#he looks so dead inside (probably because he kinda is) but i swear hes happy

[promoshow]

*she gives him a big ol hug* "I brought a gift! Open it!" 🎁 — PTM (mar)

(I have no idea what he likes so it's up to ya)

Awe, thank you! Ya are so sweet for that..

Congrats finding out that promo likes books!

[us-the-voices-and-more-voices-2]

firestorm idea’s

feversick best idea ever (I feel anemic)

okay you know how firestorm usually is only Ronnie and stein?

what if mikhial (Russian guy from the firestorm 80s cannon) was also there?

And what if mikhial was also a linguist. I think it’d be interesting

also they are all kinda fused together they can change their form but that’s about it, when they split up they can’t be very far from each other or else they start dying.

also I’m aging up Ronnie to be 20, bc like then it’s not weird.

basically in this new cannon I’m proposing mikhial got kidnapped by anti-nuclear terrorists to translate, Ronnie was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and stein was manning the nuclear plant.

They get fused together as firestorm and promptly freak the fuck out because neither one of them is them anymore just this one guy and they are so confused.

Ronnie figures out transmutation by accident bc he can just.. see molecules now, stein is like “WHAT WAIT WAIT CHANGE THOSE AROUND” makes the fire into water, everyone is okay!

yay, but now these 3 guys are one guy and are so confused.

they fly up in the sky but yk they freak out.

firestorm mostly looks like Ronnie bc he’s the strongest of them all being Ex-football star, that’s why he was at the nuclear power plant he kinda just was going around since he was going to apply for a management position.

anyway they are in the sky super confused since they can all kinda see their hands and body but no one is exactly controlling it, it’s kinda a group effort and all that.

Ronnie is the first to speak out loud, and he just starts vigorously swearing. He basically just died and now he’s this fire guy???

mikhial also joins in and cries and swears as well and stein just starts sobbing.

firestorm is kinda just having a full on meltdown and mental breakdown, everyone inside is going through the 5 stages of grief since they LITERALLY DIED

and eventually they calm down enough to reassure themselves they aren’t dead and are alive and all that.

then they start screaming over being completely naked and having fire hair and also a weird ass core thing in the middle of themselves.

they get over that and just keep slightly sobbing.

stein is like “guys I know how to make clothes for us!” They make clothes that are radiation proof.

Ronnie brings up that his dad probably thinks he’s dead and they all panic

and Ronnie takes over firestorm for a bit, and heads home. He also thinks this is a bad idea and all that and kinda wishes they were separate. Then all of a sudden in a blink of red and orange light all three are separated again.

they instantly became nauseous and feel like shit but they are ALIVE AND SEPARATE PEOPLE YA-HOO!

Ronnie’s dad opens the door to 2 forty something’s and his son, he hugs his son and questions the 2 completely random strangers.

Ronnie steps in and says “these are the guys who saved my life and also offered me a job” wink wink nudge nudge.

they collaborate the story and Ronnie’s dad invites them in, they have a wonderful time and stein and mikhial go to leave but suddenly feel like their entire beings are being torn asunder at the seems and stop their way out and ask Ronnie to come with. Ronnie feels the same feelings and literally feels like he would DIE if they left without him follows him.

Ronnie’s dad reluctantly lets them go, since Ronnie lives alone and whatever these guys seem like good people and fast friends.

Ronnie, stein, and mikhial look at each other, and start talking after they are out of earshot.

“What was that. WHAT WAS THAT” “RONALD I DONT KNOW”

and mikhial is just having a panic attack, they all start hugging each other bc it feels nice and they accidentally form firestorm again.

they feel INSTANTLY BETTER, well rested and happy.

and just split apart again, they test what happens when they go apart and they start feeling incredibly weak and sickly again.

they do a few more tests and realize “oh fuck we can’t actually stay apart or we start dying.” They all start trying to think how the fuck are they supposed to work or do anything like this.

“So I think we should get a joint account”

“RONNIE!”

“No no, I think Ronald is right I think we should probably start living in the same house and going to the same workplace”

“I HAVE THINGS TO DO!”

“We all do but I don’t think we can live like we used to anymore, you know how it feels when we go apart!”

“Why are we holding hands, it makes me look like your son lol”

“Oh I didn’t even notice, your right why are we”

they try to not hold hands but it just feels better when they do

“Well okay now we look like weirdo’s”

“Mikhial! Don’t say that”

anyway they all end up crashing at Ronnie’s house since it was closest and also they had ZERO energy to deal with catching the subway to stein’s.

Ronnie’s place is very humble, it has a small kitchen, a couch, a tv, and one bedroom with a king sized bed.

they all look at each other and are like “no we are NOT sleeping in the same bed I will cry.”

Ronnie takes the bed, mikhial takes the couch and stein takes the floor in Ronnie’s bedroom.

mikhial actually hates being that far away and starts to feel sick again and just throws his hands in the air and sleeps on the floor in Ronnie’s room aswell.

the next morning - 2pm

they all wake up at the exact same time which was weird?

Ronnie checks the little digital clock he has on the bedside table and says to them all “hey so it’s 2:34pm do you guys have like work?”

mikhial looks at Ronnie and starts ranting in Russian and some other language Ronnie and stein can’t make out.

he grabs them all and they rush out the door still in their dirty clothes from yesterday as well as their shoes since yesterday was such a fucking disaster!

he fills them in that he had a important client coming in today, but was rudely interrupted yesterday when the terrorists kidnapped him.

Ronnie asks what in the world he does for work and he says “oh I’m actually a architect, but my firm would fire me if they caught me what’s it you kids say ‘slacking’ anyway we have to be there by 3pm or I’m getting fired”

stein asks “but aren’t you a linguist?” Mikhial laughs and says “yes yes, but I work at the firm because being a linguist does not pay me well, and I am out of linguistic work” he chuckles.

they all ask Ronnie if he has a car, he says yes but it’s really small a three seater. They all sigh in relief.

Ronnie grabs the keys and while holding stein’s hand rushes to the car.

he turns the keys and they are on their way, mikhial puts the directions in the gps and they all follow them.

mikhail tries to call his boss, but his phone is super broken.

Stein gives him his, and calls ahead.

it doesn’t go through and they all just hope they get there in time.

thankfully they are only 2 minutes late, mikhail rushes them all in.

the security guard is very concerned and confused, mikhail just says these are his friends and it’s okay they will play nice!

the firm is a very pretty building, there’s a glass staircase in the middle of the room with a elevator in the middle of it.

the whole place was made of glazed glass.

mikhail appears in his own office where his client is sitting, mikhial mumbles out a bunch of apologies and starts showing the client the new drafts.

”who.. are these people” the client says

stein and Ronnie are holding hands while mikhail is looking at the client “friends” he says.

the client is very confused but takes it, they talk for a couple hours.

Ronnie shows stein some memes, they catch up on the news, and play Tetris while they wait.

Eventually the meeting is done, and they all look at each other and sigh. “So, how are we going to make this work?” Mikhail says.

stein is like “oh yeah so everyone thinks I’m dead and you actually, they are also going on about this guy with fire hair?”

Ronnie facepalms “prof, we are the fire hair guy” “what” “yeah”

anyway stein ends up selling his apartment, and making a joint account with Ronnie and mikhail since he’s technically dead. And he updates his Will so they can kinda fudge it and all that.

they all decide that Ronnie’s place is probably not going to cut it, and mikhail has a place and seeing as he’s the only one with a job they all kinda agree on that.

Everyone is SO confused by Ronnie and stein, like is Ronnie stein’s kid with abandonment issues or something? Why are stein and mikhail always holding hands and are inseparable?

Like they moved in together it’s weird, stein makes the claims he needs to revive his identity at some stage. And tries to do remote work 👨‍💻 fails a couple times and then realizes he can just be a nuclear physicist at home Facepalm and doesn’t need to do weird odd remote jobs.

Ronnie has been learning about nuclear physics because he cannot go anywhere without the other guys.

and starts online school, they also form firestorm in between everything. Accidentally beat up green lantern, set a couple places on fire by accident, and get inducted to the justice league somehow.

and manage to have a semi normal life, until one day on a justice league mission.

they get split apart and promptly freak the fuck out, stein gets kidnapped and they all instantly start dying.

Batman, and Superman literally gape at the scene and cannot believe their eyes.

Ronnie and mikhail try to fork firestorm but they make a weird half firestorm and start going to grab stein.

Still in shock Superman goes after the villain who has stein.

stein almost dies they grab him and firestorm is complete again and they sigh in shear relief.

the justice league is super confused by the development but the boys finally just let down their guard to the rest of the league.

they kinda can’t believe that firestorm is actually three guys.

they ask for a salary bc they cannot afford to miss their work they live literally paycheck to paycheck.

they are like “nah” they insist on a salary. They get it the second time.

stein and mikhail learn about Ronnie’s dad being beyond abusive and horrible and kinda step in as Ronnie’s dad’s bc they already live together why the fuck not?

anyway a lot of crazy shit keeps happening, duplex tries to kill them way too many times. They become best buddies with plastic man booster gold and blue beetle (jamie)

Ronnie gets a job as a journalist, stein is able to get back to his work, and Mikhail gets to work as a linguist with the justice league.

They also die a few times, and accidentally fuse with a few other people, go on a legion arc, almost die again and the cycle continues

prev | current | next

[wh6res]

three's a crowd | nomin

synopsis. picking favorites is impossible when you like neither of them.

warning. read at your own risk. abuse, bullying, poly relationship, yandere themes, manipulation, nonconsensual touching, noncon, degradation, smut threesome oop

disclaimer. i do not condone whatever tf i wrote in this nor does it reflect my beliefs or values or morals and such. it is all pure fiction and i also dont think jaemin or jeno would act like this in real life.

note. this was meant to be a new year's gift lmao i obviously got a lil carried away 👀 anyway a late happy new year to you all! we survived 2020, let's start living in 2021, yeah? lmao if covid lets us grr mwah!

the relationship you had with the two of them was a weird one, bordering on taboo, but it wasn't as if you willfully chose to be who they wanted you to be and it took jaemin's unwanted pining and jeno's intimidating demeanor for you to fall right into their arms.

it was a joint effort on their part, you couldn't've possibly stood a chance.

"this many?" the cashier asked. "are you sure?"

stepping back and studying the whole situation, you figured you only had your addiction to caffeine and procrastination to blame. it was a chain reaction you didn't even know will lead up to your inevitable doom.

if you hadn't been slacking off during your first semester of junior year college, you wouldn't be forced to overwork yourself trying to catch up to the looming deadlines, but to be able to 'work yourself to the bone' you need your boost of energy… and that was when you met one of them.

"uhm," you scratch the back of your head sheepishly as you eye the six glass bottles of iced coffee. sure, it looks bad and you kinda appreciate the look of concern the cashier throws your way but it was none of his business.

"yes. now could you, like, you know… hurry up? i'm in a little bit of a time crunch right now."

screw it. although you hardly snap like that with other people on a daily basis, it'll be a whole different conversation if you were under a significant amount of stress and today, unfortunately, is one of those days.

now can he just fucking stop asking questions and give you your six bottles of death drink to keep your fucking brain going so you can pass an eight-page essay tomorrow? thank you very much!

the guy snickered, the beeping sound of a barcode being read sounding a thousand times more annoying than it usually sounds as he keeps his hand busy by punching your items out.

you fail to notice how he studies you through the gaps of his lashes, finding you interesting rather than threatening as you stood before him with your messy hair and oversized hoodie.

"haven't seen you around university grounds 'till today," he tries striking another conversation with you. "you new? i'm jaemin."

this was your first mistake, you shouldn't have been so… downright rude when you met him. if you were granted the miracle of meeting him a 2nd time, you would've acted more nice, throwing yourself at his feet even to blend in with the rest of his fangirls you didn't even know about at the time. you would've done anything to make sure he never gives you a second glance, to never pique his interest.

jaemin is the pep squad captain. flying over colored blue mats and doing tumblings in the air with no ounce of fear. he was the best in his team, that much was evident when your friend dragged you into watching a pep rally practice. his landings were clean, balanced, and executed to the best he can at all times.

no wonder he was popular, his talent is outstanding and his looks are a bonus. his killer combo of a smile and wink after pulling off a tough flip is enough to send them squealing in their seats.

he spotted you that day and since then, he snuck the quickest glances at the bench during practices. recognizing you as the coffee girl he met during his convenience store shift. jaemin tries not to let his disappointment show too much when he doesn't see you, but of course, a pair of cold calculating eyes could see right through him.

"i saw that," his boyfriend said, hand darting forward to hold jaemin's gym bag for him. "you kept looking at the crowd. do you want to see her that much?"

"but she reminds me so much of you, jeno!" he retorts, pouting at the slight grumpy tone the other boy used. "i can't help it. she doesn't seem to give a fuck around me so she's quite interesting. maybe she can even be a great addition to our relationship!"

"well," jeno replies after a beat of silence, plastering a small smirk on his face before slinging an arm around jaemin's shoulder.

"convince me?"

you don't like jaemin's attention. not in the slightest. and it seems that was enough reason for the reign of terror his little fanclub has subjected you too.

it wasn't the petty elementary forms of bullying like pulling at your hair or calling you names. they pale in comparison to the other things they do to you—beating you up, messing with your homework, "accidentally" dumping their food trays on you.

and you weren't stupid.

you knew exactly who was behind it, knew how jaemin spectates the whole thing from afar so that he can swoop in at the end to play your knight in shining armor.

"oh, you poor thing. do you need help?"

the first time you accepted his "help" you ended up in a supply closet near the gym during your free period, cornered and weak as your cries for help drowns under the squeaking of shoes and the booming sounds of rubber balls hitting the floor.

if it weren't for jeno appearing out of thin air and prying the boy off of you, you would've been painted blue and red from the death grip he had on your wrist, neck, and waist.

you can still remember feeling the soreness of your scalp from when he pulled your hair too hard. remembered feeling his teeth gnawing at your lips as if he wanted to tear them off.

that time hadn't been the first time you saw jeno. you've shared a few classes with him and it strikes you how polar opposites they are with one another.

while jaemin likes to bask in his professor and classmates' recognition by confidently reciting his answers, jeno would rather keep to himself. liked sitting at the last row, near the window, so he'd be the first to go once the professor ends their lecture. while jaemin loved the attention of his fangirls, jeno preferred solitude. while jaemin is impulsive and wild, jeno liked to think things through.

it was within these reasons that you decided to do what you did. but your judgement of character has never been more wrong.

you approached jeno one day in the library, tried to make yourself appear as stoic and confident as possible. but your constant slouching and averting eyes was a dead giveaway.

you came to talk to him about what jaemin has been doing, hoping there's one person left in this entire school that isn't under the cheer captain's trance. the one reasonable person that has already saved you once and (hopefully) is willing enough to save you again. the only one that probably has a certain level of control over jaemin, if the supply closet incident is anything to go by.

but you've overestimated lee jeno.

"you should've just given jaemin what he wanted."

"but—but aren't you two lovers? isn't it bothering you?"

you try baiting him, only for an uncomfortable shiver to start crawling down your spine when he chuckled humorlessly, pushing his school materials to the side while pinning you with an unreadable stare.

how can a person make someone feel so small just by a gaze alone? it was nothing like you've felt with jaemin. this is way worse.

"the only thing that's bothering me is why you're not ours yet."

you feel cold fingers creeping their way under your shirt, going higher and higher until it brushes against your bra. and when your eyes meet, the look on his face was unmistakable—what are you going to do about it, huh?

you stood up in lightning speed, the chair you've been sitting on scraping loudly against the floor.

you've never ran out as fast as you did.

and jeno swears it'll be the last.

you tried everything in your power to ignore them for the next following weeks but it soon became useless when the two boys took it upon themselves to give you your space.

although judging by the pinpricks you feel on your back, and the constant weight of a stare you feel on your shoulders, you knew they weren't done with you yet. far from it. and for some reason, you just knew they wanted to lull you into a false sense of security first before striking again.

and while they continued to ogle at you from afar like a hawk circling its prey in a desert, you took it upon yourself to return the favor. not because you were the slightest bit interested in those creeps but maybe, just maybe, if you look hard enough you'll find a way out, a weakness.

but what you realized made your insides churn in great discomfort—although it may seem that jeno holds the reins in the relationship since his reserved nature fits the role, it's actually the other way around.

jaemin might appear too self-centered, too focused on himself to give a fuck about his surroundings but in actuality, he has quite a knack for reading people. even more so than jeno. and it was scary how he used it to his advantage, and paired up with his devoted fangirls? it was hell on earth.

you found it alarming how the two seem to magically appear wherever you are.

although you weren't in the least bit surprised. for some reason, you can't take your eyes away when jaemin's devotees flock around him (and jeno) in a circle.

it almost reminds you of a shoal of piranhas, waiting for their meal to drop into the water before ripping it to shreds with their teeth. only their "meal" isn't actual flesh but the carefully crafted words jaemin says that drive them into a sick frenzy.

one that has them doing everything in their power to satisfy him like the loyal dogs they are.

so this was how he got them to bully you?

"oh, that? don't worry! yangyang just ran into me during cheer rehearsal. no biggie. my cheek stung a little bit, though…" is what he said but really he's telling them "scruff him up a bit for me, why don't ya?"

"of course, i can't be the best all the time. haechan is just too good, maybe even better than me…" is what he said but really he's telling them "can you remind him where his place should be?"

all the while jeno did nothing to hold him back.

no matter how wrong jaemin is, how much of an asshole he is, jeno will stick by his side through and through. so as much as jaemin is a puppeteer that gets a kick for controlling people, jeno is as much at fault for looking the other way.

because in jeno's perspective, why the fuck would he do shit when he can just get off from the entertainment that comes with jaemin's sweet little mind games?

we lost :(

you had been busy sorting through paperwork for one of your professors in the faculty when your friend texted you the results of the intercollegiate cheer dance competition. a frown paints your face, heart feeling heavy at the bad news.

in all honesty, you still supported the pep squad—you just hated the captain and his boyfriend. they've been practicing non-stop for this and prior to the weeks of the competition, jeno looked a lot more tense and jaemin less smiley than usual. you swore you even saw the latter snap at one of his fangirls.

not to mention, they paid less attention to you, too, and it was the best three weeks of your life.

tension starts rising in your shoulders, fingers absentmindedly running through the edge of the papers you had been sorting until you became immersed with your thoughts.

jaemin must be in the worst mood yet.

and jeno too, probably. if anything, that guy gets triggered the most when something bad happens to jaemin or when he catches snippets of people talking shit about his oh so "perfect" boyfriend.

jeno is a lot scarier when jaemin is in one of his mood swings, you noticed. he steps up in the relationship to offer comfort to the other boy and for outsiders? it isn't a great experience to go through—being on the receiving end of jeno's ice cold stare is a position you don't want to find yourself in after that time in the library.

he is still as much a threat to your peaceful life like his lover.

you snap out of it when the blinding headlights of a vehicle seep through the closed blinds. you hear the gentle hum of an engine switching off as the headlights vanished as quick as they had appeared. that must be the cheer squad's bus.

as you look around the empty faculty room, something in your gut tells you to ditch file sorting duty for professor kim tonight and fucking get the hell out of campus grounds as quick as you can.

after haphazardly throwing the unsorted papers back into the cabinet, you groan aloud when the keys to the office drop out of your skirt’s pocket.

the indoor gym where the cheering squad practices is right across the hallway. you sure as hell don't want to bump into jaemin. or jeno, too, if he had decided to ride along the cheer squad's bus on the way home.

you kept looking for the keys underneath the cubicles, cursing aloud when you heard the telltale squeaks of shoes rubbing against linoleum. you almost hit your head against a table when you quickly got back up your feet, darting forward to shut the lights for the faculty room.

they can't know you're here. alone. and if it meant sitting in the dark for a few hours 'till they leave, meant going back home a little later than usual is what you have to do then so be it.

you try not to react so violently when the door you're leaning on jolts when someone from outside slams their back against it.

"it's not like we didn't do our best, right guys? i don't have regrets. it might sound fucking cheesy and although i'm sad myself, atleast we did what we can."

it's jaemin. his voice clear as day.

you try peaking, craning your neck up from your place on the floor. only to see the back of his head leaning against the glass section of the door. someone else joins in on the conversation, followed by coach park himself, and you slowly tune out whatever they're saying as you stealthily start scanning the faculty room.

you curse under your breath. is there no other exit other than this door? jesus christ! even classrooms in this university had two doors—

"what are you doing here?"

the switch flickers on, basking the once dark room with light. only when you hear an echo of your name being called, did you snap out of it and quickly picked yourself up from the floor.

"i said, what are you doing here?"

their coach asks, drilling the question as he looks at you skeptically with his arms crossed. you try not to look at the people behind him.

particularly, not at his cheer captain standing on his right.

particularly, not at jeno, who stands out like a sore thumb with his blue hair, a protective arm snaked around jaemin’s shoulders.

this isn't your lucky day, too, you guess.

"i was…" you cursed yourself for stuttering. "i was, uhm, i was file sorting for prof—professor kim, sir."

coach park looked like he didn't believe you as he narrowed his eyes in scrutiny. your nerves are going haywire and you can feel the sharp pins of their stare with how close they are.

you kept juggling your weight with the balls of your feet, hands fisting and unfisting behind your back. you want to leave. you have to leave.

"file sorting… in the dark?" he asked incredulously.

fuck this.

"uhm, you can ask professor kim himself tomorrow, coach. for now, uh, i'll be going now. i'm sorry you guys lost…"

originally, the exit is on the right side, at the end of the hallway. but no, you are not going to pass by those two while on your way out so you ducked behind a random student standing on the coach's left instead and practically ran away from the scene.

everyone had been too busy. too busy looking at your retreating form to even notice jaemin and jeno exchanging glances, too busy to notice the latter untangling himself from their captain to slip away unnoticed, his hurried steps filled with a burning purpose.

you didn't know why you ran, but you did. your shoes practically booming against the floor as you sped away through darkened hallways. you're sweating profusely, heart hammering in your chest. you can worry about professor kim tomorrow but right now you just had to—

"why are you in such a rush, pet?"

crashing into jeno felt like crashing into a wall. if it hadn't been for his arm quickly wrapping around your waist, then you would've landed on your butt before him.

with the small distance between the two of you, jeno could see as clear as day through your eyes.

jaemin was right.

it was addicting to stare into them.

especially when he can see every single one of your thoughts flying through your pretty little head. but hey, it wasn't their fault you were so easy to read.

jeno barely conceals the wicked smirk on his lips when your hands come up to his chest, trying to push him away but to no avail.

he can see your eyes shifting from shock, to confusion, until it finally settles on fear—to which it's slowly becoming a favorite emotion of his to see on your face.

"you know, jaemin is in a really shitty mood right now. and we were wondering, maybe you can cheer us up?"

no. this can't be happening.

"jeno, please." your dilated eyes and disheveled hair made his blood run south. "let me go. you don't want me. you don't need a third party in your relationship."

you yelp when he lets you go, literally shoving you against a wall—which you found out is actually a door, as it swings open as soon as your body crashes against it.

with jeno looming unforgivingly before you in his full height, the tears stung extra hard but you won't let them fall.

if he wanted to bask in the image of your weakness then it'll be something you'll deprive from him for as long as you can.

"i don't need a stupid bitch like you to tell me what i feel." he scoffs. "don't fucking kid yourself, you little whore—i don't want you. i'm not jaemin."

the echo of the classroom door shutting closed surged through you like a wake up call.

this is really happening.

you've always led a decent life, had done nothing too questionable and you've always thought maybe life will spare you if you lived quietly enough. but the feel of jeno's freezing hands crawling against your skin felt like life itself had spat at you in the eye and left you to rot in a ditch.

"i've always liked how you wore skirts," he comments. playing with the ruffled hem of the soft fabric as he purposely grazed his knuckles against your supple thighs. "gives me easy access, don't you agree?"

you scream when he flips your skirt up to reveal the innocent pink of your cotton panties. it was as if a switch had flipped inside of you and the will to fight started coursing through your veins.

"stop! jeno! i don't want this!"

his brows furrow, grunting as he struggles to push the waistline of your skirt up higher with how much you're thrashing underneath him. you buck your hips, tried curling in on yourself, anything to prolong what he wants to do to you.

with your legs trapped underneath his, you blindly reach forward, relying on your upper body instead to push and scratch whatever your palms and nails reached.

you continue screaming like a banshee until he shoved two fingers into your wet cavern.

"stop fighting me," he sounded strained, as if he's holding himself back. you feel him fisting the fabric of your skirt and you fear he's simply going to rip it apart.

you tried responding to him, only the sound had been muffled, gurgled by the flat of his fingers pushing down against your tongue mercilessly. when you reach forward to push him away, your hands land on the apple of his cheeks, nails digging through skin.

until it slips and—

you lie rigid when red scratch marks in the size of your fingernails slowly appear on jeno's skin, his head turned to the side as he paused. your actions slowly start sinking in to him as he shuts his eyes and bit his lip 'till it looked like it was about to bleed.

oh no.

"jeno—"

the slap he planted on your cheek left your ears ringing. all those hard earned muscles of his put to good use—if the tears hadn't fallen for the last few minutes, then it definitely started falling now.

the hit had been so strong, a few of your hair flew astray, the buzzing feeling of your skin tempting you to reach a hand up to soothe your abused cheek.

until jeno let out a low growl and your hand immediately drops limp against your body, afraid of whatever else he can do to you other than a slap.

"that's more like it," he whispers under his breath. you let out the tiniest of whimpers when his hand darts forward to fist your hair. "do you know what happens to bad girls? they fucking get busted up. do you understand me?"

his patience is nonexistent.

jeno slams your head against the floor when you don't answer because you thought his question had been rhetorical. it felt like your skull had been split in two as you wail in pain.

"are you fucking deaf—i asked you a fucking question!"

the hand that cups your jaw is painful as he squeezed your cheek with his blunt nails. your hand shoots up to wrap around his wrist, silently pleading for him to let up as you sobbed out loud. you started nodding as best as you can despite his firm grip on your face.

your reply was nothing short of pathetic. with lips forcefully pursed and the steady stream of your tears and snot rolling down your face, your response is gargled and hardly incoherent and jeno seemed to thoroughly enjoy your anguish if the condescending curl on his lips is anything to go by.

"look at you," he whispers, his face coming close to yours as he holds you down. there was something in the way jeno stared so intently that it made your skin crawl.

"i think you're prettiest when ruined like this."

with his nose touching yours, he felt too close, bordering on intimate as you felt his hand creep back up your thighs, trailing up with feather-like touches that made goosebumps appear on your skin.

you tried wiggling your legs underneath him but one sharp look from jeno is enough to make you stop.

the hand holding your face moves. coming down from gripping your face to encircling his hand around your neck.

"do you like it when i touch you? freaky bitch."

his hands trail further up, up, up until you felt him slotting a finger underneath your panties.

jeno didn't like how frozen you were underneath him as he pulls at the hem before letting go. the elastic snapping back against your skin.

the action evokes a strong feeling through the young male, promising to have you writhing and screaming and begging because by the end of all this, you'll be so needy and frustrated that you will have no choice but to give in to what your body wanted.

"jeno, didn't i tell you to play nice?"

someone stands by the door, the minimal light from the hallway creating a silhouette with his form but you knew who he was. that deep voice, with the same annoying flippant tone, is a dead giveaway.

you didn't know why you even hoped in the beginning. as if there'll be someone who can save you from these two.

you thought the flash of hurt in your eyes was quick to disappear but jeno noticed it quicker.

in a span of seconds, he pulled you up from your position from the ground and tugged you towards his lap. you haven't even gotten the time to settle on your new position when he already smashed his lips against yours.

it was messy. too much saliva. too much teeth. no tenderness to it at all.

the fabric of his jeans felt rough, not to mention the ice cold belt buckle made you severely uncomfortable as it seeps through the thin fabric of your skirt.

when you attempt to hover over his lap, jeno grunts as he snakes an arm around your waist, pulling you back down without your lips breaking away from each other. you didn't know why he let out a whine, but you understood the moment you fully sat down on his lap and you felt a tent on his jeans hitting your clothed entrance perfectly.

in a normal circumstance, you would've found everything hot and might've actually gotten off from it but not when it's him who’s doing this to you and you didn’t consent to any of this.

you start squirming again. palms lying flat against jeno's chest as you attempt to push him away and jaemin sees this as the opportune moment to slot himself behind you, caging you in between them.

“i want my turn,” he hisses and without an ounce of hesitation, jeno stops to do what he's told.

jaemin doesn't waste any second to grab your face, awkwardly craning your neck up to meet his lips in the same feverish kiss.

while jeno had been all teeth and aggression, practically forcing you to open your mouth and kiss him back, jaemin on the other hand is more soft, more romantic, you daresay. he seemed to like taking his sweet time by clutching your face, kissing you like he actually meant it.

he pulls away slightly, resting his forehead against yours as he murmurs something incoherent under his breath and then he's kissing you again.

you think you heard something along the lines of, "finally."

you've been too distracted by jaemin to notice jeno's nimble fingers quickly fumbling with the buttons of your blouse. it was only when you feel the sensation of his tongue laving against the swell of your breast did you turn away from jaemin, jerking backward in surprise.

"no—!"

your scream is cut off by a hand cupping your mouth. jaemin pulls your back towards his chest, molding your body against his as jeno licked and suckled all he wanted, thankful to have the other boy there to not worry about restraining you and keeping you quiet while he has his fun.

"ah, ah, ah," jaemin teases, going hard over the pleading and teary look you sent his way. it looked pathetic, he wasn't going to lie, but it doesn't mean he didn't love it. "just keep still and appreciate jeno's efforts to take care of you, alright baby?"

you don't like how he talked as if this was all a mutual thing, how he talked slowly like you were some toddler who didn't understand anything.

it's cruel how jaemin giggled and basked in your vulnerable state as he kept his eyes pinned on you while undoing the zipper of your skirt. your muffled cries of his name only serving to egg him on.

the way he stared was similar to jeno, too intently and intrusive, like he wants to burn your image of despair in the back of his head.

you whined involuntarily when jeno got bored of all the licking and thus decided to start biting and nipping at your chest instead. he was hypnotised by how responsive you were, how every little bite and nibble made you shudder.

it was a shame that jaemin had to cover your mouth. he didn't get to hear your pretty mewls but it wasn't as if he'd let the night end without hearing them loud and clear.

jaemin is fast in undressing you, feeling slightly betrayed by how quick your skirt and blouse fell under his hands.

you know what he wants, what he's going to do, and the tears fall harder when you can't dodge away from him. forced to endure and accept whatever they give you.

"you act like you don't like it but look how fucking wet you are," you bit your lip hard when jaemin starts circling the pads of his fingers against your clit, fascinated by how more juices streamed down your thighs.

"jeno, do you see this? fuck."

you can only blink in defeat, staring off to the side as you force down any noise bubbling up your throat, forcing yourself to think of anything else other than what's happening right now.

you try not to think about how they managed to tear all of your clothes off while they're left completely dressed. tried not to think about the fingers lazily drawing up and down your slit to collect your essence.

if they're doing this as a way to further humiliate you, it's working.

"slut," jeno mocked, a wicked curl on his lips when he wraps his fingers around your throat. the moment he dives down to claim your lips again is the same time jaemin pushes two fingers inside you.

"look at how wet you are because of me," jaemin whispers hot against your ear and you feel a sick churn in your stomach when you feel his smile against your skin.

he purposely drives his fingers in and out quicker, settjng a brutal pace, wanting you to hear the lewd squelching sounds. "hear that? do you hear that, darling? that's because of me—"

"don't go talking big now, jaem," jeno retorts, pulling away from your lips to start nibbling on the back of your ear. "i was here first. did you see how she fucking reacted when i sucked on her tits?"

you're quick to catch how jeno particularly loved degrading you. but how he talks about you as if you're literally not in front of him naked made you hit a new all-time low.

you felt… filthy.

his hands find purchase on your butt—only because jaemin has already claimed the front. for now.

you close your eyes tight when he painfully squeezes the flesh of your ass. you swear, his blunt nails will paint your skin black and blue.

"i'm the favorite!"

"i'm the favorite!"

as someone who's part of a varsity team, you already knew a competitive nature runs through jaemin's veins. but never had you thought jeno would share the same sentiment. once again they prove that they're cut from the same cloth.

all of a sudden it wasn't all about claiming you as theirs anymore rather it was all about who can make you moan the loudest, who can make you cum the most, who can make you feel the dirtiest you can be.

you're absolutely terrified for the hours to come.

thankfully, they have yet to ask for your verbal opinion or validation. they let your body do all the talking—every repressed shudder and sharp gasp is enough.

but it's game over once they pop the million dollar question.

"who do you like best?"

you don't want to find out the consequences if you actually answered their question because you didn't know what could be worse.

jaemin's manipulation or jeno's aggression?

but it was all normal. trial and error is inevitable in order to build and mold you into the ideal lover for the both of them.

because adding someone new to the mix has never been easy—after all, three's a crowd.

[dameronology]

wait on {din djarin x reader}

summary: boba fett is a good therapist, and din djarin is spectacular at being nosey. the result? a much needed conversation. perhaps there’s a silver lining. {kinda based on this song}

warnings: angst, language, swearing, s2 spoilers

this one hurts a lil bit but i promise the ending is happy. enjoy!!

-jazz

The air between you was thick, not unlike the beskar that the Mandalorian was wearing. 

It was funny, really, because you’d never minded the armour all that much before. Your ability to see straight through it and see Din Djarin for what he really was had been what made him fall in love with you, and you with him. Now, it felt like a barrier between you. Inches of thick metal and fabric, shielding him from the world around him. From you. The one person he usually held closest to his heart; the one person he’d let see his face for the first time in years. The man was hardly a conversationalist at the best of times but he’d opened up to you. Shared his world with you and intertwined it with yours. Built something with you that you'd both protect with your lives. 

Now, he was straying away. Forever attached by an invisible string, but with galaxies and galaxies between you. Even though he was mere inches from you, sat two seats over, there was a chilly air; if your relationship was a warm, welcoming house, the atmosphere he’d plunged you both into was the cold winter’s night on the other side of the glass. You wanted to go back, to drag him inside and slam and bolt the door behind you. Instead, you were forced to watch through the windows, knowing what was there but never quite truly getting close enough to let it envelope you. 

You couldn’t hold it against him. The last few weeks had been rough on you both, and it only come to a head today. Grogu had been taken by the Imps and the Crest had been blown up before your very eyes. It was one of those times that truly and wholly showed the difference between you and Din: you sought him out and he pulled away. You’d learnt a long time ago not to follow him. You wanted to. Fuck, you wanted to, but you’d learnt the hard way that it was a bad idea. 

Despite the icy silence and ache for your kidnapped toad son, you were still grateful for the fact Boba Fett had offered his ship as transport and shelter. You weren’t entirely sure what his deal was, but Din seemed to trust him, and so by extension, you did too. Things were a little cramped in the hull of the ship, but there was a spare sleeping quarters for you and the Mandalorian to squish into, assuming he’d let you. You didn’t want to ask him, because you were scared of the answer. 

Instead, you found yourself sat out on the dusty plains of...wherever the hell you were. Boba had parked the ship up overnight so that you could rest; it seemed to be some kind of desert planet. Not too different to Nevarro or Tatooine, but perhaps a little colder. The sky had long faded to black, casting a darkness over the sandy plains ahead of you. The chilly air was a welcome contrast against the stuffiness of the bedroom - it wasn’t even hot in there, just filled with some kind of inexplicable tension. And not the sexy kind; the regular, all-consuming type. You could feel it slowly etching into your frontal lobe, sinking in its claws and giving you a stress head-ache. Letting out a few deep breaths, you let the gusts of cold wind blow over your bare arms. 

‘A little cold out here, isn’t it?’

The voice was gravelly and unfamiliar, but one that you knew belonged to Boba Fett. 

‘Yeah, maybe.’ You didn’t turn around to look, instead letting your eyes stay focused on the distance. There was nothing ahead. Just darkness and sand. ‘Fresh air is nice, though.’

‘Or maybe the air inside is bad.’ He countered. Boba took a seat on the rock beside you, jokingly whacking his knee against yours. ‘What’s on your mind?’

‘Just...what happened today, I suppose.’ You replied. ‘We lost the kid, and our ship.’

‘You’re handling it better than your Mandalorian.’ He replied. 

‘I don’t think he’s my Mandalorian.’ You snorted. ‘He’s just...he doesn’t normally deal with so much at once. I think he just needs time to process it all, you know?’

‘Perhaps.’ Boba said. ‘And do you always make excuses for him?’

‘I beg your sweet pardon?’ You turned to look at him. 

‘Forgive me if I’m overstepping, but I’ve always been an observant man.’ He began. ‘I saw how you immediately went to him, to check on him, and how you fought beside him,  yet he’s barely even looked at you.’

‘Ouch.’ You muttered. ‘You might be observant you but certainly do not tread lightly.’

‘My apologies.’ He curtly nodded. 

‘It’s not always been like this.’ Your words felt forced. You were making excuses. ‘And it won’t always be.’

‘You know him better than anyone, or so I assume.’ Boba reminded you. ‘But don’t be afraid to remind him what he has, despite what he’s lost.’

He was right. Din could be distant, and he could be fucking ignorant without even trying, but you hadn’t strayed from his side once. Not for a second. It could be frustrating to deal, with but you loved him with your whole being, in a soul-consuming sorta way, and you knew he was capable of coming around. Your mother had always preached songs of love being patient and kind but as you saw it, it was frustrating, and at times the most inconvenient thing in the world. You must have had the patience of a saint to deal with him. He was just lucky he made it worth it (and that underneath all the armour, he wasn’t too bad to look at. It certainly helped his case). 

You let out a sad laugh. ‘I couldn’t. Di - Mando already struggles to express his feelings and I’d only make it worst if I said he wasn’t doing it well enough.’

‘You know your worth.’ Boba said. ‘Only you can decide if he appreciates it enough.’

‘He does.’ You quickly replied. ‘I know he does.’ 

He gave you a doubtful look, one that said I think you’re bullshitting, but I won’t disagree. He was simply sharing his observations, even if they were a little much. But the man hadn’t had any proper social interaction for a long time, so you could hardly blame him - and he had a sort of wise air to him, like he’d been round the block a couple times. He certainly seemed like the sort of person you should listen to.

‘I’ll leave you with this: the life of a Mandalorian is complicated.’ He dusted off his knees, before standing up. ‘You should make sure it’s worth it before you fully commit.’

‘I-’ you tried to speak, but you were cut off by the sound of a twig snapping under someone’s boot. Why the fuck were there twigs in the desert? More to the point, why was that your immediate thought? 

You both sharply turned around, coming face-to-face with a Mandalorian. Not a Mandalorian, but the Mandalorian. The one you’d just been talking about. The one whose heart would have been broken into a million tiny pieces if he’d even a word of what you just said. And, from the way his helmet tilted ever so slightly to the left, you figured he’d heard more than enough. Fuck. 

'Don’t let me stop you.’ His modulated voice wavered ever so slightly. ‘I’ll see you inside.’

He turned on his heel, heavy steps taking him back towards the Slave I. To anyone else, his body language hadn’t changed, but you could read him like a book. A complicated book, and one that was missing more than half its pages and was in a dozen different fucking languages, but one you’d read a thousand times. Understanding Din Djarin was hard, and you’d only just begun -  barely touched the surface in fact - but it was more than anyone else could say. 

‘Wait!’ You leapt up, almost comically falling over as you rushed after him. 

Sensing that his presence was probably not welcome, Boba returned to his seat on the rock, silently hoping that Fennec Shand was either a) asleep, or b) had enough common sense to stay the fuck out of the way of whatever was about to go down. 

‘I swear to maker if you shut that door -’ you were cut off by...the door shutting in your face. Djarin: 1. You: 0.

You let out a small groan, slamming your fist against it. 

‘Okay, maybe I deserved that.’ You quietly muttered. ‘But will you please listen to me?’

Silence. 

‘Fine.’ You splayed your fingers out against the metal. ‘Ice me out, Din Djarin. I’m more than used to it by now.’

There was a gruff hmm from the other side of the door. Had he really just taken offence to that?

‘It’s funny, really.’ You continued. ‘Because the part of that conversation you didn’t hear was me defending you. Like I always fucking do, because I know that despite everything, you’re a human being and you love me.’

There was a small thud, as though Din had placed his hand in a similar position to yours.

‘But Boba has a point.’ Your voice fell to a whisper. ‘I keep giving and I get nothing back. Instead of letting me in, you just shut me out and I know you’re upset at what he said but for the love of everything holy in this shitty world, do not prove him right.’

It was a risky ultimatum, and not one you’d seen coming. Your chest had tightened as soon as the words left your mouth, because you knew that if Din stayed silent, that was it. You’d have to let him go; to accept that you would never get back what you putting in. Before, you were able to convince yourself that you were okay with that but maybe, just maybe you weren’t. Waiting around for something that had no guarantee of happening was like beating a dead horse that had no guarantee of coming back to life. The only thing that was promised was emotional exhaustion and then eventual death. You would have liked to have found something between those two waypoints - whether Din Djarin could be the one to give it to you? You didn’t know. 

After a moment of silence, the door finally opened, and you came face to face with him. Like actually face to face with him; no helmet, no armour. Just a loose tunic and tired brown eyes, matched with lazily-shaven facial hair and knitted brows. That was Din. Your Din. 

‘Can I just...can I just talk for a moment?’ He asked. ‘I have something to say and I want to get it right.’

‘Of course.’ You nodded. 

‘I’m not hurt by what you said.’ He stated. ‘I know I don’t show you enough love and it hurts that I don’t know how, but I am trying. I promise you that much.’

You gave him a tearful smile. ‘Yeah, I know.’

‘I just wish that you could say it to me and not to him.’ He murmured. ‘I don’t want you to hold back on anything, ever. You can always come to me. Even if it’s about me.’

‘I get that.’ Your eyes fell to the floor. ‘It’s just that I know you’re trying your best and I’m scared you’ll think that your best isn’t enough.’ 

‘It’s not.’ Din’s words took you by surprise. ‘It’s not enough, but one day, I hope it will be.’

‘I don’t know what to say, because if I deny it-’

‘- you don’t have to say anything.’ He cut you off. ‘I want to give you the world. And I will, if you’ll be patient with me.’

You took every word as gospel as he said it. The Mandalorian was a lot of things, but a liar wasn’t one of them. And to his credit, every promise he’d made to you before, he��d delivered on. You didn’t doubt for a second that this one would be the same. It wasn’t even naivety or wishful thinking. 

‘I mean, I’ve come this far.’ You tried to crack a joke. You finally looked up from the floor, his brown eyes meeting yours. 

‘I love you.’ He took your hands in his, words firm. ‘That’s all I can give you right now. I’m sorry.’

‘Din.’ The words barely come out as a whisper. ‘Never apologise. Please never apologise. I just...it’s nice to hear it, you know? A little more often than every time you almost die.’

‘Are the words enough on their own?’

‘Yes.’ You squeezed his hands. ‘Because I know you mean them.’

Din wrapped his arms you, pulling you tightly against his chest. It was warm and soft, miles away from the cold armour that so often greeted you. He held you tightly and with a new kind of might you were previously yet to experience, clinging onto you as though it were the last time. It wasn’t - it was far from the last time. Rather, it was the first time. The first time that he’d spoken of a future with you, or fully promised himself to you. You knew you would get there one day. You’d just needed him to say it himself before you could believe it. 

Din Djarin was giving you tiny little pieces on himself each day, and one day, you would have all of him. 

tags: @meshlababy @bo-kryze @poestardust @aqueencomplexx @princessxkenobi @cosmic-rich @captn-andor @buttercup--bee​ @maharani-radha​ @kat-r-in​

[sparrowmoth]

Safe From Heartbreak (If You Never Fall) • [AO3]

Teen | 6K | Jaylos | Hurt/Comfort, Caretaker!Jay, Fluff & Angst

A/N: Happy holidays, Glitter/@just-a-glittery-fan! ✨ I'm once again your Secret Santa for the @descendantsgiftexchange! 🥰♥️💚 I can never get enough hurt/comfort with my favourite boys, so it was a treat to get to write this and I really hope you'll enjoy reading it just as much! Warm winter wishes and all the best for the New Year! 🥂

CW (spoilers): Light to moderate description of blood and injuries, underage drinking, implied depression and trauma symptoms, existential angst, references to attempted assault and defensive violence, death of minor character (antagonist), references to parental abuse, implied food scarcity, and swearing.

It wasn’t the blood on the stairs, but the fact it was fresh that made Jay hurry. He could see the wetness turning pink as it mingled with the snow. It wasn’t a lot that’d fallen, blood or snow. Enough, though.

Enough to almost miss a shred of dull white fabric, snagged on the splintered teeth of a hole in a step that had been whole that morning.

He slowed a few steps down from it, suddenly wary of the creaking so familiar to his ears. He dropped almost to a crawl, spreading his weight out over several steps as he reached to examine the fabric.

He’d just plucked it when he saw down, through the hole—

Some thirty feet below, in the deepest shadows, there was a large, unmoving form. His heart lurched for only the moment it took to process that by the build of the person, it couldn’t be anyone he—

Loved.

(That was a voice in him that never would stay buried.)

Never mind that, though, because the sight of that stranger’s body in the place it was now meant they’d gotten past the gate, this far up the stairs—and for what?

Jay’s eyes fell to the shred of fabric pressed between his thumb and forefinger; the little white scrap was fluttering in the cold breeze like a flag of surrender. Another look down to the body below and Jay’s stomach clenched. The stranger wasn’t wearing white, but he knew someone who did—and probably was—and had reason to be here—

On that thought, he leaned toward one side of the stairs and poked his head through the rails, searching every inch of shadow for a sign of someone else below. It was reasonably dark at this hour, but the dusting of snow reflected some of the moon and near streetlights—

Enough to be reasonably sure there was no one else down there.

He sucked down an anxious breath, filling his lungs with frozen air; then, limb by limb, with slow and cat-like movements, he moved up over the splintered step and the rest of the way up the flight of stairs.

On the final landing, Jay straightened up, shook the snow from his hair, and was about to step toward the door of the hideout when he realized—it was open. And it was dark inside. Deathly quiet, too—

Or maybe Jay just couldn’t hear right over the drum of his heart.

“Well, fuck,” came the gravelly sigh from within as Jay stepped into the doorframe, all but filling it out. “Kinda thought you were dead.”

Jay frowned into the darkness, much deeper past the threshold.

“Carlos…?” he asked, not actually uncertain. It wasn’t a question of who as much as what happened and, “Why would you think I was—?”

Jay stopped, his arm outstretched, hand still on the light switch.

“Oh,” said Carlos, voice flat. He was slumped on the floor against an old wooden cabinet where they stashed supplies, one bloody arm up against the spill of light from overhead. “Just you,” he remarked as he squinted at Jay; then, sighing: “Can you turn that off? S’bright…”

Slowly, Jay stepped in and shut the door behind him, bolting it with one hand behind his back so as not to take his eyes off Carlos. He left the light on without comment, not because he hadn’t been listening, but rather because he’d been listening well enough to hear the slip—

The telling slur of Carlos’ words.

“What happened?” Jay demanded, not even bothering to stamp the snow from his boots as he cleared the space between him and Carlos with a few long strides. “There’s a body down there—” He crouched in front of Carlos, tilting his head to try and meet his eyes beneath the bloody arm he still had raised. “—so don’t bother with nothing.”

“Tch,” Carlos breathed out, gaze averted toward nothing.

Jay pursed his lips, then gently grabbed for Carlos’ wrist and elbow, pushing his arm down, away from his face. His eyes flicked over the bloodstained fabric of Carlos’ coat arm, noting the rip at the elbow where damaged skin showed through. Not too deep, but dirty, yes—

He’d deal with that after treating the head wound.

Grabbing Carlos’ chin in one hand, Jay slowly but firmly moved the other boy’s head up and down, side to side, in thorough inspection.

“Wha’ ah… you doo’n?” mumbled Carlos, otherwise amenable in a way that made Jay want to wind him up, purposefully annoy him—anything to inspire a reaction more in line with Carlos’ usual spirit.

Instead, with only some relief at the lack of visible injury to Carlos’ head, Jay drew back without releasing Carlos’ chin. He raised his free hand between them, holding up three fingers, and was about to ask how many when Carlos answered in a deadpan, “Twenty-three.”

Jay lowered that hand with a frown, but still held Carlos’ chin tight.

“Hey, smartass, shit sense of humour doesn’t mean no concussion.”

Carlos rolled his eyes in a slow, lazy arc before his gaze settled back on Jay, beneath a frown of his own. “Didn’t hit my head does…” He tried to scoot back from Jay, but—given he was already leaning against the cabinet doors—he settled for slumping heavily sideways.

The movement disturbed something caught between Carlos’ hip and the cabinet. The sound of it was brief, but distinct—enough that Jay would have known what it was without actually seeing the thing—

“Tell me…” Jay took a breath. “…you didn’t drink the disinfectant.”

Carlos stared up at the ceiling, since Jay had finally let his chin go. “With a bandage sandwich,” he declared, sarcastic with a dull edge.

“All of it?” Jay had reached for the bottle and was holding it up now, swishing it around like it wasn’t obviously empty. “Evil,” he cursed, setting the bottle down hard on the floor, “you know this shit’s—” He stopped abruptly, catching Carlos flinch as he came close to yelling. He didn’t quite say sorry, but took a breath before changing course, a little clumsily: “Risky. Drinking alone. Anyway, you look like hell…”

Carlos shrugged—sort of. More like he started to and also didn’t.

“Should see the other guy,” he mumbled, sparing a glance at Jay.

That earned him a scoff. “Yeah, I saw,” said Jay, “and you’re telling me what the fuck happened as soon as I’m sure your shit’s not going septic.” He straightened up before offering a hand to Carlos, who just stared at him in a way Jay knew to precede a confession. He sighed.

Carlos grimaced. “Don’t think… I should stand on it.”

He shifted his left leg so his pants rode up a couple inches above his boot, revealing a skin colour so unnatural, it might register as a sock.

Jay, for his part, swore as colourfully as Carlos’ skin was bruised.

That had been about five minutes ago.

It was quiet now but for the creaking of old pipes in the walls.

When Jay emerged from the bathroom with a small pot of water and a fistful of white rags bleached as clean as they could be, it was to the sight of Carlos on the couch, where he’d left him—one leg up on the arm, pants pooled at the knee; the other leg folded, hidden away.

Carlos’ eyes were shut, his face lined with tension.

He hadn’t let out more than a muffled whimper at Jay’s first attempt to extract his swollen ankle from out of his boot. The pair, which had been Jay’s before his, were a little big on him usually, but not as bad as now. His ankle was huge. No doubt his foot was swollen, too—

Jay’s second attempt had been, perhaps, a little cruel.

He’d done it quick, without a warning—after Carlos had asked him, breathing hard, to just stop—wait—give it a minute! Like that would make it better? It was clear to Jay it’d been too long already, and so—

He’d set his mind on one thing: get the boot off. That’s all.

Carlos had yelped and jolted violently, the movement awkward with how he was laying. He’d crashed back down on the couch a moment later, throwing his arms up to guard his expression, obscure his pain.

That reaction on the tail of an empty bottle made Jay more anxious.

Something was broken. Maybe not even bone. But something.

“I’m fucked,” Carlos croaked out, not opening his eyes, but listening to Jay as he shuffled beside him. He heard the soft clang of the pot as Jay set it on the floor, then a breath of a sigh before Jay responded—

“That why you were drinking?”

Carlos winced, cracking one eye open. “Didn’t… think about it.”

At that, Jay just nodded, like the honesty was enough. He bent and dropped the rags into the pot before turning away to retrieve one of their “dining room chairs” (if generously described). It was a rusted, rat-chewed thing, sure enough, but Jay felt confident to sit in it, and so he did, having placed it about as close as it could be to the couch.

“Arm,” was all he said, more of an announcement than a request. He was already scooping a hand under Carlos’ left arm, near the elbow, bringing his injury closer for inspection. It was bloodier than it was deep, with dirty patches of scraped skin—some by the wrist, a lot by the elbow, nothing between where his coat would have bunched—

“I jus’ fell on it,” Carlos mumbled, which Jay already figured.

“Mm,” said Jay distractedly, reaching down for one of the rags. He wrung it out in a fist, then started to gently wipe at the blood, a soft-formed crust. “Got some pretty bad splinters.” He frowned, dabbing around the spots he noticed them so as not to press them in deeper.

He was starting to see how it’d all have happened in his mind, or at least as far as it’d happened since the gate, which—yeah, that had to have been where Carlos had noticed there was someone behind him. He wouldn’t have gone to it otherwise, not even to escape. They all knew to lose their tails before they went into the den, so to speak—

That meant, probably— (Jay tossed the blood-soiled rag aside, then dug into a pocket for a pair of tweezers.) That meant the bastard had been waiting, already knowing the place, if not that Carlos would be coming alone. Call it coincidence? Maybe. But Jay wasn’t convinced.

Carlos, who’d been quiet, watching Jay pluck out splinters from the corner of his eye, suddenly reached for the tweezers with a sloth-like grip. “Can do it,” he said when Jay pulled back, raising an eyebrow.

Jay covered up a snort by lifting his sleeve to his face, pretending his nose was itchy. “It’s done,” he said, even as he bent to continue, “but if you wanna do something—” He glanced up through his lashes at Carlos, with his glass-eyed stare, eyelids drooping before he seemed to notice and quickly blinked to keep his stare fixed. “Nevermind,” Jay decided with a sigh. “I’ll... hide the body. We can talk tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow’s soon,” Carlos hummed in reply. “I’ll jus’ nap first…”

Jay spared a glance to the clock on the wall, which by now in his life he wasn’t sure why he bothered trying to reference. The black hand was sort of—well, it was near the thin one, and both were near to—

“Whatever,” Jay muttered under his breath, directed at the clock. He turned his attention back to the last elusive splinter in Carlos’ arm, so focused on plucking it without pinching, he almost didn’t hear—

“You mad…?”

“What?” asked Jay, just as Carlos was about to say something else.

They both stared at each other, then Jay shook his head, sitting up in his chair and pocketing the tweezers. “Why would I be m—” He cut off abruptly, regarding Carlos with a suspicious look. “Should I be?”

Carlos’ expression was equally suspicious, or at least it would have been; with tiredness creeping in all over, it looked more quizzical than anything. “Dunno,” he mumbled, failing at a shrug. “Maybe…”

Jay was quiet for a moment—then, he rolled his eyes and laid a hand on Carlos’ head, gently ruffling his curls. “Maybe you’re an idiot for getting drunk on our disinfector—” (Carlos made a face, but didn’t try to correct him, which somehow only made Jay want to dare him into proving he wasn’t “that drunk” by pronouncing “disinfectant.”) “—but I’m not mad,” Jay finished, forgetting that he kinda had been.

Carlos, who hadn’t forgotten, made a throaty noise of discontent.

Registering that as annoyance, Jay withdrew his hand. He was about to reach for another rag to finish cleaning Carlos’ arm so he could bandage it when he suddenly remembered: “Shit, I forgot the ice…”

“S’cold, anyway,” Carlos pointed out, blinking tiredly up at Jay as he pushed his chair back and stood, making a halo of the light behind him. He looked pretty like that and probably no one had told him—

Maybe Carlos would have just then if Jay hadn’t left so quickly.

As it were, he was alone, thinking about what he did say. It was cold. (Was it?) He held his arms up to examine the goosebumps that told him it was. Probably. His arms also told him they were very heavy—or, well, they didn’t tell him so much as he felt that they were that…

Next, he tried to lift his leg, but that was so much heavier and it hurt.

At least not as much as it’d hurt before, when it’d happened—

His boot probably had splinters. He should take them out.

But Jay had the tweezers in… one of his pockets.

He could use his fingers, he reasoned.

Would that get splinters in his fingers? Would Jay have to take them out or could he do it himself? No, he could do it himself, if he wasn’t so dizzy and warm in spite of the cold and wanting mostly to sleep.

It was… 11:54 PM now and Carlos, being confident of his brain if not his ability to “tweeze” at the moment, was very sure of two things: first, that he was drunk; second, that tomorrow was in six minutes.

Jay wanted to talk tomorrow, so he should sleep now, first, before…

Before was a word half-formed on Carlos’ lips. He’d mumbled half his thoughts aloud without realizing, but by the time Jay returned—and not more than a minute later—Carlos was quiet, deeply asleep.

He didn’t rouse when Jay hovered over him, debating what to do.

It could be as simple as pulling his coat down from where they’d set it over the top of the couch—easy enough to pretend it’d just fallen that way, or Carlos had grabbed it himself in the night and forgotten.

It could be as simple as a roll of bandage on that arm, stuffing some ice in a bag and taping it around his ankle, maybe leaving some food near and calling it a debt, because Jay had his own fucking problems, didn’t he? Carlos didn’t have to be one of them. Jay didn’t have to…

Love him? asked that weak and stupid voice in the soil of his mind.

Jay ignored that thought and all the others as he gathered Carlos up in his arms and brought him into the other room; there, a mattress lay with a mussed pile of blankets and no sheets, a few thin pillows and some cushions they’d stuffed themselves with rags and feathers.

Laying Carlos down on his back, Jay set a pillow under his head and then piled the rest, along with some cushions, under his injured leg.

He left the room to retrieve the ice, and when he returned, it was with a length of cloth to wrap around the bag of ice and keep it from burning Carlos’ skin; even with that, it was miserably cold, and Jay hesitated to place it on the affected area, especially bruised as it was.

Slowly, he set the bag in place over the curve of Carlos’ ankle—

There was no reaction.

He grabbed one of the blankets and pulled it over Carlos, leaving his legs out, and then straightened up. He’d have to check on him soon to make sure he hadn’t kicked the ice off or something, as was likely to happen given how Carlos was inclined to thrash around at night.

Jay learned that with a bloody nose, first night they spent together.

With a last glance back to Carlos on his way out from the bedroom, Jay untied the red curtain that hung in place of a door. It was on the ragged side, but it’d block enough of the light from the main room—

Quietly, Jay retrieved his coat and boots from the pile on the floor where he’d last discarded them. He dug around in a box by the door for a pair of heavy work gloves, stuffed them into his pockets, then stepped outside, fixed the lock behind him, and paused to listen—

There was a sound of… cold, comparable to static if not much softer.

Jay exhaled into the darkness and the cold filled his mouth. He had a flashlight in his pocket, but didn’t bother to use it. He knew the way, how many steps exactly. He did forget, though, just one little thing…

“Ya lawhi!” he exclaimed, pulling his weight back right in time. He wound up sitting on the snowy steps, one foot hovering above the empty air. That was close, he thought with a grimace, shifting his body very carefully forward in a crab-like crawl until he was clear of the step. He reached, then, for the rails he didn’t normally rely on—

On the right, his hand grasped metal; on the left, there was nothing.

Not long after that, Jay was on the ground with a flashlight in hand, sweeping over the shadows. He noted the length of railing that was missing from the stairs. It was near the body, both dusted with snow.

Jay crept closer, staying near the feet of the person. He nudged their calf with the toe of his boot to no response, then took another step, much bolder, but with the flashlight angled to blind them, in case…

“You,” he hissed out, recognizing Third, one of the sons of Gaston—recognizing, too, by the bulge of his eyes and his gaping mouth, the sunken quality of his head and the bloody halo, that the knife Jay’s hand had shot to on instinct could stay clean in its sheathe—

Third was already dead.

That was almost… disappointing.

Well, anyway, the Isle and grim being something synonymous, Jay was quick about the work of dragging Third into a storage room on one of the barren lower levels of the warehouse. He rolled the body up into a tarp, placed an empty crate atop of it, locked the door to the small room, and then went on his way, nothing to haunt him—

There was, of course, still that matter of blood on the concrete, which anyone might see if they were passing through the alley on a regular day, but—with a glance up at the sky, full to bursting with snow clouds, Jay felt confident to say there’d be no sight of it by morning.

He grabbed a short plank of wood as a last thought before trekking up the stairs. He’d nail it down in the morning, but at least for now, with some rope, it’d spare the girls a surprise if they turned up first.

Inside, it was quiet as Jay stripped off his coat and the dirtied work gloves, then kicked away his boots. He set his sights on the corner of the main room they designated “kitchen,” rummaged for something to call dinner in one of the drawers, then trudged over to the couch.

He sank into it, bone-tired, now he was able to relax some.

Third—Gaston the Third—had been at least that much heavier than Jay was, with the build of a bison. Brain like an unborn sloth, sure, but his strength was—well, it’d been enough to get by on, until…

Whatever happened with Carlos, Jay thought, unwrapping a trail bar with an expiry date about half his age ago. He bit and chewed and swallowed robotically, haunted by one thing, the more he considered.

That was the thought that Carlos had been… lucky.

But no—no—he knew Carlos better than that, he reminded himself. He knew he’d survived more than “luck” could ever save him from.

And that wasn’t to say luck hadn’t been a factor, just that it wasn’t…

Jay yawned, losing the thought. He took another bite of his trail bar, chewed it sleepily, almost forgot to swallow, and then stuffed the rest into his pocket as he curled up in a ball on the couch, letting his eyes close on a last thought that he should check on Carlos soon…

However long “soon” was stretched, Jay hadn’t the slightest.

He woke abruptly, thinking he had heard his name, but it was quiet.

Nonetheless, Jay uncurled his limbs into a stretch and set his feet on the floor, keeping an ear out. There was a moan from the bedroom, followed by mumbling. He was sure now of his name being uttered, but also that Carlos was dreaming, which only peaked his curiosity.

Sure, Carlos’ sleep talk was mostly nonsense, like fretting to Jay that his hair was made of snow and he’d go bald in the spring, or trying to knead his pillow back into softness because it’d gotten “petrified.”

(“I’m not your pillow, dude,” Jay would grumble to the last one.)

Tonight, though, Jay soon realized—

Carlos wasn’t talking any nonsense.

He was slurring pleas the way Jay had only ever heard him do at his mother’s feet, after a beating—those times Jay wanted most for the earth to swallow him up, so he didn’t have to stand there, didn’t have to watch. He knew Carlos was right when he said it was “better that way,” because she could do worse, and HAD (because of him), but—

“Don’t go,” he heard Carlos whisper, voice hoarse. “Jay, please…”

Jay shook out from his daze and was through the curtain before he’d processed his intent to move. He fumbled for a lighter in one of his pockets as he moved toward the mattress, then dropped to his knees and lit the lantern there beside it. The flame jumped up and cast the room in a warm glow, bright enough that when Jay turned, he saw the sweat on Carlos’ brow and the lines of stress around his eyes—

“Carlos, hey,” he murmured, leaning close without touching. “Hey, come on, wake up, you’re having a nightmare.” He gave a gentle tug to the pillow under Carlos’ head, then similarly went to disturb the blanket until he saw that Carlos’ eyes were starting to flutter open—

“Jay?” Carlos groaned and put a hand to his head. “What, where…”

Jay stayed quiet, watching as the memories of the night came all at once to Carlos, who groaned again and tried to roll away before Jay stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “Dude, keep your leg up.”

Carlos laughed, thick with exhaustion. “Why, so I’ll die slower?”

He took the silence for an answer and looked away; but then—

“I’m not letting you die, dumbass.” Jay bore his weight down harder on Carlos’ shoulder as he said it. He hadn’t meant to, but even when he realized, he didn’t stop—not until Carlos looked at him again. “I mean it,” Jay said lowly, practically glaring. “Don’t you fucking dare give up on me now, De Vil, I swear. I’ll make you regret it, got that?”

Carlos’ thin smile was a mockery of humour. “Living or dying?”

“What?” asked Jay, glare softening into a puzzled expression.

“What’ll you make me regret?” asked Carlos.

Jay’s expression flattened and he drew back completely, gaze falling to the blood smeared on Carlos’ blanket. Damn it, he thought, fingers twitching with the urge to fist. He’d let his focus scatter, left Carlos’ wounds half-cleaned and unbandaged, at risk for infection—

Gods, what was he thinking earlier, wondering at Carlos’ luck?

Of course he had none, because if he did, it’d be Evie here, not Jay.

That was the thought on which he moved to stand and retrieve a rag and bandages—finish what he started, if nothing else; that was the thought on which he stopped, feeling Carlos grab his wrist tight—

They looked at each other and that was all. A look.

Then, Carlos dropped his wrist and turned his head away.

Jay stood slowly, watching Carlos, waiting for him to say something that he never did. Finally, he left the room, and when he returned with his supplies in hand, Carlos remained as he was, looking away.

The thing about it was the look before, however brief, had lingered.

Jay could see it there in his mind’s eye, overlaying the wounds and the bandages as he wrapped them. “There,” he said softly, as he tied off the last knot. It wasn’t perfect, but it’d hold. At least for the night.

“Thanks,” Carlos whispered to the far wall, meaning it for Jay.

Jay nodded, and then realized Carlos wouldn’t see it, so he cleared his throat and answered, “Yeah.” He sat there a moment, like he was waiting for something (for Carlos to look at him, maybe). He didn’t, so Jay gathered up what was left of the bandages, plus the dirty rag, and stood—and paused again—then, turned slowly on his heel—

He was tired, see, that was the problem.

Hadn’t slept enough. Hard to think.

He ditched the rag in a corner, near a pile of last week’s laundry, and stuffed the bandages away in the top drawer of the dresser. Evie was sure to find them there later and put them back in their place, so…

Nodding absently to himself, Jay began his usual ritual of removing his beanie and combing his hair out with his fingers to untangle the worst knots. Then, he pulled his shirt up over his head, let it drop to the floor, and unbuttoned his pants to reveal his orange plaid boxers.

“Aren’t you cold?” Carlos mumbled, startling Jay into a glance back.

Their eyes locked and Jay couldn’t help but notice Carlos was trying not to shiver. It was obvious, first, in how rigid he looked, from the set of his jaw to the curl of his fingers around the edge of the blanket (peeking out from the top); then, of course, there were the twitches—

(Yeah, Jay knew pride when he saw it. He had enough of his own.)

“Are you?” he asked, turning fully around, one eyebrow raised.

Carlos hesitated, then started to answer, “I… can’t really feel my—” He sucked in a sharp breath, briefly closing his eyes. “Nevermind,” he said, quiet and pitchy, as Jay walked over to relieve him of the ice.

Well, it wasn’t even ice anymore, but as for Carlos’ foot—

Jay almost recoiled at the brush of that freezing skin against his.

“Hades,” he murmured, glancing at Carlos, who forced an odd smile that looked more like a grimace. Told you I’m fucked, Jay read in that expression. But Jay just shook his head—an unconscious response—

He left the room without a word, looking distracted.

Returning through the curtain about a minute later, lights switched off in the main room, Jay had a small blue towel bunched nervously in one hand. “I got you this,” he told Carlos, who’d been staring up at the ceiling, but now watched as Jay cocooned his injured foot in such a way, it looked like a spire atop his stubby tower of pillows—

Ridiculous, was all Carlos could think, the word echoing into infinity.

His eyes stung, suddenly, and he brought his arms up, covering his face in a tight knot of limbs. “You want to know,” he started, voice muffled by the press of his skin against his lips, “what happened?”

Jay didn’t answer immediately, but Carlos felt the mattress dip and the blankets shift, and soon enough, there was a radiant warmth just inches from him that he longed to curve into, but couldn’t. Couldn’t.

That’s when Jay breathed out a sigh of, “It can wait, ‘Los.”

Carlos shook his head, still buried beneath his arms, if not as tightly. “You want to know,” he muttered. “You said it. You want to know.”

“Sure,” said Jay, after a silence, his tone one of resignation.

Slowly, Carlos let his arms down, laying them at his sides. He glared up at the ceiling as he began to explain, “No one followed me here.”

(Jay had figured as much.)

“Third was—I don’t know, he… knew about it—our whole stupid trick with the rocks? I saw one broken and, you know, just… figured it was you or Mal, so I opened the gate, but... he’d gotten in already.”

“What?” Jay asked, pushing up on one elbow, brows knit together, lips parted to say more—something true that wasn’t now, like—

This place was their secret, his and Carlos’ and Mal’s and Evie’s.

That couldn’t not be true, he wanted to argue—but with who?

“Yeah, turns out it’s a shit location for our so-called hideout,” Carlos remarked, glancing askance at Jay—only the briefest of moments. “I didn’t realize until… I heard him coming up the stairs, and by then, I mean—I don’t know, didn’t really think—I might’ve stabbed him?”

At that, Jay nodded, having witnessed the gouge on Third’s arm.

“Halfway up, I guess, he kinda… fell on me, and the step broke, and he must have lost his balance. I felt him slipping, trying to grab me, but my foot was stuck. Don’t think I even really shoved him. Fucker was heavy.” Carlos paused and took a breath. “Heard him say I was dead, and then—you know—he was.” He turned his head to look at Jay, who’d sunk back down onto his side, cheek resting on his arm—

“Didn’t say what he wanted,” said Jay, both statement and question.

“I don’t remember,” said Carlos, voice carefully level. His eyes were on Jay, but it wasn’t a challenge; just a way of saying: Don’t ask again.

Jay’s eyes narrowed slightly, though he didn’t push further.

He knew what it meant to want to keep a secret. He had his own.

Finally, after a silence, Carlos looked up to the ceiling again, and Jay rolled onto his back. He didn’t have a pillow, but he didn’t mind. He folded his arms in a pretzel shape and watched the shadows dance across the ceiling, dark shapes puppeted by the flickering lantern—

“Tomorrow, if you want, I’ll get some of your stuff,” Jay murmured.

Carlos was quiet, but shifted beside him, and Jay could see out of the corner of his eye that he was staring again, on the verge of frowning.

“You know I can’t just…” Carlos trailed off.

“Can’t just what?” Jay prompted, though he already knew.

Carlos sighed in frustration, bringing a hand up to cover his face. He dragged it down slowly, mumbling into his fingers, “Think about it, Jay. I know you’re not fucking stupid. Third was, and he still figured out I’d be here. Think my mother won’t?” His hand fell away and he realized, with more frustration, he’d expected Jay to look at him—and he wasn’t. That read as denial, so he pressed: “I can’t just disappear.”

Jay’s eyes flickered sideways in a glance before he fully rolled back onto his side again, long hair sliding over his shoulder and one hand propped beneath his chin. “Right, so… what was your plan before?”

“Before what?” asked Carlos, face scrunched in confusion.

“Before you knew it was me,” Jay replied, gaze intense on Carlos. “I walked in here—could have been anyone—what the fuck was your plan?” His voice rose slightly as his temper flared, thinking back on the scene he’d walked in on—the way Carlos hadn’t seemed to care, at first, or even now, how the story would end—

Jay took a steadying breath, while Carlos stared at him, unblinking.

“I just… want to know,” Jay continued, eyes falling to the blanket he had fisted in one hand, “that I… wouldn’t have found you later—” He paused, gripping the blanket harder. “Like… Third,” he finished.

“Oh,” said Carlos, almost inaudible. He averted his eyes and pulled a hand out from under the blanket to rub at his left knee, starting to feel the strain and stiffness of having his leg up so long. “I mean,” he started to say, the words coming out halting, “I wasn’t… trying…”

Carlos trailed off, and Jay knew he’d meant to say more, but it didn’t matter. There was truth in it, either way. He’d seen it earlier, when he’d walked in on the scene: Carlos had been waiting—and not to be saved. That wasn’t everything, though, and Jay shouldn’t forget it—

Carlos had made it to the top of the stairs.

He’d unlocked the door, found the medicine cabinet.

That meant something, if only… that things weren’t black and white.

Suddenly, Carlos let out a soft huff and Jay could practically feel him scuttling back into a shell of frustration. “You changed the subject,” he accused, so petulant in his tone that Jay actually almost laughed.

“Did not,” said Jay, sounding equally petulant.

“Yeah, you did,” Carlos muttered, shifting his weight as though he meant to turn away from Jay before he remembered, a split second later, that he didn’t have that option while keeping his leg up. He made an irritable noise and crossed his arms above the blanket, only for a violent shiver to quake him and set him grumbling to himself.

Jay shuffled closer as Carlos continued to fidget and squirm. “You’re hogging the pillows,” Jay mumbled when Carlos twisted his neck to look at him, eyes wide and blinking rapidly because Jay was… close.

He’d set his head at the edge of the pillow, hooded stare on Carlos.

Quickly, Carlos turned his gaze up to the ceiling—so quickly, in fact, that some of the earlier dizziness he’d felt flooded back into his senses. He closed his eyes, suppressing a shiver from the warmth of Jay pressed in against his side, almost burning after so much cold—

“Getting your stuff tomorrow,” Jay murmured out of the blue, on the edge of sleep, some several minutes later. He breathed a soft, warm exhale that tickled Carlos’ neck as he added, “You’re not leaving…”

Carlos sighed, not opening his eyes. “Jay…”

With a sleepy grunt, Jay draped a warm, solid arm over Carlos’ chest and uttered a simple, “No,” that made Carlos want to sigh again—

Instead, letting his head fall to one side, so his curls were brushing Jay’s forehead and their noses were inches apart, he opened his eyes to look at Jay’s face in the dimming orange glow of the lantern.

“Starting to think you’re a dumbass,” Carlos whispered.

Jay’s lashes fluttered, dull eyes cracking open. “Me?”

“Yeah, you.”

“Not the one who drank the disinfector…”

“Disinfectant,” Carlos huffed, causing Jay to crack a tired smile, “and it’s not just for that, y’know…” He said this much quieter, once Jay’s eyes had closed again, and Carlos had turned his head back straight, gaze on the ceiling, watching shadows stretching, shifting, merging.

“I know,” Jay said softly, almost a sigh. “Helps with the pain.”

“Supposed to,” Carlos agreed, feeling his eyelids drooping.

What helped more than he’d admit, more than the liquor Evie had watered down, sparing him a headache worse than he felt budding, was just the warmth of Jay—his presence there beside him, and—

From that, a hope like a flame, that was always flickering.

It’d been near embers tonight—

Didn’t feel that way now.

Jay made him… want to survive. It was kind of annoying.

Thank you for reading! Reblogs are always appreciated. If you'd like to leave kudos or a comment on AO3, I'd appreciate that, too! ♥

[hermannsthumb]

you should totally do something with ksci janitor’s vamp newt it’s so just so good

i sure will! in a vampire mood this weekend. @k-sci-janitor's vampire newt found here. warnings for quick mention of drinking, allusions to sexy stuff, and also the different kind of drinking you'd expect from a vampire fic (tho on the vague side)

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

The circumstances that led Newt down the unwitting path of immortality and general un-dead-ness are, in hindsight, honestly kind of embarrassing. It'd be one thing if he could say it happened in the pursuit of, like, knowledge, like the fierce jellyfish sting scar on his wrist leftover from a research expedition when he was twenty-two or the equally fierce one on his knee received in response to his question (at the age of five) of what would happen if I jumped out of this very tall tree?, or even something unrelated to his extensive biology career, something impressive, y'know, Van Helsing style, something like tracking down some vampire king and barely escaping with his life (un-life?)—not what really happened, which was little more than a bad date. And not even the worst date that Newt's been on, if you can believe it.

Newt was young and stupid then. He still is young and stupid, technically, though the former by appearance only. (Eternally pushing thirty. If he could've picked, he would've done twenty-eight, just before his handful of grey hairs started cropping up. Newt's had almost forty-five years of staring in the mirror at those four fucking grey hairs. He gave up dyeing them around the nineties. Not worth it. Still annoying.) He liked to do what young and stupid people did, like get stupid tattoos, and have a stupid haircut, and get drunk at stupid punk shows and not stumble home until he'd had at least one regrettable hook-up with a stranger and maybe lost his wallet. (The two were often related.) That particular thing was what did him in that night. It was a different time back then, man—if a dude showed even the slightest inkling that he ran in Newt's sort of circle, if you caught his drift, Newt fucking jumped at the chance.

(The band was on their second set of the evening and Newt had already screamed himself hoarse with singing along. He'd ducked outside in a back alleyway for only a second to get some fresh air, the club suddenly too hot and smokey for him to handle, and was just about to go back inside and close out his tab for the night when he realized he wasn't alone. There was someone—he was sure—lurking in the shadows a few feet away. He could hear breathing. He could see—eyes, maybe, in the dim neon light of the bar sign overhead. "Hello?" he'd called.

"Have a light?" the person called back.

They emerged from the shadows, and Newt felt himself relax at once. It was some spooky-looking guy he remembered seeing in the club, leather jacket, boots heavier than Newt's, dark hair and eyeliner. Tall. Newt remembered him, firstly, because he thought he was hot, and secondly, because he swore he caught the guy staring at him at least three times, and to Newt, that was as good as any pick-up line. He was wagging an unlit cigarette at Newt now. He was taller than Newt thought he was back in the bar—much taller, at least a full head on Newt. His eyes were a golden-brown, almost yellow, like a cat's, and Newt found himself unable to tear his own away from them. "L—light?" Newt echoed.

The guy stuck the cigarette in his mouth and arched a perfect eyebrow. Newt didn't smoke, but he did keep a lighter on him for occasions like this. He fumbled through his pockets for it while the guy stepped closer. "I was watching you," he told Newt, while Newt raised the lighter to the cigarette, "in there."

The flame danced and glinted against his eyes. Newt swallowed. "Uh-huh?" he said.

He flicked the lighter shut, leaving them both bathed in nothing but pink neon. A hand slid up against the wall next to Newt's right shoulder. Another plucked at the left lapel of his jacket. Newt was still staring at those eyes. "What's your name?" the guy said, in a puff of cigarette smoke.

"Um." Newt's leather jacket was being pushed off his shoulders. He felt his long hair being tucked to the side of his neck. All at once something seemed in snap in Newt—some reminder of where he was, and what he came here hoping for in the first place. Some hot dude was eyeing Newt up all night long, and now he was actually coming onto Newt, and Newt was about to get laid. He grinned. "Newt," he said. "Just call me that. You were watching me, huh?"

"All night," the guy said.

Newt's jacket hit the ground with a soft thump. A knee was being pushed between his. Newt felt his cheeks heat up a little—he wasn't used to people being this forward with him, and especially not in a semi-public place like this. Usually they at least made a show of offering up their apartment first. "What, um, what for?" he said.

They were kissing. Newt was clinging to the back of his jacket. And then he was kissing Newt's neck, and then he was—

"That kinda hurts," Newt mumbled. "Um, dude, I think your—your fuckin', tongue piercing cut me, or something. It's—"

It was hard to keep his eyes open. His neck felt weird. The guy was into biting, apparently, biting really hard, and yikes, that was going to leave a super embarrassing hickey that Newt would have to explain to his students somehow on Monday, but it also felt really good, like, Newt was maybe getting off kinda good, and Newt thought, dizzily, that he should at least return the favor before he finished up and collapsed in a happy heap on the ground. So he did.

The guy pulled back with a hiss. "Ow. What—?"

Newt tasted something coppery in his mouth, and he panicked and swallowed on instinct. "Oh, shit, dude, I'm sorry," he slurred. His voice sounded like it was a million miles away. "I was trying to be—sexy. Um." There was blood on the guy's chin. He was staring at Newt in something akin to horror. Dark circles were spotting Newt's vision. "I think you cut your lip," he said, and then he passed out.

Newt was alone when he woke up. It was still dark, too. He walked the two miles home, collapsing in bed, fully-clothed, just before dawn, and he didn't wake up again until sunset. He forgot his jacket, but at least he remembered his wallet this time.)

So, anyway, Newt thinks he can be forgiven if he...embellishes stuff a little when, for the first time in his whole long life, he finally spills the details to someone. Also, no way is he admitting the truth to Hermann of all people.

"There were a bunch of murders in the area at the time," he says, while Hermann, angled on his side next to him in bed, watches him raptly. It's kind of weird pillow talk, but their pillow talk rarely isn't weird. Usually Hermann will launch into a critique of Newt's latest pet theory before Newt's even caught his breath. At least he very courteously waited for Newt get a glass of water from the bathroom first this time. "Really brutal ones. Like, throats torn out, blood drained. Really nasty shit. Everyone was saying they were some kinda bizarre wolf pack attacks, but I knew better."

"Of course you did," Hermann says, running his hand down Newt's chest, and Newt can't tell if he's being sarcastic or not. (He has a feeling he is.)

"You bet," Newt says. "It took me months of, um, super hard research. Finally I hunted him down to this—" Newt debates the coolest lair possible of a vampire, and then remembers Lost Boys, which, even though he resents it slightly for totally stealing the vampire vibes he was going for, is still a kick-ass movie. "—this weird cave, where he lived. The king of the vampires. I won, obviously, but he fought back, and he managed to infect me just before I hammered the, um, the wooden stake into his heart."

"So courageous," Hermann says. He reaches up and tucks a piece of Newt's long hair back. Hermann being totally cool with the whole vampire thing, and maybe even possibly into the whole vampire thing, is probably the last thing in the world Newt expected from him. They're no strangers to hooking up during long late nights of science, but Newt swears it's gotten more frequent. "You must've been terrified."

"Nah," Newt says, though he remembers the glint of the flame off those yellow eyes, and he shivers. Hermann notices; his eyes, not yellow, but a warm shade of brown that makes Newt feel like he's being wrapped in a blanket, soften. If Newt could still blush, he would. "I'm—um—I'm pretty brave."

Newt hadn't exactly been planning on telling Hermann about the whole thing, but (last week) he had the very unfortunate timing of beginning a late-night dinner just as an oblivious Hermann strolled back into the lab to pick up his forgotten pair of glasses. To his credit, he only freaked out a little when he saw Newt draining a blood bag like a fucking Capri-Sun, and even then (after what felt like ten years of horrible, horrible silence) all he said was "You're the one who's been stealing those from medical?"

Look. Newt hasn't drank from a human being the entirety of his un-life, and he doesn't plan on it any time soon. He's...a vegetarian. Effectively. It's sort of the reason he picked up a medical degree along the way once he got tired of breaking into blood banks. Even if it's still a little ethically dubious to steal blood like that, at least he's not swooping around on unsuspecting people like that—goth asshole who swooped in on him did. (Newt's never managed to find out who he was—he suspects he was some sort of vampire drifter in town that night just to find a victim. And Newt just had to think with his dick at the worst possible time.)

Hermann tucks another strand of Newt's hair back. Newt also did not expect how fast Hermann became cool with the whole thing, but on the other hand, giant aliens are clawing their way out of the ocean on a bi-monthly basis these days. It's hard to be skeptical about most things. ("Well, it does make logical sense," Hermann had said with an eyeroll. "When you consider some of your rather more bizarre quirks, I mean. I ought to have guessed it ages ago. I suppose that's why you have that awful haircut," and that stung, because yeah, Newt hasn't felt like changing it up since the seventies, and why should he, it kinda rules? but he just laughed it off and said, "You're one to fucking talk, dude!") "Newton," Hermann says now, gently, "what actually happened?"

Newt sighs. Hermann always knows when he's lying about shit. "I was making out with a vampire in an alleyway and then he bit me. And—um—I kinda didn't notice at first, 'cause it felt... good."

"Mm," Hermann says. The corner of his mouth twitches up. "That's more along the lines of what I expected. That, or you were hounding him for details like a proper biologist and he got tired of answering your inane questions."

"Very funny," Newt says. "Ha."

Hermann rolls away from him and stretches his arms above his head. Newt watches his throat work as he yawns, swallowing down a sudden lump in his own, and he feels a surge of something hot and—alien—in the pit of his stomach. "Over forty years," Hermann says. He picks up Newt's discarded sweatshirt from the floor and tugs it down over his head. "You must get terrifically lonely."

Newt half-shrugs. "I guess. I'm kinda used to it by now." His dad (who never brought up how Newt's aging seemed to be at a standstill when they saw each other, not once) is long-gone. Newt's tried dating, but no one's ever seemed to be into it as much as he is—and besides, it's not like he could ever do the actual til death do us part thing unless he went against every ethical bone in his body and made someone like him. When the internet became a thing, he considered making a forum or something to find more of his kind, but the thought everyone just being like the guy who accidentally turned him in the first place terrified him and he killed the page before it even left infancy. So, without any better ideas, Newt forged some paperwork and leaned pretty hard into the world of academia to fill up his sad little hole of a heart, resigned himself to casual flings with anyone who seemed interested, and it mostly worked. Mostly. And then the kaiju came along, and then so did... "You make it a little bit better," he confesses.

Hermann lays back down next to him. "I do?" he says.

Newt thinks he sees something like that hot, hungry feeling he felt in his stomach flash behind Hermann's eyes. He nods.

Hermann suddenly kisses Newt, pulling him down on top of him, and then tugs the collar of Newt's stolen sweatshirt down below his collarbone. He drags Newt's hand up to press against his throat. Newt feels the erratic beat of Hermann's pulse beneath his fingertips, his heart pounding against his ribcage (pressed up against Newt's silent one), and he almost moans. "Have you ever...?" Hermann murmurs, gazing up at Newt through his dark eyelashes.

"N—never," Newt stammers. "I told you."

"Do you want to?" Hermann says. Newt tries not to gape. "Just a bit at a time, whenever you need. You wouldn't have to steal those silly blood bags anymore. And—" He hesitates. "I admit I am curious. About the sensation."

"Um," Newt says. "I—"

He feels something sharp poking his lower lip. Fangs. His fangs. Oh, shit, he's never had that happen before. He forces himself off of Hermann before he does something stupid.

"Maybe, um, maybe later?" he squeaks, while Hermann just smiles at him.

[haikyuuuuuhypeeeee]

Ch. Fourteen

⚠WARNING: Swearing

• ────── ✾ ────── •

Waking up is painful. Physically painful, at least. You’re not ready to deal with the emotional pain from yesterday, no thank you.

You finally peel your eyes open, a true struggle considering how they were crusted together. You take in your surroundings and form the first coherent thought of the day.

This isn’t my bedroom.

Your eyes seem to be crusted shut. You sit up and realize that no, this is not your apartment, this is Osamu’s apartment. This is his bed you’re currently sitting up from, his blankets wrapped around you.

You then form your second coherent thought of the day.

His detergent smells really nice.

That thought finishes in your head before it’s slammed aside by the rush of yesterday’s memories - group therapy with your friends and Osamu, Oikawa being a complete dick to Osamu, your argument with Oikawa which resulted in Oikawa blabbing of your love for Hajime, leaving the restaurant crying, realizing you lost your keys but they’re at Osamu’s apartment, walking to Osamu’s crying…

From there it’s a bit murkier as your memories intertwined with self-deprecating thoughts and a line of thinking you rarely walk down anymore.

Last night was a night.

You do somewhat remember Osamu comforting you. Letting you know that it was okay and he was there for you.

You glance around the studio apartment, wondering where he was. Oh god, did you force him out good lord you are -

Oh, no he’s sitting on his couch with a cup of coffee.

You’re filled with guilt when you realize you monopolized his bed and completely took over his apartment. Yeah, he maybe didn’t need to sleep last night (a concept you still don’t fully understand nor approve of) but you have fully overstayed your welcome.

Grabbing your phone from the side table you tap the screen, taking in the notifications on your screen.

Shit, I never messaged Makki or Mattsun.

Your gut feels like lead as you open the group chat with the two. That was a big fuck up on your end.

Fuck, I’m such a shitty friend.

You don’t waste anytime typing out a message.

“Tea?”

You look up from your phone and are greeted with Osamu’s sleepy gaze, a mug of tea held in his hand for you. You reach for the mug, nodding slowly.

“How’re yer feel in’ this morning?” He asks as you take a sip. You shrug in response

“I’m okay. I’m sorry I just fell apart like that on you.” You say. “I wasn’t having a great night, and my emotions just kind of bled all over the place. And I’m sorry that I fell asleep.”

“Yeah, that was actually pretty funny.” Osamu smiles. “Ya just kinda passed out on my shoulder. I had to lift ya to get ya onto the bed.”

You blink, absolutely mortified. “Oh wow, I am so sorry. That’s so embarrassing.”

“Nah, it was cute.” Osamu takes a casual sip from his mug, seemingly oblivious to the flirty line he just dropped. “But ya seemed pretty upset last night, and i wasn’t gonna let ya walk home like that.” The smile drops from his face and he looks at you with concern. “If ya wanna talk about it ya can, although I don’t want to push ya. It’d be pretty dumb of me to.

“I know I’ve been pretty skeptical about openin’ up and talkin’ ‘bout my feelings, but since meetin’ ya I’ve felt better. Lighter, I guess.” He shrugs. “Ya’ve made me realize how important it is to open up.”

You look down at your tea, a small smile tugging at your lips. Your heart warms at Osamu’s words, part of you preening that you were the one who has helped Osamu, but also you feel genuine relief that Osamu wants to open up more.

“Well, let me treat you to breakfast this morning - it’s the least I can do.” You finish your tea and give Osamu a small smile. “I can tell you about yesterday if you don’t mind listening.”

Osamu smiles in return. “Sure, let me grab my stuff.” He takes the mug from your hand and shuffles into the kitchen. You sit up, stretching your arms and grabbing your phone. A few more messages have come through from Mattsun and Makki.

Uhhhhh…….

You open up your chat with Oikawa, finding hundreds of messages from him. He hasn’t sent you anything since 5am. You quickly navigate back to the chat with your other friends.

Frantic knocks, one after another, beat against Osamu’s door.

No way.

Osamu gives you a look before walking to the front door. He checks the paper hole, then turns back and looks at you with faint amusement.

“It’s for ya.”

You stand from the bed, moving into the kitchen. Regretfully, you open the door.

A distressed-looking Oikawa is the surprise visitor. He looks absolutely beside himself - his eyes are bloodshot and swollen, snot is dripping out of his nose, and his hair is messy and lackluster.

Oh dear god.

He bursts into tears when he sees you, but surprisingly doesn’t throw himself at you. He must be learning some boundaries. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Y/N-chan! I was being stupid and petty and I didn’t mean to-”

“Ok, ok c’mon. You’re going to wake up Osamu’s neighbors.” You bring the snivelling, pathetic Oikawa inside, quickly closing the door behind him. You help him get his shoes off, glancing around the Osamu. You spot him at the sink, filling a glass with water. He brings it over, giving Oikawa a nod and silently passing the water to him.

“Thank you Osamu-kun.” Oikawa gratefully takes the water and downs it before handing the empty glass back to an amused Osamu. “I plan on giving you a full apology soon, I promise.”

Osamu huffs a laugh and goes back into the kitchen. He sets the glass in the sink as you lead Oikawa through and into the living room.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper to Osamu. “Do you want me to go?”

“Nah,” Osamu waves his hand. “I’ll get ready for breakfast in the bathroom, and give you guys some space.”

“Thank you, I’ll try to make this quick.”

“Take yer time.” Osamu smiles at you and moves to the bathroom. You turn back to Oikawa, who is watching you with regret painting all over his face.

“I’m sorry I told Makki and Mattsun that you love Hajime.” Oikawa blurts without any bite.

You think you see Osamu flinch out of the corner of your eye but when you look his way you see the bathroom door closing. You look back to Oikawa and sigh.

“Why did you say it then?”

Oikawa heaves a sigh and hangs his head. “I don’t know. I don’t know what to say to make you not hate me.”

“Oikawa, I don’t hate you.” You join him on the couch, leaning into his side. “Talk to me.”

Oikawa presses back to you and you feel his shoulders move up and down as he takes another deep breath. “I knew that uni classes and volleyball would be really really hard - but as long as we all had each other we would be fine. We smashed through high school together, so this was just another challenge.

“But when Iwa-chan died it changed everything. Obviously.” Oikawa takes a shaky breath. “But I still had you, Mattsun and Makki. I knew that we wouldn’t be the same without Iwa-chan, and classes and volleyball would be hard, but we would be friends.

“I don’t think I knew how hard everything would be. My classes suck, volleyball is a chore, and I miss Iwa-chan.” He sniffles. “I miss him so much. I feel like I don’t know who I am without him. But I had you guys, I always had my friends.

“But Mattsun and Makki are in their own world sometimes, and then you started hanging out with Osamu.” He looks at you, tears shining in his brown eyes. “I know it makes me sound like you can’t have other friends beside me, and I really don’t want to be selfish. But you were spending more time with Osamu and it hit me that you were all growing up and becoming different people.” A few tears track down his face and he sniffs. “I don’t want anything to change, I don’t want Iwa-chan to be dead, I don’t want to be a terrible person.”

Oikawa starts to cry and you don’t hesitate in pulling him into a side hug. He’s not really sobbing but you feel his pain deep in your heart. One of your hands comes up to card gently through his hair.

“I know I’ve been a piece of shit the last few months. And I can tell that you really like Osamu, even though you’ve always loved Iwa-chan. Whenever you talked about him you had this happy and bright look on your face. He makes you feel good, but you love Iwa-chan. You moving on meant change, and I hated that.” Oikawa sniffs. “But bringing Osamu to the group therapy session, which I always thought was our group’s thing, made me realize that you were changing. I was so angry, and your secret just slipped out.”

He takes a watery breath. “Isn’t it awful? I’ve been trying to drag you back down to my level, bring you back down to feel the pain that I feel, all because I’m scared. I’m a terrible, awful friend.”

“Oikawa, have you had time to go to your therapy appointments?” You ask gently.

He doesn’t answer right away, and when he gives the tiniest shake of his head you sigh.

“Honey,” you scold gently. “Why are you not going?”

“School and volleyball have taken up a lot of my time.” Oikawa mumbles, his sentence punctuated with another sniffle. “I’ve skipped so many appointments, and I’m too embarrassed to call.”

You sigh, inwardly shaking your head at your friend’s weak excuse. “I don’t want to tell you what to do, but maybe re-prioritize your responsibilities. Getting back on track with your therapy appointments should take top priority. You can talk through these feelings instead of letting them fester.”

Oikawa doesn’t answer right away, but when he does his voice is small. “But I’d probably have to quit volleyball, and that’s all I have left of Iwa-chan.” You see his hands ball into fists. “I don’t want to lose that.” His breath hitches. “I don’t know what to do.”

You let him cry on your shoulder, giving him the time to get all the tears out. You figure this is the most civil conversation you’ve had since Hajime died. The thought brings you relief but also makes you quite sad.

“You know you’re one of my best friends, right Oikawa?” You ask once he’s calmed down a bit. “You’re a diva and a trainwreck, but you’re my diva and my trainwreck.” He exhales lightly but you’re almost certain it’s in amusement. “No matter what, I’m always going to want the best for you, and I’m always gonna try my best to help you.

“But,” you feel him tense up when you continue. “You have to realize that your behavior the past few months has been really shitty. You’ve treated us all like punching bags - we get it, probably more than a lot of people could. But I’m not gonna let you treat me, or any of our friends, like it anymore.”

“I’ll be good.” Oikawa promises immediately. “I promise, I’ll do better for you and Makki and Mattsun. And me.”

“Good.” You give him a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry for yelling at you last night in the restaurant.”

“You don’t have to apologize at all.” He replies immediately. He yawns before speaking again. “Honestly, I’ve been a piece of shit for months now. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” You murur. You both sit on the couch for a while longer as you try to come down from the conversation you just had. You feel like a heavy cloud that’s been floating around your head for months has cleared, and although you know Oikawa won’t magically change overnight you feel better knowing that you’ve had this hard conversation with him. Change starts with communication, and hopefully Oikawa understands now that he has the support to change.

You feel Oikawa leaning against you even further and you look at his face to see his eyes closed and mouth parted open.

“Oikawa, c’mon I don’t want you falling asleep.” You gently push him off you so you can stand and get Oikawa to stand also. His eyes are still closed and he puts nearly all of his body weight onto you.

He must not have slept all night, you think. It’s not uncommon for him to pull all nighters, a habit he picked up in high school watching game tape over and over until the sun came up. But he handles the lack of sleep gracelessly - you could prop him against a door jamb and he’d pass out no problem.

Together you move towards the front door. You’re not going to let him fall asleep here and inconvenience Osamu even more - you’ll take him back to your apartment and maybe try to catch lunch with Osamu. Now you owe him a few meals and unlimited coffee.

“Gotta apologize to Osamu-kun,” Oikawa mumbles when you lean him against the wall.

“Maybe when you’re going to fall asleep standing up, yeah?” You reply, bending down to shove his feet back in his shoes. You hear more mumblings in return but can’t make anything out of them.

As you’re getting your shoes on you hear the bathroom door open and out walks Osamu. He’s dressed and his face is composed into it’s usual blankness. Trusting that Oikawa won’t keel over, you walk over to where Osamu is reaching into his dresser for socks.

“I’m so sorry,” you say. “I have to reschedule breakfast, I have to make sure this idiot won’t sleepwalk into traffic.”

“S’alright. Didja work everything out?” Osamu asks in a measured tone.

“I think so.” Osamu’s not looking at you as he puts on his socks. Your gut twinges with guilt, realizing that he must be upset that you have to cancel breakfast. “But I think I’m gonna take him to my apartment and make sure he sleeps. Do you want to meet up for lunch or something?”

“Can’t.” His short answer makes you blink. “Meetin’ a group on campus for a class project.”

“Oh.” He’s still not meeting your gaze, and you detect a hint of gruffness in his tone. Maybe he’s upset that he has to meet with his group last minute? Or because you basically shoved him into his bathroom while you and Oikawa worked out your issues. “Dinner then? I owe you double now.”

“Probably not.” Osamu stands and gathers a few books and a notebook before shoving them into his backpack. His inability to look at you or hold a full conversation is confusing, but you don’t want to push him.

“Well let’s meet at the coffee shop tomorrow, usual time after morning classes. Sounds good?”

He hums distractedly. Your gut feels heavier and you swallow hard.

“Okay, well I’ll be off now.”

Osamu turns towards you but still doesn’t meet your eyes. “I’ll walk ya out.”

You both make the short walk to the front door. The tension in the room is heavy, unable to lighten even at the sight of Oikawa sleeping standing up. You maneuver your friend while Osamu opens the door for you. It’s a slight struggle walking out of the front door but you manage.

You look back before Osamu can close the door behind you. He’s holding the door knob and staring at the ground. “Let me know if you can do dinner tonight - if not I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You force as much cheeriness into your voice, despite the heavy weight in your chest. Finally Osamu looks at you, giving you a disinterested nod.

He closes the door as you turn to walk away. You look back quickly, catching a crestfallen look on Osamu’s face before the door fully closes.

• ────── ✾ ────── •

A/N: So when I originally thought about this story, I wanted to think about how different people deal with grief. And what I wanted to explore was 1.) is there a limit to how people will grieve? And 2.) can someone grieving push that limit? From the get-go Oikawa has seemingly pushed the limit of what some of you believed, and yet Y/N was still hesitant to call him out. And I loved hearing what everyone had to say about Oikawa - some were willing to give him a pass, and some were NOT happy with him. Now, just because someone is grieving, it does NOT give them a free pass to behave inappropriately or do serious harm to those around them. But I think it’s important to note that what may seem absolutely insane to one person is tolerable to another. And what it comes down to is how the person who is directly affected by another’s actions wants to address those actions (sorry if this is confusing.) Oikawa was treating Y/N and their friends like shit. In the story it was because Oikawa was not taking the necessary actions to keep himself mentally healthy. In Y/N’s eyes, if there is a desire to be better, and appropriate actions are taken to be better, then Oikawa deserves to be forgiven. I have absolutely LOVED reading everyone’s reactions and hearing their opinions on Oikawa’s slowly deteriorating behavior, thank you for sending them in! And just because how Y/N has reacted to Oikawa’s behavior it does not mean there is a right/wrong way! Everyone has different life experiences and different relationships that guide their decision-making! And that’s totally okay! (This obviously applies to non-threatening and morally & ethically right behavior.) And WOOF thank you for getting this far in the A/N’s, this was a LOT! Gold stars for everyone!! 🌟🌟🌟

Taglist Open! Please send an Ask with the request to be added to It’s [Not] Okay Fic & SMAU: @psycho-nightrose @camcam1617 @kamalymaly @toobsessedsstuff @shookykookie30 @roro-707 @qualitygiantshoepsychic @cerealfrdinner797 @ara-mitsue @gray-444 @tanakasimpcorner @rintarovibes @jellien @everytimeswift @bongofrito @babucrow @beidouluvr @kozuken-ma @imarriedachef

[mizunetzu]

haha it's me again! could i get iida dating a delinquent male reader? (stuff like he smokes and breaks rules) like iidas trying to get the reader to follow the rules and he's like "i'll do that if you go on a date with me" so he does and the readers actually a really chill guy and they have a fun time, some fluff please?

IIDA DUDE MY GOD. MY RELIGION. MY SAVIOR. ok. Okok so. You said fluff and I delivered. But like-I mayyyyybe sprinkled in some angst. No worries. Fluff ending guaranteed. Also you know I enjoyed writing something when I broke my 1000 words rule. Like sheesh this is 3000 pLUS WORDS-

Also if iidareaders reblogs I’ll eat my shirt in joy

——————

Iida x reader - Selfish Promise

⚠️warnings - delinquent reader? Selfish-y Iida? Idk. None lmao

Pronouns - male, he/him

——————

(Y/n) wasn’t going to lie. Iida really got on his nerves. He’s always up his ass about sagging his pants down low, or running in the hallways. It’s not like it was his business. He was in class 1-B, for god sakes.

Everyone in 1-A knew him as that “1-B boy” who always liked fucking with Iida. And he did, it was fun to see him get all pissy and red when he unbuttoned his dress shirt to the point you could easily flash him if you tugged hard enough. Iida was pretty, but even more pretty when he’s flustered. He wasn’t going to deny the fluttery feeling in his chest when he sees an opportunity to interact with Iida.

Which is how (y/n) found himself smoking outside the UA dorms, sitting outside on the steps and staring up at the sky. He didn’t smoke much, only when he really needed to destress, but something felt compelling to just pull one out today.

He already heard the engine boosted footsteps hurling his way, a smile growing on his lips. Once the blue haired boy was in sight however, he wiped it off and replaced it with a neutral expression.

“You shouldn’t be smoking on school property, (L/n)-kun!”

“Mm? And you shouldn’t be on 1-Bs dorms. Wait til Vlad or Monoma finds out.”

Iida stumbled back, biting back the scowl forming on his face. He took the cigarette out from (y/n’s) fingers, and stomped on it. (Y/n) clicked his tongue as Iida hiked his glasses up his nose further.

“Stop acting like such a ruffian!”

“Then go on a date with me.”

Iida choked on his own spit. He knew that (y/n) joked around a lot, but this was just excessive.

“(L-L/n), you shouldn’t joke about such intimate matters like that with someone you barely kn-“

“I’m not joking.” (Y/n) stood up from his step, and stood infront of the taller boy. “I’m dead serious.”

Iida opened his mouth, then closed it. “(L/n) it is highly inappropriate for two students, let alone boys, to go on a romantic outing! This is a place for learning!”

“How bout we make a promise then? A deal if you must.” (Y/n) seemed completely calm, but inside he was sweating like a clam. He had said it on impulse, and there was no going back. Either sell it till he declines or hell, he has a date.

“If you be my boyfriend and go out with me for one full day, I’ll stop acting like a ‘ruffian’ or something. I’ll follow the rules and whatnot.”

“B-boyf...” Iidas words got caught in his mouth. “W-WHY?”

“I’m not going to try anything...! It’s..it’s just for my own...reasons...! If...that makes sense...”

Iida ran a hand through his hair. Did (L/n), a delinquent, like-like him? A proper former man from the Iida family? He wasn’t romantically attracted to the shorter boy at all, but this was a good chance! He could finally be set on the right path if he agreed to be his significant other for one day! Easy enough!

Iida pushed up his glasses once more. “Fine. I will do it. But afterwards you better keep your end of the bargain.”

(Y/n) held the tiniest smile and extended his pinky. Iida looked at him confused, before hesitantly interlocking their fingers and shaking it.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Gimme your number. I’ll text you the info later.” They exchanged phone numbers, and Iida bid him goodbye.

(Y/n) felt like he was on top of the world.

—————

“Oi Iida! Over here!” (Y/n) waved his arms around frantically, trying to get the boys attention. Iida spotted him, and made a beeline towards him. He gave a smile and bowed slightly.

“Good morning, (L/n)-kun.”

“Morning! Haha, I’m glad you came! I didn’t think you’d actually show...and you’re on time aswell! As expected of uptight iida.”

(Y/n) was in a pink, slightly oversized hoodie and black sweatpants. Iida was expecting him to be in full black, ripped clothing with skulls on it. He wasn’t expecting him to look so...soft? If you looked at him, you wouldn’t think he was the same person smoking on the steps of a prestigious school.

“Oh well, what time did you get here?”

“An hour ago.”

Iida deadpanned. Even he wasn’t that extra. “Why...”

(Y/n) rubbed the back of his neck shyly and chuckled. “I was so happy I couldn’t wait, ahaha!”

(Y/n’s) probably smiled more times today then the whole time he’s been enrolled into UA. It was an odd sight, but Iida felt a sort of proudness that he was probably the only one who got to see this side of him. He glanced at his face one more time, this time, looking at his red eyes and cheeks.

“...are your eyes swollen..?”

“Oh I...I couldn’t sleep...”

(Y/n) awkwardly chuckled for the 100th time that morning. Iida was about to go on a tangent about how sleep is important to you, but (y/n) suddenly grabbed his wrist, and pulled him forwards. He was practically dragging the poor boy.

“Is there anything specific you wanna do, Iida?” (Y/n) mused, looking around the plaza.

Iida shrugged.

“No, not really. Today’s more of your day, so I’m fine with anything.”

A bright red painted itself onto (y/n’s) cheeks, as he turned back around to hide it. It was usually iida getting all red and flustered, (y/n) wasn’t used to it. Still, it felt kinda nice.

“Awesome dude!”

(Y/n) went on rambling about places they could go to or eat at, but Iidas ears drowned out the noice as he looked at his smiling face. He didn’t know someone so...rude, could look so sweet. (Y/n) tugged at Iidas shoulder.

“...though I suppose, we could just go to a field and train, right?”

—————

(Y/n) got back up to his feet for the 5th time, and charged at Iida. He knew he couldn’t beat him with speed, so he’d have to rely on his quirk as much as he could. They were sparring in a little patch of grass near a small clearing, with a big tree providing the two boys shade. Iida swerved out of the way, making the smaller boy tumble onto the ground face first.

“Ah! (Y/n)! Are you okay?”

Iida rushed to the boys side and tangled his fingers in his hair. “It’s a little swollen but it’s not bleedi...(L/n)-kun...?”

(Y/n) hid his blush with the back of his hands and tensed up. “You..called me...(y/n)...dude..”

It was Iidas turn to tense up. His glasses fogged up as he swung his arms around madly. “IM TERRIBLY SORRY! IT WAS AN ACCIDENT, I SWEAR! IJUSTGOTWORRIEDANDSAIDITONACCIDEN-“

“Dude it’s fine! I-I dont mind..!” (Y/n) jabbed him lightly on the chest.

“L-let me treat you to some food! As apology for your head I mean!” Iida stood up, pulling (y/n) to his feet aswell.

—————

(Y/n) was rambling on nervously again, with chopsticks resting nimbly between his fingers. Iida couldn’t help but gaze at his face. His eyes were softer than he expected, softer than the mockingly hardened eyes he pointed like a sword towards people at UA. His gentle clad smile could raise the heavens, with one crinkle near his left eye and a dimple dangerously close to the corner of his mouth. He had unusually long eyelashes for a guy, but it made him look even more pretty for a bad boy.

“Why are you a delinquent at school when you’re such a sweet and funny person?” The words dripped out of Iidas mouth unconsciously, quickly covering his mouth too late.

(Y/n) flushed bright red, squeezing his chopsticks a little too tightly. “W-well...I don’t know. It’s not like I’m doing it on purpose. People just think I am because i don’t like socializing with everyone I meet? Like-id rather hang out with someone I know and like than go out of my my way to befriend all of class B, y’know? Does that make sense? Ahaha sorry I’m rambling again. I don’t get to talk much with my few friends. And they’ve pretty much heard everything I have to say so it’s refreshingtotalktoa-“

Iida cut him off before he talked his tongue off. “If you don’t talk to people you don’t know well, then why are you talking to me so openly?”

“Because I like you.”

(Y/n) said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. He wasn’t tripping over his words, or laughing nervously. He looked at Iida and said it like saying “the sky is blue” with so much certainty, it made a knot tighten in iidas throat.

Iidas question was, why though? Why did his heart thump along the buttery smooth rhythm of (y/n’s) voice? Why did his head reel every time he saw (y/n’s) eyes light up talking about something he found interesting? Why was he at such a loss for words when his gaze fell on him so attentively?

Iida cleared his throat. Maybe he was just excited to have a new friend. He didn’t see him in a romantic light! How could he? He’s just worked up on the fact that this hardass delinquent boy wasn’t who he thought he was.

“Shall we go, then?”

————

The date went by like a dream. Technically it wasn’t over yet, as the promise was for a full “day”, but window shopping and dicking around while Iida chops aggressively really tires you out. They both ended the day by sparring at the same clearing, before taking refuge on a bus stop bench. The sun was completely gone. Leaving behind the pasty purple and blue sky, washing over and killing the clouds.

“Ahhh, time flies by so fast! Damn, well, the days still not yet over soooo.”

“Yes, yes I know.” Iida chuckled. He thought he was going to have to bear through this day, but it was actually quite splendid. He definitely feels like he’s made a new friend.

“Well, is there anything you wish to do before the day is over?”

“Yeah um, so,” (y/n) cast his eyes down, fiddling with his fingers. “C-can we hold hands..?”

Iida wordlessly set his hand on top of (y/n’s) smaller one, waiting as he interlocked their fingers together. His hand was warm, way warmer than (y/n) was expected. He didn’t know, Iida seemed like a cold hands guy.

They sat quietly under the ambient streetlight, occasionally rubbing a thumb over the others hand, feeling it’s warmth and staring off into the distance. Iida didn’t notice his eyes drooping lower and lower until they were finally closed.

Iida let his thoughts roam. It was something he did when he was going to bed, or simply just resting his eyes for a bit. He thought of his family, what he would do for class on Monday, and finally, (y/n). It was the most prominent thing on his mind, and not because he was unconsciously resting his head on his shoulder, softly but firmly gripping the warm hand underneath his own.

The idea of (y/n) so soft and vulnerable in front of anyone else didn’t sit right with him. He wanted that sweet, kind side all to himself. It was selfish, and even wrong if he thought about it. (Y/n) was so sweet and respectable during this “date” of theirs. Perfect manners for when inside the classroom. If anything, he should be more than glad to have the world share this side of him.

So why was he feeling this way?

He felt a shoulder nudge from under his head, before a hand started vigorously poking at his cheek. He initially ignored it, but once he registered the current situation he jerked up and

“Iida. Iida wake up. It’s 11:40. We should be heading back before midnight. A-at least I want to so we can um...we can still technically legally hold hands by promise-“

Iida rubbed at his eyes in embarrassment. “My sincerest apologies for falling asleep! It was not my intention-“

”oh no it’s all good! I-I kinda fell asleep too. It’s been like...2 hours.”

Iida checked his watch. (Y/n) was right. 11:45 pm. He knocked his glasses up higher on the bridge of his nose and stood up. He extended a hand to (y/n) who tiredly accepted it and pulled himself off the bench.

They spedwalked towards the train station to catch a train back to UA, when (y/n) tugged on his sleeve, halting temporarily.

“Iida.”

Iida turned around with a hum. (Y/n) kept his eyes fixated on the ground, but held on to the sleeve of Iidas jacket like a lifeline.

“Today...is almost over.”

“Yes, um, it’s about 11:57 so we should hurry back-“

“Before the day officially ends,...can you kiss me?”

Iida focused on (y/n’s) downcast face. It wasn’t an expression of nervousness or any sort of flustered emotion. Instead it held a look of unreadable shame.

“If you do, then I would have no regrets. My feelings for you will also end here. I’ll try my best to end it. My feelings grow stronger for you everyday when we bicker or when I simply just see you, so I want to end this with a grand fina-“

“I refuse.”

(Y/n) looked up. Iida glasses glared white, preventing him from seeing his cerulean eyes. But he got his answer from the frown Iida was sporting on his face. Even he could agree, it was a silly request, but he couldn’t help by feeling just a tad bit hurt by how quickly he was shut down.

“I understand.”

(Y/n) averted his eyes, flushing with embarrassment. He scanned the area for something other than Iida to look at, before his eyes landed on the parks clock.

12 am.

Midnight.

The date was officially over.

(Y/n) was quick to let go of the sleeve he’d been clutching for a while now. “A-ah! The day has ended. The dates over.”

He stepped back and ducked his head into a 90 degree bow. “Thank you so so much for coming with me today.”

“I’m really happy.”

His expression betrayed his words. If there was one word to describe it, Iida would say it looked dead. Hollow, even. It looked hollow, like the sinking feeling harboring itself in his chest. He knocked against his ribcage multiple times to shake the achy feeling in his chest, but it never went away.

“Well, let’s head back now. It’s late.”

(Y/n) silently walked past Iida. It wasn’t until seeing his watery face drenched in silent hot tears walk by that Iida realized,

He was in love with (L/n) (Y/n).

He was in love with the sweet delinquent boy who smokes and sits on desks, but also has the most hypnotizing laugh. He was in love with the boy who wore saggy pants to school, but also wore an oversized pink hoodie that made Iida reluctantly imagine him wearing one of his own jackets. Oh, how cute he would look.

He was hopelessly, graciously, entirely in love with (L/n) (Y/n).

Iida ran up to (y/n), who had walked past him and kept going with the assumption that he was behind him. His breath crystallized in the form of fog when he ran, faster than he ever did without using his engines. There wasn’t enough time to hike the fabric of his pants up, and he’d rather not burn them to a crisp with the steam from his engine.

“(L-L/n)!”

He wasn’t sure if he heard him. He was still a great length away.

“(L/n)!”

He was closer now. Close enough for him to hear. He was either lost in his thoughts or outright ignoring him.

“(Y/N)!”

The boy whipped his head around so fast, his tears flung into the cold air and landed beside him on the ground. Iida didn’t think far ahead as to brace for landing, choosing instead to glomp (y/n) into a soul crushing hug. Though, it was more of a tackle with the the way they both tumbled over and hit the ground with a thud.

(Y/n) was able to soften the blow with his quirk, but the impact of Iida landing on his chest still knocked the wind out of him. He was waiting for Iida to start swinging his hands and start apologizing profusely, but instead got pulled up to his knees and encased in a more gentle hug.

He was buried in the crook of Iida neck, who in return nuzzled himself into (y/n’s) hair. They stood, or rather kneeled, in a stiff silence, rocking back and forth ever so gently.

“Sorry.”

“Wah! Don’t apologize! You did nothing wrong, you had the full right to deny my request-“

“No, not for that.” Iida untangled himself from the warmth of (y/n’s) body to look at him seriously. “I’m sorry for breaking our promise. Our deal.”

(Y/n) wiped his stray tears away, all bitterness turning itself into lighthearted confusion. “But you didnt-“

(Y/n’s) words fizzled out in his throat when a pair of lips shut him up. His eyes fluttered closed as he wrapped his arms shakily around Iidas neck, drawing him closer than he already his. After what seemed like forever, Iida suddenly jumped back with fogged up glasses and heavy blush on his face.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I wasn’t thinking! Forgive me!”

“You know, all you’ve done was apologize all day. Is this what you normally do in class?”

“NO!” Iida fell back on his ass, a yelp escaping from his throat. (Y/n) chuckled ironically, pushing himself up to his feet and extending a hand towards the blue haired boy.

“I still don’t see how you broke our deal.”

Iida dusted himself off and adjusted his glasses. “Well-listen I-“ For once in his life, he was at a loss for words.

“I...want to e-extent it. O-Our date, I mean.”

Iida stood rigid as a board as (y/n) blinked.

“Wait-so like, you’ll go out with me tomorrow?”

“Yeah.”

“And the day after that.”

“Yes I suppose so.”

“A-and how bout a week from now-“

Iida grabbed (y/n’s) shoulders and shook him roughly. And by rough, I mean rough. This boy has enough beef to throw (y/n) into the sun.

“I-I WANT TO GO OUT WITH YOU FOREVER! I WANT YOU TO BE MY BOYFRIEND! I...I WANT TO BE YOUR BOYFRIEND! I WANT YOUR KINDNESS AND SWEETNESS ALL TO MYSELF! SO BE IT YOU’RE UNINTENTIONALLY A NEGLIGENT BOY AT SCHOOL! I WANT THIS SPECIAL SIDE OF YOU RESERVED FOR MYSELF! IVE NEVER BEEN SELFISH IN MY WHOLE LIFE SO SURELY THIS IS FINE! I WANT TO BE SELFISH! I WANT TO HOLD YOU IN MY ARMS MORE! I WANT TO GO ON SOME MORE DATES WITH YOU! (Y/N)-KUN I LOVE YOU!”

Iida has never considered himself selfish. He wasn’t the type to want something all to himself. If his friends wanted to be friends with someone he disapproved of, so be it. If he bought food but a fellow classmate was starving, he’d be eating only half as his classmate would be happily munching on their portion. If it was reasonable, he’d be willing to give up anything. It was the right thing to do.

Surely all of those good deeds would permit him to be selfish just this once. He’d never known the feeling of wanting something so bad to the point you felt like you were boiling. Of wanting no one else to have someone look at them the same way they looked at him. And how utterly satisfying it felt to have someone to claim as your own. Just this once couldn’t hurt anyone.

And by god, the impossibly wide smile (y/n) held was one thousand percent worth it.

————

“Halt! No running in the hallways, (L/n)-Kun!”

(Y/n) slowed down to a stop and sighed. “Dude, get off my dick.”

“Still pestering (L/n) huh? As expected of Iida!” Mina and Uraraka giggled, as they both disappeared inside the 1-A classroom. The hallway was empty now, making both Iida and (y/n) relax. (Y/n’s) pissed off expression softened, a smile now growing on his face. Iida swears it’s like talking to two different people. It’s kind of scary.

“Good morning, Tenya-Chan~”

“Uh-uh. Don’t ‘Tenya-Chan’ me. You know the rules. You owe me a kiss for breaking a rule. Gimme.”

Iida made grabby hands at (y/n), puckering his lips jokingly. God, he didn’t want to admit it but (y/n’s) sense of humor was rubbing off on him.

(Y/n) snorted at his boyfriends antics, pressing a gentle kiss onto his mouth. “Well-I gotta go, bye bye, Tenya! See you later. Call me, you sexy lamppost.”

(Y/n) timpered off to his classroom, his bad boy attitude returning once he stepped inside. Iida stood there, in utter confusion, before turning around and walking inside his own class.

“Ne ne, Iida, I’ve noticed you’re kinda like...less strict with that 1-B baddie. What’s up?”

Mina followed behind Iida with a curious, shit eating smile on her face.

“Ah. We...became good friends. He’s not as bad as I thought, I suppose.”

Mina looked at Iida unconvinced.

“You know, I saw you and bad boy kissing out there. My god. Iida. You gay liar.”

Iida, along with probably everyone else in class 1-A, collectively choked on air.

——————

[luminnara]

The Dismemberment Song | BOP Victor Zsasz x Reader | 18+

Fandom: Birds of Prey

Words: 3,791

Summary: Zsasz takes a liking to one of the burlesque dancers at Roman’s club.

PART ONE | PART TWO |

WARNINGS: graphic blood/gore/violence, reader may or may not torture and murder a guy, alcohol, all that good Gotham stuff, reader is kinda fucked up

Seriously, don’t read this if you don’t like blood

Based on The Dismemberment Song by Blue Kid! 

This is written as a kinda vague fem!reader, but if there’s interest I can always write alternate versions for different genders, more specific body/personality types, or whatever else might tickle your fancy! Just hit up my ask box!

Requests are open!! Pls, I really wanna write more Zsasz or Zsaszmask x reader, gimme ideas!

The Black Mask was a club that boasted only the best of the best. Top shelf booze, luxurious furnishings, and entertainers that Gotham’s other club owners wished they could get their hands on all came together to form the East End’s trendiest spot. You were lucky enough to be one of those very entertainers, and you had been performing onstage at Roman’s club ever since one of his goons saw you dancing at another spot across town. Roman Sionis had bought you easily, promising a good nightly wage and all the free drinks you could stomach, and a few years later, you were still enjoying the nice gig at the Black Mask. 

Most nights were the same; you showed up around seven, hung around in the dressing room with the others while you all got ready, and enjoyed a drink or two before your first number. You were always in the chorus, not that you really minded--Roman paid you more than enough to keep you happy, even though you knew the stars got more. Girls who did solo numbers, especially if they could sing, those were Mr. Sionis’s favorites. You never really expected to achieve that kind of status, not when people like Dinah Lance were around and holding his attention, so when Roman pulled you aside one night to tell you that he wanted to give you the chance to do your own routine, you nearly dropped your drink. 

“Full creative control,” he said, a hand resting at the small of your back as you gaped at him. 

“I--what?” you managed to choke out. “I-I mean, thank you, Mr. Sionis, really--”

“Please,” he chuckled. “Call me Roman.”

“Thank you, Roman,” you smiled, swallowing down your fear. “I won’t disappoint you, I swear.” 

“I know you won’t, doll.” he motioned for someone to bring him a drink. “Full creative control, like I said. I want to see what’s swirling around in that pretty mind of yours. Put some heart into it for me, k doll?”

You nodded. “You got it, boss.”

He grinned, hugging you to his side and pressing a kiss against your temple like he did with all the girls he liked. “Looking forward to it, beautiful.”

He let you go, turning to leave, and Zsasz slunk after him, but not before casting you an almost annoyed look. 

“Don’t disappoint,” he teased, whistling low before he followed his boss. 

You gulped. You were sure he wouldn’t mind peeling your face off, but you rather preferred staying alive.

“I won’t!” you called after him bravely. 

He glanced at you over his shoulder, his eyes practically boring into you as if were sizing you up. He thought you were just some prissy little girl, didn’t he? Just like Roman, just like everybody else. But you would show them. They wanted to see what kind of shit really ate at your brain? Oh, you’d give them a nice little glimpse.

And so, only a couple shorts weeks later, here you were, getting ready in the dressing room like usual, only you were far more nervous than you had been for any other shift. You had busted your ass getting everything ready, even taking a few nights off to work twice as hard on what you hoped would be a good debut. You had given the band their sheet music, you had learned your lyrics inside and out (because you were absolutely determined to go that extra mile for Roman Sionis and show him that not only could you prance around onstage, but you could sing, too), and you had spent hours upon hours hand-decorating an old corset and lingerie set you had sitting around. Roman wanted this to come from the heart, he wanted a passion project, and you were gonna give it to him. 

You just had to pray that he was in the right mood to enjoy it.

“Think you’re good to go, my love,” the house mom said as she finished with your hair. 

You stared at yourself in the mirror. So far, so good...your hair was in big barrel curls, still warm to the touch as your house mom gave it a couple more passes with the hairspray for good measure. 

“You sure I don’t need--”

“You’re gonna knock ‘em dead,” she interrupted, retreating to her usual chair. 

You kept staring at your reflection. “Do you think it’s too much? I mean...”

She laughed loudly. “Hon, this is Gotham. There’s no such thing as too much.”

Glancing down at your outfit, you weren’t so sure. “But...”

“But nothing. Now go on, go show Roman why he stays in business.”

You stood on shaky legs, nodding to her as you made your way towards the door. “R-right.”

“Break a leg,” she called after you. 

All you could do was nod. You knew what you were doing. You had practiced for hours every day to get ready for this. With a deep breath, you made your way down the hall leading to stage, shaking your hands out as you stood in the wings. You could do this. You were ready.

As soon as your stage name was announced, you stepped out, ruby encrusted heels clicking against the wooden floorboards. The lights were harsh, the crowd quiet as you came out to face them. The stage was set for you, a few props already waiting for you as you stood there, ready for the music to start.

Then, the band began playing, and you sprang into action.

“Hold still, my sweet. I’m tryin to measure the space between your molar and your jaw...” You sang, lunging forward to grab the medical-grade calipers sitting in a metal bucket for you. You trailed them down over your victim’s jaw, smiling as you did so. “...This caliper, no cause for fear. No it...it doesn’t hurt, it only helps me measure how much skin you have...”

Across the club, Zsasz looked up. He was standing near Roman, his boss sitting in a booth while he chatted with some business associates. He was far more interested in you than their conversation, his dark eyes tracking you as you moved across the stage. He was absolutely enthralled by your outfit, your tightly-laced corset covered in blood red rhinestones that glimmered under the stage lights, your matching bra and thong shining just as brightly. You looked like you were covered in blood, the gems catching his eye in a way he hadn’t expected. 

“--and the topmost layer of fat, but I won’t make an incision till you’re nice and numb...” There was an operating table on the stage, where one of Roman’s lowest-ranking goons was tied down. If Zsasz remembered correctly, this guy had fucked up pretty monumentally recently, so seeing him strapped down and struggling brought a grin to his face.

You ran over to the man, the crowd laughing as you leaned across him. “...Oh, and laughing gas can be so much fun, please don’t doubt my decision...”

The scene you had set was both comedic and sexual. In all honesty, Zsasz hadn’t expected you to do anything like this; you were a chorus girl, someone he had thought would go for something overdone and classic. Maybe some old school stupid, annoying, Singin In The Rain type shit, yet there you were, dressed in an outfit that was obviously meant to emulate dripping blood while you flitted around a man on a gurney. 

Zsasz couldn’t look away. 

“This’ll be ooh, this’ll be ahh, this’ll be absolutely whee!” you squealed, teasingly pressing your sawblade to the goon’s torso. “This’ll be nice, this’ll be neat and bring you closer to me...”

You grabbed the goon as he struggled against his restraints, holding him down. Zsasz was sure the man was in on your little number, and he thought it was cute; you were pretending to be some sort of killer, maybe trying to appeal to Roman’s face peely urges. Maybe you were trying to make the boss happy by scaring his lackey like this.

“So don’t you squirm, don't you fret, I'm not gonna hurt you...yet.” You grinned, leaning down before you shoved the man’s face to the side, letting him go as you ran back across the stage. “I just feel the need to be gettin’ a little of you, a lot of blood lettin’, I know the sensation you’re probably dreading...”

You pranced back to the gurney, moving with that little extra theatrical oomph that made everyone think you were just playing. You smiled as they clapped and laughed loudly. They would figure it out soon enough. 

“Cutting you up will be so refreshing for me...” you cooed, discarding the calipers in favor of a scalpel. You traced it down the goon’s bare chest, a little line of blood following the blade as it pierced his flesh. 

He let out a scream, just as you hoped he would, and you gave his little table a shove, sending it wheeling a short distance away. 

“Now don’t you cry,” You sang, “And don’t call Miriam, she’s my alibi...oh let me check your toes out!” You picked up a set of pliers, taking hold of his big toe. “Aren’t your toenails cute?” you grabbed one and pulled, the goon screaming as you removed the nail, leaving a bloody pulp behind. “...and red is such a lovely color on you!” you leaned down in his face, grabbing the opposite foot’s big toenail and yanking. “...But you won’t be needing those!”

Roman began clapping, giving a loud “Whoo!”  as he watched you. He had no idea that when you had asked him for the name of his least favorite henchman, this would be the reason. Now, watching the man suffer onstage in front of everyone while you were dancing around him in six inch heels and a scandalously skimpy outfit, Sionis was more than entertained. He was impressed, absolutely astounding by the cruelty his little burlesque dancer held inside of her. He couldn’t have hoped for more. 

“When you’ve got no knees!” you sang, dropping your weapons in favorite of a crowbar. “...Or shins, or pinky fingers, or arteries....”

You brought your weapon down on each of the man’s legs, somehow still managing to poise yourself perfectly as you did so. You gave him a few good whacks, then dropped the bar, leaning down to pick a knife up out of the bucket and run it over his hands teasingly. 

“...so hold still while I remove them!” you trilled. 

The man tried to sit up, struggling against his restraints, but you shoved him back down with a sweet smile. 

“...Oh, and don’t fight back,” you sang, hopping up to sit next to him. “I think you’ll find you’re missing the point, with that.”

Meanwhile, Victor Zsasz was grinning, showing off his gold teeth while he watched you. He kept a close eye on your hips as they swayed, his trained eyes following your ass as it moved across the stage. Were you really carving a man up right then and there? He wanted it to be true. He wanted to smell the overwhelming tang of blood as you plunged a knife into your victim. But he was too far away, and so he had to settle for watching instead. 

Your victim tried to scream, and you shoved his head to the side playfully. 

“That’s enough outta you!” you sang, holding his jaw tightly.

As you repeated your chorus, your knife returned to the man’s flesh and he grunted in pain, pleading to an audience that didn’t care about him. The Black Mask was a fucked up place for fucked up people, no matter how trendy it was, and nobody in the audience was going to protest when someone was torn apart onstage. Besides, Roman Sionis was far too powerful for the GCPD to go after, and as you heard him laughing loudly in the audience, you had a pretty good feeling that he wasn’t going to send anyone after you for carving somebody up in a way that only you could.

You kept going, peeling your underbust corset off with the same grace and dexterity that Zsasz peeled faces with. As you stood in only your bra, thong, garters and stockings, you felt exhilarated, powerful, as if you had been born to cur people up in front of an audience. 

It’s not like this was your first time chopping a body up, anyways; there was a reason you had to move to Gotham and get a new gig, after all.

Zsasz watched you. In fact, his eyes were glued to you, even when Roman walked away to chat with a few mob bosses in a nearby booth. Were you seriously killing this man right in front of everyone? Victor didn’t necessarily care for all the theatrics, but he could appreciate how seriously you took you took your craft, and he had to admit, he was surprised that this was what you had come up with when Roman told you to give him something good.

“‘Cause I’m all out of hurt, you’ve used up all I’ve got,” you taunted, sneering down at your victim as you brought your saw down on his leg. “So I’m chopping you up and still coming up squat! If I want it to bleed, I’ll just roll up my sleeve and saw and saw and saw...”

The blade cut back and forth, and Zsasz’s eyes followed it. Blood was spurting up, drenching your arms as if you were wearing red opera gloves. 

“And saw, and saw, and saw, and saw....”

“Zsasz, can you believe this?” Roman asked, leaning towards him.

“No, boss,” Zsasz said with a little grin, shaking his head. 

“She’s good. We may have to give her a new job...”

You paused, giving your victim a break as you tossed the saw back into the bucket, drops of blood spattering across the stage as you pulled out a large butcher knife. Before it could touch Roman’s henchman, you used it to flick open the clasp on your bra, tossing the thin little piece of lingerie out into the crowd. You didn’t really care where it went; you were too busy enjoying yourself. 

“This’ll be ooh, this’ll be ahh, this’ll be absolutely whee,” you purred, trailing the blade down the side of the man’s face. “This’ll be nice, this’ll be neat and bring you closer to me...”

“So don’t you squirm, don’t you fret, I’m not gonna hurt you, oh no, no, no, not...yet.” you plunged your blade into his chest, between two of his ribs, not close enough to knick his heart but definitely deep enough to cause him immense pain despite all the adrenaline that was sure to be running through his system now.

You pulled the knife back out, blood dripping off the metal blade as you held it tightly and pranced back across the stage. “I just feel the need to be gettin’ a little of you, a lot of bloodletting, I know the sensation you’re probably dreading but there’s one thing you’re forgetting...”

Turning back to him, you brought the blade to his throat, and in the crowd, Zsasz’s eyes lit up. He was delighted. He was enthralled. His pants were getting a little tight, but whatever. The rest of the audience was gazing up at you with wonder, disgust, amusement...but Zsasz was absolutely admiring the way you so confidently played with your victim. The theatrics were starting to grow on him, he decided, and he wanted nothing more than to go right up there and lick all that blood off your face.

“There’s nothing like the thrill of a shredding,” you sang, almost snarling, “but this is no orthodox beheading...”

You destroyed the man on the gurney, carving through him, drenching yourself in blood in an almost comical way. 

“Cutting you up,” you sang as you made an absolute mess. “Cutting you up...”

“Cutting you up is gonna be....” you finally stepped back, catching your breath as the song slowed. “...so refreshing for me.”

As your routine finished, you took a little bow, still holding the knife as you crossed your ankles and bent at the waist in a delightfully fancy gesture. The man on the gurney was very much dead, blood dripping down onto the stage, and the audience was still eating up every second of it. You could hear Roman cheering, and as you spotted him standing there amidst the crowd with Zsasz at his side, you blew them both a little kiss. 

“How about that?” you heard Roman’s voice boom above the clapping as you strode offstage. “I would call for an encore, but unfortunately, I think we’d need a new victim....”

Your head was still abuzz with the rush of killing, and you walked back to the dressing room in a daze. You were vaguely aware of Dinah Lance wrinkling her nose as you passed her, but you didn’t pay her any mind. Absolutely nothing could kill your good mood now. 

“Well?” the house mom asked as you made your way to your mirror. “Sounds like it went well, judging by those cheers...”

You smiled and hummed to yourself, nodding as you reached for something to clean your face with. You were going to need an entire shower to get all this blood off yourself. 

“Told you.” the house mom snorted a laugh. 

“He loved it,” you grinned. 

She shook her head in amusement. “You are one fucked up girl, I’ll tell you that much.”

“That’s showbiz, baby,” you joked, raising a towel to start working at wiping your face. 

“Oh, pussycat?” a singsong voice made you freeze. 

You could see Zsasz in the mirror. 

He was leaning in the doorway, smirking as he watched you. “Boss wants to talk.”

You paled. Had you fucked up after all? Did Roman get his shits and giggles and now planned on having Zsasz peel your face off? Sionis was infamous for his fickle moods. You’d watched him have plenty of people dragged off into back rooms just for speaking at the wrong time, and you had just done way worse than interrupt him. 

 You gawked at Zsasz, still staring at his reflection. What were you supposed to do? Run? He was blocking the only door, and there was no way you’d be able to get past him. You had no choice but to follow him to Roman. 

“O-Okay,” you managed to stammer out, finally turning towards him. “Lead the way.”

“Might want this.” he held up the bra you had tossed, twirling the strap around his finger while he gave you a smile that showed off his gold teeth.

“Give me that!” you snapped, rushing towards him.

“Ah.” he held it above his head, leering down at you. “Think I like this view more...”

“Zsasz!” you protested, scrambling against his chest and practically trying to claw your way up him to get your lingerie. 

He froze. He finally smelled the metallic tang of all that blood covering you, and coupled with the feeling of your tits against his chest...oh, he was so fucked. 

When he dropped the bra, you grabbed it from him, tossing it back to your mirror and moving to pick up a silky red robe off a nearby hook. You shrugged it on, tying it shut while Zsasz cleared his throat and offered you his arm. 

“Such a gentleman,” you sneered, taking it anyways. 

“When I want to be.” his voice was low and rough, as if his vocal chords were scraping against each other with every syllable. 

You looked up at him, a bit dumbfounded, as he led you out into the club once more. The band was playing as a few people cleaned up the carnage you had left behind, the bar’s patrons all chatting and drinking again. It was as if nothing had even happened and they hadn’t just watched a man be torn apart onstage a few minutes prior. 

Zsasz took you to Roman, the crowd parting before the two of you easily. Sionis was sitting in his favorite booth, sipping his drink and laughing, still seeming to be in a very good mood.

“Ah, there she is!” He said when he saw you, standing up and spreading his arms.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” You asked nervously as Zsasz let you go.

“Yes, yes, I had Mr. Zsasz grab you so that I could congratulate you on a thrilling performance.”

You stared at him. “You liked it?”

“Liked it? I loved it, darling! A bit messy for my tastes, but a lovely show, truly, though I suspect our dear Mr. Zsasz here wishes he could have been the one to take care of your victim. Isn’t that right, Zsasz?”

You glanced up at Zsasz. He grunted, not necessarily in agreement. He didn’t hate watching your performance by any means, and as much as he enjoyed helping little birds fly away from the world, he rather enjoyed watching you do it, too. 

“I’m glad, Mr. Sionis,” you said. 

“I told you, call me Roman.” he took a sip of his drink. “You know, normally, I don’t enjoy it when someone kills the people that belong to me, but I must admit, you certainly have a way with a knife.”

“I would have asked your permission, but I didn’t want to ruin the surprise.” you gulped. 

“And what a lovely surprise it was!” Roman laughed loudly. “You’re very talented...in fact, how’d you like a promotion? Yes? Perfect, perfect! No, no, don’t shake my hand, you’re...well, you’re covered in blood. Quite frankly, it’s disgusting.” He snapped his fingers. “Mr. Zsasz, take her up to the penthouse so she can clean up, I don’t want all this blood getting on the new carpeting in here.”

“Oh, Mr. Sio--Roman,” you cleared your throat, “I can use the shower in the dressing room, really, it’s no trouble--”

“Nonsense, nonsense.” he waved you away. “You’re part of the team now, aren’t you? Besides, a job well done deserves some sort of reward. Zsasz will show you upstairs. Don’t worry, he’s completely harmless.”

As Zsasz put a hand on your lower back, you had your doubts. Harmless wasn’t really a word you would choose to describe Roman’s right hand man. 

“Come on, princess.” Zsasz purred, guiding you through the crowd before you had much of a chance to protest. 

He took you to the elevator in the corner, the bouncer standing guard in front of it stepping aside with a nod. The man hit the up button, and soon, you were pressed up against Zsasz in the small space, on your way up to Roman’s spacious penthouse. 

[crackinwise]

My pet AU is Kiyotaka and Mondo somehow out in the post-Tragedy Japan, surviving and saving people. Like either they didn't agree to stay locked in Hope's Peak for safety, or they survived the game and left with the others but didn't join Future Foundation. Major points up front, details divided into sections under the cut:

Mondo's objective would be to find his gang, and Taka's goal, besides finding his dad, would be repairing society while punishing those responsible for its destruction. But their direct task is keeping each other safe & helping victims along the way.

Mondo even stresses calling Taka "Ishimaru" instead of "bro" or his given name in front of others, so they might KNOW who's saving them. Taka caught on quick & is very grateful.

Taka would have kind of a breakdown reconciling who he is with what he has to do in a lawless world where every public moral is ignored. He keeps a small ledger of places they loot from, to compensate in the future.

At the start, Taka can only sleep burrowed against Mondo's chest or back, blocking out their damaged surroundings & pretending everything is as it was.

He cries in Mondo's arms one night after he couldn't avoid killing someone to save Mondo's life, and that's the tipping point. He thinks if he was better, stronger like his bro, he'd have noticed sooner & found a better option. Mondo is being so brave; he's Taka's rock and Taka wants to be as steady for him too. Their souls are already connected so obviously he just has to borrow more of Mondo's spirit, right?

That's how Ishida is created.

(In reality, Mondo just compartmentalizes and shoves down unhelpful feelings. You thought he needed therapy BEFORE all this, oh man-)

Ishida:

Taka ends up slipping into the Ishida facade for fight and flight; any time adrenaline kicks in and he feels he needs that boost. Sadly, that's most of their waking time. He guards Mondo and anyone they're saving like a fierce watchdog, and won't hesitate to bite.

He'll only come out of the role when he personally verifies it's safe and if Mondo can confirm it. Survivors are confused by the dual-sided Ishimaru switching right in front of them, but they're so grateful (and so much weird crap has happened) that it never phases them long.

Too many times, Ishida will go all day without a break. This means when their hideout for the night is absolutely safe, that it's okay to let go, Taka just collapses in exhaustion. But Mondo is there to catch him.

Mondo feels conflicted over the Ishida role because Taka is just a beast in it--it's very flattering and a little hot--but it also makes him worry more than before about Taka's health. He comforts Taka with a lot of praise and reassurances, and Taka sleeps lightly but otherwise fine.

Relationship: (slight mature warning)

When they touch, Taka swears he can feel the link between them flare to fuel them. Twin fires ignited. Mondo doesn't know about all that, but when their eyes meet it definitely makes him feel invincible, so, he can believe.

If they weren't already new boyfriends when The Tragedy hit, all this closeness makes sure of that soon after. Being together is their happiness and, for a while, their only link to pre-Tragedy lives. Vows not unlike marriage were exchanged one night. Where one goes, the other will follow. Anywhere. Always.

When they kiss, safe and alone, Mondo will ask what Taka wants; what he can handle that night. Sometimes it's just the kisses before passing out, sometimes it's more intimate touches to please them both after another hellish day.

Sometimes Taka will ask to be made love to, for obvious couple reasons, but also because Mondo inside him makes their tether feel stronger, more complete. Like going over the invisible line in bold marker. Taka believes any marks they can create with their mouths, any traces of themselves they can leave on or in each other, the easier they can find their bond and tap into it. (He had started a nervous habit of pressing in on lovebites to keep Ishida going when tired.)

Mondo tells him he doesn't need to find a poetic excuse for fetishes and Taka lovingly answers with a stomach punch.

Crazy Diamonds:

Mondo's gang members, the ones not dead or overcome with Despair, are slowly found and joined back up.

Any smaller and sturdier motorcycles are kept when found. If Mondo was able to keep his own in this version, it's a bit heavier than would be good for any off-roading--and much too loud for any stealth--but he refuses to part with it.

Every gang member respected Taka/Ishida the second they saw him fight beside their leader. Before Mondo says a word about him. They readily take orders from him in either form. The change in appearance was a surprise, but they're already used to some members wildly changing demeanor in or away from the gang, so it's easily accepted.

With the gang as backup to keep watch during downtime--after Ishida sized each one up and watched them for loyalty--the pair can feel a lot more relaxed. They joke about having a date in a blown-out restaurant they find, and they can finally enjoy a deep sleep.

When the group finds safehouses with more than one room, Mondo & Taka are given their privacy. Taka tries to insist everyone deserves a chance at privacy and they should rotate, but changing a gang's long-established hierarchy is a losing battle. And Mondo's not on his side because when they're alone he can be as sappy or touchy as he likes.

Legends:

Taka and Mondo save a lot of people over their journey and kinda become a legend that gets spread around and gives people Hope.

This area still needs work from me. Probably some research into Japanese myths and supernatural symbolism. A placeholder right now is something corny like "Two Men with burning eyes and thunderous voices will answer your cries for help. But if you're evil, the two will appear to you as One Demon and drag you down to the land of the dead."

There's also probably a need for costume changes since their color scheme is the same black & white of the Despair Remnants and monokumas killing people. Legend or not, it'd be easy for traumatized survivors to not know they're good guys at first.

Darker Moments: (blood, violence and vague attempted sexual assault)

After he killed a man to save Mondo, Taka luckily (he wouldn't use that word) doesn't have to again. Hurt? Yes. Beat unconscious? Yes. Maim? Yes, but some of the vile dregs of humanity are caught doing things that deserve worse--

--That deserve Mondo. Once when they were still traveling alone, a group of Remnants jumped them, managing to separate the two, and one knocked Taka out with a bad blow to the head. Mondo dispatched the others attacking him and got to Taka right as the Remnant was about to do something unforgivable.

Mondo snapped. He still doesn't remember what he did, he just remembers coming to in all the blood and dazedly picking Taka up to take him to a place he knew was safe.

Taka never finds out. He woke up a day later with a bandaged head and Mondo crying and kissing his hands. Mondo just told him he beat some and scared away the others.

Minor Details:

They try to always fight back-to-back and, to observers, seem to read each other's mind for where to move.

Taka/Ishida would use a sword or hand-to-hand. The pickaxe might just be a random pickaxe they find, if he uses it at all. Kinda hard to carry both a sword and a railroad pickaxe on your back, and I can't imagine it balances very well. (The size in official pics would be a 5lb head w/2-3lb handle.)

Mondo seems like he would use anything lying in debris to fight. Poles, pipes, chains. Aaaand maybe the knives he mentions in School Mode.

For any costume changes, Mondo would keep his jacket at least. A beacon for the Diamonds. Maybe a purple tank top, and different pants better for knife holsters. Unless the holster should wrap around his waist or hip instead?

Any changes to Taka's outfit would keep his armband. It's a reminder of his Talent and his goal to make Japan even better than before. Also wanna keep his boots or change to more rugged ones.

End Goal:

Obviously they'd end up in Towa, after the events of Ultra Despair Girls. They're reunited with Takaaki and Takemichi. Maybe they help set things right there a bit, or Makoto would get word to them about his plans vs Future Foundation's. Look at me, do I look like someone that knows how to end things?

There is no way you read all that. (I love you if you did.) But feel free to use all or any bits of it in your own works. Almost positive I'll never get to compose all this into a coherent fic format. I might update in short scenario posts under a 'Tragedy-survivor au' tag if I think of anything.

If you have a question or want something expanded upon, ask away.

[dreaming-about-fanfictions]

Choose Me Instead II Draco Malfoy x Reader II Chapter 3 of 27: Honesty

Summary:  Pretending to be in a relationship with Draco Malfoy to get back at your ex might have not been the smartest idea you ever had. Especially during your last year of Hogwarts where you should be focusing on exams and your future plans. However, you were just pretending. There was no way in hell you could actually catch feelings for someone like Malfoy. … Right?

CHAPTER 2

A/N: I’ve come to the realization that I’ve changed so much in this story during the past few days and added some chapters that it can probably already count as a slow-burn fic. I guess. Not sure. Have fun! Thanks for the lovely feedback! I love you all to death <3

Words: 3583 Pairing: Draco Malfoy x female!Reader, post-war Warnings: mentions of sex, light swearing

It was weird being back at Hogwarts. Something about it still didn’t feel right. After the war, it was unimaginable for you to come back here and finish school. But they took their time and closed it off for over a year. The school got rebuilt, the victims buried, the survivors tried to heal and move on. On the first anniversary of the end of the war, McGonagall – the new headmistress of Hogwarts – publicly announced that the school would open for the coming year and the seventh graders were given the chance to repeat their year.

You were excited about coming back and seeing your friends again, gaining a little bit of normalcy. School, homework, petty drama – you wanted nothing more than to be busy with all of those things. Yet something felt different when you stood in the Great Hall for the first time after your arrival. Something had changed. You had changed.

“You’re daydreaming again, Y/N.”

Ginny’s voice pulled you back into reality. Your best friend sat across from you with her eyebrows raised, chewing on a croissant.

“Tired,” you replied and smiled briefly.

“From what?”, she asked. “You left super early last night!”

“Yeah, because it was super boring.”

The redhead shook her head. “It was not! There was a fight between two Hufflepuffs and that’s the best indicator for a fun party.”

You chuckled. “Is it though?!”

“Or,” suddenly she put down her croissant. A devious smile appeared on her face and she began talking with a lowered voice: “Did you leave the party early with your date to –”

“I beg you to not finish that sentence, please!”

Ginny laughed. “Oh come on! McLaggen is kinda cute!”

“He’s awful.”

“He doesn’t need a good character to –”

“Ginny!” You playfully threw an apple at her. She caught it, laughing. “You’re the worst,” you said and shook your head.

Just when you wanted to change the topic, someone else started walked in. You stopped midsentence, staring at the couple who were coming down the hall, holding hands.

Ginny saw them too and she knew what you were about to do next. “Don’t, Y/N,” she said softly. “Stay here. At some point, you’ll have to face them. They’re our friends. He’s my brother. We have classes together now.”

You knew she was right. Yet, running away still seemed like a better option to you. Ginny sensed that, reached over the table and squeezed your hand. “Stay,” she repeated.

Ron and Hermione sat down right beside you, cheerfully wishing you a good morning. You didn’t reply but smiled at Harry instead who sat down next to Ginny and gave her a kiss. They were a cute couple and you were happy for the both of them. They finally found each other.

The four began to talk right away. It was still exciting to be in the same year as them, to finally share classes and spend so much time together. Well, not for you to be honest. You could happily live without seeing Ron every day.

You tuned out their conversation after a while, still debating whether or not you should leave the table. Your eyes drifted over the other students in the Great Hall and got stuck at the Slytherins. Not many people sat there as most of them had already finished breakfast. Before you knew what you were doing, you noticed he wasn’t here.

You felt a little sting of disappointment and frowned. Where did this came from? As if you cared about seeing Malfoy.

Saying that you didn’t replay that kiss in your mind over and over again would have been a lie. When you left the small room last night, you felt dizzy and confused. Yet you repeatedly told yourself that the kiss meant nothing. It happened so you didn’t get caught. Good god, it was Draco Malfoy, probably the last person in this school you wanted to kiss (well, besides McLaggen). So no. This kiss didn’t mean anything.

“Y/N?”, you turned your head when Hermione said your name.

“Why are you staring at the Slytherins?”, she asked.

You shrugged but the blush on your cheeks betrayed you. “No reason. I was thinking.”

She frowned. Ginny and Harry looked at each other in confusion.

“So? What is it?”, you asked.

“Right, um, we wanted to ask if you’d like to come play Quidditch with us?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Since when do you play Quidditch?”

“Ron taught me over the summer,” she smiled at her boyfriend. “Besides, they have to try out for the team in two weeks anyways so why not practice a little.”

You looked at Ron who stared at his plate. He probably felt as comfortable with the thought of you playing together as you did. The way he avoided your eyes made you angry though.

“No, sorry”, you quickly said and suddenly stood up. “Homework.” This was it. You had to leave.

 ***

You gritted your teeth angrily as you made your way up the stairs. God, you still hated him for how he treated you three months ago. You were supposed to be friends and he fucked it all up. Now you could barely stand the sight of him and every encounter left you feeling like you needed to punch a brick wall.

Being so lost in your thoughts, you almost ran around the corner, crashing into someone.

“Watch it, Y/L/N!”

Great.

“Watch it yourself, Malfoy!”, you snapped.

Draco Malfoy stood in front of you, one hand in the pocket of his pants, the other gripping your arm to prevent you from falling down. It must have been out of instinct because as soon as he realized he was touching you, he let go as if you were a hot plate.

“Someone got up on the wrong side of the bed,” he stated dryly.

“Shut up,” you mumbled, lowering the tone of your voice a little. “And let me through.”

He did neither. “Did McLaggen find you after all?!”

“None of your business, Malfoy!” With that, you pushed him aside and continued walking down the corridor. You were too mad for Malfoys bullshit.

“Y/L/N!” Apparently he was particular talkative this morning.

You ignored him.

“I couldn’t care less for your obvious boy troubles –”

Who did he think he was?!

“– however, I still have something that belongs to you.”

This made you stop dead in your tracks and turn around. “What?”, you asked, brows furrowed in confusion.

He smirked. “Your shoe.”

Oh. Oops.

Annoyed, you shrugged. “So give it back to me.”

“It’s in the Slytherin common room.”

“I’d rather die than go down there.”

“I’d change the attitude if I were you. After all, you want something from me,” his voice grew colder.

You were unimpressed by that. “Make me,” you shot back.

There it was again – that look on his face. The same look he had yesterday as he gazed over your body in the small room. It made you shiver – and for a second you weren’t sure if it was the good or the bad kind of shiver.

Then he smirked again: “Quidditch field. Tonight after dinner.” And while he already started walking backwards he added: “I’d rather die than be caught talking to a Gryffindor.”

Goddamn Slytherins.

***

It was unusually cold for a September night. You shivered and zipped up your jacket, regretting that you didn’t bring a scarf. No student or teacher seemed to be outside at this time, only the occasional crow flying above your head and the rustling of leaves accompanied you on your way to the Quidditch field.

The reason why Malfoy chose the Quidditch field of all places to give you back your shoe was beyond your knowledge. Yet you didn’t complain. In about half an hour, your friends would join you. Before the war, this was one of your favourite spots to just hang out and talk.

When you arrived on the field, it took you a while to spot Malfoy. He sat way up on the bleachers. You groaned and made your way up the stairs. Malfoy didn’t notice that you came as he was busy writing something in a small green notebook. Huh. Interesting.

He flinched when you sat down beside him and quickly closed the book.

“What are you writing?”, you asked curiously.

Malfoy pretended not to hear your question and instead reached inside his bag. “Here,” he pulled out your shoe, handing it to you.

“Thanks,” you put in the small bag you brought. “So what are you writing?”

He looked at you with an annoyed expression. “You have what you want so you can go.”

“You’re no fun, Malfoy.”

“Says the Gryffindor.”

“Excuse me?”, you raised an eyebrow. “We’re more fun than all the Slytherins combined.”

“Right,” he scoffed.

Still, you didn’t move or leave so with a sigh, he added: “Do you have no friends to bother?”

You grinned. “I do. In fact, they’ll be here in –”, you took a look at your watch, “– twenty minutes.”

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Perfect.”

“Why did you tell me to meet you here?”

“I was gonna be here anyways,” he shrugged. “Easier to make you come to me.”

You ignored his sly remark. “You were going to be here anyways? Alone?”

Another shrug.

Leaning back, you watched Malfoy from the side. He had dark circles under his eyes and kept his gaze focused on the field, his fingers playing with the sides of the notebook. Something (beside you sitting next to him) bothered him.

“So what was up with you this morning?”, he broke the silence.

You raised an eyebrow. “As if you care.”

“No,” he admitted. “But you’re obviously not leaving until your friends come and that question might make you stop staring at me.”

You chuckled softly. Then you realized that he was actually waiting for an answer. “Nothing important.”

“I figured.”

“You’re a jerk.”

“Probably,” Malfoy stated without any emotion in his voice.

You were silent for a few seconds. Part of you wanted to get up and leave. After all, Malfoy was probably the last one you could trust. He didn’t care and it was literally none of his business. You didn’t even like each other. Keeping it simple and vague was probably the best approach: “Dumb stuff, really. Like you said – boy troubles.”

Malfoy shifted without noticing it, turning his body more towards you, leaning in a little. “Well, now I’m curious. Who managed to make Y/L/N this mad and can he teach me?”

“I don’t know if you’re keen on Ron being your teacher,” the sentence just slipped out. You regretted it right away.

Malfoys eyes widened. “No fucking way.” Then he began to smirk – that evil, ‘I’m-better-than-you’-smirk he had perfected over the years.

Your face felt like it was on fire and you were glad it was getting dark already. Maybe he wouldn’t notice the blush. “Oh, be quiet!”

“Weasley?”, he scoffed, not believing it. He stared at you with quite the interest now. There seemed to be a lot more to you than he would have guessed. “How the fuck did that happen? Isn’t he dating the … isn’t he dating Granger?”

You knew what he wanted to call her but were surprised that he stopped himself. That never happened before.

“Yes, he is,” you mumbled and gave him a suggestive look.

This caused Malfoy to laugh. It was a dry, short laugh. He leaned back a little. “You’re kidding, right? Fucking hell, Weasel managed to not only screw you but do so while dating Granger?”

“I like how eloquently you phrased that,” you said sarcastically.

He ignored you. “How did that happen?”

“Okay, first of all”, you began, “… they weren’t dating when it happened. I’m not a homewrecker, that’s probably more of a Slytherin thing.”

“Does she know?”

“Know what?”

“Does Granger know you two f–”

“Geez, Malfoy, watch your language,” you interrupted him quickly, before you added: “And no.”

“So cheating isn’t a Gryffindor thing but lying is?”, Malfoy concluded, smirking again. “Good to know.”

“Oh, shut up,” you raised your chin. You were right about this in the beginning – you shouldn’t have told him anything. How were you supposed to get this right? Even though there was no reason for you to explain yourself to him, you still felt the need to: “They were going through a crisis and broke up and well … I spent a few weeks with their family and I always considered Ron a good friend but … but something happened. And then he ended things with me and got back together with Granger. Well, he got back together with her first and announced it in front of everyone, including me.”

“That’s how he told you that you two were over?”

You nodded. “Yup.”

“Phew,” Malfoy let out a whistle. “Wow. I must admit, I’m impressed.”

“Sure you are.”

Suddenly Malfoys facial expression changed from amusement to confusion. “So what’s the big deal now? You two screwed a few times and now he’s playing house with Granger again.”

You sent him another suggestive glance which caused him to let out another laugh.

“Please don’t tell me you got feelings for the Weasel,” he said in complete disbelief. Then his eyes suddenly began to wander further down and you realized he was looking at your … body. Rude. Before you got the chance to put him in his place, he simply said: “You can do a lot better, y’know.”

Oh. This was unexpected. You felt a blush creeping up your cheeks again and felt actually a little flattered by his words. Yet, they confused you. Why would he give a Gryffindor a compliment?! Was there a hidden insult in it? Maybe a slight undertone you didn’t notice?

“It goes without saying that this conversation stays between us,” you cleared your throat. “No one knows about this whole mess except Ginny. And you.”

Malfoy nodded. “You put an awful lot of trust in me.”

“Don’t disappoint me then.”

The two of you were quiet for a few moments. It was almost completely dark by now and a nervous glance to your watch made you aware that Ginny and the rest of her friends might appear any second now. The silence grew uncomfortable after a while.

“What’s up with that whole engagement thing, you mentioned yesterday?”, you wanted to know, remembering that weird comment of him. “And don’t act all mysterious again. I told you my mess now you have to share yours.”

Malfoy snorted. “Ask away.”

This was easier than expected. “Are you dating the little Greengrass?” Totally understandable if he was – Astoria was the perfect mixture of smart and drop dead gorgeous. A lot of guys were into her.

“No.”

“She called you ‘honey’.”

“Yes.”

You frowned. “I’m confused.”

“Do I really have to explain to you how pureblood marriages work?”, Malfoy said with a mocking undertone.

“Of course not. I just thought we left that behind us when the war ended”, you remarked.

He gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “As if hundreds of years of tradition can be forgotten with one war.”

“So you’re forced to marry her?”, you tried to understand the situation better.

“No, it’s an arranged marriage which is not even official yet,” Malfoy shifted slightly. “Mother would like it because the Greengrass family is still respected and …”

“… rich.”

He glanced at you quickly. “We lost a lot.”

“I bet,” you scoffed.

Abruptly, Malfoy got up and grabbed his bag. “I should leave.”

Out of instinct, you extended your hand to reach for him but stopped just inches in front of his arm. “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that”, you apologized. Feelings of guilt and pity appeared inside of you as you didn’t expect him to be so openly hurt by what you said. “I heard … well, everyone heard about the trials and your parents and all that. Sorry.”

Malfoy hesitated but then sat down again. His whole demeanour had changed in just seconds. He had almost been … approachable but now the look in his eyes was as cold as ice again.

You cleared your throat. “Do you want to marry her?”

He didn’t answer right away. You wondered what went through his head in this moment.

“I don’t ask myself that.”

The answer didn’t surprise you. “Why not?”, you tried to dig deeper.

Again, a few seconds passed before he mumbled: “No, I don’t want to marry her. I hardly know her.”

“Hmm,” you nodded. “Does she want to marry you?”

“I don’t know”, he gave a half shrug. “She had a thing with Zabini over the summer so I guess … I’m probably not her first choice.”

The answer to all of his problems seemed so easy, you thought. Yet it would be met with much apprehension. Traditional pureblood families like his were difficult when it came to this stuff.

Knowing what his reaction would be, you still had to say it: “So don’t get engaged.” Before he could reply, you raised your hand. “Yeah, I know, traditions and all that bullshit. Why don’t you just start breaking traditions?”

Malfoy shook his head. “My family works a little different than yours.

“Not that different to be honest”, you whispered under your breath.

He heard you and you were met with a very confused look. When you didn’t elaborate, he continued talking: “Anyways, I can’t. I could try to postpone but I’d need a very convincing reason.”

“Like?”

“Another girl from a good family.”

“And?”

“And what?”

A grin appeared on your face. “There are at least ten girls I can name right away who’d love to get a shot with you.”

Seriously, even most of the Gryffindor girls your age had been crushing on Malfoy at least once. He was very attractive and clever and that whole ‘bad boy’-act made quite a few girls weak in their knees. You had noticed this too but being so close friends with Ginny and Harry those thoughts never found room to grow inside of you. In your mind, Malfoy had always been an arrogant jerk. Still is, you corrected yourself quietly.

“Have you spoken with them since I became a –”

… a Death Eater, you finished the sentence in your head. Looking at the young man in front of you, wearing his school scarf while sitting in a sports stadium, the whole concept of him being a dangerous criminal just seemed absurd to you.

“Besides it’s a dumb idea”, he continued. “It would be a fake relationship and no one in their right mind would agree to that.” He let out a dry laugh. “Only a Gryffindor can think of something like that.”

In that moment, your eyes met. Never before did you notice the unusual colors in them like you did now. The piercing grey reminded you of storm clouds on an autumns day. Yeah, a fake relationship. Who in their right mind would … Unless …

The sudden thought that appeared in your mind made you flinch. He seemed to be thinking the same when he quickly broke the eye contact, straightening up and staring over at the field.

You got up in a rush, swinging your back over your shoulder. To your big relief, Ginny and your friends had just entered the Quidditch field. Their laughter echoed through the whole area.

„I should go. There’s Ginny.”

He nodded. “Right.”

“Thanks for the shoe.” Could this situation be any more awkward?! You doubted it. Hastily you turned around and almost stumbled over your own feet when you made our way back to the stairs. Something else came suddenly to your mind.

“Oh, and Malfoy?”, you stopped. He didn’t turn to look at you but you knew he heard you by the way he slightly moved his head. “I know a lot of fucked up stuff happened and pureblood families are the worst but … but don’t spend the rest of the year sitting here alone. I bet that there are still quite a few of your Slytherin friends that want to spend time with you.”

There was nothing you expected him to say in response to that so it surprised you when he suddenly said your name. “Y/L/N?”

“Yes?”

“Get over Weasley. It’s beneath you.”

You were glad he didn’t see the big grin on your face.

 ***

Ginny was surprised to see you coming down the stairs and running across the field. She wondered what you did up there and frowned when he saw a guy sitting there with the all too familiar white-blond hair.

“Is that Malfoy up there? Were you talking to him?”, she wanted to know when you finally reached the group.

“Oh, um,” you stuttered. “We ran into each other.

Ginny squinted her eyes. “Right”, she doubted. “How did you –”

Bang! You let out a short scream at the sudden noise.

“Sorry!” Someone shouted and a very distressed looking Seamus Finnigan appeared behind dark smoke.

“What the hell did you do?” Ginny squeaked and with that she forgot all about Malfoy.

You looked back up to where he was sitting just a minute ago. He was gone now. A weird feeling was left inside of you after the rather unusual conversation you had with the Slytherin. You shook your head, trying to get rid of it and turned your full attention back to your friends.

***

I hope you like it! I’d love to hear what you thought about it! <3

CHAPTER 4

“Choose Me Instead”-Masterlist HP-Masterlist Tag List: @writerdee1701​, @youareinllve​, @sjmahoney​, @detroitobsessed​, @takura-rin​, @jadam268​, @wynterwind​, @mina672 , @renaissance-confiance​, @harpoon999​, @doitforthevine67​, @rinasrights​, @flowerpowerpixie​, @gold-flowing​, @starkssnarks​, @bookcornerkins​, @harpersmariano​, @markedsweetly​, @iraniq​, @pointlesscoconut​, @hvrcruxes​, @pillowjj​, @idkatee​, @jungjxxhyun, @magicwithaknife​, @graystherapy​

Let me know if you want to be added to my tag list! <3

[gamerwoo]

[Tales from the Pack] Hansol: Fire and Ice (Part Nine)

Characters: Hansol x female reader

Genre/warnings: werewolf au, fantasy, mostly angst BUT there’s some fluff especially toward the end (it’s still kinda angsty fluff but like it’s still fluff ok i promise)

Word count: 3,385

Summary: You’ve always been one to let your emotions get the best of you – your power reflects that – and you’ve never been good at expressing them. That’s why you always thought you’d be awful with a mate, but you never thought things would be this awful.

a/n: things in bold are in english and things in italics are a dream

Previous | Next | Fire and Ice Masterlist

Nobody was surprised when you left after lunch. You didn’t even look at Hansol when you thanked everyone for lunch before quickly leaving the house to go wherever it was you went during the day. So Hansol waited for you outside. He laid back and watched the clouds as they slowly rolled through the sky. When the sun started to set, he went inside to get a sweater because Soomin was giving him a hard time about it. He also unpacked everything he’d grabbed from your old pack’s house, placing clothes on top of the dresser, making sure they were neatly folded, and putting pictures in various parts of the room so you could look at them. And then he put the blanket on the end of the bed, deciding you could choose what you did with it.

Before he left the room, he grabbed you a new sweater to wear. Then he found himself back outside again, waiting. 

And that’s how you found him. It was only a couple hours until midnight when you returned to the house. Hansol was sitting on the lawn in the same place you’d found him the night before, except you could smell your brother’s scent mixed with his. You didn’t know why or what he’d done, but you were ready to start asking why he smelled so much like Jiung. However, when you finally stood about two feet away, just staring down at him, all you did was stare. You, for some reason, didn’t get angry.

Hansol looked up at you before handing you the grey sweater. You stared at it for a beat of silence before you slowly reached out to touch it. It was soft and still smelled exactly like Jiung, unlike the sweater currently adorning your body. The scent on your current one was starting to fade.

You took off your sweater, your t-shirt riding up, but Hansol wasn’t staring. Then you tossed yours in Hansol’s lap before taking the new one and tugging it on over your head. The sleeves were too long as you expected, but you preferred it like that. 

“Where’d you get this?” you finally asked, your voice quiet.

Hansol seemed surprised you spoke to him, but his voice didn’t waver, “I went to give the ring to the pack today. I brought some stuff from there for you and left it in your room.”

That caught you off guard, “…For me?”

“Yeah,” he nodded with a soft smile. He pushed himself to stand up. “Do you want to go see?”

You let him lead you into the house and up the stairs. The entire place was silent, which was surprising to you since there were so many werewolves. Then again, they all seemed to have their own rooms, which meant not many people to talk to at night before bed, so they had no reason to be noisy – unless other things were happening, but you’d rather not hear that.

Hansol opened the bedroom door and allowed you in first. Immediately, your nose was attacked with familiar smells from your old pack, and from Jiung. Your eyes landed on multiple pictures – both in and out of frames – sweaters, and the familiar blanket that your mother had made for Jiung. 

The first thing you did was look at the pictures. Some were yours, but some were Jiung’s. There were a few of you and your family, including one you hadn’t seen in years, but it was Jiung’s favorite: you and him at age six, standing up against a wall at your parents’ house as one of your older siblings measured your heights. You and him were the same height back then. After that, you both got hit with growth spurts, but he shot up faster and higher than you. He was the tallest in the house, and you were pretty sure he was even taller than Mingyu.

There was another picture you looked at that you had only seen as a child. You didn’t know that Jiung even still had it, but here it was: the picture of your birth parents. You knew it was left with you when you were abandoned, but you didn’t know if your adoptive parents had thrown it out or left it behind or if it simply got lost at some point between all the family trips.

“You know,” Hansol spoke up. You turned around, expecting him to be right behind you, but he was still standing between the room and the hallway, “I don’t know if you resent your birth parents, but you look a lot like them.”

You carefully set the picture back down where you got it, keeping your eyes on Hansol, “What if I do resent them?”

He just shrugged, “I’d still tell you the truth.”

You had to admit, you respected his answer. At least you knew he wouldn’t say something he didn’t mean just to please you.

You turned your entire body to face him, letting out a deep sigh, “I’m…gonna shower.”

“Okay,” he nodded, stepping away from the doorway. “I’ll be downstairs if you need anything. Goodnight, _____.”

He turned and left, not expecting you to say anything in reply.

You went down the hall and found the bathroom was mostly the same as well. There were new toiletries and a few new towels, but you knew at least the shower worked all the same.

After scrubbing yourself clean of way too many days worth of dirt and grime, you got out of the shower, quickly dried off, and threw your underwear and sweater back on. You carried the rest of your clothes back to your room with you before tossing them in a hamper placed in the corner of the room.

Right before you got into bed, your eyes caught the blanket on the end of the bed. While part of you wanted to cuddle with it for the night, another part of you knew that touching it would erase more of the scent. So you took the blanket and placed it over the back of the chair before going to get into bed. You leaned over to shut off the lamp, closed your eyes, and waited for sleep to take you.

-

You hoped for another dreamless sleep, praying the nightmares were over. But of course, with your shitty luck, you found yourself back at the burned rubble where Eunjin had found you. Only this dream felt different; it felt…real. But you knew you weren’t awake because rain was pelting your skin, and you always felt uncomfortable in the rain. Rain made it difficult for you to use your power, so you tried to avoid it as much as possible. Except this time, the rain felt…nice.

Like most of your dreams lately, you felt like you were being watched. You never knew who or what it was that kept its eyes on you, but it didn’t feel like it was anything menacing. You usually elected to ignore it anyway.

“_____?”

Your head whipped around to see Jia, the blind mate. However, she was walking on her own, and her eyes stared directly at you instead of through you. You’d heard about her through Danbi and Mingyu, but you never thought she’d find herself in your dream. Was she the one watching you? Was she the reason this dream felt so real this time?

“Jia?” you took a cautious step toward her. “What’s happening?”

Jia just shook her head, “I’m not doing anything, _____. This is your dream.”

“Have you been in my other ones?” you asked.

She nodded, seeming unapologetic about it, “Yes, I have. I have to say, _____, I’m really worried about you.”

“There’s nothing to be worried about,” you scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest. “I may have freaked out once, but it was one time, and now I’m fine.”

“I don’t mean to sound rude, but I think your containing a lot of your emotions. You could have a meltdown again, and–”

“I’m handling my emotions just fine, okay? Besides, Hansol–”

“I’m not talking about Hansol,” Jia interrupted, her voice a little more harsh now, “I’m talking about your brother.”

You grimaced, a low growl coming from your chest, “I don’t have any emotions toward my brother. He’s gone; he’s dead. There’s no point in having emotions toward him.”

“_____…”

While Jia did step away from you, her eyes wide and apologetic, you stalked toward her anyway as anger bubbled inside you, “Don’t talk about him, don’t say his name, don’t–”

“_____.”

This time, when your name was said, it was from a different voice. A voice that sounded way too familiar, but also way too real for you to have made it up. It was that stern ‘alpha’ voice that always got you to listen to him. But despite the tone, it tugged at your heartstrings.

You turned around, seeing Jiung standing only a few yards away with a frown on his face. He didn’t look happy to see you – he never did in your dreams – but he looked rather disappointed more than anything else. You’d seen him look angry or disgusted with you, but never disappointed.

Suddenly, you snapped back to your senses. This was a dream, and since you weren’t creating this image of Jiung, Jia was. You turned to her, snarling as your eyes started to spot red, “Stop doing that.”

Jia held up her hands in surrender, “I swear, I’m not doing that! This is your dream, I don’t have control over it.”

“_____!” Jiung’s voice was rougher now, and you felt a hand on your wrist, tugging you away from the smaller girl. He turned you to face him, is usually golden eyes now turned red. “Stop lashing out.”

“Stop!” you demanded, yanking away from his grasp. “You’re not real! Stop doing this!”

Jiung’s face softened, resting both of his hands on his shoulders, “Yes I am, _____. Don’t you remember those stories mom and dad told us? About the spirit dreams?”

“That was just some old wives’ tale or whatever,” you insisted, averting your eyes.

“So were werewolves,” he chuckled. “Does that mean you’re fake?”

You frowned, shoving your brother away from you, “You can’t even prove you’re real because you’re probably just a figment of my imagination – I already know everything the real Jiung would.”

“I know what happened to your doll when we were seven,” he replied with a mischievous grin.

Slowly, your gaze shifted to look at him, mumbling, “Mom gave it to charity, she told me so.”

“Nope,” he said, popping the ‘p’, “Sabira stole it and ended up getting in a tug-of-war match with the neighbor’s dog. Ask mom, she’ll tell you because she tried to stitch it back together before she had to toss it.

“I also know you never knew Saebyeol’s birth name was Sabira because she only used her birth name when dad would take her to visit India once a year,” he continued, his smile still bright and toothy, just how you remembered when he just knew he was right.

You didn’t know what kind of expression you wore, but you couldn’t stop staring at your brother. How did he know things even you didn’t know? Unless he was making it up somehow? Maybe you were making things up in your head that he could tell you in an attempt to convince you he was real. If so, this figment you or Jia had created was a fantastic liar. But it just seemed too…real.

Either way, you couldn’t stop yourself from tossing yourself in your brothers arms, hugging him as tight as you possibly could as his warm, familiar laugh filled your ears and made your heart swell.

You suddenly pulled away from him, holding him at arms length, “Are you dumb, or what?”

“Huh?” he chuckled.

“Ordering Hanbin to take Hansol instead of you! Are you stupid?!”

Jiung shook his head, “_____, you need Hansol, not me.”

“I don’t need him!” you burst, pushing your brother away from you. “I need you! I hate Hansol for getting you killed. I don’t want to even be in this stupid pack!”

“_____,” Jiung sighed, “I know that’s not how you really feel.”

Jia also knew it wasn’t how you really felt. She’d seen your dreams – your dreams where it was all made up – and you’d get angry and scream and call Jiung dumb for leaving you. You’d never say anything nasty about Hansol in your dreams. Never; not once. In fact, when he showed up was when you’d calm down.

It wasn’t Hansol you were angry with, it was your brother. You’d just buried that fact and hid it with your anger that you’d projected onto Hansol. She wasn’t even sure if you knew that, though.

“You don’t know how I feel!” you frowned, stomping your foot like a child.

“_____,” Jia’s voice was soft as she slowly came up behind you, unsure of how you’d react. She placed a delicate hand on your shoulder, and it felt a lot colder than your skin – you were burning up, in fact, “it’s okay to be mad at Jiung…”

“I’m not mad at Jiung, I’m–!” you cut yourself off, feeling every kind of negative emotion suddenly hit you in a massive wave. Anger, sadness, confusion, fear – you felt it all, and it made you want to be sick or burst out crying or both.

“It’s okay,” Jia nodded, “you have to let it out. Tell him how you feel.”

Your hands balled into fists at your side, your nails digging into your skin. You felt a dull pain because of it, which was weird because you’d never felt any physical pain in your dreams. Your jaw clenched and your eyes slightly stung from tears pricking at them, wanting to just come out.

“It’s okay, _____. He went back for Hansol and told him to go instead. You feel like he left you, and you’re mad. It’s okay to be mad, just let it out.”

Staring at what may or may not have been the spirit of your brother in front of you, the wave of emotion finally broke down every wall you’d built up.

“How could you leave me?!” you demanded. You felt like you wanted your body to just burst into flames to throw right at Jiung’s stupid, dead face. You knew your skin was sparking at least, from the way Jia gasped and jumped back. “How could you just let yourself die like that, huh?! You were supposed to stay with me and protect me, and you just fucking let yourself die, and for what? For me to imprint? For me to be happy?”

You punctuated each sentence with a shove to your brother, your hands pushing against his chest and shoulders. He just let you do it, taking each shove as he stared at you, his expression unreadable. It only made you more angry.

“Well I’m not happy! I’m angry! I’m– I’m hurt and I’m scared, and I hate you! I hate you because I don’t even know if you’re real, and I hate you because you won’t even show one goddamn emotion right now!”

Jiung shook his head, his expression almost cocky, “That’s not why you hate me, _____. You and I both know it”

You let out a scream that didn’t even sound like yourself. You were sobbing and hitting him wherever your fists landed. You were hitting him with all the strength you could muster, but you knew that the flames from your fists wouldn’t do anything to him. He was dead, anyway.

“I hate you for leaving me!” you cried. “You left me, and you didn’t even stop to think about how I’d feel when you made the decision to let yourself get killed! You left me, and you don’t even care! You left me, Jiung! You fucking left me!”

Jiung smiled softly, his eyes shining, “There it is.”

“I hate you!” you told him again, shoving him so hard he actually hit the ground. Even he looked surprised. “Why did you leave me? Why, why, why, why?!”

You fell to your knees, sobs shaking your body, but it was also from anger toward Jiung.

“I hate you. I hate you. I– I–”

“_____!”

Your eyes flew open, and you felt weight pressing down on your arms, but you weren’t laying down. You were sitting up in bed, your back against the headboard as tears streamed down your face. Hansol was on the side of the bed, one foot still on the floor with a knee on the mattress as he held your hands in his. There was bits of frost covering your blanket and the backs of Hansol’s hands, and your fists and wrists felt wet like someone had shoved your hands in water.

Hansol’s eyes were full of concern as he looked at you. He’d heard you screaming and crying, and it woke him up from downstairs. By the time he’d raced up the stairs, almost the entire pack had opened their doors, looking down the hall at your door in concern. Hansol just ignored them, throwing open the door and closing it behind him as he took in the scene before him: your blanket covered in tiny spots of flame, and your fists already completely on fire. He managed to put out the bedding before his hands wrapped around yours, making the flames go out with a sizzle.

Your muscles relaxed slowly as you realized you were awake, and Jiung – if it even was him – was gone. But then the massive throbbing in your head registered, and you broke down crying all over again.

“He left me!” you sobbed, your head hanging as Hansol kept a hold on your wrists. “I hate him!”

Hansol let go of your wrists when he realized you weren’t going to fight him, crawling beside you to wrap his arms around you. You clung to him like your life depended on it, sobbing into his bare chest. He shushed you and rubbed your back, unsure of what exactly happened, but he knew it had to do with Jiung. He was just a bit surprised you were aiming your anger toward your brother and not him.

“Shh, shh, shh, it’s okay,” he cooed softly, pulling you into his lap when he felt your arms wrap around him. “It’s alright, I’ve got you.”

“I hate him,” you kept repeating into Hansol’s neck.

“I know, you’re allowed to be angry at him,” he told you, dipping his head down to try to get you to look at him. “But getting all of this out now will help you to not hate him later.”

You lifted your head slightly to look at Hansol. You heard the soft whine he let out when he saw your face red and covered with tears. He brushed some of the moisture away with his thumb, his face looking genuinely hurt seeing you upset. It made you want to cry all over again. You’d pushed all your anger onto Hansol when you were really just mad at Jiung. And you knew you didn’t really have a reason to be mad at Hansol, you just wanted to give yourself one because you couldn’t be mad at your brother who had died.

You felt awful.

“I’m sorry,” you sniffled, trying not to start crying even harder, but looking at how Hansol looked like a kicked puppy just because you were sad made you feel like an ass – and you were one. “I-I don’t hate you.”

Hansol nodded, brushing hair from your face, “I know, _____; it’s okay.”

He pulled you to his chest once again, letting you get all your tears out. Even when he heard Eunjin screaming, he continued to hold you like nothing was happening. Once you’d finally calmed down and had no more tears left, he slid down into bed, laying you down to sleep.

As you felt him pulling the blankets over you, you mumbled sleepily, “If you leave, I won’t blame you.”

While Hansol wasn’t sure if you just meant for tonight or in general, his answer was still the same.

“I’m not going to leave, I promise.”

[chibsytelford]

Queen of my Heart

* GIF CREDIT TO CREATOR *

word count - 2139

warnings - slight mention of strangulation, murder, swearing, angst - I think that’s it. 

a/n - i haven’t described reader at all. I’m actually really nervous to post this for some reason. I am sure this is the longest thing I have written yet, and idk just nervous. Reblogs and comments are welcomed, and if you would like to be added/removed from my taglist just let me know!

P.s I didn’t mean for it to be this long, and it is kinda based on the song Queen of my Heart by Westlife (my guilty pleasure). Italics are flashbacks and the lyrics.

You knew from the start that getting into a relationship with Angel Reyes might not have been the best decision. Pasts will do that to you. You knew when you first laid eyes on him, that inside he was hiding his pain. The only reason you noticed it was because you were hiding the exact same pain as him. Normally, you avoided guys with baggage, because frankly you could barely deal with your own, never mind someone else’s, but something about him just kept you gravitating more towards him, as each day passed.

It started out in his father’s butcher shop, you had just finished work and you were in the mood for some steak, so you finally checked out la carniceria and you knew the second you walked in you were in trouble. All you wanted was a bit of steak, but you left with (not that you were complaining) Angel Reyes’ phone number. He gave you some standard cheesy pick up line, his smile not quite reaching his eyes, and you knew as soon as he opened his mouth that you were done for, your ‘I don’t do baggage rule’ going straight out the shop door.

It took you a few days to text him. You actually drafted up a ‘Why I should text Angel Reyes list’ and a ‘Why I shouldn’t text Angel Reyes list’ and funnily enough, the list that had more on it was the ‘Why I shouldn’t list’ but as it turns out, the lists were pointless, because you text him anyway.

Your first date you walked around the streets of Santo Padre, just chatting away about life in general, what you did for a job, what he did for a job (he didn’t tell you that much, just that he was in a club with some other men) and of course you didn’t want to pry, it was the first date and all. You spoke about pretty much everything, except the past. It was too early for that. At the end of it, he walked you home, and left you on your door step, wishing you had invited him in, wishing you had kissed him, wishing you had asked him on a second date. But you didn’t need to wait long for a second date.

2 days after your first date, you were on the back of Angel’s motorbike, both hands wrapped tightly around his torso. He had insisted on taking his bike, he wanted you to enjoy the thrill of it as much as he did, and if you were being honest, it was absolutely thrilling, as well as absolutely terrifying. He drove you both to a small forest, where you enjoyed a picnic and the scenery and the attention that Angel was giving you. It was then you decided to pry, just a little bit.

“Tell me Angel, what secret are you carrying?” You asked catching him off guard.

“What makes you think I’m carrying any?” He responded, popping a strawberry in his mouth, conveniently answering a question with another question.

“Honestly? The first time I saw you, when you gave me that hideous pick up line” you both laughed at the memory “the smile you gave me afterwards, it was genuine, but it wasn’t quite a full smile, you know?”

Angel took a moment to gather his thoughts. First he rubbed his beard, then he rubbed his neck, and then he fiddled with his fingers. You placed your hand over his, comforting him, silently telling him there was no rush to answer the question.

He sighed, and slightly shifted his body so he could look at you. “Well, uh, the thing is, I’m not good at this shit, feelings” you could see the pain etched on his face, the way his eyebrows twitched and the way he couldn’t meet your eyes for more than a second.

“Do you want me to go first?” you softly asked, brushing your fingers across his ringed hand, soothing him, and yourself. You knew if you expected him to open up so soon, you had to give him something back.

Angel swiftly nodded, and relaxed slightly, and it was his turn to rub circled on your hand, silently telling you he was listening.

“I came to Santo Padre to get away from my family, my step father specifically”. You took a deep breath and continued “he was horrible. But for some reason, my mother couldn’t bring herself to leave him, something about love. I don’t know” you hated telling this story, if you could call it that, but something about Angel just made you want to tell him everything. “One day, I got home and found him on top of my mother, his hands around her throat, and so I grabbed a kitchen knife, and I stabbed him until I knew he was dead.” Angel’s body tensed and he stopped caressing your hand for a split second, shocked at your revelation. You pulled your hand away instantly, wrapping them around your body.

“Shit Y/N, I’m so fucking sorry you had to go through that” Angel murmured, pulling you into him and placing a soft kiss on your temple, but you could tell his demeanour had changed slightly.

“My mother luckily vouched for my version of events, and so I got away with it, but that feeling of killing someone never leaves you, it takes over your mind and soul” you felt Angel nodding at your remark, like he was admitting he had killed someone too. “Anyway, I stayed there for another few years, in that godforsaken house, but I knew, deep down, as much as she tried to hide it, my mother looked at me differently, so I got out of there, and came here a few years ago, I’ve been laying low, still trying to wrap my head around what I done, that’s probably why you’ve never seen me before. It was fate that took me to your father’s shop” you nudged him in the shoulder, trying to lift the mood slightly.

“That it was” Angel replied back, “And I guess now it’s my turn huh” you nodded in agreement. “Well, I lost my mother, Marisol, years ago. She was murdered” As soon as Angel uttered those words, you knew why he had tensed earlier and you knew why he was just that little bit colder towards you. Because you had murdered someone, and his mother was murdered. “We found the guy, but we kept him alive. He was ordered to do it” You weren’t sure if Angel would want you to touch him, so you kept your hands to yourself, waiting for him to continue his story. “I carry the pain of her death with me every single day, I don’t think I’ll ever get over it” he admitted.

“Of course you won’t, it’s your family, your mother and that will always stick with you in your heart” you said, reassuring him that it was normal. “It seems we are both pretty fucked up, huh?” Angel commented, lifting the mood once again ever so slightly.

“Do you look at me differently now? Knowing that I murdered someone?  I did to my stepfather what someone did to your beloved mother” you questioned.

Angel took a second to answer. “You had your reasons, reasons I agree with, so no, I don’t feel differently towards you” but as Angel said that, you were second guessing him, and you always would.

After your second date, when you got home, Angel asked you to officially be his girlfriend. You said yes, but there was still a small part of you that thought it was a bad idea, and that it could only end badly. You thought Angel only asked you to be his girl because you both shared stories of your past and you clicked together, and you said yes, because you really liked him, but also because you thought you deserved happiness, and he did too, even though you still carried the thought inside you that Angel looked at you a little different after your revelation. You knew you were being selfish, but you couldn’t stop yourself.

 Recently Angel had been spending more time with the club, over time you had learned completely what they did, and you stood by Angel. Everyone had their reasons for doing things, and you knew that better than most people. You felt that he was avoiding you more than usual, staying out later, leaving earlier in the mornings, barely responding to texts, and something inside you, just didn’t really care anymore. You had had a wonderful couple years being by Angel’s side, but you always knew that something like this might happen.

You quickly fired a text to Angel telling him to meet you at your place. The forest where your second date took place.  

He arrived on his bike 5 minutes after you, and you watched him walk towards you. It seemed to take an eternity until he was standing in front of you. It was the same place, but you felt like a completely different person standing here now, a few years on.

“Hey” you said, letting out the breath you didn’t know you were holding. “Thanks for coming”

“Of course I came” he answered back, rubbing the back of his neck. You wondered if he was feeling the same as you. It would make the whole thing a bit easier if he did.

“I just wanna-“  Angel cut you off, holding a hand up to stop you talking. “Can I go first?” You nodded at him, secretly glad he wanted to.

“I love you, I really do, but I think you know as well as me, we stopped working months ago, I’m not good at this shit, feelings” you both said together, causing a small smile from the man stood in front of you. “Exactly, I don’t know if you’ve noticed I’ve been distant lately, the shit with the club has taken over my life completely, but I think I’m just realising now, that we jumped into this too quickly” Angel revealed, stuffing his hands in his pockets. You nodded, acknowledging what he said and taking a second to gather your thoughts.

“I mean, Angel, I love you too, but I have to admit, you’re right. I should be angry you’ve been coming home late, I should be angry that you barely reply to my texts, but honestly I haven’t been. I think we did rush into this like you said, after our second date, where we both revealed our pasts, I think we took comfort in knowing that our pasts were out there, and we weren’t being judged. I know that now”. You both visibly relaxed slightly, and the atmosphere shifted too. It was calm. Nice.

Angel made the first move, grabbing your hand and placing a soft kiss on your palm. You closed your eyes for a second, engraving the memory of the kiss in your mind.

“Thank you Y/N, for trusting me with your secret, for listening to my pain and past, for just being you. I know we didn’t work out, but I just want you to know, I will always remember you.” Angel wiped a stray tear that had managed to escape his eyes. “Fuck, look at me” he laughed.

So here we stand in our secret place

Where the sound of the crowd is so far away

You take my hand, and it feels like home

We both understand, it where we belong

So do I say, do I say goodbye

We both have our dreams we both want to fly

So let’s take tonight, to carry us through the lonely times

“God Angel, you’ve got me crying now” you laughed back also wiping away your tears.  “I’m glad we met. You accepted me for who I am, and for that I will always thank you, and cherish you. Who knows, maybe under different circumstances, we would have worked out, but I can honestly say I’m thankful for the years we have spent together, it just wasn’t meant to be”.

You and Angel gave each other one last hug, one last smile, one last look. “Take care, querida, I’ll always remember you” Angel whispered, placing your hand over his heart.  He then let go and headed back to his bike. You watched him walk away, you watched him climb onto the bike and you watched him drive away from you. You were sad of course, but you knew that it was for the best.

@rebelwrites​ @mayans-sauce​ @everyhowlmarksthedead​ @encounterthepast​ @angelreyesgirl​ @starrynite7114​ @jadesamhart​ @fangirlingaesthetics​ @trulysuccubus​ @lovebennycolonmiguelgalindo​ @multiyfandomgirl40​ @queenbeered​ @lauraashley93​ @deeandbobbymcgee​ @shelliechen​ @calif0rnia-lovers​ @yourwonkywriter​ @peaches007​ @scuzmunkie​ @blessedboo​ @sheeshgivemeabreak​ @sadeyesgf​ @anangelwhodidntfall​ @gemini0410​ @rocketqueen​ @destynelseclipsa​ @xx--day-dreamer--xx​ @talicat713​ @i-love-scott-mccall​ 

I'll always look back as I walk away

Memories will last for eternity

And all of our tears will be lost in the rain

When I found my way back to your arms again

But until that day, you know you are

The Queen of my heart

[tinyboxxtink]

"Weird Secret Friends" *Chapter 11*

Chapter 10

Chapter 12

Tag List

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@lolliepopsicle

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@milkshqke

@wanniiieeee

@word-scribbless

@gibbs274

@sassyada

@aprildecker-blog

@bookishfanfic

@stars-in-the-skies-world

@stars-trash-18

@omgsuperstarg

@objection-argumentative

@thatesqcrush

@shittanyy

@mrsrafaelbarba

Alright this one is kinda short but I needed a cliffhanger, and I need to get to fifteen now. Also, I had to write the ending of this in the car and it's difficult so I ended it where I did. Plus I love watching y'all squirm. SUFFER.

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

Rafael hadn’t texted you back since you told him you didn’t care whether he believed you or not, maybe he had gotten the hint and decided to leave you alone. Why didn’t that make you feel any better? You knew what you had told Sonny was true; you couldn’t be in any kind of relationship with anyone but alcohol. 

You’d never admit it to Sonny since he was so proud of you lately, but the monster inside you may be present more than you let on. It wasn’t big things that set you off sometimes, sometimes it was just one bad grade on a test, or being lonely. 

You knew you needed to reach out to someone, anyone other than Sonny. Get some friends of your own, people you could talk to. But you were too ashamed of your problems and your life to ever approach anyone. Even when students in your class would ask you to go out with them after school, you’d always decline in fear of what you might do while you were out. You could keep yourself from having more than one drink on your own, but the social pressure of being around other people drinking made you just want to keep going. And you knew where that led. Where it always led. 

You had kept the monster at bay for so long, it was exhausting most days. And now that you had fed it and let it loose, you were too tired to even try and reign it back in. So here you were, practically unable to move from being so sick from drinking fucking mouthwash rather than ride out your cravings. 

You looked up at the sky and began to pray for God to just take you right there and then, just so you would have to stop feeling like this. Not just physically ill, but completely devastated and heartbroken that the one time you had ever opened yourself to someone, opened yourself to love, the monster inside you killed it. Just like it killed everything. Now you just wanted it to kill you. You were just about to grab some pure rubbing alcohol from under your bathroom sink to drink, you knew it was lethal if you drank about a capful. You had it up to your lips when you heard a banging on your front door.

“Y/N! Y/N open this door!” 

Were you still that fucked up or was that actually Rafael banging on your door? No, it couldn’t be. Could it? You decided it was worth at least checking, if you had hallucinated it you could always come back to the bathroom. You forced yourself to stand up and hobbled towards your front door, still afraid to open it. If it really was him, you didn’t want him to see you like this. Your t-shirt was covered in bright green vomit stains, your hair was messy from puking, your hadn’t checked but you figured your face was probably disgusting. 

“...I’m not home!” The words came out before your sense kicked in to tell you that was literally the most idiotic thing you could say. Clearly he’d know you were fucked up now.

“I’m not kidding! I’ll break down this door, I swear to God,” His voice was angrier than you’d ever heard him. Well, that wasn’t saying much considering you hadn’t known him that long but still. 

“Uh...okay, just a second!” You called nervously, doing your best to quickly change your shirt and fix your hair. 

You grabbed a semi clean t-shirt laying on your couch and threw your hair up in a messy ponytail, wiping the dried vomit and drool from your face. You glanced in the mirror, you looked messy but just messy enough you were pretty sure you could pull off “I’m emotionally destroyed because of you” not “I’m totally trashed and fucked in the head because of you,” You tried walking as straight as you could to the door and softly opened it a bit, not letting him inside.

“Hey…” You gave him a sheepish smile. Wait, weren’t you supposed to be mad at him? Don’t act nice now just because you’re trying to act sober. 

“I mean...that’s a pretty lively looking corpse there, counselor,” You smirked. 

“...What?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Weren’t you the one who said you’d never be caught dead in Jersey?” You smirked harder. Damn, even when you were on the verge of dying you were smooth.

“Let me in,” Rafael said flatly. 

“Uh, no,” You said mockingly. 

“Let me in,” He repeated more sternly. 

“Do you have a warrant?” You asked with an amused smile. 

“Dammit Y/N don’t make me shove this door open,” 

“Oh okay so now you’re threatening to break into my apartment? Why don’t you yell that a little louder, maybe my neighbor will call the cops,” You yelled at him while gesturing down the hall. 

“...Please let me in?” His voice lowered, his eyes softened. You were a sucker for those eyes, no matter how mad or worried about appearances you were.

“...Fine,” You sighed and released your hold on the door and walked away quickly to sit on the couch. You didn’t want him to realize you couldn’t stand without holding onto something. 

“Fuck, I knew it…” He muttered as he glanced around your apartment, then focused on you.

“Knew what?” You crossed your arms, playing it cool. 

“You’re drunk right now, aren’t you?” He looked at you pitifully, not livid like he was a minute ago. 

“What?” You kept your composure. “Uh, I’m sorry Rafael, do you see any empty bottles here? Any FULL bottles for that matter?” You gestured around your apartment while acting offended he would even think that.

“My dad was an alcoholic, Y/N,” He said softly which made you angrier, why was he doing this? 

“Um okay, so that has to do with me why--?”

“Tell me right now if I smelled your breath that it wouldn’t be overwhelmingly ‘clean’,” He talked over you.

“....What?” You blinked, trying desperately to act oblivious. 

Fuck, why did he know that was a thing? Well, obviously he just said it. If you weren’t so angry or out of your mind right now, you’d feel absolutely terrible for being like this around him now that you knew he’d been through this before.

“So it’s a crime to have dental hygiene now?” You smarmed.

“Dammit Y/N I know what you’re doing!” Now he was getting angry again, he couldn’t stand that you weren’t taking this seriously. He couldn’t stand watching another person he cared about completely shit faced in front of him, acting as if he was the one in the wrong. 

“And what am I doing, Rafael?”

“Sonny might be naïve, but I know what it looks like when an alcoholic is hiding their drinking!” He accused you.

“God dammit…” you muttered. 

So many things were buzzing in your head at that moment. One you now felt ashamed that he was seeing you like this, two you were upset that he knew all your tricks, and finally you were somewhat happy and hopeful that he cared enough to come for you. 

“Did you have an actual reason for coming over here, or did Sonny just send you to lecture me because he’s tired of doing it?”

“...Can you drink some coffee or something?” 

“What?” You furrowed your eyebrows. “Why?” 

“I can’t talk to you when you’re like this,” 

“What? Oh suddenly I must be out of my mind trashed because I’m mad at you? Guess what Barba, this is 100% snarky sober me,” You lied. 

“Mad at me?” He laughed. “Why in God’s name are you mad at me?!” 

“After the way you treated me--”

“The way I treated you?!” He cut you off angrily. “I treated you with nothing but caring and respect, Y/N. Even after you sat there in my apartment throwing a temper tantrum like a petulant drunken toddler!” 

“You--” You were livid at him calling you a toddler.

“Just because Sonny told you what I usually act like towards-- lovers, doesn’t make it true with you. Did I ever, ever act like you were some ‘conquest’?” He asked you.

“...No,” You bit your lip nervously.

“Did I ever make you feel cheap, or unwanted?”

“No…” You looked at the floor.

“Didn’t I tell you that you were different, that you meant something to me?”  He gave you a sad look, as if he was crushed that you didn't believe in him.

“But how do I know that wasn’t just a line?!” You protested.

“Because I’m here!” He gestured around your apartment. 

“And why are you here?” You pressed him.

“I don’t know!” He put his hands over his head.

“...That’s not an answer,”  You crossed your arms.

“It’s the only answer I can give you, Y/N,” He finally sat down next to you on the couch. 

You curled up your knees to your chest instinctively, still trying to hide your inebriation and the smell of your breath; even though you knew it was futile at this point.

“So, you come all the way here to bang on my door and yell at me, but you have no idea why?” You continued to be defensive, trying to keep him off your scent.

“What do you want me to say, Y/N? Huh?” He threw up his hands. 

“Do you want me to say it’s because I’m in love with you? Because for the first time in my life I found someone that I want to be with all the time, because you make me the happiest I’ve been in a long time, maybe ever?” 

“Uh no,” You rolled your eyes. “I didn’t ask you to lie,” 

“...I’m not lying,”  He looked at you very seriously, trying to take your hand.

“Yes, you are,” You shook your head and pulled away from him. “In fact I know exactly why you’re here,”

“....What is happening right now?” Rafael asked himself softly. He had just sat there and poured out his heart to you, and you were dismissing him completely. This is exactly why he should have just let you be.

“What’s happening, is that you-- you feel bad that you couldn’t... I don’t know, ‘deal’ with your Daddy issues," You air quoted Daddy, making him shift uncomfortably.

"That is so--" He tried denying it.

"True?" You gave him a look. "Let me guess, you couldn't 'save' him as a kid, right?"

"...That wasn't on me," He muttered, looking at the floor.

"You don't believe that," you scoffed. "I know you don't."

"And how do you know that?" He looked at you skeptically.

"Because I feel like I failed my parents, and they were the shittiest people on earth!" You exclaimed.

"How did you fail them? You weren't even--"

"By being born, Raff," You clarified.

"Carino, don't--"

"Look, my point is you've got this 'white knight syndrome', but you know what I learned? You can't save everyone, so you shouldn't even try,"

"That's a great philosophy," he scoffed. "So you don't even try?'

"Oh fuck off," You rolled your eyes. "I can't even save myself, let alone anyone else,"

"That's not true," he protested. "You saved me,"

"Oh my god," you made a fake gagging noise. "You're just saying that so it'll appease some kind of guilt,"

"I have zero to feel guilty about," he shook his head. For some reason that made you even angrier. 

"Alright well good! So you can leave,"  You pointed towards the door.

"No I'm not leaving, not until you acknowledge what I said," He crossed his arms.

"What? About you being in love with me?" You scoffed. "I told you that's a load of shit."

"And why do you say that?" He asked.

"For one, because you don't fall in love with someone just because they're good in bed," you gave him a look.

"That's not why--"

"And for two, nobody can be in love with a monster," You finished over him.

"You're not a monster--" he tried pulling you towards him but you stood up.

"Yes I am!" You screamed.

Well that was a bad idea. All of a sudden it was as if the chemicals from the mouthwash were sizzling around your insides. You doubled over in pain, the room was going dark. 

"Y/N? Oh my god, baby hold on--" he grabbed you and pulled you into his lap while he dialed 911.

"It's okay, you're okay...just...just hold on, please…" he pleaded with you while stoking your hair and kissing the top of your head, gripping you as if you were going to disappear if he let up.

That was the last thing you heard before everything went black.

[femreader]

Chemoreceptors ➵ Michelle ”MJ” Jones

could i please request some cute flustered mj x reader, maybe mj could be trying to ask them out but she keeps on tripping on her pick up lines and such?

Summary: y/n finally has the guts to ask MJ out, awkwardness ensues

Pairing: Michelle “MJ” Jones x fem!reader

Warnings: none

Words: 1.5k

A/N: I changed it a little bit but, here you go?

MJ watched as you talked with your friends by your locker, gushing about how one of your friends got a date for the prom coming up. She could see you smiling, happy for your friend while shaking your head when asked if you already had a date. It was rather surprising that you didn't’ have one yet, you were one of the most popular kids in the school. MJ was sure the guys were basically throwing themselves at you. Unlike most of the annoying people who she had to endure eight hours for five days a week, you were actually pretty cool. The “popularity” hadn’t gotten to your head, yet anyway.

“Stop drooling, you look a little creepy”, Peter Parker slid beside her, bumping into the locker next to MJs. He literally was wearing one of those shoes with rollers on the bottom.

MJ rolled her eyes at him and closed her locker after taking out the necessary books. She briefly wiped the corner of her mouth with her sleeve to make sure she wasn’t actually drooling.

Peter glanced at Y/N who was with her friends and wiggled his eyebrows.

“She doesn’t have a date yet”, he nudged MJ.

“I know”, she answered, annoyed where this conversation was headed already. “Why do you even care?” Her eyebrows furrowed together.

You said goodbyes to your friends and decided to head towards your chem class, passing MJ and Peter. She awkwardly smiled when you greeted her briefly and continued on with your way. MJ looked at Peter warningly when he turned back to her with a smug look.

“MJ’s got a crush--”

“I will hit you with a chair”, MJ said pointedly just as the class bell rang. Peter chuckled at his own sing-song joke, resting his hands on the straps of his back bag.

”Just ask her out man”, he said, looking up at her. ”What’s the worst that could happen?"

”Uh, first of all, you don't get to have any say in this”, MJ mused out loud, knowing just how dead and miserable Parker’s love life was and how he channeled it through other people's business. ”Second, I don’t even care.”

”Pfft, sure”, Peter mumbled, scratching the back of his neck while following her to class.

You were sitting in the cafeteria, talking with few friends of yours about the upcoming algebra exam when Peter Parker slid into your conversation. He plopped down beside you, scaring the life out of you.

”Hi”, you smiled confusedly. You weren’t quite sure what he wanted from you as you weren't too familiar, but his awkwardness was adorable. It made your friends giggle a little.

”Uh, hi okay so a quick survey”, Peter began making random patterns on the table while talking. ”If there happened to be an intelligent girl--woman! An intelligent woman, who's also rather cute but won't admit to anyone because the patriarchy sucks and we all eventually die and happened to also like dogs”, he nodded towards your phone where your cousin’s dog was as your lock screen.

”Like what would be her chances... with you?” He squinted his eyes at you, while yours were wide open.

”Peter, are you talking about MJ?” You freaked a little. You had no idea she might have liked you, you thought you always looked too girly and one of those bimbos in her eyes. Plus you always were so awkward when talking with her. Well, those rare times you got to talk with her. Like that one time the last December before Christmas break, you had complained about the homework in the bathroom while she had stayed mostly quiet.

Peter’s eyes went wide and his mouth opened and closed rapidly like he was a fish. ”I—uh, no! No, not MJ, definitely not—”

”Peter, it’s fine”, You chuckled, still a little overwhelmed by the new found information. Your friends nudged you teasingly, you just shook your head at them. ”I... I kinda like her too. If she likes me, that is.”

”She does!” Peter caught himself saying a bit too loud and he immediately lowered his voice. You bit your lip from excitement. ”I mean, she does... she’s just really bad at talking with people, who's not me.”

”You could see her after school”, one of your friends proposed. You looked at them in thought.

”We have cheer exercise though.”

”After that, behind the bleachers”, your other friend offered. ”I mean that’s where everyone makes out so you’d totally have all the privacy.” The thought made your cheeks heat up a quite bit.

You rolled your lips together in thought before nodding and turning to Peter. ”Can I have her phone number?” The boy scrambled through his pockets to get his phone, nodding feverishly at the same time.

”Hey it’s Y/N, can you see me after school by the bleachers?”

MJ had been pretty sure she had accidentally inhaled something poisonous in chem class when she got the message from you. And When MJ asked Peter how you had even gotten her number, he just shrugged his shoulders the tips of his ears bright red.

”I swear to god if you said anything stupid—”

”I don’t know what you’re talking about, I have to go, Aunt May’s waiting bye!” Peter word vomited after their last class and darted out of the room, leaving MJ deal with the mess by herself. She put the hood over her head and read your text again, not sure what to say so she ended up answering okay.

She grimaced a little how blunt it sounded.

Outside was warm, the summer was quickly approaching with the help of climate change. MJ didn't necessarily dislike the heat, in the summer, she just didn't like the fact that she couldn't seek comfort from her hoodies and long-sleeved clothing anymore.

She had almost forgotten how nervous she was until she saw you, already in your cheer uniform, hair out of your face. You had this gleeful grin on your face you usually had when the cafeteria had your favorite lunch or when you were talking about your weekend plans with your friends. And now it was directed to her!

MJ awkwardly brushed the hair strand in front of her face, glancing around if anyone was at the field yet to see you two. There wasn't anyone.

”Hi”, you breathed out. MJ felt her heart hammer in her chest. She felt like if she opened her mouth to speak she’d accidentally blurt out everything she was thinking.

”So”, you continued when MJ stayed silent, standing there with her hands fiddling by her sides. ”Peter gave me your number”, you began, chuckling when MJ rolled her eyes a little. She made a mental note to sack that loser... or maybe thank him, depending on what this was about.

“Are you going, to the dance?” She asked, wanting to fill the awkward silence. You were a little taken aback by the sudden question, smiling a little baffled.

“Uh, no”, you shook your head. MJ raised her eyebrows a little surprised. She was sure out of everyone you’d go. You probably had a line of guys ready to take you out from the drop of the hat.

“I don’t really like big crowds”, you admitted sheepishly. “And you?”

MJ had been staring at your lips for a second. “Oh, no—I don’t—“ she began stuttering and falling over her words. You nodded understanding her nonetheless. Meanwhile, MJ was cursing herself inside her head for suddenly turning into such a toddler.

“I was thinking”, you began, eyes darting all around you two, too nervous to look at MJ. “And you can totally say no, but like... there’s this apocalypse movie coming up. Well, the first show is on the dance night to be exact and I thought if you’d like to go and see it? With... me..?” You dared to look up at MJ, whose mouth was hanging a little bit open. Normally you would have joked about it, had you not been feeling like throwing up your lunch from the agonizing nervousness.

”I uh—” stupid brain, for once work! MJ stuttered, looking at you like a deer in the headlights because there was no chance that she was being asked out right now? By you of all people. How did people usually react to this? Like, do they nod? Say just yes? Yes seems too plain and stupid.

”Does—does insects have chemoreceptors for taste on their legs?” She clicked her fingers into the universal finger gun motion, awkwardly bouncing on her heels. You furrowed your eyebrows a little in confusion.

”Yes?” You had no idea, but you sure hoped it was the right answer.

”Yeah! Yeah, they do. It’s—It’s actually the hairs... on-on the legs...” MJ kicked herself mentally from the ramble not realizing how adorable you found it to be. She scratched her neck, glancing up into the sky. What would be the odds of lightning striking down st her right now?

”Well, I have to go to practice”, you said, your voice accompanied by a disappointed sigh. ”But I’ll text you after. "Is that... cool?” you awkwardly offered, trying to stop the grin spreading too wide on your face and scaring the girl away.

MJ nodded, barely managing to speak before you already had to go to the field. She watched as you jogged away, hands in her hoodie pockets. Once she was sure she was alone she punched the air slightly.

"Yes", she exclaimed under her breath before turning around to walk back to the school bulding. At least she now had something to think about during her detention.

[softzhongli]

summary: a closer look at the most exclusive group chat in all teyvat. we have two oblivious idiots in love, two horny bastards afraid of their feelings, a grumpy cat and his sunshine boyfriend and one very single and tired girl... among many many others warnings: swearing, probably some angst info: crack fic, multi-chaptered, social media au, not much different they just have phones lmao main pairing: zhongli x diluc side pairings: xiao x venti // childe x kaeya (for now)                                           + lumine and other characters (added as we go) requests: open posted:11/02/2022 a/n: trying sth new i guess, there’s a written portion in this chapter! i wanna add whole written chapters once in a while so i’m testing it out with this one. also ik it says that this is a zhongluc-focused fic but i’m thinking of making chaeya the main pairing? i wanted to write zhongluc but right now i unconsciously made it about childe and kaeya and ngl i kinda like where this is going so pls let me know what do y’all think? who should be the main pairing? zhongluc or chaeya? 

PREV II MASTERLIST II NEXT

CHAT: DICKS AND RAINBOWS 🍆🌈💦 ⮡  members: lumine / venti / kaeya 

kaeya: bringing this chat back from the dead

kaeya: @lumine @venti

kaeya: COME HERE RIGHT NOW

kaeya: this is an emergency

venti: it's not zhongli, calm down ☠️

kaeya: ...

lumine: he's right

kaeya: ...

lumine: kaeya, childe is NOT in love with zhongli

venti: also

venti: since when are you so jealous

venti: i thought you're "just fucking"

lumine: 👀

lumine: he's got a point

kaeya: can we not do this right now?

venti: do what dear kaeya? 😇

lumine: what are you implying my dearest friend? 😇

kaeya: i hate both of you

lumine: 😘

venti: but honestly

venti: you do know, it's you who childe is in love with, right?

kaeya: very funny

lumine: what?

venti: omg 🤡

venti: xiao asks if you're really that dumb or just pretending ☠️

kaeya: i don't remember xiao being in this group chat

venti: well we are laying in bed together so he can read all your nonsense himself 🤷🏼‍♀️

lumine: hi, xiao! 😘

venti: delete that kissy emoji right now

lumine: lol

lumine: as if xiao would look at anyone else than you ever smh

"She's right" tired voice and a low chuckle from behind him, made Venti shiver in Xiao's arms. This was his favourite part of the day. The lazy mornings they would spend together whenever they had the chance. And if not for Kaeya's unreasonable jealously, today wouldn't be any different. They would lay in bed, lost in that blissful state between sleeping and waking up, for a little longer before reluctantly getting up.

"I know" Venti smiled and turned around to face Xiao, after turning the phone off and leaving Lumine to deal with Kaeya. At least for a little while.

For everyone else, it seemed like the the two of them were always together, almost joined at the hips. Mainly because Venti wasn't one to shy away from expressing his feelings for Xiao whenever he felt like it. And even though Xiao was always just a whisper of his name away, Venti, no matter how much he wanted, would never abuse the fact just so he could hug or kiss his boyfriend. He knew better than that.

"There's no one I trust as much I trust you." He added and with nothing but pure love, placed a sweet kiss to Xiao's blushing cheek. It was so warm under his lips he couldn't help but smile and bury his face in Xiao's neck, placing another cheeky kiss there. He closed his eyes and sighed when Xiao's arms wrapped around him a little bit tighter and his lips kissed the top of his head.

"I love you" Xiao was his opposite when it came to expressing his feelings but Venti noticed that in those rare mornings when they're together like this it's almost easy for Xiao to say whatever he wants to say. That's probably the main reason he loved waking up in the morning.

"I love you, too! So, so much!" Venti giggled, the happiness he was feeling, just bursting out of him, too powerful to contain inside. "Kaeya and Childe really are stupid, huh?" He asked suddenly, changing the topic. Mainly because he was scared that all the love and happiness he was feeling in that moment would somehow annoy Xiao if he didn’t dial it down. “I mean it’s obvious they’re in love with each other.” He started venting. “They could have something like this,” He gestured between himself and Xiao. ”Okay, maybe not as good as this but at least like twenty percent of this.” He joked and Xiao just rolled his eyes but the small smile would not disappear from his face the whole time Venti was talking. “I guess I can kinda understand why they’re scared to admit it or say it out loud.”

“You do?” Xiao arched his brow, looking sceptically at Venti. “You told me you loved me and will stay with me forever a week after we started dating.” The smile on his face only widened at the memory.

“Well... it’s not like it was super easy or I was making empty promises.” Venti whispered, somehow unable to meet Xiao’s eyes. He was always seen as the happy-go-lucky, more often than not drunk, bard. And yeah, it’s not like it wasn’t true but even someone as cheerful as him had moments of insecurity and the day when he basically confessed his love to Xiao must now be somewhere near the top of his list of nerve-wrecking moments.

“I know.” Xiao whispered in his hair. “And I appreciate it.” He added after a second of silence. “And I appreciate all the times you remind me you love me. Even if it might not show on my face.”

“You’re gonna make me cry.” Venti groaned, hiding his very red face deeper into Xiao’s neck. The fact that his boyfriend wasn’t so open with his feelings on a day to day basis meant that whenever he did say anything remotely sincere or sweet it always manged to make a blushing mess out of Venti. He didn’t trust his voice anymore so instead of saying anything more he just hugged Xiao tighter and squeezed his eyes shut, making sure he would not cry from how happy Xiao’s every word made him.

“I think they might need you in the chat.” Xiao sighed and only then Venti realised his phone was going crazy with notifications for quite some time now. 

“Sorry.” He mumbled and blindly reach for the device.

“It’s okay. I’ll go grab something for breakfast.”

“Love you!” Venti shouted as Xiao was leaving the bedroom.

kaeya: @venti come back you coward

kaeya: how much longer will you leave me alone with her?

kaeya: @venti

kayea: XIAO GIVE VENTI BACKKKK

lumine: i’ll kick your ass so bad the next time i see you istg

kaeya: ha! dream on

lumine: @venti come back and help me kick @kaeya ass

kaeya: @venti dicks before chicks right?

lumie: omg i hate you

venti: I WLL DESTROY BOTH OF YOU IF YOU DISTURB MY XIAO TIME EVER AGAIN

venti: understood?

kaeya: 😳

lumine: 🥺

venti: UNDERSTOOD?

lumine: yup

kaeya: yes!

venti: so what’s the deal now?

lumie: i’ve had enough of kaeya being a stupid and oblivious idiot

venti: i mean

venti: yeah, understandable

kaeya: traitor

venti: c’mon kaeya

venti: you must know childe is in love with you

venti: or at least that he has feelings for you

lumine: neither of you is subtle

venti: agreed

kaeya changed group name to “ex best friends”

lumine changed group name to “Kaeya the Drama Queen™”

kaeya: fuck you

lumine: bite me

venti changed group name to “XIAO SUPREMACY 🙌🏻”

lumine: 🥵

kaeya: 🥵

venti: 😡

lumine: 😇

kaeya: 😇