, Cas, but I thought you were exaggerating!" Simon replied, and while Cas pouted, Robin and Jorien just chuckled.

"I never exaggerate!" Cas finally tried, and now literally everyone in the compartment couldn't hold their laughter anymore. Even Cas had to see that it was pretty funny after a moment, and when she started laughing too, any of the weirdness between the two groups finally faded for good. Who knew, if Cas and Simon really stayed together for now, perhaps Robin would have to get used to spending time with his friends as well. But for Cas, she certainly could do that.

______________________________

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[hongism]

mists of celeste ➻ fourteen

➻ pairing: ??? x fem reader ➻ genre: space au, pirate au, space pirate!ateez, angst, eventual smut ➻ Word Count: 3.6k ➻ Rating: M ➻ Warnings: language, violence, guns and weaponry, blood, future warnings tba ➻ summary: Sneaking aboard the ship of a renowned space pirate may not have been the best idea, but you’ll have to make do with what fate has handed to you

⇐ previous | next ⇒

mists of celeste act two ➻ part four

​​​

You wake up with a start, stirred awake by some nightmare that leaves your mind the moment you open your eyes. For a second, you don’t remember where you are or what’s going on, but the sudden soreness that spreads across your neck reminds you of what happened the previous day. The skin is sensitive under your fingers; there’s bruising surely but you don’t really want to look at the evidence of your near death. Your eyes shift to the other side of the bed, expecting to find San there since you vaguely remember falling asleep with his hand in yours.

You drop said hand to your lap, looking at the skin of your palm as though it’s going to speak back at you and explain what happened last night. You don’t remember a thing after he said that he was going to make sure that you wouldn't go anywhere again. Everything is blank and empty after that, no traces of any other memories from that point on. Perhaps it’s for the better but you can’t help but feel that you are missing something important that happened during the night.

You try not to dwell on it though; instead, you pull yourself up from the bed and cast a glance over at the bathroom door. It’s wide open, which you find odd because you at least recall shutting it after your shower last night.

“San must have left already,” you mutter to yourself as you bend down to grab your shoes. You slip them on with haste, hand rushing to touch your neck when a surge of pain jolts through it. It doesn’t bother you much after that, maybe it had some sort of crick in it from an awkward position in the night or maybe that Taskmaster Cara fucked you up worse than you initially thought.

You let your hand fall back to your side as you step out into the hall. For some reason you expect San to be waiting just outside the door, leaning up against the wall and ready to chastise you for sleeping so late, but the hall is empty. You descend the stairs in the hopes of finding him there, still unsure as to why you’re craving his presence so badly all of a sudden.

However, again, San is nowhere in sight in the lobby of the hotel. Rather it’s only Wooyoung, Seonghwa, and Hongjoong who stand downstairs. They’re close to the door, Seonghwa and Hongjoong locked in what seems to be a heated discussion and Wooyoung stands a bit off to the side and watches on with wide eyes. As soon as you reach the bottom step, Wooyoung catches sight of you. He turns towards you, grinning from ear to ear.

“Good morning,” he greets as you walk closer to him, his tone soft and melodious compared to Hongjoong’s slightly grating tone that carries over to your ear. Seonghwa twists at the waist when he hears Wooyoung speaking, and his eyes trail over your shorter form in confusion for a brief moment.

“Oh, Y/N. Did you sleep alright?”

Rather than looking back at Seonghwa, you stare past him to look Hongjoong in the eye.

“It was choice that landed you in your current predicament, but I know that it was fate that put you in my path. You can walk away from fate and choose uncertainty. Or you can walk back upstairs and let fate decide the rest.”

You want to know what he’s thinking, you wish you could see into his mind and understand what exactly is going on in there. Hongjoong’s expression remains flat and blank. You can’t read anything on it, and he doesn’t help you along at all, staying silent and unmoving as your stare trails over him. It’s impossible to know how he feels about seeing that you decided to stay.

“I slept just fine,” you answer at last. Your eyes drag back up to meet Seonghwa’s again, lingering this time. “My neck hurts a bit but not too much.”

“It looks a lot worse than it hurts, most likely,” Wooyoung mentions. Hot breath hits your neck as the man suddenly leans in and inspects the bruising up close. “It looks like you nearly lost the fight, to be honest. Pretty good impressions of fingers on your skin though. Almost impressive.” Wooyoung pulls back and sends a lopsided smile your way, one that you return with half the amount of enthusiasm.

“Oh, how kinky,” you huff. Wooyoung chokes on his saliva. Seonghwa’s brows shoot up and he blinks at the floor a few times before clearing his throat.

“A-ha, is San coming down soon?” He asks after he recovers himself a bit. You tilt your head to the side at the question.

“He’s not in the room or upstairs at all. At least he wasn’t when I woke up not too long ago. I just assumed that meant he had already come down.”

“No…” Seonghwa trails off and turns back towards Hongjoong. The two stand completely still, exchanging glances without saying anything for a few moments. There is a sudden and obvious spike of tension between the four of you, one that you can’t pinpoint but Hongjoong clarifies it.

“Fucking shit,” he cusses, nearly elbowing Seonghwa and Wooyoung out of the way as he pushes towards the door. The lieutenant rushes to follow and calls out his name. You blink at the spot where the two men just stood then glance up to Wooyoung. He shrugs, obviously just as confused as you are, then moves to follow Seonghwa outside as well.

“Take Wooyoung and Y/N back to the ship immediately,” Hongjoong orders as you all step outside. The heat is unbearable despite it still being early morning, and the sun nearly blinds you. You have to shield your eyes with the back of your hand, squinting at Hongjoong as he continues speaking. “Get Mingi and bring him back with you. Meet me near the warehouse district. Move as quickly as possible. Chances are San has ahead start on us, and it could be a few hours for all we know so we operate as though we’re behind. I’ll check the radar once I start heading that way.”

“O-Okay, but what’s going on?” You stammer out. You regret asking less than a second later because Hongjoong’s rage-filled stare lands on your form next. You freeze under it, swallowing harshly and trying to stare back with equal heat.

“It’s pretty fucking obvious,” he spits in response. “San went to the warehouse where Taskmaster Cara said she would be. He decided to get his revenge.”

Your mind goes completely and utterly blank. You don’t have words, and certainly have no clue how you’re supposed to explain that you were the one who talked about revenge with San last night. Your resolve returns quickly though.

“I’m staying,” you demand. Heat reaches your gaze, and your confidence swells as you stare Hongjoong in the eye. He doesn’t flinch, however, and his glare continues to harden on you. “I have to stay.”

“No.”

“Captain–”

“I said no.”

“With all due respect Captain,” you start again, teeth pressed together so hard that your jaw aches from the pressure. “I have to stay.”

“I can’t trust you to follow orders given your behavior with Yeosang on the last mission. This is my job, San is my crewmate, San is my responsibility. No one else’s. Seonghwa and Mingi are meant to be merely reinforcements if things head south. So, Lieutenant, you can hurry the fuck up and get going.”

Hongjoong doesn’t wait to hear Seonghwa’s affirmation or approval. He spins on his heel and breaks into a sprint without missing a beat. It only takes a second for his form to disappear in the midst of the morning crowd in the city. Seonghwa watches the man go with wide eyes and mouth agape. He stares at the place where he just was long after Hongjoong is gone, only recovering when Wooyoung nudges him in the side. He grabs for Wooyoung’s shoulder and pulls him forward.

“Let’s go. We need to hurry.” Seonghwa lifts a hand and motions for you to follow as well, but you stay rooted to the spot. You accentuate your refusal by crossing your arms over your chest, eyes glaring into Seonghwa’s head even though he isn’t looking at you at the moment. “Y/N, we need to go.”

Seonghwa shifts to look back at you.

“I won’t go. I’m not going anywhere.”

“What the fuck is going through your head? We need to hurry. Hongjoong is already on his way to San, but we have to go now.”

“I have a debt to repay. San wouldn’t have gone after the crew or the taskmaster if not for me.”

“What are you tal–”

“If I hadn’t been dragged off by Cara, he wouldn’t have even thought about them or his past. It’s my fault San went off for revenge and my fault we’re in this mess in the first place,” you explain, teeth gritted together so hard that it hurts your jaw. “I’m not going to let anything happen to San because of something that is on me and me alone. I won’t let that happen to anyone ever again.”

Seonghwa’s gaze lingers on you, and he doesn’t move or speak for a little while. It’s wasting precious time, time that you could be using to catch up with San, but you don’t press the lieutenant any further.

“The warehouse is a ways away but you can easily get there in less than thirty minutes if you hurry,” he relents at last. He drops his right hand to his left wrist and pops the wristband there off. He passes the device over to you, but you hesitate, staring at him in confusion.

“No! No, no, Lieutenant,” Wooyoung cuts in. He stretches between you, stopping Seonghwa’s arm as it draws closer to you, and you both turn to blink at him in shock. “W-Wait, you can have mine. Y/N, take mine instead.” Wooyoung pulls back to yank his own wristband off, then reaches up to pull his earpiece out as well.

“Why can’t I just use my own wristband? It was only my earpiece that broke.”

“No, you’ll need a replacement from the ship. Each earpiece is paired to a wristband, so we can’t just replace them on the fly like this.”

“Okay, understood.” You pop your band off and hold it out to Seonghwa, and he snatches it before Wooyoung has the chance to.

“You have to take mine. You’ll be able to track Hongjoong’s location on it, as well as San’s. But it’s a two-way street. Both will be able to see your movements as well. If you take my earpiece and wristband, then it will look like I’m the one showing up on the tracker and not you. But if you took Wooyoung’s, Hongjoong would panic even more because he would see Wooyoung traveling alone. It’s best if you take mine for now, and once I’m back with Mingi I won’t need it anyway.” Seonghwa fastens his band around your wrist and tightens it as needed to fit your arm. “I’ll show you how to pull up locations too.”

You let Seonghwa go to work on the tiny screen, repeating his actions in your head so you can remember what to do later. Sure enough, a small map pops up eventually and you can see a dot with small initials beside it – PSH. It must be Seonghwa, because there is another set of initials beside his that read ‘JWY’. Seonghwa swipes his finger across the screen, the map zooms out, and two more dots appear. One is a simple ‘CS’ and the other reads ‘KHJ’, and it’s easy to assume which one belongs to each man. Seonghwa hesitates as he looks at the dots.

“San is moving very slowly. We might have a bit more time than I thought initially. Still, it’s going to take me at least four hours if not more to be back with Mingi.”

“The transport train,” you mutter, sudden realization washing over you. The lieutenant nods a couple times in confirmation.

“Hurry. Try to catch up to San before he gets to the warehouse.” Seonghwa doesn’t pull back quite yet though. Instead, he continues to fiddle with the band without cease, only stopping to explain once he’s completely done. “I switched the channel over to a different one. I’ll match Wooyoung’s to it as well. If anything happens, you need to tell me. I’ll be listening through Wooyoung.”

Seonghwa shifts to grab Wooyoung’s wristband as well, popping it back onto his wrist. You glance up at Wooyoung’s face and catch his stare on you. The two of you exchange a glance. It’s one full of nerves and anxiety; Wooyoung keeps gnawing at his lower lip. The skin is nearly raw under his teeth but he still doesn’t stop. If you knew how to reassure him, you might try; however, you’re in an equal state of confusion and panic so you can’t do anything. The most you can manage is a thin-lipped smile that Wooyoung doesn’t acknowledge. The pit in your gut grows larger.

“It’s all set,” Seonghwa says as he stands up straight. His hand goes to his ear to pluck the small earpiece out, and he hands that over to you as well after wiping it on his sleeve. You take it and put it into your own ear. An awkward silence envelops the three of you after that.

“Well…” You start, shifting your weight from foot to foot. “I guess I should hurry.” You step past Seonghwa, ready to start sprinting after Hongjoong, but Seonghwa catches you by the wrist first. You glance back at the tall man. A few strands of black hair have fallen over his eyes.

“Keep Hongjoong safe,” he asks, tone so quiet you can barely hear it over the din of the streets. The grip on your hand tightens. “Please.”

There is genuine concern in Seonghwa’s eyes as he says the words. It catches you off-guard, especially since you think that Hongjoong should be one to look after himself as the captain, but Seonghwa seems so desperate to hear that you’ll at least try to keep him safe in his stead.

“I’ll do my best,” you mutter in response. Seonghwa’s hand shifts up to your shoulder. He squeezes your arm tight.

“Be careful.”

You shift to glance at Wooyoung one more time. His face still bears the same worried expression as it did before, but he doesn’t speak like Seonghwa does.

“I’ll be fine. You should get going.”

Seonghwa nods a few times in response. His hand shifts from your shoulder to Wooyuong’s back. Without another word, Seonghwa and Wooyoung walk into the crowd. You’re left alone for the first time in weeks. Not “left alone on the ship in your room” because that doesn’t count but really alone.

Despite choosing to stay last night, you really could up and disappear this time. That thought does cross your mind, but you are also hyperaware of the fact that San could be striding to his death in attempts to get whatever revenge he desires. And that’s not something you can sit back and let happen, because as much as you hate to admit it, Hongjoong had a point the previous night.

“You’re choosing the easy way out then. Running away from your problems rather than facing them. There is no way of knowing whether the future will be a repeat of the past. You can only be sure of the present and whatever happens is either a choice of your own or of fate.”

As much as you want to run away and escape, it truly is the easy way out. And for once you don’t think you want to take the easy way out. You wait until Seonghwa and Wooyoung disappear from sight completely before taking off after Hongjoong. It’s hard to figure out which path he took since the city bears so many winding roads. The only way for you to know which way he went is through the small map on your wristband, and even with that, it’s hard to see because of the minuscule size.

Hongjoong’s dot on the map moves with haste while San’s still moves rather slowly. You can’t quell the panic in your gut. There are too many possibilities running through your head at the moment. What if he’s already been caught? Maybe he found them and turned himself in? Why would he do that? Is he really going for revenge? Could it be a suicide mission instead? But why? There are far too many questions and not enough answers. With each possibility you think of, more anxiety bubbles in your gut until you aren’t even able to properly breathe because of it.

You duck into an alleyway first chance you get. It gives you a chance to have some space to breathe, get away from the crowds, and just take a moment to collect yourself some before continuing after Hongjoong and San. You kneel against the dirt and place your hands on your knees. Your eyes fall shut as well, and you let yourself slip ever so slightly into a state of calm.

What would Daichi say? Examine everything. Recall all the information and relay it forward. Talk yourself through what is going on then decide what the best course of action may be. Easy enough. I can do that. What did San say about getting revenge?

“I’m scared of hating myself more than before if I do get my revenge. There won’t be any going back from it if I kill them all. I’m also afraid of regretting it if I don’t do it and take the chance. I j-just don’t know what I want, and that’s almost more terrifying.”

He’s hesitant still. Maybe that’s why he’s moving so slowly. He hasn’t committed. Made an impulse decision and went for it without thinking. Now he’s thinking about it and wondering if it’s still the best course of action. Probably knows that Hongjoong and I – well, Seonghwa – are chasing after him now.

“I’m – I’m not sure why but I feel the need to protect you. I feel guilty that you got hurt by someone I used to know. I feel guilty for not being there sooner. Not noticing you were gone. Just… not being there. I want to – I want to protect you and make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

Surely he can’t be walking to his death if he said that… Would he suffer the guilt to do so though?

You lift your chin, eyes cracking open once more. With a quick glance at your wristband, you gauge where both Hongjoong and San are. Hongjoong has come to a sudden stop on the map, the dot flashing before your eyes, and you tilt your head to the side to watch it.

Then a gunshot resounds somewhere ahead of you. You whip your chin up to look in the direction of the shot, but there’s no telling whether it came from where San is or where Hongjoong is. You don’t bother dusting off your knees before breaking into a sprint. People carry on in the streets as though the sound of a gun is totally normal and regular. You weave through the crowds of people with haste, but it’s hard to move fast and avoid knocking into them so you smack a few shoulders along the way. Your earpiece crackles to life not long after the gunshot resounds.

“What’s going on? Who shot a gun? Are you okay? Where are San and Hongjoong?” Wooyoung shouts over the intercom. You wince from the volume of his voice in your ear.

“I’m fine,” you grumble back. “The gunshot didn’t come from me.”

“Do you see anything at least? Fighting? Hongjoong maybe? San?”

“No, I’m still trying to catch up. Hongjoong isn’t too far ahead, but he’s stopped moving.”

“Be careful,” Wooyoung whispers, his voice falling quiet. “Seonghwa says the same.”

“Thank you,” you say back. “You do the same.”

“We will.”

The channel goes quiet again after that. You try your best to maintain the pace you’re going at, because thanks to Hongjoong’s sudden halt, you’re catching up faster than you thought you would. According to the map, San has moved a bit in the opposite direction, nearly backtracked his steps some before continuing forward. Part of you wonders if he’s stopping to check his wristband as well, or if it was the gunshot that made him pause for a bit.

Hongjoong’s dot on the map grows ever closer. You shove through a group of people – earning yourself quite a few curses and threats – and land yourself in a finally empty roadway. You glance across the road, finding the reason why it’s so empty with ease and the reason why Hongjoong quit moving.

He stands in the middle of the street with two pistols out and at the ready, a body at his feet that must have fallen victim to the random gunshot that echoed through the streets. Hongjoong isn’t alone though; he’s surrounded by eight thugs who seem to have the same idea. All have their own weapons pointed at Hongjoong’s head.

✧✧✧ a/n: okay here we are a little late but here nonetheless!!! i’m so sorry for the delay i was not expecting my dad to bring the kitten in so early and honestly wasn’t even expecting to get a kitten at all so that’s my bad but aosdifiojd i cut this chapter off a tad early because i wanna save a majority of the ~action~ for the next chapter slkjdfkljlk 

taglist: @faeriewoobin​ @sugarrimajins​ @atinyinwonderland​ @2504-life @lil7bluedragon @sparklychangbin​ @jeong-uwu​ @jeonartemis​ @anothershorthuman​ @xxbluestrifexx​ @saturatedsan​ @haotheheckk​ @noonawriter​​

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

[eddieeatsass]

On the Edge of an Avalanche

Summary: Graduation was upon them and Eddie Kaspbrak was eager to leave Derry behind. His one last hurrah would be the senior ski trip, earning him an escape from his mother and the looming stress of college admissions. It was supposed to be a relaxing vacation, until he got slated to look after resident pain-in-everyone’s-ass, Richie Tozier. Pairing: Richie Tozier/Eddie Kaspbrak Rating: E Chapter: 3/5 Read Chapter 2 Here  /  Read on AO3

The next morning felt like a slow-motion scene unravelling before him. Eddie had spent most of the night replaying the events that him and Richie had engaged in, dissecting it for all he could and trying to figure out what it all meant. He hadn’t fallen asleep until the birds were waking up, singing a morning song that rang more like a lullaby to Eddie’s tired ears.

  The first time he woke he felt a warmth pressing up against his back, arms curling around his torso, and smelled sickly-sweet cinnamon that was unfamiliar but undeniably soothing. He fell back asleep not long after.

  The second time Eddie woke he felt rustling beside him, a gentle press to his cheek, and just barely heard something whispered. He never opened his eyes, sleep already pulling him back in.

  The final time he woke that morning was very different from the others; a booming voice announcing an arrival had shaken him out of slumber and almost out of bed.

    “JESUS CHRIST WHAT THE SHIT-” Eddie clutched his blankets in a death grip, holding them up higher as if they could shield him from the onslaught.

  “Wakey wakey Eds and bakey!”

  Eddie groaned internally, already upset at his body for having such a visceral reaction to the sound of Richie’s voice even while it was so tired, and Richie was so loud. Did he have any self respect?

  Eddie peered out from behind his sheets, eyes meeting a ruffled bed head and an early morning smile.

  Okay, maybe Eddie didn’t need self respect when Richie looked that good.

  “I brought breakfast.” Richie stated, holding the plates up as a peace offering.

  Eddie didn’t even have to think before he scooted over, making room for Richie and patting the open spot.

  Richie hobbled over, handing one of the over-stacked plates to Eddie and plopping himself down with a small “oof”.

  Choosing to avoid the elephant in the room for a while longer, Eddie speared what he assumed to be an egg with his fork. He couldn’t be certain, as Richie had coated everything on both plates with a healthy serving of hollandaise sauce.

  “How’s the ankle?” Eddie asked tentatively.

  “’s fine.” Richie said through a mouthful of food. His cheeks were puffed out like a chipmunk, but rather than being off-putting, it was annoyingly charming.

  “You really shouldn’t be walking on it.” Eddie mentioned.

  “I’ve had worse.” Richie shrugged, as if that was supposed to be comforting to Eddie.

  “Where did you get the food?” Eddie asked, changing the subject once again to avoid the hovering topic. It was well past breakfast time, and Eddie knew the buffets were never open past 9am.

  “I snuck into the kitchen.” Richie shrugged, as if that were a totally normal thing to do.

  “What- Richie! You could have gotten in trouble!”

  “But I didn’t.” Richie smirked triumphantly.

  “Anyone could have caught you! And you could have been sent home, or worse, the staff could have called the police! I mean it is technically stealing, and trespassing, and could probably be charged as breaking and entering, and-”

  Eddie was cut off by a fork full of food being shoveled into his open mouth. A fork that wasn’t his fork. A fork that had been in someone else’s mouth, that should have grossed him out, that should have sounded off the alarm in his head. But instead, the fork sat in his mouth as nothing more than a slight inconvenience; not a trigger for his neuroses or a reason to grab his mouthwash, just a fork. What kind of spell did this boy have over him!?

  “Now chew.” Richie ordered, pulling his fork out and leaving the food to sit inside Eddie’s mouth. He did as he was told, chewing a few times and swallowing the food that, in any other case, would have disgusted him.

  “There. Now, do you hear any sirens outside?”

  “No, but-”

  “Is your body getting ready to violently regurgitate everything?”

  “No-”

  “Then just enjoy the food, spaghetti man.”

  Richie said it like it was so easy… And maybe it was. Eddie could be a bit rebellious, couldn’t he? Richie had gone out of his way to get them breakfast, no matter how irresponsible it had been, and Eddie had done nothing but complain. He hadn’t even thanked Richie. Besides, how was it any different from when Eddie snuck into the school’s kitchen to get Stan his special lunch?

  The difference, Eddie realized with his heart skipping a beat, was that Eddie didn’t care much about his own wellbeing. The wellbeing of Richie, however, was a completely new ballgame, and Eddie suddenly found himself at bat.

  “Sorry, it’s hard for me to keep my anxiety in check sometimes.” Eddie admitted, poking around his plate and eating a few more bites. Admittedly, the food was really good.

  “Hey, no need to apologize, I get it.” Richie assured, shooting Eddie a smile that melted him to the core. “Just know that I’d never put you in any real danger.” Richie added with an honesty that watered something warm and vibrant in Eddie’s chest.

  And somehow, Eddie knew that was true. Richie might be reckless at times, but he wasn’t stupid, and he protected those he cared about.

  Eddie wondered if he was in that category now.

    Before Eddie could dwell on it any longer, there was a knock at their door followed by Mr. Daniels’ voice giving them a half hour before they head out. It seemed that while Eddie had been busy sleeping in, the bus had been repaired and returned to their motel.

    As they filed into the vehicle, Eddie noticed that the teachers had switched buses for the day. Mr. Daniels made no mention of the seating arrangements (to which there had been more changes than just Richie and Stanley). This, of course, resulted in absolute mayhem as everyone that had been assigned to different seats now reverted to their original spots. As a result, the bus soon returned back to its chaos.

  Eddie glanced over at Richie, his fingers twitching as he held himself back from reaching out and clutching Richie’s arm to keep him close. Of course, Eddie wouldn’t mind sitting with Stan again, but he’d grown attached to Richie, and even though he felt like they were treading unfamiliar waters now thanks to last night’s unspoken tryst, he still wanted to be close to him.

    The bus hadn’t started moving yet, so kids were still flying from row to row, taking advantage of their newfound freedom thanks to Mr. Daniels more lax approach at chaperoning. Eddie bit at his fingernail as he watched Richie out of the corner of his eye, too afraid to speak but just as afraid to take his gaze off him.

  Richie, on the other hand, seemed completely unaware as he happily tapped away at something on his phone. His shoulders were hunched forward in poor posture and he was wearing the same clothes as yesterday, now wrinkled from sleeping in them, but he was still the picture of beauty as far as Eddie was concerned.

  Eddie got caught staring as Richie’s head turned without warning, but it was only met with a smile and an endeared laugh.

  “Is it cool if I switch with Stanley for a bit? Bill’s been harping on me for not texting him back all night, that clingy son of a bitch.” Richie held up his phone as evidence, even though the screen was black and gave Eddie no hint as to the topic of their conversation.

  He hoped in equal parts that it was and wasn’t about him.

  “Yeah, whatever.” Eddie tried to feign indifference but overshot and ended up sounding rude. He winced at his own tone of voice and swallowed back the urge to apologize immediately.

  “Uhh, okay.” Richie seemed confused, but his face stayed open and inviting despite the quirk in his brow. Liquid lapis eyes training on Eddie for a beat longer than necessary before he was hopping up and heading down the isle.

    As soon as Richie was gone, Eddie let his head fall against the frostbitten window with a thunk, his eyes closing instinctively as he retreated inside his brain.

  He was exhausted, both physically from lack of sleep, and emotionally from all these new unfamiliar emotions. It’s not that Eddie had never had crushes before; there was Steven from summer camp, Harry who worked at the bookstore, and Isaac who’d been their mechanic for six years, and had taken Eddie under his wing after his father died.

  However, of all the infatuations Eddie had had, Richie was the first one that actually made sense. Steven had been too far away, and straight. Harry had been too busy, and straight. Isaac had been too old, and straight. But Richie… well, he lived in the same city, wasn’t bogged down by work, and was the same age as Eddie… and was… possibly not straight?

  Eddie felt the seat dip beside him, but refused to open his eyes. Call it a protest of the outside world for being too confusing, he’d open his eyes again when someone had the answers for him.

  “Hey.”

  Okay, well maybe Stan would have the answers.

  Eddie grumbled his greeting, pulling his body away from the window only to let it slump the other way, right into Stanley’s shoulder. He wavered a bit at the sudden impact but righted himself quickly, supporting Eddie’s weight easily.

  “So, are you the reason Richie’s walking with a limp today?”

  “WHAT?” Eddie’s head shot up, his brain working in overdrive to try and wipe his slate clean, erase any sign of culpability. Did Stan know what they’d done? Did everyone know what they’d done? Oh my god, Richie told someone and now everyone was going to know that they-

  “I mean, I just assumed Richie crossed the line at some point and you had to deliver some swift Kaspbrak karate moves to shut him up.” Stan held his hand up in fists and, with delayed relief, Eddie realized Stan was making a joke.

  Eddie let his head fall back into the cushiness of Stan’s shoulder, his body somehow even more drained than it had been thirty seconds ago. Eddie wasn’t fully certain how he planned on getting through today.

  “He was actually really respectful.” Eddie responded. He didn’t realize it was so out of character until Stan fell quiet, followed by a prodding question.

  “Are you okay?”

  There it was, the question Eddie couldn’t even answer for himself. Was he okay? He didn’t feel okay, but nothing had actually gone wrong, right? In fact, if anything, things had gone in Eddie’s favor. So why did he feel this heavy weight in his chest, baring down on his lungs and slowly squeezing the air out of him?

    When Eddie had returned from the bathroom the previous night, steeled to have the inevitable conversation that came after dry humping a guy you’ve been familiar with for no more than a day, he’d found Richie fast asleep.

  Not knowing what else to do, Eddie has simply crawled into bed beside him.

  But those hours laying awake had left him with too many thoughts, the most prodding being his fear that he’d been used as a prop for Richie’s experimentation. Did he even like guys? He’d never mentioned it, never seemed to show any interest past a couple of jokes. But that was all they were, right? Maybe the jokes had been the first signs Eddie should have noticed, subtle hints Richie was dropping to insinuate that Eddie would be the perfect contender for a round of ‘am I gay or just horny?’. Eddie had practically opened himself up to it after coming out to him.

  His pessimism may have been clouded by past experiences, but after what Eddie had been through, it was no wonder he jumped to conclusions. The only experiences Eddie had to speak for were secret rendezvous with nervous classmates that inevitably ended with Eddie being ignored the next day. It was a pattern, and Eddie was the invariable. He was the small, quiet twink that every questioning athlete and nerd alike seemed to peg as an easy target for their sexual experimentation.

  It wasn’t all bad; it was how Eddie got his first kiss, his first hand job, and so on and so forth. It had, however, left him feeling skeptical of anyone who showed even the barest of interest in him, writing it off as nothing more than curiosity.

  The thought of that being the case with Richie left Eddie’s stomach souring. He’d never gotten attached like this before. Quite honestly, he felt like he was standing on the edge of an avalanche, just waiting for Richie to speak and cause it all to collapse above them.

    “What do you think about people experimenting with… New things.” Eddie braved forward.

  “Uh, I mean that’s a pretty vague question.” Stan pointed out.

  “Okay… say you’ve only ever eaten hamburgers your whole life, right? Through and through you’re a hamburger guy. Until one day you see a hotdog and think, well, maybe I’ll try that today. What if you try it and you don’t like it? Are you just going to throw it away? How is that fair, to just use the hotdog and then discard it like it’s nothing?”

  Eddie hadn’t realized that his voice had become fast-paced and high-pitched until he noticed the look on Stan’s face. Clear confusion was evident in the way he gazed at Eddie with his brows knit in the middle and his mouth slightly agape. Eddie immediately wanted to disappear.

  “Nevermind, it’s stupid.”

  “No! No, sorry, I just…” Stan took a breath and sat up straighter, angling his body towards Eddie. “Okay well, experimenting with new… foods doesn’t always end up in distaste, right? Lots of people end up discovering some of their favorite… foods through exploration.”

  Hearing the metaphor come out of Stan’s mouth made Eddie realize how nonsensical it was. God, he was about two seconds sway from digging himself a hole and hibernating until springtime.

  “But if you’re worried about someone… Not enjoying the hot dog, just talk to them about it. Maybe they didn’t realize how their actions might hurt the… hot dog…”

  Eddie and Stan stared at one another for a long pause until Stan cracked a smile, and it radiated so much warmth and comfort that Eddie couldn’t help but smile back. Soon they were falling into giggles, easing themselves into full-blown laughter at the absurdity of the conversation.

  Stan had to have figured it out by now, but Eddie was thankful that he didn’t push him past what he was ready to talk about. Stan was a quality friend, and Eddie had never appreciated his presence in his life more than he did right now.

  “Thanks Stan.” Eddie said honestly, bumping shoulders with him as the last of his chitters died out.

  “Anytime.”

  “You might want to consider the possibility that this isn’t their first time eating a hot dog though.”

  “What?” Eddie blurted.

  “I just mean, you’re assuming they’ve never had a hot dog before, right? Maybe they tend to lean more towards hamburgers but that doesn’t mean they’ve never been intrigued by hot dogs before. Maybe they just needed to find the right hot dog…”

  Eddie’s face heated up as Stan continued to talk.

  “All I’m saying is if it was truly just some reckless experimentation, they’d probably wait until college like the rest of us.”

  Eddie’s head hurt, the metaphor finally losing its last small thread of sense.

  “Right… wait until college to… eat a hot dog…” Eddie repeated slowly.

  Stan opened his mouth to reply, but the voice that rang out wasn’t his.

  “Who’s got hot dogs?”

  Eddie just about jumped out of his skin, his eyes darting up to connect with Richie’s. Eddie felt like he had just been caught talking about him, which he sort of had, but Richie was none the wiser and, hopefully, neither was Stan. The only one floundering was Eddie, but boy was he in the deep end.

  “NOTHING. NO ONE.” Eddie exclaimed much too loudly for the situation.

  Both Stan and Richie stared back at Eddie, equally puzzled expressions on both their faces. He felt like there was a single ping pong ball bouncing around in his head at light speed, desperately trying to find an appropriate response to save himself. Thankfully, Stan was always one step ahead of him.

  “We were just talking about how Eddie’s mom makes the best hot dogs.”

  Eddie’s nose instinctively scrunched up at the mention of his mom during a metaphor about his sex life, but he quickly schooled his features and nodded along.

  “Mmm, I’m gonna have to fight you on that until I’ve tasted them for myself. Otherwise, the best hotdogs in Derry are undoubtedly the ones from Kelso’s Diner.”

  Eddie short circuited at the insinuation that Richie would indeed one day be trying Eddie’s mom’s cooking. Meaning he foresaw them continuing to be friends past this trip. Meaning, and this made Eddie’s head spin, Richie didn’t seem to have the intention of dropping Eddie the minute he got what he wanted.

  What exactly did he want?

    “So, Stan the man, if you don’t mind, I’m going to kick you back into the strong arms of Bill Denbrough and reclaim my rightful seat here.” Eddie couldn’t help but notice the way Stan’s face flushed just a shade darker. Was there something there that Eddie didn’t know about?

  He didn’t have time to ponder Stan’s reaction to the mention of Bill Denbrough or his strong arms. Stan shot a quick ‘talk to you later’ Eddie’s way and was retreating to his seat as Richie settled into his.

  Eddie’s head was swirling as his senses reacted to Richie’s proximity. He forced himself to speak through the rush of endorphins, even though all his body wanted to do was curl into Richie’s side.

  “What did Bill want to talk to you about?”

  “Relationship drama.” Richie answered, shrugging it off. “There’s always something with that boy.” The way Richie spoke wasn’t annoyed or exhausted, but rather amused by his friend and his ongoing antics.

  “I’m glad you were able to help him.” Eddie responded genuinely.

  “Yeah, me too.” Richie’s smile felt intimate, as if it were just for Eddie, even though they were talking about someone else entirely.

  Eddie began to smile back but was overcome by a yawn, his face distorting as his jaw dropped on its own, too motivated by exhaustion to wait for the queue from his brain.

  “Didn’t get much sleep last night?” Richie pondered.

  “Uhm, yeah, I guess not.” Eddie answered sheepishly, hoping Richie didn’t connect his insomnia to their late-night encounter.

  “Bummer, I slept better than I have in months. You’re a good cuddler.” Richie’s comment was dropped so casually that Eddie almost didn’t catch it, but his ears were awake enough to tinge a bright rose in response.

  “Well, anyways, Mr. Daniels said we have about an hour until we get to the resort so…” Richie tapped his shoulder invitingly, and even though Eddie had been in the exact same position mere minutes ago with Stanley, it felt vastly different when the shoulder was attached to Richie.

  “T-thanks.” Eddie stuttered, dipping his head low into the crook of Richie’s shoulder fast enough that he hopefully didn’t notice how much redder Eddie got.

  He was sure his heart was beating too fast for him to possibly fall asleep, but the closeness to Richie rejuvenated him in another way. He let his eyes slip closed as he slowly relaxed into the comforting presence beside him.

    “-ddie, hey, Eds.”

  “Mmmm ‘s not my name.”

  “Fine. Edward Kaspbrak, king of slumber and bearer of drool, it’s time to wake up.”

  Eddie’s surroundings slowly came into consciousness as he was pulled back into awareness. The first thing he noticed was that he was in a very different orientation than when he’d last been cognizant. The second thing he noticed, and much more dreadful, was that his cheek was indeed covered in drool.

  He brought a hand to his face and wiped away the moisture as quickly as he could, riding himself of any evidence Richie might be able to use against him.

  Who, speaking of, was currently underneath him in a way he very much hadn’t been before.

  At some point, Eddie had ended up with his head in Richie’s lap. Richie’s hand was in Eddie’s hair at the nape of his neck, gently playing with the strands as if it was an absent habit he did all the time. The act was so domestic it made Eddie want to burst into tears; whether they were sad or happy tears, he wasn’t sure.

  He sat up slowly, careful not to have the blood rush to his head too quickly. The last thing he needed was to pass out in front of Richie. Who knows what kind of intimate position he’d wake up in the next time.

  “We’re here, everybody’s already outside.” Richie offered as explanation for Eddie’s disrupted sleep.

  “What? Why did you wait to wake me?” Eddie asked with only a tinge of annoyance. Luckily, Richie seemed to be charmed by it.

  “You’re cute when you sleep, let a man indulge.”

  Before Eddie could form a response, Richie was already standing up. He slung his backpack over his shoulder and made his way towards the front of the bus, leaving Eddie to fumble to catch up.

    When Eddie stepped off the bus, the first thing he noticed was how white everything was. It was to be expected, of course; it’s kind of hard to ski without snow. But it was such a stark difference from where they’d been just an hour ago. The difference a small distance could make was staggering; this didn’t even feel like it belonged in the same universe.

  The view was gorgeous with its tall log cabins, ski lifts moving like carousels, and snow-covered evergreens on every surface. Eddie was half tempted to throw himself down in the snow and make a snow angel.

  But the cold nipping at his nose was a reminder that before he could indulge in any snow activities, he had to actually get equipped for the snow.

  To their left, Mr. Daniels and Eric were unloading everyone’s bags from the storage compartment beneath the bus. Eddie could already spot his small suitcase, a bright pink flamingo covered hand-me-down from his mom, sitting in the snow.

  While they waited, Richie’s friends sauntered over, Stan happily alongside them.

  “I can’t wait to hit the slopes.” Bill greeted them as he bobbed up and down eagerly, his enthusiasm contagious.

  “I’m just excited for the hot chocolate.” Beverly countered, as she wrapped her sweater a little tighter around herself. All their winter coats were stuffed in their suitcases, the cold air taking advantage of their thin jackets and exposed skin.

  “Here Beverly.” Ben had shrugged off his sweater and was offering it to Beverly with a shy little quirk of his lips, but Beverly regarded it for only a moment before shaking her head. She took the sweater and threw it back over Ben’s shoulders before crowding her way into his space and snuggling right up against his chest.

  “Body heat works better.” She teased lowly.

  Richie let out a long, slow whistle, summing up what everyone was thinking; Beverly was sly as hell and Ben was gleefully in way over his head.

  The exchange made Eddie crave Richie’s warmth, yearn to be back in that motel bed, blissfully unaware of how intimate they were being in their sleep.

  There was no more being blissfully unaware, not with how Eddie’s heart beat to a different rhythm every time Richie’s arm would brush up against his.

    “Alright, everyone grab your bags and follow me.” Mr. Daniels announced, finally closing the now empty compartment of the bus.

  The seven of them sauntered over to the pile of suitcases and duffel bags, searching out their own among the many.

  Even though Eddie had already spotted his suitcase, he pretended to search for it for a while longer until Richie found his. Only then did he grab the bright pink monstrosity by the handle and begin lugging it up the hill, Richie wordlessly in tow behind him.

  They managed to reach the top of the hill without Richie stumbling too much, but as soon as Mrs. Harrow came into view there was no hiding Richie’s injury anymore.

  With hawk eyes homing in, Mrs. Harrow walked over to Richie with a displeased expression.

  “What happened here, Richard?”

  She sounded almost exasperated, and it made Eddie want to step in and defend him.

  “Oh, you know, just my bum leg. It acts up every now and then, ever since that terrible kite flying accident…” Richie looked off into the distance as if remembering a tragedy of great proportions.

  Mrs. Harrow rolled her eyes. Eddie’s anger flared once again.

  “Well, we can’t send you home now, so you’ll just have to spend the trip indoors. Absolutely no reckless activity, you got that Tozier?”

  “Aye aye, captain!”

  Mrs. Harrow didn’t acknowledge his response, simply turned her back towards them and began her search for the next student in need of scolding.

  As soon as she was out of ear shot, Eddie began fuming.

  “What the hell, why does Mrs. Harrow have it out for you? Can’t she see you’re hurt? Is she even capable of sympathy?”

  When Eddie looked over to Richie, he saw something soft and sweet in his expression, a contrast to Eddie’s bubbling temper. “You care about me.” Richie mused with a smirk.

  “W-what- no I don’t- I mean I do but- not like- shut up.” Eddie grabbed his suitcase once again and began walking away.

  “You can deny it all you want, Kaspbrak. I see right through you!”

  Eddie flipped Richie off over his shoulder as he disappeared through giant mahogany double doors.

    Their rooms were small, a single bed meant to be shared between the two classmates who signed up to room together. Normally on school trips, the school tried to cram as many students into one room as possible, but they must have known from prior visits to the lodge that these rooms just couldn’t hold more than two at a time.

  However, despite the small quarters, they were undeniably beautiful. Every surface seemed to be made from the same rich darkened wood, and every accent was bronzed. One wall was taken up by giant windows that overlooked the mountain below them, able to be hidden behind heavy curtains that took Eddie’s full force to pull closed.

  Eddie and Stan didn’t spend much time in their room, stopping only briefly to drop off their luggage and get bundled up in preparation for the slopes. Eddie was practically buzzing at the opportunity to teach himself something completely foreign; it’d been a long time since a new sport had been in his reach, and he was planning on taking full advantage of the absence of Sonia.

  “Are you almost ready?” Eddie bounced on the balls of his feet as he waited for Stan by the door, one hand already on the knob in anticipation.

  “Yes, for god sake Eddie, I just need to find my gloves.”

  Eddie’s eyes glazed over as he thought about the adrenaline rush he’d longed for. He still played tons of sports but there was something about learning a new one that left Eddie especially excited. He didn’t care much for the competitiveness of sports, and while he didn’t mind the sportsmanship of it all, it wasn’t why Eddie was motivated to get involved. Quite simply put, Eddie just wanted to play. He wanted to live out the experiences he missed out on, that pure rush that came from scraping your knees while playing soccer or face planting while diving for the volleyball. It may seem uninteresting to those who had already lived it out in childhood, but to Eddie it was nothing short of euphoric.

  “Here they are!” Stan exclaimed, holding his pair of gloves above his head as he tucked everything else back inside his suitcase.

  “Good, now come on, let’s goooooo.”

  Eddie was already out the door before Stan could answer, but he knew he was following by the distinct sound of swishing snow pants.

    They made their way down to the lobby, eagerly chatting about how fun their afternoon was going to be, when they ran straight into a brick wall of a body.

  “Fucking move, queers.” Henry ground out, placing a flat hand on Eddie’s face and pushing him aside with ease.

  “Henry, don’t you have anything better to do than project your internalized homophobia onto others.” Stan replied flatly.

  “What the fuck did you say to me?” Henry hissed, flipping his attention to Stan with a new temper flaring.

  “Stan…” Eddie warned, reaching for Stan’s hand to pull him away from the rising confrontation.

  Stan seemed to pale as he realized his comment wasn’t going to be shrugged off. He tried to keep himself composed but Eddie knew his tells well enough to notice the change.

  Henry’s gaze flicked down to where Eddie was trying to join hands with Stan, and a wicked grin soured his face.

  “Oh, I see…” Henry began, stalking closer to the pair and causing them to stumble back. They didn’t fear Henry like they used to, but he still held some power in those eyes that had never fully ceased to make them tremble.

  “You two fucking fairies together now? I should have seen it coming, pansies aren’t potted too far from one another. So, tell me, who made the first move, huh?”

  Eddie’s throat was thick with fear, his eyes unable to move from where Henry’s gaze pinned them.

  “Wait don’t tell me… It was you, wasn’t it, Uris? Eddie here is too limp wristed to do anything, just a little girl in sheep’s clothing. But then again, I guess if the rumors are true, you’re not completely useless. At least you give good head.”

  Eddie’s face burned as he held back the tears that threatened to give him away. He was fine, Henry’s words were hollow. Eddie had already heard every gay slur Henry had in his vocabulary.

  “Too bad you’re not pretty enough to turn any of them into faggo-”

  Eddie’s fist moved before his brain did, lining up perfectly with Henry’s jaw and landing the punch exactly where it would hurt most. Stan flinched beside him as the sickening crack rang out in the empty hallway, followed by a wail that made snow drop from the treetops outside. Eddie didn’t move, refused to let himself back down even as the tears broke free and streamed down his face.

  “KASPBRAK.”

  Eddie jumped, whipping around in horror as Mrs. Harrow’s voice broke through his resolve.

  “WHAT THE HELL.”

  Eddie stared in shock. He’d never done anything worthy of breaking a teacher’s ‘no cursing’ rule before, though he’d seen many teachers reach their point of profanity with other students before. It sort of felt similar to when you see a teacher outside of school and are reminded that they don’t just exist inside the bubble you’ve put them in. Well, the bubble had popped, and Mrs. Harrow was now stalking towards him with a new air that absolutely paralyzed him. He wasn’t sure how to respond, so he didn’t. He just continued staring back at her, watching as she passed him and rushed over to Henry, taking his face in her hand and angling his head to assess the damage. Luckily, there was no visible injury past some reddening (though the same wouldn’t be true once the bruising began to set in).

  “Eddie.” Mrs. Harrow sighed. She released Henry’s face and brought the hand up to her own, pinching the skin between her eyes as if she was fighting back a cresting headache.

  She probably was.

  “I’m sorry Mrs. Harrow, I didn’t-”

  Eddie was interrupted with a single finger, held up intimidatingly as Mrs. Harrow continued to try and gather her patience.

  “No skiing.”

  “What!?”

  “What about that needs clarification, Edward?”

  “But I didn’t do anything!”

  “I watched you punch Mr. Bowers across the face.”

  “Well, yeah, but-”

  “No. Skiing.”

  Eddie fidgeted in place as he desperately grasped at straws in his head that could possibly get him out of this situation. Maybe if he could get Mrs. Harrow alone and just explain to her what Henry was saying-

  With an exasperated sigh, Mrs. Harrow placed a hand on Henry’s shoulder and began leading him back down the hallway from which she’d appeared.

  “Come on Henry, we’ll get you some ice.”

  Eddie couldn’t move, he’d become cemented to the floor at some point during his meltdown.

    “Eddie?” Stan’s soft voice penetrated the space between them, but it sounded distant. Anger bubbled up inside Eddie, anger that he wasn’t at all certain how to process.

  “Hey, Eddie, I’m so sorry. You know none of what Bowers said was true, right?”

  Like a kettle blowing its whistle, Eddie’s top popped.

  “OF COURSE IT’S TRUE.”

  Eddie whipped around to face Stan, his cheeks red hot as he filled with steam.

  “I’M GAY, STANLEY. DON’T YOU KNOW? I’M A FUCKING FRUIT CAKE. AND NOT EVEN A GOOD FRUIT CAKE, I’M ONE OF THOSE CHRISTMAS FRUIT CAKES THAT EVERYONE JUST PUTS IN THEIR FREEZER AND FORGETS ABOUT UNTIL SUMMER. THEN THEY THROW ME OUT, BECAUSE NO ONE EVEN LIKES FRUIT CAKE STANLEY.”

  “Hotdogs like fruitcakes.”

  Eddie sputtered; his mind unable to connect the pieces while he was burning red hot.

  “WHAT?”

  He could probably stop yelling, but if Eddie let himself think too long about how he just came out to his best friend, he might melt the rest of the way into the ground and become nothing more than carpeting.

  “Hotdogs. I hear they go well with fruitcakes.” Stan repeated calmly.

  Eddie felt like he was going to combust.

  “What are you-”

  “Richie is your hotdog, right?”

  At the mention of Richie, Eddie’s anger began to simmer down, exhaustion pulling at his muscles. All he could do was nod.

  “Look, Eddie, if it wasn’t obvious enough already, I don’t care that you’re gay. I’m a Jewish boy scout whose nerd repertoire is more extensive than that of most comic book writers, what space do I have to judge.”

  Eddie’s heart rate was settling down, the reassurance from his friend a comforting constant. This was Stanley, he’d never cared what ‘secrets’ Eddie had kept from him before, and this was no different. Well, this was a little different from the time he stole Stan’s pudding cup and then confessed an hour later out of guilt. But even then, Stan had been nothing but understanding.

  “Yeah, he’s the hot dog.” Eddie’s voice was beginning to level out as well, the heat of the moment passing on.

  “Richie isn’t like all those other hot dogs. He’s sure of himself in a way I’ve never met anyone else to be. The way his friends speak about him leaves no doubt in my mind that he has himself figured out; at least enough not to hurt you. He’s one of the good guys, Eddie.”

  “One of the good hotdogs.” Eddie corrected.

  “Yeah, I’m gonna have to drop that now that we’re being transparent with each other. I don’t like having to think about Richie’s… hotdog every time we tiptoe around your metaphor.”

  Eddie’s cheeks blushed a furious shade of fuchsia as his mind also began to wander towards Richie’s hotdog.

  “Richie’s stuck indoors for the next few days too, right?” Stan prompted.

  “Yeah, Mrs. Harrow was pretty clear about that.” Eddie scowled at the memory. “So, you guys are stuck in lockdown together; seems like the perfect romance scenario to me.”

  The more Eddie thought about it, the more things seemed to fall into place. Eddie had been excited about skiing, but what he was more excited about was this budding energy between him and Richie. Mrs. Harrow had unknowingly set up the perfect circumstance for them to spend as much time together as possible, and if Eddie could muster up the courage, he just might try to take advantage of it.

    Stan and Eddie had parted hours ago, but Eddie was just now beginning to rouse back into existence.

  After the fight with Henry, Eddie’s lack of sleep from the night before finally caught up with him. The nap on the bus had been helpful, but not enough to regenerate all the energy he’d lost to his anxiety the past 24 hours. As soon as he’d returned to his room he hadn’t been able to fight it anymore. He’d barely gotten his shoes off before collapsing into the inviting plush bedding and zonking out for three hours.

  Lucky for Eddie, three hours didn’t put him back that much. It was dinner time, but Eddie knew most of the students were prepared to stay on the slopes until the late hours of the night (or at least until teacher enforced curfew).

  Eddie was overheating, having fallen asleep with his winter coat and snow pants on. He was surprised he hadn’t died in his sleep from a layer induced fever. Could that even happen? Well, Eddie wasn’t keen on finding out today. He promptly stripped off the stifling clothing and did the same with his undergarments. While the suffocating layers may not have killed him, they had certainly left him covered in sweat.

  Eddie trailed into the bathroom, catching a glimpse of his naked form in the mirror and stopping. He turned fully towards his reflection, squinting as if sizing himself up.

  He wasn’t very buff, but he was nicely filled out from years of dabbling in sports. He definitely still had a thinner body, his waist dipping in elegantly before flaring back out into hips that, quite honestly, were pretty generous for a man. Eddie didn’t love his body, but who did? Everyone had issues to point out if they took a magnifying glass to themselves, but overall, Eddie was pleased with his appearance.

  He hoped that Richie would be too, if they ever ended up there.

  Eddie turned to the side, assessing his profile. He wondered what it would look like if Richie was slotted in behind him, arms wrapped tight around Eddie’s thin waist to hold him close. The height difference alone would cause Eddie to look small in comparison; Richie was an absolute tree. The thought shouldn’t have made Eddie feel as hot as it did, but he soon found himself heating up again.

  Eddie leaned over the sink, resting his elbows on the edge so he could lean in close to his figure. His cock brushed up against the cold wood surface of the counter and he gasped in surprise, looking down to find it peering up at him in intrigue.

  Eddie’s wonderings about Richie must have gotten him a little more worked up than he’d anticipated.

  Glancing back up at himself in the mirror, Eddie let one hand trail down to the spot between his legs. He grasped himself as he pictured Richie behind him, staring back at him through their reflections with that enticing grin.

  ‘What, Eds. Don’t think I’ll fuck you right here in the bathroom?’

  Eddie moaned quietly to himself, picturing just how he’d respond to Richie’s teasing.

  ‘I bet you won’t, Tozier. Too afraid of someone walking in on us. You’re all talk but no game.’

  Eddie would dangle the challenge in front of Richie knowing full well that he wouldn’t back down. He’d take Eddie’s hips and thrust himself inside without hesitation, just one single move would be all it took for Richie to fill him up.

  Eddie’s wrist cramped from the awkward angle he held it at, but he refused to move from his spot bent over the sink, too caught up in the fantasy.

  He replayed the moans he’d committed to memory the night before, those sinful sounds that Richie seemed to let slip out like he didn’t know they were poisonous darts striking right through Eddie’s skin.

  ‘Richie…’ Eddie moaned, the sound echoing in the empty bathroom.

  ‘Eddie…’ He could hear Richie say, pounding into him at a relentless pace that would leave bruises on Eddie’s skin from where he slammed into the countertop.

  And then Eddie was releasing into his fist, cum pooling over and dripping into the sink. His body shook with shock and his toes curled, eyes squeezing shut as he milked the last bit out of himself before going completely slack.

  He was grateful that counter was there to hold him up, because if not he would have probably fallen to the floor.

  It took a moment for Eddie to finally open his eyes again, but when he did, he was surprised at how disappointed he was that Richie wasn’t actually there. He knew he’d gotten lost in his mind, but it didn’t ease his despondency.

  Eddie stepped into the shower, committing himself to not think about Richie at least until he returned squeaky clean.

    It didn’t work.

  Eddie had thought about Richie the entire shower.

  Eddie tried to let his worry be soothed by Stan’s words, though it continued to flare at the least opportune times. Eddie accepted that he probably wouldn’t be completely placated until he had Richie do it himself, hopefully through tender hands and soothing touches.

  Eddie redressed himself, this time forgoing the heavy layers in favor of a warm wool sweater and comfortable sweatpants. He didn’t bother styling his hair, too set on hunting down Richie to care whether his locks were combed to the left or to the right.

  He quickly pocketed his cellphone and room key, setting off in search of the only other student in the building.

    Eddie didn’t know Richie’s room number, so he took a gamble and wandered into the lobby. There was a pool table in the center of the room, looking lonely as those around it chose to read a book by the fireplace or chat quietly by the windows. There weren’t many people to speak of, so it was easy to quickly spot that familiar face that made Eddie’s heart skip.

  Richie was laying across one of the couches, arms flung across his chest in protest. He was grumbling lowly to the man sitting a seat away, which Eddie recognized as their bus driver.

  “And so, in walks the other prisoner.” Eric drawled as he noticed Eddie, an easy smile on his face.

  Richie’s head popped up quickly, his curls bouncing as they tried to keep up with the swift change in position. Once Richie saw Eddie, the rest of his body followed enthusiastically as he jumped up from his seat.

  “EDDIE!” Richie cheered loudly, before quickly clearing his throat and lowering his voice to a more lobby-appropriate volume. “What are you doing here?”

  “Uhh, I sort of…” Eddie chanced a glance over Richie’s shoulder, noting that Eric wasn’t paying attention to their conversation. “punched Henry Bowers.” He mumbled lowly.

  “YOU WHAT!?”

  “SHHHHH!” Eddie grabbed Richie by the arm and pulled him back down to the couch, looking around them anxiously to see if Richie had drawn any eyes. “It’s not a big deal, okay?” Eddie added once he was sure no one was listening in.

  “Uhm, I’d say punching the guy who’s made everyone’s life a living hell for the past four years counts as a big deal.” Richie challenged.

  Eddie sighed, letting himself lean back into the leather couch as he chewed on his bottom lip. Richie wasn’t wrong, it wasn’t not a big deal, but Eddie wasn’t the violent type. He hadn’t meant to do what he’d done; he’d just snapped. He didn’t regret it, but he didn’t want to dwell on it either, especially since dwelling on it meant remembering all that lead up to it.

  “Can we talk about something else please?” Eddie asked, his voice small and begging.

  Richie was clearly itching for more details, but he still dropped the subject as he copied Eddie’s position sinking into the couch.

  “So, what are you doing here?” Eddie asked, grateful that Richie had respected his request.

  “Eric’s on babysitting duty.” Richie nodded over to Eric who sent them a thumbs up without looking away from his phone. “Mrs. Harrow doesn’t trust me to stay inside.”

  “I mean, to be fair, neither do I.” Eddie mused, a smirk playing on his face.

  Richie bumped his shoulder into Eddie’s, feigning offence even as laughter spilled from his chest.

  “Fine, but at least leave me with something to do, you know? I’m not a convict, I’m injured!” Richie lifted his leg and pointed to his ankle as if to prove his point.

  “As the convict here, I take offense to that.” Eddie teased.

  “Well, Eddie, how do you feel about reformation?” Eric asked. As Eddie regarded him, he saw that Eric had pocketed his phone and was now leaning towards them in engagement.

  Eddie narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Depends on what sort of reformation.”

  “Why don’t you take over guard duty?” Eric offered, nodding towards Richie. “Personally, I’d have let Richie stay in his room anyway, but I was given my orders. If you make sure he doesn’t leave, then at least the two of you can spend your evening watching TV or something. Just don’t let anyone see you outside your rooms, I don’t want to get in trouble for abandoning post. Mrs. Harrow is scary when she’s mad.”

  Eric mimicked a shiver running down his spine before shaking it off, smiling at the two of them warmly.

  “Eric, as per usual, you are the BEST.” Richie cheered.

  “Yeah, I know.”

  Richie and Eddie wasted no time before scrambling to their feet and jetting out of the lobby. They didn’t discuss whose room they were going to, but once Richie pressed his floor number on the elevator keypad it was unspoken.

  Eddie was going to be alone in a room with Richie. Unsupervised. For hours.

  Eddie was going to shit his pants.