#her walls so high you can’t see past them.. and he throws her for a LOOP it’s exciting and freeing but also TERRIFYING

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ my life with you (that’s way over now)

synopsis. some people get drunk calls from their exes, maybe even flowers with hand written apologies. you get a knock on your front door with two random kids and a murder case

length. 3.0k words (once more it was supposed to be short)

contents. exes to lovers, ex boyfriend! suguru, gn! reader, slightly deviated from canon (he doesn’t kill the entire village + doesn’t defect), slightly a fix-it fic, blood, murder, child abuse + neglect (canon events with suguru and the twins), angst to slight fluff with hopeful ending (pretty much happy tbh), mentions of family + kids, suguru pretty much being a broke and depressed lil guy lollll

notes. idk what this is but it was written for me i just wanted to write it so here. take it and look away

right before you graduate, you and suguru break up. you don’t want to, but he insists it’s only fair—he can hardly be there for you the way you need him to be, he says. something’s changed in him, it has since that day last year. but still—you don’t want to break up.

so you argue, he stays firm, you cry, he doesn’t change his mind, you break up, he leaves, and the world momentarily collapses.

it’s the way things work, you suppose. they don’t quite always go the way you planned. you graduate not long after that, leaving him behind to throw yourself into work while you toe into the baby steps of adulthood. real adulthood—the jujutsu world has a way of thrusting you into that faster than normal, anyway.

by the time it’s late summer, you get your first apartment. it’s a rundown place—the bathroom tiles look dirty no matter how much you scrub, the walls haven’t been repainted in what seems like decades, and the thermostat never works properly to feel like what the temperature indicates.

but it’s yours—you leave jujutsu high fresh into the real world, paying your taxes and buying your groceries all while you exorcise curses for a living. barely an adult, barely getting by, barely alive as you get up each day and live.

and then suguru comes knocking on your door half past midnight.

“hey,” he says nonchalantly, like there’s nothing wrong with standing there—but you know him better than that. you can hear that detachment in his voice as he stares between your eyes, but not quite in them.

“you—” you start, staring at him incredulously before you decide to give up. there are no surprises with suguru, not anymore you suppose. you don’t really know him anymore. “suguru, it’s midnight,” you sigh—and that’s when you see them: two small children that can’t be much older than five.

bruises are clear as day on their arms, even while standing in the darkness outside. there’s also the slight swollen curve of their eyes, and you can’t help but notice how they’re practically skin and bone. children who have probably not yet even lived for five winters, and you almost wonder if they’ve been through more than you have in you’re entire lifetime.

suguru clears his throat before you can stare at them any longer.

“this is nanako,” he gestures at the blonde, “and this is mimiko.” the brunette one seems more shy, curls behind his leg further as her name is uttered.

you don’t know what to say, so you settle for smiling—you’re not sure if it comes out too genuine, but you try. it’s all you can offer, really.

“hello,” you hum for a moment. and then you turn back to suguru, “it’s midnight.”

“i know.”

“you should be at school grounds.”

“i know.”

“suguru,” you sigh, eyeing the blood stained on his cheek. you don’t like where this is heading. there’s a sick feeling twisting in your gut, bubbling, bubbling, bubbling.

bile. you can taste it. something’s not right.

“where did you find these kids?”

“on a mission,” he says simply, “village heads were keepin’ em locked in a cage like animals. can you believe it?”

again, that casual tone. it almost as easy as humming your favorite tune, as smooth as your skin on freshly washed sheets, as quiet as the first day of snow when the world is still. but something about it is hollow—something’s not right.

“why’d you bring them here? instead of school? shoko should look at them—”

“i told them they’d be safe here.”

they’d be safe anywhere, you think. as long as suguru’s there too. as long they’re under his watchful gaze, nothing could hope to beat down on their youth like it already has their whole lives. but you don’t say that—something tells you he won’t believe you.

maybe not right now.

you don’t look at him. you can’t. something’s not right, but there are children present. so you throw on your best smile and open the door wider, offering them to come in.

your apartment is small, just one bedroom and one bath. there’s hardly enough food for yourself for tonight, you still have to go grocery shopping this week. the missions were lined up back to back to back—but that’s just life as a sorcerer, you suppose. most days you hardly have the energy to eat more than a few apple slices when you return home anyway.

you wave your hand at your place dramatically as you say, “come on in, ladies. your humble abode awaits.”

they giggle slightly at that—it’s the first time suguru hears them laugh. you have that effect, he knew you would. it’s why he brings them here and not there. and…well, there’s a more complicated issue at hand. but that’s for later.

right now…well, for right now, he lets you guide them to the bathroom.

“you have money on you right?” you ask. he blinks, staring at you for a moment before slowly shaking his head.

“spent the last of it on cigarettes this morning.”

great, you think, before sighing and trudging over to grab your wallet as you press a few crisp bills of cash in his hands.

“here.”

“what’s this for?” he raises a brow.

“go buy them clothes,” you look at him like he’s stupid. he might be, in all honesty. just a little. “i’m not putting them back in…those once they’re all cleaned.”

“wha—i’ve never shopped for children before,” he gapes, “and i don’t know what size they are, or—”

“figure it out, suguru,” you say tiredly. it’s half past midnight—by now, you’d be passed out from your mission. he seems to take the hint. “and bring some snacks too. should be enough.”

“fine,” he grumbles—and then he’s walking out the door.

for a second, it feels familiar watching him leave. but then you decide not to dwell on it—there are much more important matters at hand.

you turn to the two girls before crouching in front of them with a gentle smile, “who’s ready for bubbles?”

——————

nanako and mimiko have never had a bubble bath before. you decide to let them taste the first tendrils of youth by splashing in your tiny bathtub while you find suguru for some much needed answers.

he sits on your couch, shirt wrinkled and hair falling loose and blood still staining his cheek as he hunches over his legs, elbows resting on his thighs as he thinks. and thinks. and thinks and thinks and thinks.

you wonder about what—what could be plaguing his mind? a lot you’re sure, but this isn’t suguru. not the one you know, at least.

the one you knew, the voice in your mind hisses—do you really even know him at all anymore?

“so,” you sit on the opposite side of the sofa, curling your legs under yourself as you eye him from the side, “care to explain?”

“i killed them,” he mutters. you go still. “the village heads. i did it without hesitating. that’s bad, right?”

“well fuck, suguru,” you breathe, restless, “that’s certainly not good.”

“i had a reason,” he argues, “all i needed was one.”

“there’s nothing that excuses murder—”

“oh, but we can excuse locking kids in cages, is that right? why? cause they’re sorcerers? they’re not—they’re children.”

“i didn’t say that,” you rub your forehead. this is all too much. too, too much.

being a sorcerer is too much. being in front of suguru is too much.

you finish your third year with a broken heart and graduate in spring—at one point you’d hoped graduating wouldn’t change anything between you and your friends, between you and the boy you loved. everything would be the same, even if you’d leave the place that held you all together—you’d still find a way back to each other, you liked to think. but then it all changes before you can even comprehend.

haibara is dead. nanami is hardly coping. gojo is everywhere but here. shoko is in high demand. suguru is hardly present even when he’s right in front of you. nothing is the same and you don’t think it ever will be. you lose the one thing you count on being yours forever, and now, he’s right here again. but not really here—not with you so much as near you.

suguru has killed people, sitting on your couch with you while the two children he finds are bathing happily in your bathtub.

there’s some irony in that—maybe in a perfect world, suguru and you would sit on the couch, much happier than right now, though. maybe you’d be tucked under his arm and curled into his side as you both chuckle at the happy squeals in the distance. maybe in a perfect world.

but this world is cruel. too cruel, in fact. it forces children to grow up too fast during some times and lets adults continue to be children during others. it’s sickening and all too much.

but this is the world you live in. there’s not much to change in that—not much you can change. maybe sitting on the couch with suguru is what you should be grateful for, whether it’s in this world or another.

“i came here because it’s safe,” he mumbles, quieter this time, “i don’t…i didn’t trust anywhere else.”

something tells you he’s not talking about the kids. you look at him for the first time that night—really look at him. you take in the lost weight, the sunken cheekbones and the bruised under eyes from the lack of sleep. the cracked lips from being chapped and the dry hair that’s lost its normal shine.

something’s not right—you won’t be able to mend it, but you think you can keep it from getting worse.

“it is safe here,” you murmur, nodding in assurance, “but you can’t…i can’t let you do that. not again.”

“what? kill people?” he snorts in dry amusement. it’s quiet for a bit—you open your mouth a few times like you want to say something, but nothing ever comes. he finally decides to fill the silence. “i don’t know what’s right and what’s wrong anymore. people shouldn’t kill. but some people shouldn’t live.”

“i think jujutsu is supposed to save people. not everyone will deserve it, but i suppose we wouldn’t be much better than them if we used it for anything other than that,” you whisper. he looks over at you at that, peers at you deep in thought as he contemplates your words.

“that’s funny,” he chuckles, “i used to think that too.”

“what changed?”

“everything.”

“then change it some more,” you shrug, “until you think it again.” he looks at you incredulously at that, eyeing you like you’re crazy.

“you’re an idiot,” he scoffs.

“says the killer,” you scoff back. you look at him this time, in the eyes and full of conviction, full of promises you couldn’t make before but fully intend to keep now. “don’t kill anyone else and i’ll help you. with those kids, i mean.”

“you want to co parent with me?” he chuckles.

co parent—the word makes your stomach twist. even after all this time, after all the hurt and pain, suguru is easy to imagine that with. he’s easy to imagine anything in the future with, really. he’s always been perfect like that, but you’re starting to realize there’s a lot more imperfections to him than you initially thought.

but it’s okay, you think. if you didn’t stop loving him before, you certainly don’t stop now. blood on his hands or not, he’s yours—even if he doesn’t want to be.

“don’t say it like that,” you murmur softly, hugging your arms around yourself, “please.”

you let yourself be vulnerable for just a moment—not because you want to, but because he needs to know. he needs to know how unfair he’s being and how patient you are with him despite it all. you deserve that much.

“sorry,” he mutters—he has the decency to look away and drop his smile.

“you don’t kill anyone, and i’ll look for a bigger place. deal?”

“for us…all?”

“yes. just until you figure it out, i’ll help you out with them. and then you’ll responsibly use your paycheck as a full time special grade sorcerer and maybe send a few checks my way to say thanks to my good will.”

he chuckles at that, shaking his head. “i’ll repay you,” he hums, tapping his foot. he does that when he’s nervous, you still remember—you could never forget anything about him. “i…i owe you, anyway.”

it’s quiet some more. you don’t know what to say, and quite frankly, you don’t want to say anything at all. but once more, he fills the silence for you after a while.

“what if…” he starts, “what if i want to co parent with you?”

“you dumped me,” you point out, unable to hide the bitterness any longer. it cracks from your tongue through your words like honey that went dry. “remember that? cause i sure remember.”

you’re an adult now, just barely, but an adult all the same. you should handle this the mature way—but you’re still young. still hurt. still blanketed in the fresh wave of nostalgia that leaves you aching with grief.

so you let yourself be bitter. suguru can handle that much after he left you to pick up your shattered pieces.

“i didn’t want to,” he says quietly. “i never wanted to.”

“but you did.”

“i didn’t…you didn’t deserve to see me unstable.”

“you’re not very stable right now either,” you pinch your nose tiredly, “you killed people, suguru. but somehow you can manage to have two kids now. but not me.”

“they need me,” he defends.

“i needed you too,” your voice cracks.

you did. you needed him—and you like to think he needed you too. maybe it wasn’t perfect, nothing ever is, especially not when you fight curses and see their ugliness every day. but that’s the best part of having each other—having something pretty amidst the hideousness.

he left you with more ugly than you knew what to do with. it’s unfair, you think for a moment, unfair that two girls who hardly know him at all have more of him than you ever did. he’d never abandon them—that much you know for sure.

you’ve laughed with him, held him and wiped his tears and kissed him under the moon until it became the sun. you’ve seen him with his hair down and his guard lowered. you’ve seen him in every way possible but in the end, he walked away.

they’ve seen him for less than a day and somehow, he’ll be there forever. there’s something unfair about that and you hate that you’re bitter with children but the world in cruel like that.

suguru slowly inches over—it’s cautious at first, and then he fills the gap all at once. you pretend you don’t feel the way your thighs touch.

“i need you too,” he admits, voice small. there’s a small, shaky crack that eats away at your heart, trying to gnaw into the raw part. the easy to reach part. the part you shouldn’t let him see anymore. “i…i always needed you. i’m sorry.”

“we were supposed to need each other,” you sniffle.

“we do,” he slowly slumps his head onto your shoulder. you let him stay there—don’t dare move a muscle in case he pulls away. “you’re the only thing that keeps me stable. i don’t think that’s fair.”

“needing someone isn’t unfair, suguru,” you scoff.

“okay,” he grabs your hand, squeezing. for the first time, he lets it all go. lets tears slowly slip from the corners of his eyes as he slumps into your side. he cries for riko. for kuroi. for satoru and the time he lost him for a moment. for their youth. for haibara. for not being enough even when he shouldn’t have had to be. somewhere amidst all that, your arms wrap around him and he’s pulled into your chest—that familiar feeling of your fingers threading into his hair makes the world start spinning again. “i need you,” he chokes.

“okay,” you say shakily, nodding slowly as you let yourself hope, “as long as you don’t stop this time.”

he buries his face into your chest, and you kiss the crown of his head.

cruelty is an unstoppable force. your love for suguru is an immovable object. neither is going anywhere, but perhaps they can coexist.

“satoru’s gonna have a massive headache when he explains this one to the higher ups,” you snort after a while.

he laughs into your shirt, real for the first time in a long time. “i’ll buy him something sweet. should make up for it,” he hums. and then he looks up, smiles innocently as he asks, “wanna lend me some cash? i’ll pay you back when i’m a responsible handler of money.”

“you’re hopeless,” you chuckle, “but at least you’re here.”

————— BONUS —————

“okay,” satoru starts, holding his hands up in surrender as he stands before the higher ups. damn old geezers, he thinks. “so he did kill a person or two…but—”

“there is no excuse,” a voice hisses.

“he didn’t mean it,” he huffs indignantly, “it was an accident. those can happen sometimes.”

“what—”

“he’s going through a phase, okay? let him work through it, he’ll be fine.”

“that’s not—”

“i’ll let him off the hook this time,” satoru grins, pushing his glasses up his nose as he shrugs, “he’s got a family now, y’know? kids and a spouse, and they’re looking for a home. can’t take that away from them.”

“he’s not even married—”

“it’ll happen eventually,” he insists, “so let’s all just calm down, yeah? great, thanks!”

“gojo—”

“see ya!”

he walks out, flashing an obnoxious peace sign at the higher ups as they hiss at him to return as he’s walking out. that takes care of that, he thinks, as long as suguru doesn’t make his life harder and kill more people, he can handle it—you did promise him kikufuku if he does.

satoru is babygirl defender no. 1 ain’t nobody doing it like my guy 🤞🏽 he would be loyal to you while you were in jail no doubts

[inseobts]

Hey hey so I absolutely love your writing but I have an idea and I need you to kinda hear me out… so basically law x f!reader but BUT she’s kaidos daughter GASP (that gasp was totally real) but she hides it but the find out and uh that’s kinda it but maybe like kinemon and the others of the Kouzuki know her somehow (maybe by a birth mark or her eyes or something). So yeah 😋

Shadows of the Dragon

law × reader

a/n: bestie, I spent all morning writing this instead of looking for a job lmaooo I was really into it ngl

words count: 6.3k

tags: wano arc spoilers, reader is kaido’s daughter, first meeting, fluff, slow burn(?)

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

The battle for Onigashima has already begun.

Explosions echo through the halls. Screams, smoke, clashing steel. The floor shakes beneath your feet as you weave through the chaos, hood low over your face. You’re not meant to be here. If Kaido knew, you’d be caged.

Just like Yamato was.

Your lungs burn as you duck into the shadows behind a cracked pillar. The air tastes like ash and blood. You scan the fight ahead, Beasts Pirates swarming a small group.

At the center: Trafalgar Law.

He’s calm, calculating, his sword slicing clean arcs through the crowd. But there’s too many. One slips past his line of sight, a massive axe raised behind him.

You don’t hesitate.

Your blade flashes, a quick, clean throw. It hits the attacker’s shoulder, knocking him off balance before Law even knows he was there.

He turns instantly, catching the movement out of the corner of his eye. But you’re already gone, disappearing into smoke and stone like you were never there.

“Someone’s following me” Law mutters minutes later, once the fight thins out. Bepo tilts his head.

“An enemy?”

“…Not sure.”

He looks toward the shadows where you linger, high above on the rafters. Watching. Quiet.

You saved him. You didn’t have to. And now you can’t stop watching him.

That night, as the battle calms down, you leave another Beast Pirate unconscious behind.

Law appears near the crates just moments later. He sees the body, then the knife still buried in the man’s leg. Same kind of blade as before.

He kneels down, inspecting it “You again.”

You smile from the darkness above, unseen.

The next day.

“You know someone’s been helping us,” Law tells the others “Takes out enemies before we see them. Gets in and out like a ghost.”

Momonosuke frowns “A spy?”

“Could be,” Law says “But whoever it is, they’re not with Kaido’s soldiers.”

Kin’emon stiffens at that. His eyes flash toward the shadows “Did you say… ghostlike?”

Law looks over “Yeah.”

Kin’emon’s face darkens “There is an old tale… of a girl with a dragon’s eyes. One who walks through Wano like smoke. Seen, but never caught.”

“Sounds like a myth.” Law says.

Kin’emon shakes his head “Not a myth. A warning.”

You press your back to the wall, heartbeat rising.

They’re starting to notice you. But you can’t stop now. Not until Kaido falls.

Later on you start to pay more attention and you think you’ve gotten better at hiding. But Trafalgar Law is better at catching.

“Room.”

His voice is quiet, but the pressure shifts.

Before you can leap away, you feel the strange ripple in the air, the pull of his power.

Shambles.

The space around you blinks, your feet leave the ground.

You land hard on stone, the shadows gone, replaced by firelight.

You freeze.

He’s already standing there, arms crossed, sword sheathed at his side. Calm, unreadable.

“Not bad,” he says “You lasted longer than I thought.”

You say nothing, the hood still covering your face. Your heart hammers in your chest. You didn’t expect this.

He steps closer, slow and deliberate “You’ve been following me since the inner gate. Took down five of Kaido’s men without being seen. Saved me twice.” He tilts his head “Why?”

You grip the edge of your cloak tighter.

“I don’t owe you an answer.”

“You do if you want to leave.”

You look past him. The door is blocked. No windows. Just firelight, stone, and the surgeon of death with those piercing eyes.

“I’m not your enemy” you say, voice steady but low.

“That’s not an answer” he replies.

His tone isn’t cruel. It’s precise. Focused. He’s dissecting you with words the same way he would with a scalpel. Slowly. Carefully.

You shift your stance, weight toward your heel, just in case.

Law’s eyes flick down for a split second. He notices.

“You’re not used to being cornered,” he says “You don’t like it.”

“Who does?” you mutter.

He steps closer, now only a few feet away. You can see the cut across his brow, half-healed. You almost patched it yourself... almost. But you stayed hidden, like always.

“I don’t like mysteries in the middle of a war,” he says “Especially ones that move like assassins and carry Kaido’s blades.”

You stiffen. Just slightly. Enough for him to notice.

He watches you, eyes narrowing “You’re not with him.”

You hesitate.

“I’m not” you say.

“But you know him.”

That lands like a knife between your ribs. You don’t speak. Can’t.

He stares, then slowly lifts a hand but not threatening, just… thoughtful.

“Let me guess,” he murmurs “You’re not one of his soldiers. But you move like someone who trained. Someone who had to hide.”

He pauses.

“You’re someone close to him.”

Your heart kicks harder. Your hand twitches toward your hood.

He notices everything.

“I won’t say it,” he adds “But you’re going to have to. Eventually.”

You step back, the fire behind you casting long shadows “I’ve done more for your side than you know.”

“Then say it.”

“No.”

He sighs through his nose “Then take off the hood.”

You don’t move.

“I won’t force you,” he says “But if you want me to trust you, I need a face.”

A long beat of silence stretches between you.

Then, finally you slowly lift your hands and pull the hood back.

Your hair spills down. Your face is lit by firelight. And your eyes, Dragon gold. Just like Kaido’s.

Law freezes.

His expression doesn’t change, but you feel his silence is sharp now. Like something just snapped into place.

You say quietly, “Now you know.”

He doesn’t say anything. Not at first.

Then he speaks “…You’re his daughter.”

You flinch.

“I’m not him,” you say quickly, the words tumbling out “I don’t fight for him. He doesn’t even know I’m here.”

Law’s jaw flexes. His eyes narrow. You can tell he’s thinking fast, too fast.

“You expect me to believe that Kaido’s daughter, his blood, is sneaking around, saving my life and stabbing his men in the back?”

You lift your chin “I never chose him.”

He’s silent again. The fire crackles behind you.

“Yamato knows,” you add “I saw him with your group and he knows who I am. He knows what I’ve done.”

“Then why hide?”

“Because if Kaido finds out I’m against him…” You shake your head “I won’t get another chance. And neither will anyone else. I'm not as strong as Yamato.”

He stares at you for a long time. You’re sure he’s going to walk away. Or call you a liar. Or worse.

But then he mutters “…You’re reckless.”

You blink “What?”

“Reckless.” he repeats “And lucky I didn’t stab you the first night.”

You give a breathless laugh, more from relief than humor “You tried.”

He smirks faintly “I missed on purpose.”

You roll your eyes “Sure you did.”

He steps back, finally giving you room to breathe “You’re staying close to me now. No more hiding.”

You hesitate “You trust me?”

“Not yet... not fully.” he says flatly “But I’m curious.”

After that he doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Just watches.

You shift under the weight of it, but keep your chin up. You’ve already shown him too much.

“So,” he finally says, voice quiet, flat, “you can throw a blade, take down five men without being heard, and disappear into smoke.”

He tilts his head.

“Were you trained as an assassin?”

You snort, soft and bitter “No.”

He arches a brow.

“An obedient wife who had to learn how to survive.”

His expression doesn’t change, but you see the twitch in his jaw. The faint disbelief.

“…What?”

“That’s what I was trained to be,” you say, eyes fixed on the flames “Kaido wanted me to be a perfect bride. Pretty. Polite. Silent. Loyal.”

You shrug like it doesn’t matter, even though it burns like hell.

“They taught me how to move without being noticed. To listen more than speak. To smile even when I hated it.” You pause, voice low “It made it easy to sneak around later, though.”

He’s quiet. Watching you too closely now.

He says, “Then you’re surprisingly good at throwing knives.”

You let out a short laugh “Yamato taught me that. In secret. He said if I was going to be caged, I should at least know how to stab the lock.”

That earns a very slight, very rare pull of a smirk from Law. It fades fast.

“Do you know who he wanted you to marry?” he asks.

You glance at him, just for a moment “Someone powerful. Someone Kaido could use. It never got that far.”

“Why not?”

“Because I disappeared.”

You watch him now. The way his gaze drops to the stone floor for a second, like he’s putting together pieces you can’t see.

“And now you’re fighting against him,” he says “From the shadows.”

“It’s the only place I can do anything.”

He doesn’t answer right away. Then, quietly “Until now.”

You blink “What do you mean?”

“You’re not in the shadows anymore.” His voice is soft, but steady “You showed me your face. That means you’re in it now. With us. Whether you like it or not.”

You swallow.

“I didn’t save you to join your army.”

“No,” he agrees “But you saved me anyway.”

The fire pops. His gaze softens, not much, but enough to make your stomach twist.

“You’re not what I expected" he murmurs.

“Good or bad?”

He considers.

“…Confusing.”

You huff a quiet laugh “That’s fair.”

He steps away, hands in his pockets now, a casualness that’s almost too calculated.

“We leave at dawn. We’re moving to the eastern wing. I want you close.”

Your brows lift “What, no cages? No cuffs?”

“You’d just slip them.” He glances back at you “Besides, I already know you’re dangerous.”

You arch a brow “And?”

He shrugs, dry as ever “So am I.”

You’re walking a few paces behind Law, half-shrouded by the long corridor shadows of the eastern wing. The firelight makes your cloak shimmer at the edges, but your hood is back now. He insisted on it.

He doesn’t speak as you move, he’s not much of a talker unless he’s annoyed or amused. Right now, he’s somewhere in between.

And then, around the corner, you both stop.

Yamato stands at the end of the hall, bandaged and panting, having just shoved open a heavy side door. Behind him, Kin’emon and Momonosuke follow close.

“Law! There you are—” Yamato pauses as soon as his eyes land on you.

The whole corridor stills.

You feel their gazes like blades. Momonosuke blinks, trying to place you. Kin’emon’s eyes narrow, sharp with memory.

And Yamato smiles.

“You told him” he says, voice low with something like relief.

Law glances at you, then back at Yamato “You knew?”

Yamato steps forward, nodding “She’s been helping from the start. Since the capital. I only found out a few months ago, but I kept quiet because I know that she likes to hide.”

Kin’emon steps forward now, slowly “Wait…”

You tense as his eyes roam over you, his expression shifting from suspicion to something more ancient, recognition.

“The birthmark…” he murmurs, eyes locking on the base of your neck.

You instinctively reach to cover it.

“You were a child, around my age.” he says “I saw you once. During a peace talk… when dad... Oden was still alive.”

Your breath catches.

“I thought you were just a servant. But I remember your eyes.”

Momonosuke stares at you, wide-eyed “She’s Kaido’s daughter?”

“She is,” Yamato answers for you, calm but firm “But she’s not like him.”

Law stays quiet through all of it. Watching you. While you lower yuo head to not face them.

Yamato faces Kin’emon and Momo “She never supported him,” he says “She kept me safe. Snuck food to villages, warned people before attacks. She hid it for years. But she was always there, helping everyone but herself.”

Momonosuke steps behind Kin’emon, still processing. But Kin’emon… he lowers his sword.

“If what Yamato says is true… then I owe you an apology.”

You blink “Why?”

“For not helping you leave,” he says “For walking past a child in chains and doing nothing.”

That stings more than you expect.

Yamato’s hand rests gently on your shoulder “She’s with us now,” he says “She wants Kaido gone as much as we do.”

Law finally speaks, voice as dry as usual “She’s good at hiding. Quiet as a whisper. But she throws knives like she means it.”

Kin’emon raises a brow.

“She’s also very stubborn, I'd say.” Law adds.

You glare at him “Says the man who cornered me into a room with his powers.”

“You were being annoying” he replies flatly.

“You were being slow.”

Momonosuke blinks between the two of you “Are… are they flirting?”

Yamato groans “Oh no.”

Law just turns and keeps walking “We move in twenty minutes. Don’t fall behind, princess.”

You hiss under your breath, chasing after him “Don’t call me that.”

But he just smirks without looking back.

The room they gather in is small.

You stand near the edge, half-shadowed again, cloak pulled tighter. Law’s somewhere behind you, flipping his blade open and closed in that restless way he does when he’s thinking too hard.

Then the door slams open.

Luffy barrels in followed by Zoro, Killer, and an annoyed-looking Eustass Kidd. They’re dust-covered, blood-smeared, and loud.

“Yo! Law!” Luffy waves like they’re at a barbecue instead of the middle of a war “We just trashed another floor!”

“Obviously” Law mutters, but doesn’t look up.

Then Luffy spots you.

He stops walking.

“Eh? Who’s that?”

You shift, not answering. Yamato clears his throat behind you, ready to explain. But Luffy just beams.

“Oh! Is she your girlfriend or something?”

Law doesn’t even blink “No.”

“Really?” Kidd snorts, arms crossed “You’re keeping her that close and glaring at us like that, but she’s not your girlfriend?”

“I’m glaring because you’re way too loud” Law deadpans.

Zoro eyes you, a flicker of curiosity behind his boredom “She’s been following us, right? I saw her take out two Beast Pirates before anyone noticed.”

“She’s Kaido’s daughter” Law says bluntly, like he’s ripping off a bandage.

The room goes silent.

Even Luffy blinks.

“…Eh?”

You sigh and step forward, lifting your chin “Technically. I didn’t sign up for it.”

Kidd’s eyes narrow “You’re serious?”

Yamato nods “She’s been on our side the whole time. She’s the one who warned the capital two nights ago.”

Zoro whistles low “Well, shit.”

Luffy grins wide again “That’s awesome!”

You blink “You’re not… mad?”

“Why would I be?” he says, confused “You’re fighting him too, right?”

“…Yes.”

“Then you’re with us.”

Simple as that.

Law rolls his eyes “Don’t let him fool you. He always accepts people way too easily.”

Luffy shrugs “I like her.”

You stare at him, stunned. No suspicion. No fear. Just… acceptance. Like it’s normal to welcome the daughter of the enemy with a smile and an outstretched hand.

“Thanks?” you say softly, unsure how to react.

Then Kidd rolls his eyes and mutters, “Still sounds like you picked a girlfriend up mid-war.”

Law turns to him, voice flat “Do you want to be shambled into the ocean?”

You cover a laugh with your hand.

Zoro smirks “He’s definitely keeping you close. That’s not nothing.”

“Shut up.” Law mutters.

“You’re blushing!” Luffy points out.

“I will kill you.”

“I ship it.” Yamato adds unhelpfully.

Killer says nothing, but you’re pretty sure he snorts behind the mask.

You shake your head, hiding a smile you didn’t expect to have today. It feels like chaos, but not the kind you were raised in. It’s lighter. War still rages outside, but here you can finally breathe.

And maybe… fight for something more than just survival.

The storm of battle breaks again not long after.

Steel rings out, smoke choking the air as the ground trembles beneath the weight of clashing armies. Thunder crashes overhead.

You stay close to the walls, in the dark, your steps silent, your blade lighter than air.

This is where you belong.

Not at the front. Not swinging heavy weapons like Yamato. Not rallying the rebels with a captain’s call.

No. You were trained to be invisible. To listen. To vanish. And you’re good at it.

You slip past a Beast Pirate without a sound, catching the edge of his weapon with your cloak as you pass, he stumbles, confused, then goes still as a blade brushes his throat. Yours.

One down.

You never linger. Never let them see your face.

From your perch on a rooftop beam, you watch the others fight below.

Luffy is chaos incarnate, leaping from debris to debris, fists flying. Zoro and Killer carve through the crowd, Kid hurling steel like it’s an extension of his rage.

And then there’s Law, controlled. Deadly. Calling out “Room” like a calm god of precision. You watch his fingers flick and another soldier vanishes mid-swing.

He doesn’t look at you, but you know he knows where you are.

He always does.

But something’s shifting. You feel it in the way Kaido’s men move. Sharper. Slower. Looking up. Behind. Whispering.

They’ve noticed.

You drop behind a wall and press your back against the stone.

Two soldiers stand nearby, speaking low.

“…Too many of us gone too fast” one says “No one saw who did it.”

“She’s here,” the other growls “The girl. His daughter.”

Your breath catches.

“They say she’s with the rebels now.”

“She wouldn’t. He loves her.”

“He doesn’t love anything. You know that.”

A pause.

“If she’s here, and she’s helping them... we’re supposed to kill her, right?”

“…Only if we’re sure. But we better capture her alive, or if we kill her at least make it look like an accident. Don't go ma—”

You’re already gone before they finish the sentence.

Your lungs are tight, your movements sharper than before. Every shadow feels thinner. Every glance feels aimed.

They’re looking now. Not for a fighter. Not for a rebel.

They’re looking for you.

A hand reaches from behind a torn banner, grabbing your wrist.

You twist, knife in your palm, ready to fight.

“Easy.” It’s Law.

His fingers tighten around your wrist just enough to still you. His voice is low, close to your ear “They’re starting to talk.”

“I heard” you breathe.

His eyes flick toward the rooftops “We need to move. If they know you’re here, they’ll send someone.”

“They won’t be sure.”

He stares at you “You don't know how strong some of them are.”

You glare “And you don’t know me.”

He smirks faintly “That’s why I’m keeping an eye on you.”

You pull away, stepping back into the shadow “Then keep up.”

And just like that, you vanish again. But now, they’re hunting you.

You keep your distance, wait to strike when it’s necessary. And then, it happens.

You’re climbing a rickety scaffold to get a better vantage point on the battlefield when a voice, sharp and familiar, cuts through the noise.

“There! There she is!”

Your blood runs cold.

You whirl around just in time to see a Beast Pirate, a low-level soldier, pointing directly at you from across the field. His eyes widen with recognition, then narrow with intent.

“There she is!” he shouts again “Kaido’s daughter!”

A sickening rush of heat floods your chest as the world seems to slow down for a moment.

You don’t think. You react.

In an instant, your hand finds your blade, and you spring forward, vanishing behind a pile of debris.

They saw me.

Your heart pounds as you look for an exit. Somewhere, far down the hall, you see movement, more men. More eyes.

But this time, you’re not just running. You’re not just hiding.

You’re being hunted.

Your mind races, trying to find the quickest escape route, but the sound of footsteps behind you grows louder. They’re closing in.

“You’re not getting away, princess” the Beast Pirate shouts, his voice thick with malice.

Then, a voice, so familiar, so close, cuts through the tension.

“Room.”

The air around you shifts in an instant. A pull. A tug. A lurch.

The ground beneath your feet vanishes, and the next thing you know, you’re thrown sideways, but somewhere else entirely. A shadowy corner of the battlefield, far from the soldiers who are still scrambling.

Law stands over you, the same sharp, unreadable expression on his face.

He doesn’t ask questions. Just holds a hand out to help you up “You good?”

You nod, gasping for air, your heart still hammering in your chest.

“Thanks” you manage, your voice a little too thin. You push yourself to your feet, checking over your shoulder.

He looks behind you, eyes narrowing “They didn’t see you slip away. For now.”

“But they know. They’re coming for me.”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, but his hand rests on his sword as if it’s the only thing keeping him grounded.

“We need to move” he says quietly, pulling you along behind him.

You glance back, but it’s already too late. The soldiers you just outran are regrouping.

And then, you hear it.

“I’ve seen her!” the Beast Pirate shouts “Kaido’s daughter’s here! She’s helping the rebels!”

The words pierce through the noise like a lightning strike.

“You need to go tell Kaido.” another pirate shouts, clearly panicking “Now!”

Your blood runs cold.

Law’s grip tightens on your wrist “Stay close.”

You’re both moving again, but now, it’s not just about escaping. It’s about buying time.

“Shambles.” Law snaps his fingers again, his power yanking you both forward, but this time, it’s a wider distance. You’re thrown through the air, landing against the stone wall of a nearby ruin. But you’re still not safe.

The Beast Pirates are catching up.

You glance back toward Law “You know they won’t stop looking for me now.”

He nods once “I know. That’s why we don’t stop either.”

He strides forward, facing the group of pirates charging in your direction. They’re only seconds away from being on you.

You feel the familiar panic start to settle in, but you force it down. You know how to fight in the shadows, even when you can’t be hidden.

You swipe a hand to your side, pulling out a dagger. Law’s eyes flick to it, and a rare smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth.

“You know, you’re not as bad as I thought, princess” he says, voice dry.

“Right now, I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t call me that” you mutter under your breath.

He doesn’t answer, only moves to block the advancing soldiers, his sword raised with calculated menace.

One of them steps forward, eyes gleaming as he sneers at you “You're in the middle of the enemy camp. You think you’ll survive this? You think he alone can protect you agaist all of us?”

You meet his gaze, and for a moment, all you can see are shadows.

“I don’t need to be protected and I don't care to survive anymore.” you murmur, and then, you move.

The soldiers charge forward, teeth gritted, weapons drawn. They must think you’re just a soft girl trained to be a wife, that somehow you found someone who protected you all this time.

They’re wrong.

You’re quick, faster than they expect. One rushes you, sword raised, and you sidestep him in a fluid motion. A twist of your wrist, a flash of silver, and the soldier crumples in silence.

Next.

Law’s already engaged, slicing through the soldiers with his surgical precision. He doesn’t need to think about it. Just moves, calm and cold, his blade cutting through the air with deadly accuracy. His power flicks like an extension of his body, ripping through the battlefield with ease.

“Room” he mutters, and in an instant, a soldier who thought he was safe is yanked off his feet and flung into the distance. Law turns toward you with a sharp glance “You’re doing well, princess.”

You twist, knocking the sword of another soldier out of his hand with a well-placed strike “I told you not to call me that!”

He raises an eyebrow as he cuts down another pirate “What’s the matter, princess? I thought you liked the title.”

“I don’t!” You lash out with a quick thrust, taking down another attacker “Don’t call me that!”

He watches you for a moment as you fight, the sword flashes in your hand a blur of motion. But instead of teasing you more, he sidesteps an incoming blow and slides beside you, his voice quieter now “Why?”

The question isn’t mocking. He’s genuinely curious, and for the first time, you can feel the weight of his attention on you. The question hangs in the air, a rare moment of understanding between the chaos.

Your breath catches as you dodge another blow. The soldier’s eyes widen in surprise when you duck, slipping into the shadows just as you’ve been trained. You’re not done yet.

You drop the soldier with a swift kick to the ribs.

Law’s voice follows you through the smoke and dust “You’ve told me to stop calling you that. Why?”

You hesitate for a moment, turning to him as the last of the soldiers scatter in defeat. The heavy weight of the title, the one that’s been used to cage you your entire life, weighs on your tongue.

You take a breath “Because that’s all they’ve ever called me. Kaido’s princess. His daughter.” Your voice cracks slightly, and you quickly steady it “I’m not a princess. I’m just… me. I’m not his.”

The words hang in the air like a challenge to the ground beneath you. For the first time, Law’s sharp gaze softens just a little. He stops for a moment, looking at you, his brow furrowing in thought.

“I’m sorry” he says, his voice quieter than before. The usual teasing is gone.

You’re not used to hearing that from anyone.

You give a curt nod and start walking again, ignoring the weight that still clings to your chest. You don’t need his pity. You don’t want it.

But you’re not used to this either, someone recognizing that you’re more than what others called you. Not Kaido’s daughter. Not some “princess”.

“Let’s just finish this,” you say, pushing forward, your eyes scanning the shadows “They’ll be back. More of them.”

Law watches you for a beat longer, then falls in step beside you, a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze “Right.”

You don’t know what’s different now, whether it’s the way you both move in sync or the fact that Law’s stopped calling you “princess” with his usual sarcastic grin, but you know it’s not the same as before.

Not anymore.

The rooftop battle is chaos.

You hide just behind a crumbling pillar, smoke curling around your feet. Lightning flashes above the shattered remains of Onigashima’s highest level, casting jagged light over everything. You can barely breathe through the thick air, heat, ash, blood.

Luffy’s up front, panting hard but still standing.

Kidd is yelling something, hurling twisted metal with wild force. Killer and Zoro are bleeding but moving, their blades catching firelight.

And Law is precise. Silent. His blade is slick with sweat, his coat scorched and fluttering with each blast of energy, but he never stops. His voice is calm, clipped.

You stay hidden. He told you to.

“Don’t show yourself” he said back before the fight began “You’re not ready for this kind of power. And if Kaido sees you…”

He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to.

So you wait. You watch. And it’s killing you. Because they’re losing.

Zoro’s down on one knee. Luffy coughs blood. Kidd takes a brutal hit to the ribs and staggers, cursing.

And Kaido laughs.

“Pathetic,” the dragon snarls, his voice cracking the sky “You ants dare challenge me?”

He raises his kanabo, slamming it into the stone with earth-shattering force.

You don’t even think.

You move.

You’re in front of Law before you realize it. Blades drawn. Eyes locked on Kaido.

He sees you. And he knows.

The laughter stops.

Kaido’s gaze sharpens like a blade “You.”

The silence cuts deeper than the wind.

“My daughter.”

Law’s head snaps toward you, eyes wide “No!”

But it’s too late.

Kaido takes one slow step forward, the storm above him crackling “You’ve been hiding behind them,” he growls “Lurking like a coward.”

You hold your ground “I’m not your daughter.”

That makes him snarl. The kanabo swings up, glowing with thunder.

“I gave you everything, and this is how you repay me?” His voice booms like thunder cracking stone “I should’ve thrown you away like you brother. Thought you were smarter.”

Your stomach twists but you don’t move.

You hear Law behind you “Get back.”

“No” you whisper.

Kaido lunges. The ground shatters.

And then—“ROOM.”

One second, you’re standing in front of a god. The next you’re nowhere.

The battlefield is gone. The air is cold. You’re lost somewhere far from the battle, knees hitting the ground as you fall from the jolt of his power.

You look around, eyes wide “Why?!”

You're alone.

You keep walking and walking, until you see Kidd and Law stand half-collapsed in the wreckage of victory, bruised and bloodied and barely alive.

You run to him.

“Law!”

He looks up and the flicker of relief in his eyes almost breaks you.

You drop to your knees beside him, checking his pulse, your hands already on his shoulder, trying to stop the bleeding.

Kidd, lying flat in the rubble nearby, groans “Hahh… damn… this hurts…”

You ignore him, completely focused on Law.

Kidd glances over and smirks through cracked lips “Tch. So what, Law? Your girlfriend gonna patch you up, cry a little?”

Law glares “Shut up, Kidd.”

You roll your eyes, already ripping fabric for bandages “Don’t tempt me to throw a rock at your face.”

“You see?” Law mutters, eyes fluttering half-shut “Not a princess.”

You snort softly, pressing your palm to his chest to keep him still “Damn right I’m not.”

He doesn’t say anything else. Just lets you touch him. Lets you stay.

And for once, you’re not in the shadows. You’re right here, with him.

You don’t want to leave him.

You glance up as one of Law’s crewmates rushes over, panting and wide-eyed.

“Captain!”

You stand immediately “He needs stitches. Internal bleeding, maybe more.”

“I—I’ll take care of him,” the Heart Pirate stammers, already pulling out medical supplies.

Law grabs your wrist before you can move away. His fingers are weak, but his grip is firm.

“Don’t disappear” he mutters.

You offer him the smallest smile “Not this time.”

Then you let go, and walk away.

The celebrations stretch on for hours.

Wano is free. The skies are clear. Kaido’s rule is shattered. And for the first time in years, you breathe without watching your back.

You’re standing by a balcony overlooking the lanterns floating up into the sky, your hair loose, a small drink in your hand. The laughter from the festival below rises with the breeze.

Yamato appears beside you, sliding you a grin as he leans on the railing.

“Still not used to this,” you say, looking up at the stars “No shadows. No running.”

He nudges you gently with his shoulder “Told you we’d get here.”

You smile. You’d never had a chance to just be with your brother. Not like this. Not in peace.

You both stand in quiet for a moment, letting the warmth settle.

Then Yamato glances over your shoulder, eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Well, I’m gonna go… talk to Momo. Alone...” he says casually “Very alone. Don’t follow me.”

You frown “What?”

Then you hear the footsteps behind you.

You turn and Law is there.

Cleaned up, bandaged, coat draped over his shoulders like a cloak. Tired, but standing. Breathing. Alive.

Yamato’s already halfway down the stairs, wearing that dumb knowing smirk.

Law stops a few feet away from you. Hands in his pockets. Watching you with that unreadable stare.

You speak first “I didn’t think you’d be up already.”

He shrugs “Didn’t want to waste time.”

You shift your weight, suddenly unsure what to do with your hands “You shouldn’t push yourself.”

“Not pushing.” He takes a step closer “Looking.”

You tilt your head “For what?”

Law pauses.

Then he softly says “For you.”

Your breath catches just slightly.

He glances out toward the lanterns, jaw clenched like he’s thinking too hard about what he’s about to say.

“I’m not good at this,” he mutters “Saying things.”

“I noticed.”

He gives you a dry look.

You let him continue.

“I’ve had enough of people who only look useful when they’re strong.” he says “That’s not you. You’re not strong the way people expect, but you still held your ground. Even when it nearly got you killed.”

You don’t respond. Just… listen.

He shifts, eyes flicking to yours “I could use someone like that on my crew.”

You blink “What?”

Law exhales, as if this was harder than any battle he’s fought “Join me.”

You stare at him, stunned.

“You don’t belong here” he says, quietly now “You’re free. Don’t waste it standing still.”

Your heart thuds hard in your chest. Because you hadn’t even let yourself dream that far ahead. But the idea of being with his crew, the sea, freedom, it blooms fast in your chest, warm and terrifying and right.

You finally ask, softly, “And what would I be to you? On your crew?”

Law’s mouth curves just slightly. Not a smile, not yet, but something close.

“Not a princess,” he says “That’s for sure.”

You don’t sleep much.

Your mind buzzes with Law’s words, your heart thudding with something between fear and excitement. You lie in the quiet room the Kozuki retainers offered you, eyes on the wooden ceiling.

Freedom is loud in your chest.

By dawn, you’ve made your decision.

Yamato nearly chokes on his rice ball when you tell him.

“You’re what?!”

You grin “I’m joining Law’s crew.”

He blinks like he misheard you “Law’s? The grumpy one with the resting death glare? Does he know??”

You laugh “Yeah. That one. And of course he knows, he's the one who asked me to.”

“Wow.” He leans back, genuinely stunned “I mean, I knew something was going on between you... but… joining his crew? Really?”

You nod.

Yamato grins, proud and a little sad all at once “So you’re finally leaving Wano.”

You look out over the now peaceful land. Lanterns still float in the breeze. The smoke of war is gone.

“I’ve hidden here long enough...” you say “It’s time.”

He claps a hand on your shoulder “Then go. Find your freedom. You earned it.”

The samurai don’t question your choice. They bow, grateful and respectful, and offer quiet farewells. Kin’emon even presses a small wrapped charm into your hand.

“For protection,” he says “Not that you’ll need it.”

You smile and thank him with a bow.

The Polar Tang is docked just off the coast, preparing for departure. The sun glints off its yellow hull, and the crew bustles around the deck, laughing, loading crates, checking gear.

You approach, a little hesitant until a loud voice cuts the air.

“Oi, captain!” Bepo calls from the deck, waving wildly “She’s here!”

Law steps out from the lower deck, coat swinging behind him. He’s in full command mode again, but when he sees you, something shifts in his eyes.

He meets you at the dock, hands in his pockets.

“You’re sure?” he asks.

You smirk “I’m already packed.”

That earns a short, quiet chuckle from him “Good.”

He turns and gestures to the ship “Come on. I’ll introduce you.”

You climb aboard, the sea breeze rushing against your skin, the world stretching wide in front of you.

“This,” Law says as the Heart Pirates pause to stare, “is our newest crewmate.”

There’s a beat of silence.

Then Bepo cheers “Welcome aboard!”

Shachi whistles “Whoa, the boss brought back a pretty one.”

You laugh, already feeling the knot in your chest loosen. Law just rubs the bridge of his nose.

But just then, Penguin glances at you with a smirk, looking at Law.

“So… she’s the one?” he asks, raising an eyebrow “The one Kidd and Luffy were talking about? Your girlfriend?”

The words hang in the air for a moment, and Law freezes. His eyes narrow, a small frown forming.

“What?” Law mutters, his voice barely above a growl.

Penguin shrugs “Well, they seemed to think so.”

Law’s frustration is clear, and you can’t help but laugh a little, leaning against the ship’s railing “It’s not like that,” Law says, brushing his hair out of his face “We’re not—”

“You’re not?” Shachi cuts in, grinning “Then why were you looking so worried she wouldn’t join us, captain?”

Bepo joins in, his innocent smile hiding the teasing tone “Yeah, captain, never saw you being so obviously anxious… Sounds like you’ve got a thing for her.”

Law glares at them all, his face flushed with frustration “I’m not doing this” he says, rubbing his temples.

The crew laughs. You, however, are enjoying the banter, crossing your arms and smiling to yourself.

Law sighs heavily, looking at you like you’re both cursed and a blessing “I’m really starting to regret bringing her here” he mutters under his breath, but you can hear it clearly.

“Yeah, sure,” you say, laughing softly “Regret it all you want… captain.”

Penguin grins at Law one more time “Hey, she is cute, captain. You could do worse.”

Law just shakes his head in defeat, not bothering to argue anymore “Can we please just get to work?”

You chuckle, feeling a warmth in your chest. Even with all the teasing, it’s clear to you that the crew already sees you as part of their family. And while Law’s still trying to keep his composure, there’s a quiet part of you that feels like maybe this is the place you’ve been searching for.

[betterthanyalls]

hey betty wetty bo confetti

How’s about Ares x Reader in which she’s the daughter of Odysseus and and and she’s defending Telemachus & Penelope from the suitors and after getting into a fight with Antinous or however u spell his name, she meets Ares somehow?

BTW DONT FEEL PRESSURED OR FEEL THERES A TIME LIMIT - TAKE YOUR TIME 🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵

Okay love ya 🤩🤗

that nickname concerns me BUT HIIIII so ion know how good this is :sobs: , i made it in the span of like 2-3 hours from a burst of motivation. HERE YOU GO TAKE THIS AS A LATE BIRTHDAY PRESENT

Masterlist

Warrior's Blood

Ares x Reader

EPIC: The Musical ~ Oneshot ~ Action

Words: 1.4K

Published: 11-3-2024 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A loud belch sounded from the palace’s dining hall, followed by boisterous laughter and unorganized yells. The princess of Ithaca glared down the hallway while she stalked past the dining hall to her destination of the training grounds. “Men,” a loud voice called, the speaker standing up on a wooden bench, “we have been waiting for the throne for far too long. Can’t you see we are being played?”

Y/n slowed her pace, taking a peek into the crowded room to see the one suitor she hates the most speaking. Antinous. 

“I say, we take the throne. That boyish prince and his sister only stand in our way to the queen. Once we are rid of them, we shall have full access to the crown." Cheers and yells followed quickly. The onlooking royalty sneered in disgust. Normally, Y/n would only walk away and tell her mother about the new plan, but something inside her felt different—an urge to fight, a need for conflict. 

Taking a step into the light of the hall, Y/n cleared her throat.

“What would my mother think of this? Threatening to kill both of her children and then seizing her by force?" Y/n had to keep from gagging, not only at the idea of their threat but also the horrid stench of the room. 

Antinous turned to the princess with a look of pure murder and flame.

“Well, if it isn’t the weak girl. If you speak even a word of our plan, I will rip you limb from limb so you can meet your father in the underworld,” he stalked towards the younger girl with a vicious grin. “Now that I’ve thought about it, how about we begin that plan now? Starting with you.”

Y/n was wise enough to duck down, blocking an oncoming punch, only to be nailed in the gut with his knee. Falling to the ground with a sharp gasp, she was pulled to her feet by her hair. “Come on, girlie. You had the strength before to challenge me; where is it now? You’re as weak as your father.”

Staggering and getting out of his grasp, she pulled up a loose fighting position. The princess narrowed her eyes at Antinous’ insults while taking steps back to match his steps forward. Y/n tried to find some sort of strategy to take him down, like how Telemachus taught her. Her brother would always say to fight with wisdom, but there was no wisdom anywhere near this fight. Strategy only works if your opponent has strategy too. Antinous was anything but a planned fighter. 

So with her next best option, Y/n grabbed a nearby vase and chucked it at her rival's head. She missed, making Antinous even more angry. With a yell, a foot made contact with her stomach, throwing the princess to the floor and her head hitting a pillar. Pain shot through her entire body as she struggled to regain her breath. 

‘So, I did this easily. Thanks for the amazing lessons, Tele.’ Her mind wandered, forgetting about her approaching opponent as she took a glance at a nearby wall. There, up high, hung a tapestry by her mother. The twelve Olmpyians were displayed with divine glory. Glory that could help Y/n not die, if only they saw her. With nothing left to lose, the princess sent up a silent prayer before deciding to help herself.

With much pain and huffs, Y/n managed to stand on her feet once more with a sway.

Antinous offered a loud laugh, ricocheting off the stone walls.

“You just can’t stay down, can you? Do you not want to see Odysseus in Hades?”

“Don’t you dare speak my father's name,” she hissed through gritted teeth. She leaned onto the pillar with one hand while her other held her hurt stomach. Something other than pain burned inside her—a yearning to see him hurt, to see Antinous suffer. 

A new energy boosted her body; her muscles didn’t feel as sore, and the pain was dissipating. Deciding not to question this, Y/n dodged another punch aimed for her jaw. With fast footing, she grabbed a spear off the wall beside her and countered another punch.

Antinous grabbed the spear to rip it from Y/n’s grasp. Quickly, Y/n pulled the spear closer to her and kicked Antinous in the ribs. Instead of knocking him down, he only stumbled back. 

‘Left’ A voice spoke in her mind. Y/n was about to question the order until she noticed Antinous barreling towards her and instantly followed the demanded direction. 

Dodging a swipe of his sword, the princess swung her spear down at the man's knees, causing him to trip. Looking down to where he fell, a sudden push of rage flowed through her veins.

‘Blood’

She didn’t need to hear the voice again to know exactly what to do. With momentum, Y/n brought the weapons head down into Anitnous’ thigh, earning a scream from the male. She ripped the weapon from his flesh only to bring it down once more with another bloody cry. Her thoughts seemed barren except for a new order from the unknown voice. 

‘Stop’

That order only seemed to boost her adrenaline. Stop? She couldn’t. Not with all this pent-up anger and frustration she felt for Antinous. Y/n needed to make him learn where he stood as a guest in her kingdom. But as she raised her spear once more, the voice barked a command louder and all her pain and exhaustion rushed in.

‘STOP’

In an instant, her spear clattered to the floor as Y/n held her head with a groan. Antinous was being tended to by his fellow suitors, who had opted to stay on the sidelines. With labored breaths, Y/n managed to stumble away from the dining hall and towards the empty training grounds. 

Exhausted, she slumped to the sandy floor and leaned her back against a rack of swords. Her eyes shut against the glaring sun as the royal attempted to regain her breath. To her pleasure, the heat was blocked by a sudden shadow. The young adult cracked open her eyes to see a darkened figure wearing the full armor of a Spartan soldier. A mixture of emotions flooded into her soul as she recognized the nation's armor. Was this news of her father from serving beside the Spartans? But her hope was snuffed out as the familiar voice spoke.

“Stand up.”

She wanted to argue, but something in her felt compelled to follow the instructions. So, shakily, Y/n stood up in front of the warrior. From a new angle, she could see the stranger's identity. All breath escaped her lungs as she recognized the being from similar statues and paintings.

“Ares.”

The god, who towered over her with his divine form, smirked at the recognition.

“Indeed. I’ve seen your skill, princess of Ithaca. You fight well,” the god of war stalked around the girl in a circle, seeing her state after the fight. 

Finally, the two pieces connected in her mind as she turned to face him.

“It was you. The voice. The orders. That was all you.”

“You follow orders well, except for when you’re told to stop. I like that sort of fight.” Ares stood tall, power and bloodlust radiating off him as his armor seemed to brighten a bloody red in the sun’s light.

“Why’d you stop me anyway? You are the god of bloodlust, are you not? I could’ve killed him and solved the whole problem!” Y/n argued, upset at the missed opportunity.

“Have you forgotten the laws of hospitality? You would have been punished harshly by the gods had I let you continue. Not even I can defy those.” He glared down at her with warning. In response, she looked away with a defeated huff.

“Why’d you even help me then?” She grumbled, looking at the nearby swords; a few training weapons had begun to rust from limited use. 

"You have the ambition needed for the battlefield. Why would I let such skill go to waste with no proper mentor?” This caused Y/n to look at him instantly in shock, meeting the gaze of a grinning god beneath his helmet.

“Mentor?” 

“Y/n of Ithaca. You fight to protect. You fight to the last stand. That is a warrior’s blood. Like your father before you, you have the makings of a legend.” Ares held out his hand like he was shaking for a deal. “Become my champion, and I will help you become stronger than any opponent you shall face.” 

Y/n thought it over for less than a few seconds before grabbing the gods hand in her own and shaking them up and down. 

“Deal.”

[blackbirdsblackberries]

"I hate the new hero" is such a brilliant fic idea! I absolutely devoured it. 

 

Especially if we throw in some angst into it. *evil laugh*

Like, what if the harassment was too much that it affected the reader’s other life?

What was at first a way for her to hide her superhero identity.. had now made her doubt her vigilante work?

 

I know the BatBoys won’t act as low to actually physically harass who they thought was a civilian student, no matter how much they hate it, but they’ll definitely make their life worse. Online harassment, endless accusations, fake rumours that caused the reader to be hated by the entire school. 

 

Until one day you had enough. As much as reader love Gotham, wanting to protect it. But you were only a student now.. a teenage with a future to strive for, a future Gotham Academy could no longer provide you. 

 

‘Are these people the ones I risk my life every night for..?’

‘What was the point..’

All kinds of self deprecating dark thoughts swirl inside the mind of the teenage girl. 

 

After some thought, you decided. 

 

“I’m leaving Gotham,” Aranea announces, sharp eyes looking down the streets of the city from the high rooftop. 

 

Red Robin almost lost his cool, a cold shudder went through him at the horrifying revelation. It was so sudden, why are you leaving? Leaving Gotham? Leaving them? Leaving him?

 

His brilliant mind moved at an almost inhuman speed, creating hundreds of possibilities for why you would come to that decision.

 

But he just doesn’t understand. “Why?” He finally let out, his voice so low he was worried you didn’t catch it. 

 

But you did. “I have my reasons.” You sigh, your brows furrowing in distress.

 

Oh, how Tim wished he could kiss your worries away. It kills him to see you so troubled.

 

“Why? Is something wrong?” He urged, his tone sounding desperate. “I swear if Red Hood did something—“

 

“No,” You shook your head, “Nothing’s wrong. At least not with you guys.”

 

“Then what is it?” He eyes you, trying to read you. “Is it your day life? Your life behind the mask?”

 

You didn’t answer, avoiding his gaze. You were too quiet, it was such a strange sight. Your eyes held a certain sadness, your smile gone. It’s killing him.  

 

Your silence gave him all the answers he needed. “Then tell me, tell me who you are. Let us help you.” He begs; he knows he’ll do anything you ask him to, and he knows his family would do the same. 

 

“You know we can’t do that.” You shook your head. 

 

Damn, this is getting too long. Haha.. I’ll stop. But yeah. It’s a brilliant idea. 

 

Imagine how crazy he’ll react if he knew that he was the cause of your worries. He was the one who hurt you. The angst will be delicious. 

STOP YOU'RE ACTUALLY READING MY MIND!!

Not to spoil too much but in future chapters Reader will start to doubt themselves and cracks will show.

Reader may also look elsewhere for places to save. After all, Gotham already has so many heroes, what's one gone?

But they can't let the optimistic sweetheart of a hero go now, can they? You know what they say, you can take the man out of the city but not the city out the man...

Who said that?! 😮‍💨

And for the third paragraph, I absolutely agree! They wouldn't stoop so low as to actually assault Reader. But that doesn't mean they can't misuse the power they have over Gotham (both in their vigilante life and real life).

Though if I were to say one name that I think would get slightly physical (passive aggressively) I would have to say Dick.

Dick is such an emotionally complex character. Damian has learnt from his past and knows better thanks to Bruce, Bruce wouldn't risk anything and would instead just verbally cause harm, Jason doesn't actually resort to violence a lot - he yells, he punches walls, etc but he has never actually hit someone without proper reason/justification, Tim is above violence while a civilian.

The way Dick would do it would be so casual though - a hug too tight, a handshake that "accidentally" breaks a finger, a hard "pat" on the back that makes you spit out whatever you're eating/drinking, small things that don't seem like much.

I also want to state that the Reader is very complex as well with how I write them. Their true personality is cautious, ambitious, kind, sarcastic, kinda cold and loyal but they either display one part too much or too little - kind, loyal and ambitious during hero work is up to 100 while cautious, sarcastic, cold is hidden at 30. Whereas while a civilian they show caution, coldness, sarcasm at 100 with loyalty, kindness and ambition down to 30-40.

I won't say much more though, again Reader is you guys so their "true" personality is up to you - this is just how they're perceived by people.

[fatkish]

Aisles and Class 1A x Fem Quirkless reader platonic hcs who’s cold, reserved, but still polite and nice to others. She’s a strict badass who’s also street smart and masters a bunch of weapons like throwing knives, guns, pole arms, etc, to replace her lack of a Quirk. One of the top students as well as the scariest girl in class as she gives it her all in class, sending anyone who challenges her to the infirmary anytime they fought her. Unlike Izuku, who at least grew up with a parent’s love, she had nobody and had to survive on the streets and illegal underground rings, earning many nasty scars that she hides behind her bandages and clothing which she always covers up with stuff like scarfs, gloves, even if it’s super hot out. She craves any love but backs down due to heavy discrimination, bullying, etc. hcs?

(So I’m gonna assume that Aisles is Aizawa because I don’t recall a character with that name. Also I’m gonna make the reader similar to Illumi Zoldyck from HxH)

Aizawa & Class 1A x Quirkless Reader

Growing up in the underground was harsh and brutal. In order to survive you had to be willing to do whatever it took

Whether it was stealing food, or fighting, you did anything that could increase the chances of your survival

Living on the streets, you grew up facing villains and thugs in the alleys, they would see you as an easy target so you had to learn to protect yourself

After years of fighting and being subjected to multiple quirks, you’ve built up a high resistance to physical pain. Not that you can’t feel pain, you just tolerate more of it better than others

You’ve learned various techniques and skills when it comes to fighting but you’re not just skilled with combat

Having no parents, you had to learn to cook for yourself and became somewhat skilled in the culinary arts

In order to make up for not having a quirk, you learned to wield every possible weapon and mastered the use of each

And in order to have money, you fought in illegal and legal underground fighting rings. These fights landed you plenty of scars to the point that you’re covered in them

You wear bandages and long clothing to hide the scars, however your choice of style can make you look suspicious

Due to growing up the way you did, you developed a rather cold and reserved personality but you maintained your manners and are very polite

You don’t really show a lot of emotion which can make people uncomfortable being around you, but you don’t really care

Originally, you weren’t going to go to highschool but you came across Aizawa one night when you were cornered by some thugs. He was about to step in when you seemingly appeared behind the thugs, then they all fell down unconscious. Aizawa thought you used a teleportation quirk. He understood that you were essentially homeless and had no family so he offered for you to stay with him for the night

As he began to understand your predicament, he was amazed at how quickly you picked up on things. You were incredibly smart and observant but that’s probably due to having lived on the streets

When Aizawa learned that you didn’t have a quirk he originally didn’t believe you. But after testing his quirk on you, he realized you were telling the truth

Aizawa actually gave you a recommendation to UA since he deeply believes that you would make a good hero

When you took the recommendation exam, you met Inasa who surprisingly quickly managed to worm his way past your walls and became your friend during the exam

After having passed the exam with flying colors you were given Inasa’s phone number since he learned you didn’t have a phone

Aizawa had later that day, bought you a phone for you to connect with the friends you would hopefully make

When school came around, Inasa had been coaching you on how to make friends, despite your cold personality you managed to befriend Izuku on the first day (more like he just didn’t have the balls to tell you you were scary)

You saw how Bakugou treated Izuku and you didn’t like how scared Izuku was so you decided to make an example out of Bakugou

During All Mights hero class, you were paired with Izuku and Uraraka. You followed Izuku and protected him from Bakugou. When Bakugou ignored All Might and used his stored up sweat, you decided that you had enough. You quickly went behind Bakugou and started to let loose on him, in the end, you accidentally sent him to recovery girl’s office since you didn’t know how to hold back

When Izuku saw this, he realized you weren’t that scary and you’re just not that good with social situations, he then took it upon himself to make you apart of the Dekusquad and you decided to keep hanging around him

Shoto and Momo have become some of your closer friends. Momo takes you shopping and loves to dress you up

Mineta, Koda and Aoyama are terrified of you. The girls all love that Mineta is too afraid to perv on you, so they use you as a shield to ward off Mineta

Kirishima and Ojiro are constantly asking you to spar with them as well as Bakugou. They don’t care that you can’t hold back most of your strength, the don’t care that sparring with you is a one way ticket to Recovery Girl, they admire your strength and they want to get stronger

When you’re relaxing, Shoto likes to hang around you since you both have the same cluelessness in the sense of social interactions

Although you have a hard time initiating affection, Aizawa makes sure you receive plenty of it whether it’s just a simple head pat or a small hug. Aizawa and Midoriya help you with learning how to express yourself since you’ve closed yourself off as a means to protect yourself

[lovecla]

© property of lovecla, nhl masterlist, nico hischier x you:

FAKE IT ‘TILL YOU MAKE IT, game plan:

➴ chapter warnings: none <3

➴ word count: 1.5k

💌 from me to you: and here’s the first chapter of fake it ‘till you make it! posting this sooner than expected in honor of last night’s game. can you guys believe we have nico hischier as our captain? how lucky are we? anyways! i hope you all like this! (the posting schedule will be just like TYPA, every other day!) ♡

𖧷

WHEN YOU tell people that being friends with a hot, young NHL player isn’t at all that great, all they do is look at you like you’re batshit crazy, and give you one hundred and fifty four arguments trying to make you, someone who’s been friends with a guy who’s been a NHL star player for the past few years, see how wrong you are.

You love Nico Hischier. You really do. You met him when you were just eighteen, being friends with his sister, Nina, and immediately locking in with Nico. He’s the sweetest, kindest and most loving man you have ever met in your life, and now that you’re twenty-three, almost twenty-four, you can see how rare men like Nico are.

But now that he’s a famous player, captain of an entire team and known for being one of the hottest men in the NHL, you sure feel like you’re paying a high price for being in his life.

Not in a bad way, though. It just sucks to see the amount of women throwing themselves at his feet, and what sucks even more, is knowing that he won’t even blink an eye at them because he’s head over heels for Nora Ellis, a crazy girl he met two years ago at a party.

Nora is beautiful, you’ll give him that. And usually, you wouldn’t be upset with him having a crush. In fact, you and Nina are always encouraging him to engage in new relationships and meet new people, so that he isn’t only worried about his job.

Nora. She’s the most beautiful black woman you have ever seen. She’s intelligent, she’s funny and she knows things about Hockey like no one else— being the daughter of one of the most talented coaches in the NHL does that to you, you guess.

The only problem with Nora Ellis is the fact that she only cares for men who are in a relationship.

Married or dating, she doesn’t care. Her only goal is to make them give up on their partner to be with her, and once she gets tired of them, she finds another mission to busy herself with.

Nico doesn’t seem to notice that. To be fair, no one really does. She can be very subtle and discreet, and the only reason why you caught up on that in the first place is because every party you go to, you try to blend yourself with the walls, so you don’t get too much attention on yourself.

Nico always tells you to stay by his side and mingle with his friends, but by the end of the night, you’re always sitting near the bathroom door, with a drink in your hands, watching the party unfold with attentive eyes.

And turns out that a lot can happen in the bathroom of a party full of NHL players and Nora Ellis.

So you know she’s not good for him. You’ve tried to talk him out of it more times than you can actually recall, but it’s a dead end. Nico’s in love with her, and has been for two years now. He won’t give up on her unless something really drastic happens, but since Nora is really good at what she does— destroying relationships for fun—, nothing will ever rise to the surface.

“She’s so… pretty,” Nico sighs, sitting on the couch beside you, making you sigh and put your book down, not forgetting to mark the page you were in. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you.”

You smile, touching his cheek, watching with awe as his dimples appear. “It’s fine, Dimples.”

He rolls his eyes as he always does when you call him that, and continues.

“You’re the only one who still listens to me ramble about Nora,” he pouts. “Nina said that if I talk about her one more time, she’ll fly to Newark and personally destroy my phone so I can’t call her anymore.”

You laugh loudly, perfectly picturing Nina saying that.

“And Luca?” you ask, raising your eyebrow.

“Luca just says I need to move on.”

“Well, he’s always been more patient than Nina, that’s for sure,” you nod, placing your book on Nico’s coffee table and bringing your knees close to your chest, resting your head on them. “But… he’s not wrong, y’know?”

Nico gives you the puppy eyes, as he always does whenever someone mentions that he should get over Nora, and you sigh again.

Seeing him like this sucked in every way. And you’ve tried everything— get him on dating apps, blind dates, normal dates, pointing at a pretty girl at a party, literally everything.

And still, he’s not budging.

“I wish she would just look at me. I’m handsome, right?” He looks at you, brown eyes filled with despair.

You spend some seconds analyzing him, as you often liked to do. His brown, hazelnut eyes that shined bright everyday, his hair that’s now a little bit longer than usual, his legs and arms which are absolutely huge— when did he get that big anyway?— and his perfect, charming smile and dimples.

“Emma?”

“O-oh, yeah, you’re… fine, I guess,” you shrug, trying to hide the fact that you were checking him out. Weird. “It’s not about you, Nico, I’ve said that before.”

“Okay, but why won’t she pay attention to me, then?”

Because you don’t have a girlfriend, is what you want to say.

Wait.

“Oh my God!” you jump in your seat, scaring Nico who lets out a loud scream and jumps out of the couch with you.

“What the— Emma.” He puts his hands on his hips, trying to look scary, but you brush him off.

“I know how to make her fall in love with you,” you smile, walking around in circles, trying to organize your thoughts inside your head. Nico. Nora. She thinks she’s in love. Nico’s happy. They get together. She’ll leave him after three months or so. Nico’s sad. But! Nico’s moved on. “God, how did I not think of that before?”

“What are you talking about—”

“We have to date.”

Nico stares at you like you’re crazy, his eyes big and confused. He opens his mouth a few times, probably trying to think of something to say, before closing it and inhaling the air.

You wait for him to say something, but when it’s obvious that he won’t, you continue:

“I know it sounds crazy, and I know what you must be thinking, but hear me out,” you step closer, looking up at him. “Girls sometimes don’t pay attention to guys because… well, because they can’t really see them. Like, for example: there’s this one guy in my office which I don’t care about, he’s just my coworker and nothing else.”

“What does this have to do with—” you put your index finger over his lips, shushing him.

“Wait,” you say. “So, he’s there and he isn’t anything. Until, one night, I had a dream that he’s dating me. And suddenly, I wake up and go to work, and I can’t see him the same way I did before. I start noticing how nice his hair is or how tall he is. Do you understand it now?”

Nico smiles, scratching his forehead with his finger.

“No, Emma. That doesn’t even make sense.”

You snort. “Because you’re a man. But trust me on this one, Nico. The second Nora sees you with someone else, she will notice you.”

Mostly because she’s a whore, but we’ll keep that to ourselves for a while.

“Do you have… like… a crush on me or something?” His face is now red and he gets closer to you, placing his hand on your shoulder while he looks like he’s trying to comfort you. “Is that why you want to do this?”

“What— No, what the hell!” you can feel your face getting warm and you step away from him. “No, I don’t have a c-crush on you. I just can’t stand you talking about her anymore. I’m your friend, so I will help you.”

Nico sighs, relieved it seems, still looking unsure.

“You don’t have to do it, if you don’t want to,” you say, closing your eyes for a few seconds. “I know it sounds crazy and I know you probably think I’m trying to get something here but in reality—”

“I’ll do it.”

“What?!” you can’t hide your surprise, almost shouting with how loud you spoke.

He smiles, sitting back on the couch, spreading his thighs and stretching his arms. “I mean, you’re never wrong about these love related things. You did get my sister an amazing boyfriend and you did manage to convince my brother to ask that girl out, and now they’re married. So it’s probably my turn to accept your love advice and shit, right?”

You’re starting to feel bad about this whole thing, because you know Nora will probably break his heart in thousands of little pieces, but what else can you do?

It’s the perfect plan, you think to yourself. It’s flawless, and it will work.

“I try my best,” you give him a half-smile, crossing your arms in front of your chest. “But you have to promise me something.”

Nico nods. “Anything.”

“If this doesn’t work out, then you'll move on.”

“Emma—”

“It’s not healthy for you to be thristing over someone for this much time,” you sit on the couch next to him and place your hand on his shoulder, giving it a little squeeze. “We will fight, and we will fight hard, but if there’s no results in three months, and I’m being generous, we’ll move on. Okay?”

Nico stared at his hands, biting his lips before looking at you again.

“Okay.”

𖧷

<next chapter>

[uzurimisery]

chapter 4: the bluff. / coriolanus snow / nsfw

Rating: Explicit

WC: 6746

Warnings: MDNI, rough sex, he's still insane and possessive, PIV, unprotected sex (this guy is never wearing a condom ever), angry sex, he's not a good guy but he's hot, not beta read

AO3 version | Series master

You slammed the dressing room door shut. “What the hell was that , Coriolanus?” pacing the length of the room, anger seeping out of you. “Did you forget what we were supposed to do? We were supposed to play it off, say we were too young. That was not playing it off! That was proposing!”

In your rage, you stumbled in your heels. He watched you curse under your breath, undoing the strap on them and throwing them across the room. Coriolanus didn’t move, cemented in his spot just past the door.

“Listen to me Y/N,” his tone was stern, like a parent scolding a child. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Of course you did!” you interrupted your voice tinged with sarcasm. “You always do whatever you want, don’t you? Here, the gala, the dinner. Always regardless of the consequences!”

Your words were sharp, digging in the fact that whatever was going on between you two there was meant to be a unified front, a single storyline. You were meant to be partners in the power play, both of you using each other to further your positions. All the work that went into constructing the next five years of the act was undone in an instant.

“I thought we were on the same page, Coriolanus. There was a plan for what we were going to do, but you just fucked it up!” He was always hypercritical of himself, internal monologue pointing out his every mistake, but you doing the same set him off.

“Can you shut up for five seconds! Or are you so self-obsessed that you can't let anyone else get a word in.”

“How dare you try and talk to me about being self-obsessed you narcissistic, unthoughtful-”

“There you go! Proving my point. You can’t even get off your high horse for a minute so I can explain why I did that.”

“You want to explain? Fine then, explain.” you spat.

Coriolanus’ jaw clenched. You were so hot and cold with him. He could never gauge what you really wanted in all of this, and you would never just tell him either.

“I saw an opportunity.”

“For what?”

“To play the part, to make the story so much better. Picture it, Coriolanus Snow, a man who has always been so organised and timely there are articles on how to put your life together like him, rushing into something. He’s so in love with his mentor’s daughter that he proposes to her on stage in front of all of Panem, and he doesn’t even have a ring on him because at that moment he realises that he can’t live without her.”

Your eyebrows were drawn, scanning over his face like you were looking for a fault in what he said, as you dissected it. There was nothing wrong with it though. The show was exactly how he described it. It painted him as a kind and caring man, beyond his known abilities at game making.

“You should have told me ahead of time.”

“I didn’t have a chance. I thought of it while getting ready.” he was lying, and you could tell. Seeing through lies was your speciality. He hadn’t thought about it while getting ready.

You called him on his bluff. “Bullshit. You didn’t have any plan, that was all impulse.” you were digging your finger into his chest to make your point. “You could have ruined everything we’ve been working on, made the past year pointless. What if I hadn’t followed along? What if I lost my composure for your little outburst? It’s not just your future on the line here Coriolanus. I’m leaving.”

Your shoulder bumped into his as you moved to walk out of the room, but his arm wrapped around your waist pulling you back and lifting you off the ground.

“Y/N,” he started.

“Let me go!”

“You don’t get to walk away from me. You need to listen to me.”

“I’m done listening to you, put me down!”

“Well, I’m not done talking!” Coriolanus pushed your back against the wall, pinning you in place.

Why couldn’t you just listen to him like you normally did? Why were you so upset with him? What he did was off-script but it still looked good, and it still achieved your shared goals. You didn’t get to walk away from him when he was right.

You slapped him, still able to move your arms. “I told you to let me go.” He tasted blood in his mouth. When he smiled at you, you felt your blood run cold.

“Are you done?” His teeth had traces of blood on them.

You weren’t about to be intimidated by him. You didn’t cower or beg anyone, and that included Coriolanus Snow. “Let. Me. Go.” your demands fell on deaf ears.

His smile only widened, eyes glistening with a sinister light. You thought he’d be furious with you, and hated that you were out of control, but it seemed more like he enjoyed it. That he liked it when you fought back.

“I told you Y/N, I’m not done talking.”

You moved to slap him again but were met with your wrists being grabbed and pinned above your head, utterly defenceless for whatever happened next. The expectation for him to strike you back weighing in the air. But he didn’t. Instead, his lips met yours, forcing your mouth open and letting his tongue in. You tried to fight back but he bit down on your lip and stopped you. His tongue only became more insistent. Copper on both your tongues.

You didn’t hate it. You were still mad at him, obviously, but the sexual tension that always between the two of you beckoned, its tendrils wrapping around you. Who said some angry sex wasn’t the solution to your being mad at him?

Your teeth clacked against each other as you jumped up, wrapping your legs around his midsection. Coriolanus’ free hand moved to support you. Standing like this he was able to grind his hips against yours, the friction delicious. The kiss was messy, both of you trying to prove something to the other with it.

When you pulled apart for air you spoke. “Let me go.” His breath was laboured, just as yours was, the rough makeout session leaving the both of you breathless.

“Not a chance, sweet girl.”

His grip on your wrists loosened, letting you slip free to pull at his hair, connecting your mouths once again. Your moans mixed with his own, body rolling to press your clothed pussy over his erection. Even though he had picked you up a multitude of times, it was always surprising how strong he actually was. His slim build did not give away how strong he actually was.

Everything between you was primal, driven by lust and anger.

Coriolanus brought you over to the couch, dropping you on your back. He liked you best like this, on your back and needy. Your high horse forgotten, and the only thing you rode him. The both of you took care to remove your clothes carefully, neither wanting to deal with a lecture from Tigris as well as knowing you had a dinner to attend in them after this. But that was where the caution ended.

The moment you were naked he had his fingers stretching you open with his thumb toying at your clit. His mouth was all over your skin, biting your breasts, adding to the marks already covering you. He was so rough with you and made you feel so small. But god did he know exactly what to do to you.

Your moans were sharp as he brought you to an orgasm. Everything you did drove him up a wall. Every time he thought he could move past it, ignoring the feeling, your pussy sucked him back in. It was your fault he made a mistake, that he lost his composure, that he went off script. He wanted access to your warmth whenever he wanted.

No matter how much he consumed you, he was still hungry, the type of hunger he hadn’t felt since the war. The one with claws that tore at his insides, teeth grinding into his bones. A bottomless pit that could never be filled. It clouded his mind with thoughts of you, your breasts and hips, the pout of your lips. He could almost always feel the sensation of you against him, biting into your soft flesh. It made him emotionally volatile, willing to risk everything for just a crumb. But every time he got a bite it filled him with dread.

Your perfume, boozy and peachy, a reminder that the only thing that would ever fill this hole was you. That when he was on the brink of death, starving and empty, it was you who would nourish him. Your being the very source of all his problems and all his solutions at the same time. A double-edged sword driving into his heart with every step he took towards you.

“See? Look how good you have it when you just behave.” you weren’t out of it yet, still able to spite back in vitriol.

“Fuck you.”

“Already have.” Coriolanus flipped you on your front, positioning you on your knees with your chest pressed against the couch.

Like this, he got to spread you open, look at what your body could offer him. Why did you have to be you? Why did you have to rival his mind and have such a perfect body? It ruined everything.

His fingers pressed back into you. He could watch you drip down them for hours, whiny and whimpering from his actions. Begging him to fuck you. No matter how you tried to act like you weren’t. You were just like him. Hungry and waiting.

Coriolanus lined up his cock with your entrance. Instead of easing into you, he thrust in fully, jolting your body forward. He wanted it to hurt, to make you feel sorry for blowing up at him. To show you that no matter how you acted out he could fuck you back into place.

He fucked you hard and fast, pulling your head back by your hair. It forced you up and to put your hands on the back of the couch. Your back arched, your shoulders almost against his chest. His other hand pinched at your nipples and tugged at them. It hurt, the perfect mix of pain and pleasure.

Moving his hand out of your hair, his fingers hooked into the side of your mouth. “Your mouth can be used for better things than being disrespectful.” your drool pooled around them, dribbling out the side of your mouth as you spoke.

“I’m gonna cum.” your speech altered from his fingers.

“I don’t care.” he did care, but he couldn’t let you know that, not right now. The biggest ego death to him would be if he was unable to make you cum. It fed his ego every time you clenched down around him, pussy fluttering from your orgasm. He didn’t slow down or let up, fully intent on taking his frustration out on you.

The air between you was hot and heavy, thick with the smell of sex. With his hands free, your waist became his new hold stone. Coriolanus didn’t even have to pull your hips to meet his, you were doing that for him, bucking backwards in time. Each trust had you panting little praises for him.

He wanted to see your face. You felt him pull out of you and then sit down on the couch next to you. “Ride me.”

You shifted, placing your knees on either side of him as you sunk down on his length. When you got to the base, you took a moment to recollect yourself, head tucked into the crook of his neck. Coriolanus’ lips found the crown of your head before he even recognised what he was doing. It was odd. This intimate act in the midst of all of this. He wanted to show you that he cared, that he wasn’t mad at you anymore. Why wasn’t he mad at you anymore? He was the type to let his anger fester, angry with infection. He waited until the moment was right and then he spread his sickness, cutting down whoever upset him. You were more useful than being cut down; however, he felt strongly towards you. The one thing he wouldn’t do is name those feelings.

The drag of your hips cut off his line of thought. He watched as you rode him, your thighs shaky but not letting it stop you. When you pulled your head out to kiss him he met you, enjoying the feeling of your lips against his. Hair and makeup would have a hay day with the two of you but the way you went all the way up, his tip the only thing inside you, to then your ass flush with his thighs made their annoyance worth it. Wanting to feel you cum around him again, his thumb began circling your clit, working you up to another orgasm.

“I’m close.”

“I know.”

Your hips slowed as you came, exhausted from riding him. But Coriolanus wasn’t done. His hand wrapped around your waist, moving you to an elevated position with his dick still inside you, and he began thrusting up into you. “Hold yourself just like that sweet girl.” You did as he told you, your head lulling to the front pressing your forehead against his. With a few final thrusts, he came inside you. You were winded, your eyes closed as he guided your bodies apart and grabbed a disposal west wipe to clean the both of you up. Finally, with that done, he could lay down and settle you on top of him, both of you naked and sweaty.

Neither of you spoke for a while, just listening to each other breathe, your head on his chest.

“I’m sorry.” apologises always felt like he was trying to speak a foreign language, his tongue struggling to make the sounds. “I shouldn’t have acted impulsively.”

“I'm sorry too. I shouldn’t have blown up on you.” his fingers traced your hairline as you lay on top of him, still reeling from the sex. “I just don’t like when things don’t go to plan, and they’ve not been going to plan between us.”

He couldn’t argue against that. Everything was so fuzzy between you. He didn’t know what you were feeling, but his feelings were you weren’t something he could ignore. When he said that he couldn’t picture his life without you it was true. He thought that speaking it out to the world would alleviate the pressure, and make it something he could keep inside himself, but he didn’t. He needed you to know that it meant it.

“Would it be so bad, marrying me?”

You picked your head up. “No,” you sighed. “It wouldn’t be.” He watched you find your original position, ear over his heart.

“We could be allies.” his heart pounded as you traced patterns on his skin. “You’re the first person I’ve met I’d consider that with. I could make you the First Lady of Panem.”

Being the First Lady was an appealing idea. You’d be able to do so much more in that position. It was a core belief of yours that the games were only the first step in binding the loyalty of the country, to furthering the control over the populace. Aid programs needed to be doled out in the Districts. People who were content were less likely to look behind the curtain and see what was really happening.

“What happens when you fall in love with someone? Would we divorce and I’d lose everything, both the games and my position?” there was uncertainty in your voice.

There could never be someone after you. You were it for him. Sure he could find a docile wife and marry her, leave her be and just have kids with her. But she could never truly know him. But you could, and you were learning the true him. And you wouldn’t make him separate his work and home life, you’d dive into it with him, lethal and cunning.

“That won’t happen,” he was blunt with his statement. “You’re the only one I could do this with.”

It felt like the weight was finally lifting off him some. The pressure that had been building and threatening to blow, to whistle like a kettle. As much as he had intended for your relationship to be a temporary political alliance, he wanted it to be permanent. He didn’t trust people, but he was growing to trust you, knowing that your goals were ultimately the same.

“But what if it does?” He had never seen you so worried about his feelings, genuine concern. “Or what if I fall in love with someone else?”

“Y/N,” his thumb brushed your lips, making you face him again. “I promise you that is never going to happen. Okay?”

“Okay.”

With a final look of determination, kissed you, his lips bruising against your own. He was hoping that it conveyed that he meant it with all his heart. He was never going to fall in love with someone else, the home you made in his heart was always going to be yours. The decor exactly how you left it if you ever walked away, waiting for you to come back. You’d never get the chance to walk away but that was the sentiment, that he could forgive you for leaving him if he took you back and you stayed with him. A dove with a broken wing was still a dove. It might not be able to soar in the slides, free from the gravity of the world, but it was still a dove. Even if he broke you and locked you up, you’d still be you.

He could never love another, not when he loved you. Coriolanus loved you. The realisation shook him, a tempestuous collision of the man he was and the man he wanted to be. The crack formed by Lucy Gray was broken open once again by you. He had convinced himself that love was a weakness, that it was something to be exploited. Over the past year of getting to know you, getting to be with you, you had challenged his core beliefs, forcing him to confront the fact that he loved you.

It was hard admitting it to himself. Just hours earlier he had told Tigris off for even suggesting the idea of it, vehemently denying it. He didn’t want to love you then, terrified at the idea of you finding out and leaving. But you had said it wouldn’t be so bad to be married to him, that you’d be willing to be allies for the rest of your life. The truth was there though, written into every interaction he had with you. The glaring reality that he could no longer ignore, lingered in his eyes like a burned-in image.

It was terrifying, the exact opposite of the control he wanted to have over those around him, to have you control his heart. The practised emotional detachment he had led his life with failed in his darkest hour. The fear that you’d be just like Lucy Gray and run. It didn’t matter that you both worked on the games, that he had seen you develop new ways to punish the Capitol’s enemies, that you had just as much darkness within you as he did. That you were as ruthless as he was. The betrayal he had once experienced at the hands of a District dog had him petrified of it happening again.

Could he erase your existence like he did hers if something happened? The thought was both horrifying and tempting. He didn’t want it to come to that, to erase you, to discard you like a broken toy. You were better than Lucy Gray, you wouldn’t betray him. He wouldn’t let you. But he couldn’t come to you with this, not yet. Coriolanus Snow needed you to break down and beg him to tell him that he loved you. When he could see you, lost in your feelings for him, then he could tell you. Not before, not after. But at the moment when you are in desperate need of him, he could tell you. Only then could he believe that you loved him too.

______________________________________

Things have been busy since then and luckily you have been able to avoid conversation with your mother too. Coriolanus and you had no time to talk about your game plan and what would've happened next as the games started. Every day you were at the Citadel, ensuring things ran smoothly. He was there too, doing his own work, but the amount you had to do kept you from each other. It wasn’t until after the games ended that the two of you got a moment alone. Of course, you had been to several events together but you couldn't talk about things there. So when the last person left the production room, you were finally alone with him.

“Did you mean what you said that night on the balcony, that it was hard pretending that you loved me?”

The two of you were in his private lab. You were sitting on the edge of his desk instead of a chair, something he noticed you liked to do. After the cameras had been turned off you had taken your hair down from the pinned updo made of a braid, letting the braid hang loose.  The heels you were wearing off your feet and lost in the room. Coriolianus’ head was in your lap as your fingers brushed through his hair. The slight stubble he’d grown over the last two days catching on your tights.

His voice was muffled by your thigh. “No.”

“No you didn't mean it or no it isn’t hard pretending that you love me?” Your fingers were putting him to sleep. It had been so long since he had been touched like this. He only had one strong memory of his mother. They had been sitting before the fire, her belly full with his younger sister, her finger running through his, much like your own, singing a song he couldn’t remember now, the melody lost with time.

“No,” he finally replied, groggy. “It’s not hard pretending that I love you”

There was a flicker of hope within you when he first confessed to you that night on the balcony. You had convinced yourself that he was being vulnerable with you then, letting you in. Was this him adding kindling to that fire or dousing it?

“Is it easy then?” Each word was laced with intrigue and tinged with trepidation. The question wormed itself into the conversation, hanging in the air like the hum of the machinery. He tensed under you like he had been unprepared for this conversation, a betrayal of how he normally was.

Coriolanus’ response was slow, deliberate and weighted, with every individual syllable chosen carefully. “No, it’s not easy either.” The threading of your fingers felt so good against his scalp, it was criminal. “It’s neither easy nor hard, it’s necessary.” He shrugged with that statement, drowsy from the long day and your actions.

It was strange seeing him like this, his head in your lap as he was half asleep. The Coriolanus you knew was a man of fronts, never betraying his persona of unwavering composure and unyielding strength. He was smart and capable, bringing the Snow family back from the brink of destruction. But now there was no front present. He was relaxed and open, the tension in his shoulders finally released as he rested on your thighs. You could see every pore of skin, every hair out of place. There was a faint scar above his lip, so blended with his skin that you had never seen it before. It had access to the same medical and cosmetic treatments as you did meaning that he had left this one there on purpose. A reminder of something that had happened to him.

You chewed on his words as you watched him. It was neither easy nor hard pretending that he loved you, it was necessary. It was a non-answer, a refusal to tell you his feelings on the matter, that itself a revealing statement. He was used to his words working on others, his honied lips spinning the sweetest lies. But you had watched him, seen him change over the years. Coriolanus was a man burdened with his own demons that sat at the table with him. There was an understanding in that. You had your own demons that sat in the corner of your room every night, watching you sleep and whispering dangerous things. Neither of you were innocent good-hearted people, both of you violent and deadly.

But his cracks were showing, and that night under the stars with too much to drink, he had let you see just how much they were cracking. You were willing to pick up the pieces and help him put them back together. Your own feelings were the same as his, you were just better at hiding it.

“My father wants us to have an engagement party.”

“When?”

“In two weeks at my family estate,” knowing your father, it was going to be a spectacle. He doted on you. “But he wants to have a private dinner before that, just your family and mine.” His only family was Grandma’am and Tigris. If you wanted to, you could count the Plinths as family, even though he hated the thought of having any relationship with them.

“That’s fine. I’m sure Grandma’am will be excited, she’s been pestering me about marrying you while she’s still alive to see it.”

“She wants you to marry me?”

He murmured some form of agreement, still out of it. “She says you make me smile like I haven’t since I was a boy. It’s annoying actually, she keeps demanding that I bring you around for lunch.” This was news. Your interactions with Grandma’am had always been under the pretence of public events, you never thought much of them, but apparently she had. More than that, she thought more of your effect on her grandson.

“You should be kinder to her, you don’t know how long she’s got left.”

Coriolanus’ head lifted from your lap, rubbing his eyes as he propped his head up on a hand. “I know,” it wasn’t nice to have to think about the fact his Grandma’am was up there in age, that she maybe had another 15 years left. If that. “I’ll tell her we’ll do lunch then.”

Your smile was irresistible. “Good. The least you can do for her is let her think that you’ve found someone you genuinely love, and who loves you just as much. She’ll never know that it's just an act either. It’ll let her rest easy knowing you’re taken care of.”

His heart sank, and his stomach dropped out and onto the ground.

“Yeah, it’s a good act too.”

______________________________________

Coriolanus paced in the foyer, stopping every so often his fingers fidgeting with the knot of his tie, loosening and tightening it. His outfit was simple and smart today. His father's button-up with a red tie, a grey pinstripe waistcoat and matching trousers. The black leather of his oxfords had been polished earlier in the morning. He felt antsy, just wanting to get this luncheon over with. He shouldn’t have told you that Grandma’am wanted this, he must have been out of his mind when he did.

“Coriolanus my boy,” Grandma’am had snuck up behind him, making him jump as she put her hands on his shoulders. “You look as handsome as always, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

His smile was weak in the mirror, not reaching his eyes. “Thank you Grandma’am.” She fiddled with the shoulder of his shirt, lining it up properly as it had been moved from his walking around.

“You must really love her if it’s got you like this.”

“I do.” The words were heavy. This was the first time he had acknowledged his feelings for you to another person. The vulnerability threatened to consume him.

“I’m glad,” her eyes became teary as she spoke. “Your mother loved your father so much. I remember their wedding day. She was so nervous, running around like a rabbit. You remind me of her sometimes.” she threw her hands up like the statement was outlandish. “But of course, you’re more like your father than anything else. Strong Coriolanus Snow.”

They rarely talked about his parents, or Tigris’ parents, like this. It was easier for them all to let the dead stay dead. A bittersweet ache spread through him.

“I’m glad.” He reached out and took Grandma's hand, offering her some comfort. Talking about her dead children always set her off. They stood in silence for a beat, hand in hand, each processing their own feelings before he shattered the quiet.

“It’s easier to let the dead stay dead.”

Grandma’am nodded, her handkerchief to her eye to clean up the tears she had spilt. “Sometimes,” she acknowledges, “the past is too painful to revisit. But it’s important to remember Coriolanus. To remember the love, the laughter, the life that was lived. To honour those who came before you.”

But he didn’t want to remember the past. The past made everything worse.

The ring of the elevator cut the conversation short. You were here, and he was nervous. This was no different than a public event, you both knew the parts to play, but it was so different at the same time. You were in his family home, eating with him and his Grandma’am, and doing it purely because you thought she deserved to think someone loved him. Doing it because you cared for her. It was here that his history echoed, ghosts of the past hanging on every wall. Remnants of the boy he once was tucked away in boxes, now dusty with age.

As the elevator doors opened, revealing you standing there, those boxes came out of storage and were placed on the table for you to sort through.

“Oh! Miss Gaul! Please come in.” Grandma’am rushed towards you, excited to have you over.

“Grandma’am,” you chided, pulling her into a hug. She had shrunk in her old age and your heels didn’t help the equation, making you bend down to do so. “I’ve told you a thousand times to call me Y/N. Plus soon enough I’ll Mrs. Snow.”

“I know, I know, I just forget sometimes. Perhaps I should just call you Mrs. Snow!”

“Now I think that’s a wonderful idea!” You took a second to greet Coriolanus with a kiss and then went back to chatting with Grandma’am taking her hands in your own.

You were so delicate with her, it pained him to watch you be so kind to her. You nodded along diligently to whatever she said and were actively engaging in the conversation. He could tell that you weren’t pretending to care and that you actually wanted to speak with his grandmother. She was so animated with you like years had been removed from her. He had spent so long trying to protect her from all that had happened, and all that he had done. His actions had severed parts of their relationship, and with Tigris not living in the apartment anymore, she must have grown lonely. But you brought her back, the vibrant woman who could connect with the world.

Coriolanus sidled up to you, arm wrapping around your waist. “I hate to interrupt your conversation ladies, but I do believe Y/N came here for lunch.” It felt so right to have you like this.

“Yes, yes, Coriolanus,” Grandma’am started, “I’ll go make sure the cook has prepared everything. Why don't you show Y/N into the dining room.”

“Of course, Grandma’am.”

Alone, he nipped at your ear, his breath making your heart skip a beat. His hands were warm, one placed on your stomach the the other on your arm. You could smell the mint on his breath when he uttered a whisper in your ear, his voice low and husky. “You look stunning today.”

You were wearing all black today, something that went against the average Capitol woman. It was a high neck mini dress, stopping a few inches above your knee. The sleeves were long, longer than your hands and instead of normal holes, the fabric was spliced up to your elbow. Your heels were lower than they normally were from press events, no doubt more comfortable. The splash of colour came from your earrings. They were red, with a velvety coating on them, and shaped like rose petals separated and hung on a chain. You had remembered Grandma’am’s love of roses.

“It’s not for you, you know.” you took every opportunity to tease him. “But thank you.”

You had no idea what you did to him. “If it were for me it’d be on the floor by now.”

“Well then, it’s a good thing this is for Grandma’am and not you.” You patted his cheek. “Now are you going to show me to the dining room Coriolanus?” When you said his name you mirrored the way his Grandma’am said it.

A crooked grin rose on his face with a small laugh. “With pleasure, my dear,” he replied biting your ear again before leading you through the grand hallways of the apartment. His hand never left your back until you were sat down. You were on Coriolanus’ right, with his chair being at the head of the table.

The table was smaller than the average dining room table in the Capitol, unsurprising given the number of Snow family members there were left. It looked to seat about 10 people maximum. It was a dark-stained wood, a style that was popular in the prewar days. The walls were a pale blue, covered in a patterned wallpaper. The signature tile flooring of the apartment was carried into the dining room, laid in a geometric style with the table in the centre. It was all a testament to the family’s long history and enduring presence in the Capitol, a microcosm of the Capitol itself.

“Have you told her about the dinner?”

“No I haven’t had a chance yet-”

“What dinner?” Grandma’am sauntered into the room, waiting for Coriolanus to pull out her seat so she could sit. “The cook prepared quite a  lunch today,” she listed out the menu after she sat down, Coriolanus returning to his own seat, arms resting on the table.

“That all sounds wonderful Grandma’am. Corio’s told me how wonderful your chef is.”

“Yes, I do agree. It took me ages to find one that I liked, so many of them are lacklustre these days.”

“Well I hope my family’s chef won't disappoint you then.” you grabbed his hand on the table. “My father wanted me to invite you to a family dinner on Friday evening. It’s just a small get-together to introduce everyone to each other properly. After all, we’ll be one family soon.

“Oh, that is a wonderful idea! I’ve always had such admiration for your father’s interior design work.” Grandma’am's voice faded out for Coriolanus as she spoke. Rambling about how your father had ‘brought back the elegance of the Capitol’ through his job. Coriolanus was focused on one thing.

You were wearing the ring. He had gone in between rings for what felt like a millennium till settling on a custom made. It was reminiscent of the one he remembered his mother wearing, covered in diamonds and made of gold. Your was made of platinum, far more durable than gold and less like the be damaged by your time in the labs and only plated in gold. The centre stone was large, 1.5 carats, an emerald cut diamond. The style of the ring was similar to an ornate mirror. There were 22 stones in total, each one glittering from the chandelier's light. He hadn't stopped with just the one ring either, he needed to decorate you in the finest jewels he could buy with the Plinth family fortune. That's why your index finger had a stack of thinner, geometric, stack complimenting the engagement ring.

It thrilled him. Wedding rings were no more than a shackle connecting you to him. A show of his authority over you. Marrying you wasn’t about companionship, it was to own you. To change your last name to his own and let everyone know that he would never leave you alone. Maybe he’d let you hyphenate your last name, and you’d like that, it went against the norm.

His thumb rubbed against his own engagement ring. His was simpler, he didn’t enjoy the over-the-top couture and showmanship of the Capitol, a think gold plated platinum band with a matching kite cut diamond flush set into it. The kite shape echoed by etchings around the placement. You had picked the ring out for him after seeing your own, saying that you wanted it to match with yours. It was ironic that you chose a kite shape. They flew high in the sky, a symbol of freedom and soaring ambition.

The luncheon was nice, you had to admit. You didn’t have a living grandmother and it was nice to talk with Grandma’am as you ate. She kept telling stories of Coriolanus’ youth, much to his chagrin. The stories, and how he treated her, were different than what you had expected. He was cold towards Tigris, but he had so much warmth towards Grandma’am. What had happened between the two that caused a rift? Grandma’am spoke as if the two had been thick as thieves growing up.

When the plates were cleared, you joined Grandma’am in the kitchen as she made coffee for the two of you, Coriolanus somewhere in the apartment answering a message on his communicuff. You had offered to do it but she insisted on doing it herself, telling you that the machine was too complicated for a guest to use. But you know exactly how to use it, but that was a secret.

When she sat across from you, both your mugs steaming, her eyes were sombre. “Can you be honest with a foolish old woman?”

“I don’t see any old women here, but I can be honest.” her chuckle was wethered and dry, telling of someone who had lived through too much.

“I know my Coriolanus is a difficult man,” she always insisted on using his full name. “He’s much like his father in that regard, and I would know having raised them both. But you’re good for him. When I see him with you it's like all the horrible things he had to live through are forgotten, and that he’s that smiling boy  running around the apartment with his mother chasing after him again.” Grandma’am’s voice broke as the spoke, teetering on the edge of crying.

You grabbed her hand and squeezed it. She loved him so much.

“I love him Grandma’am, I really do.” candour in every word you spoke. “With him, I feel like I can do anything, be anything. Sometimes I think it’s all too good to be true and that one day I’ll wake up and this was all a dream that I had. Every day I pinch myself to make sure it's still real.”

“Will you always?” 

“There’s no future in which I don’t love him. He’s my now and always. And even if one day we weren’t together anymore, I’d still love him and I’d still support him. Just like he’d do the same for me.”

As you spoke Grandma’am’s tears flowed freely, but they weren’t tears of sadness, they were tears of gratitude. She saw in you that she didn’t have to worry anymore, that someone other than her would love him unconditionally. Be a sanctuary to his troubled heart.

“Thank you.” as the older woman bawled you got up to hug her, rubbing her back as she sobbed.

Coriolanus had heard the whole thing but he couldn’t tell if you had said it for her or it was a confession of your true feelings. You were always perfect at playing your part.

taglist: @serrendiipty @namelesslosers @glitteryblizzardsalad

[loveinhawkins]

ao3

Steve hears Eddie’s voice in The Upside Down.

It starts when they reach the vine infested attic of the Creel House, after they’ve lured the bats into the woods with a trail of fire, made them drowsy and stupid before setting them all ablaze; like a fucked up fairy ring, Steve had thought, and it had felt like exactly the kind of thing Eddie would think, and Steve’s trying to hold onto the words so he can remember to tell Eddie later; he wants to tell him—

He’s halfway up the stairs, stepping over a vine when he hears it.

“Shit. Oh, shit,” Eddie breathes.

He sounds so close, like he’s whispering in Steve’s ear.

And then he’s gone, and Steve’s turning to see Nancy and Robin just a step behind him—they haven’t heard anything, he can tell, but they both freeze for a moment, like they can read the fear on his face, something’s wrong, something’s really wrong.

But they all keep going, one step then another, and Steve thinks of history class, of soldiers going over the top.

He prays. Please, please…

More stairs. The door to the attic. Steve opens it.

Eddie’s voice again, high pitched and frightened. “H-hey, listen, man, you don’t—”

The sound is cut off abruptly; Steve feels a touch to the back of his hand. Robin.

He hands her the lighter, but he can see her hesitate out the corner of his eye, are you okay?

He shakes his head once, no time, and he smells a rag soaked with fuel when the voice comes again, still so desperately afraid, but hardening at the edges, “Oh, Jesus Chr—stop!”

“Steve.” Nancy next to him, eyebrows drawn.

There’s a Molotov cocktail in his hand that he can’t remember lighting.

Steve throws it.

He doesn’t even look to see if his aim is true, because Eddie is back, and his voice still shakes but there’s steel in its core, and Steve knows that all too well, knows the exact place it comes from: thinks of standing his ground in ‘84, knowing deep in his bones that it was down to him, that he’d do anything so long as the kids—

“Get away from them. I’m not—I’m not fucking messing around here, get away—”

Robin throws a bottle of her own; the flames soar, and Steve hears a new voice, dark and commanding—one he’s heard across the basketball court, but never quite like this.

“And the devil that deceived them was cast into the lake of fire and brimstone—”

Nancy aims the gun.

“—where the beast and the false prophet are—”

Fires.

“—and shall be tormented day and night—”

Again.

“—forever and ever.”

Nancy steps forward, takes aim once more.

And Steve hears another pair of footsteps, someone running; he turns towards the sound, towards the door, and for a moment it’s almost as if he can feel Eddie rush past him like a ghost—wants to reach out, to grab his hand, but the sensation slips away like smoke; he’s too far away, he’s too…

Nancy takes the final shot. Henry Creel’s body shifts from something monstrous to something that’s smaller and human, but no less terrible for it.

Steve doesn’t watch. Can’t rid the feeling that it all rings false.

He can’t hear Eddie anymore. Can’t hear anything apart from the frantic thud of his own heartbeat, but that’s good, that’s good, he can work with that—lets it drive him forward, lets pure instinct take over so he’s grabbing the axe without a thought, swinging so it hits the vines still tangled on the wall, dormant, dead.

They break easily. Steve keeps going; there’s the barest hint of resistance, but all it tells him is that he’s on the right path, and then something gives, parts…

“Nance,” Steve says.

She’s right by him; he feels her hand around his wrist. From the way she squeezes tightly, knows that she’s already understood.

“Okay,” she says, fragile, “okay, okay.” A shuddering breath. “Steve, I can’t just—I have to—”

“I know,” Steve says softly, because he feels it, too: the awful thought that it’s all over too quickly. Senses Nancy’s anxiety as if it was his own, the desperate need to check, to stand vigil. Then—and only then—will she declare it over to herself.

He holds her hand, squeezes back. Lets go.

There’s movement to the left of him. Robin, her hair in her eyes, and that’s gonna bug her eventually, so Steve fixes it for her, tries to smile, to make this easy.

“Five minutes, okay?” he says—thinks of the elevator in Starcourt, how she counted the seconds passing with freakish accuracy. “No more.”

She opens her mouth, but Steve keeps talking before she can. “Promise me.”

She goes to shake her head.

“Robin, please,” he says, voice breaking.

Years ago, his mom got a phone call about the fatal car crash his uncle had been in. She’d picked up somewhere in between the second ring and the third, and then she’d screamed, and Steve had overheard without understanding—had still felt the echo of her grief.

He’s never told anyone that. But he wonders if Robin can see something of it on his face—that he’s stuck: still in between rings, the split second before the scream—because she’s nodding suddenly, close to tears, but so serious.

“I—I promise, Steve.”

He slips through the Gate in the wall, leaves them both behind—all he has to soothe him is a gut feeling, as the heat of Nancy setting the vines alight fades away: that The Upside Down is just a graveyard now. That there’s no danger to be found—not anymore.

Not in there.

He steps into the attic, where the floorboards are bare. Looks around sharply—Lucas and Max, huddled in the corner, and he can’t tell, he can’t tell if—

As Steve runs to them, a soft click filters through. Max, rewinding her tape; she’s not even looking at her Walkman, like she’s not even aware that she’s doing it. The headphones lie around her neck.

“Oh, thank God,” Steve finds himself whispering, gets one hand on Max, the other on Lucas, “thank God, thank God.”

They shake under his touch. Steve wants to shield them from every horror in existence, wants to swear to them that it’s over now, that they don’t have to do it anymore, but he has to—

“Where’s Eddie?”

It’s not a surprise when Max’s eyes dart to the door. Steve’s stomach drops anyway.

Lucas speaks, voice ragged, “Jason, he…”

And as Steve looks at him, the kid’s thirteen again, eyes wide with fear in the face of Billy Hargrove. You’re dead, Sinclair.

Steve pushes back a hot swell of anger. Hugs Lucas roughly, then Max, murmurs, “Okay, it’s okay. Stay right here. Nancy and Robin are coming, I promise.”

“Steve,” Max whispers when he’s at the door.

He turns back.

But it’s like she’s run out of words, shivering in Lucas’s arms. Still rewinding the tape, but her fingers are slipping now.

Lucas speaks for her—eyes off to the side, like he’s seeing something more than a Gate in the wall. “He had a gun.”

Steve checks a couple rooms, floorboards creaking no matter how quiet he tries to be. His heart’s still racing. It leads him to the staircase.

And Eddie’s right there, just a few steps down.

There’s the faint screech of a car driving away.

Eddie looks up at him. He’s standing obliquely, clinging to the bannister. His eyes shine in the dark, and Steve can just barely make out the evidence of bruises and cuts all across his face.

“He’s gone,” Eddie says with such relief.

I’ll kill him, Steve thinks numbly.

”I, um. I had to run,” Eddie continues, almost like he’s defending himself. “He—he wouldn’t listen, man. The kids, I… I couldn’t let him—”

“They’re fine,” Steve says, talks right over Eddie’s answering sigh, “we should go back up. Check on them.”

A pause.

“Yeah,” Eddie says. “Sure. Think I—think I just need a second.”

“Okay.”

Eddie smiles. It’s the worst thing Steve has ever seen.

“Did it work?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, his throat tight. The word is ash on his tongue. “Yeah, it worked. It’s finished.”

“Good.” Eddie inhales. “And you’ll—you’ll tell my uncle, right? Tell him I didn’t kill Chrissy.”

“Tell him yourself,” Steve snaps.

But Eddie’s shaking his head. Steve can visibly see the adrenaline draining from him: his arms shaking as his grip on the bannister falters.

“Nah, man,” Eddie says, his voice thick and wet with tears.

“Stop fucking crying,” Steve says, instantly ashamed as the words slip out—fear rendering him sharp and mean; Eddie’s hand slips, and he turns, “Oh my God,” Steve says uselessly, “Oh my God, Eddie,” because it’s not a dawning horror really, more a realisation that they’ve both been putting off.

Maybe Steve has known all along.

He gets hold of Eddie before he can fall, mutters, “Here, I’ve got—Jesus, just lie down.”

“No, I don’t—” Eddie kicks out aimlessly, panicking, “I don’t wanna lie down, I don’t wanna lie down.”

Steve ignores him. Presses down on Eddie’s abdomen, hands already slick with blood.

Eddie is hyperventilating. He keeps saying it, “I don’t wanna lie down,” until it devolves into just, “Steve, Steve, I don’t want to,” until it doesn’t sound like he’s talking about lying down at all.

“You won’t,” Steve says, “you won’t, Eddie, just—push down, okay? You’ve got to—here, here, just push—”

Eddie’s hands are slack in his, and as Steve pushes against him, harder, harder, he cries out, breathing so shallow, so quick, too quick, “I’m sorry,” Steve whispers, “I’m sorry, Eddie, I’m so sorry.”

He thinks Eddie must be in too much pain to understand—his body still spasming, still weakly fighting against Steve’s pressure.

But then he feels Eddie’s hand move, loosely clasp around his wrist.

“It’s okay,” Eddie says, still crying, but Steve can hear him smiling somehow, fuck, how can he even—?, “hey, S-Steve, it’s okay. Just—just want to go home.” He’s rambling, almost incoherent, “It’s not that far, it’s—take me home, please, please, can you take me home, just—”

“I will,” Steve lies. “We need to fix this first, okay? Eddie, are you listening? Then we can…”

He trails off at the sight of Eddie looking up at him, his eyes so big, so full of life, and Steve doesn’t understand the expression on his face, doesn’t think he’s ever seen him look like this; and he wants Eddie to explain it to him, just wants him to talk, wants to…

I want to tell him, Steve thinks nonsensically.

“Steve Harrington,” Eddie murmurs, like he’s savouring Steve’s name. “You’re so…”

But Steve will never find out what he is, the rest of the sentence lost to a pained gasp.

“Don’t talk,” Steve says. Hates how harsh he sounds. “Eddie, just. Stay.”

Eddie smiles through blood. “I think I could’ve loved you.”

Steve hears movement from way above, a door slamming open, Robin and Nancy’s voices filtering down, still too far away to understand.

He could keep talking. Keep talking to Eddie.

But he knows.

The front door opens. Erica tears through it, screaming Lucas’s name, and then she stops in her tracks.

Dustin nearly collides with her from behind. Pulls her back, face slack with horror.

Steve leans over Eddie, desperately trying to shield him from them.

Dustin’s eyes meet Steve’s, over bright with fear; Steve thinks of him freezing in the graveyard, his own panicked shout, call Nancy and Robin!

He doesn’t want it to be too late.

“Call an ambulance,” Steve says, and Dustin’s eyes widen. He doesn’t sound remotely like himself, Steve knows, but he can barely even… Can only say it again, voice breaking horribly, “Call an ambulance!”

Dustin tugs Erica back. They run.

Steve stays right where he is. Looks down, and keeps looking—doesn’t turn away, not for anything, not even when it’s obvious that Eddie’s eyes are fixed and glassy.

He will bear witness to this.

[twstfanblog]

*~Period Drama~* Sunday

A/N: A thank you to @bun-lapin for allowing me to use their lovely OC for this fic! Word Count: 7.6K Warnings: Mildly Inaccurate Period Talk, She/They Pronouns OC Pairings: Mentioned Riddle/Floyd Enjoy! Start, Saturday (Octavinelle), Sunday (Here), Monday (Savanaclaw), Monday pt2 (Diasomnia pt.1), Tuesday (Diasomnia pt2), Wednesday (Pomefiore), Thursday (Scarabia), Friday (Ignihyde)

~Taglist~

@twistedcece @deltrea @krenenbaker @koebishrimpuwu @cat100200 @emyluwinter @obsessionswithfandoms @ady-hilborn @lucid-stories @girl-nahh-two @itz-hydrodeptus-foxy7 @chyluna @riddlesimps @death-the-jo @a-twistedheartslonging @qixlin @chaosistheonlyway @welcome-to-my-horde @abell2029cluster @kirans-wonderland @coffee-or-hot-cocoa @the-ace-reader @iamsoconfusedallofthetime @chroniccorvus @marvelous-maxi @prolonged-eyecontact @lozplayer @jabberwocky-warrior @thateldribitch @bun-lapin @mel1rose @ladyraeka @ladyzsgolla @kimdourden @noncreativepage-blog @girl-nahh-two @shironakuronatasa @colombia-chan @roseapov @anunholyabomination @koebi-channnn @noises-of-nothing @creatorbiaze

"Sorry again for bleeding on your pants."

Yuu stood in their dorm’s entry, Azul at the door with his blood and grass-stained ruined slacks in hand and wearing a pair of sweats borrowed from Yuu. Azul had spent the night after Crewel’s brief lecture. The fur-wearing teacher had given Yuu another pain relief potion before leaving, stating he was going to get something longer-lasting for them by tomorrow. Azul had elected to stay, acting as emotional support and bringing Yuu whatever they needed from elsewhere in the house.

"No issue, my pearl. The twins have ruined more than one outfit for me, a little blood isn't the end of the world…All though…" He mutters under his breath, looking at the sweatpants with a pinched expression. The knowledge of the large, neon bubble-print of ‘BABYGURL’ across his ass makes him calculate the risk of running to Octavinelle pantsless. 

But he turns back to smile at them, “I’m only sorry that I can’t stay with you longer. But, I’ve already missed one productive day at the lounge, and I fear what will happen if I miss another. Let alone leave Jade and Floyd to their own devices…”

"So what do I owe you for the emotional turmoil then?" Yuu smiles lazily, eyes lidded as they watch Azul place a hand over his chest.

"Why I could never ask for anything in return. You're in such a delicate position, it'd be cruel to give you a payment plan now for all the distress you've caused me this past week…"

So, she was going to be ambushed with a 'payment plan' once her period was over. 

Smirking, they tilt their head, a finger poking into their cheek, "So, can I start making those payments before the interest gets too high?"

Azul sighs, pouting and shaking his head with his eyes closed, "Honestly. I try to be benevolent and you throw it back in my face. Such cruelty…" he opens an eye, a smile almost leaning into a smirk, "But payment in kisses is always accepted with you."

"Suave" Yuu leans closer, peppering kisses against Azul’s reddening cheeks before going for the kill on his lips. The two sets molded together, Yuu holding him by his jaw as her tongue slid into his mouth, tasting his moans as his hands shakingly reached toward her hips. Pulling away, she giggled at seeing Azul catch his balance on the wall, "Have fun at the lounge. Call me when you can squeeze in a break."

Azul cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses as he caught his breath, “I…I see the libido is affected during this, too…it may be for the best to wait to meet again until after-”

“Oh, it gets worse once it's over actually.”

“What?”

Yuu could only smirk, always loving Azul’s wonderful hybrid expressions of aroused and terrified, “Yeah, I'm gonna tear you apart.”

“Well! Look at the time, I must be going! Farewell!” Azul all but scrambled out of the house, sprinting off into the woods before Yuu could close the door behind him.

Yuu sighs, finally alone again, they decide to check their phone in bed until Crewel reappeared. But looking up at the stairs… they decide to grab more towels from the hallway closet. Laying on the lounge couch would be the smarter idea, their adoptive father was no doubt tired already of stomping his way up and down their talkative staircases. What they really needed to find was something to act comfortably enough like a pad or tampon; free bleeding was too messy in the long run.

Once the couch was prepped with towels, they laid down to rest under their cozy throw blanket. They turned their phone on and almost choked at the number of notifications.  Over 300 texts, 47 missed calls, and nearly as many various social media @'s, all in an effort to reach them. They had to fight back the tears, emotions swelling at the idea of just how cared for they were in this world. Yuu spent a few minutes trying to calm their nerves. Sniffling their tears away, they went to ground zero.

The group chat with the 'Firstie Squad' was where most of the texts were. It was a hard pivot from the normal chatter to the string of messages that began yesterday. Ace had texted first, stating that someone had assaulted them. From there chaos descended. Jack demanded to know if Ace was joking, because if so it wasn't funny in the slightest. Epel chimed in that there was no way anyone overpowered Yuu and got away unscathed. Ace snapped at both of them what he saw, pointing out how odd she'd been behaving the week prior. Sebek finally chimed in, only typing to ask whether Ace was sure.

Once Ace mentioned the bloody vagina mess the whole chat might as well as caught on fire. Jack seemed to disappear, Epel followed quickly after dropping several swears and threats into the chat about the would-be aggressor. Sebek stuck around the longest, talking with Ace to get information and make a game plan. Ortho sent a single link on helping a loved one who had been assaulted. But, knowing the living droid, he had probably combed every camera at his disposal to try and catch whoever did such a crime.

Nearly an hour later Deuce had finally entered the chat, full caps stating ‘YUU IS FINE’ then yelling at Ace. He scolded him for blabbing when Crewel just told them to keep quiet. From there new, familiar chaos took over, a normal back and forth whenever Ace and Deuce started fighting over text.

The other stray texts were from the housewardens, mainly asking why their respective firsties were acting so odd. A few more texts asking if they were okay, noting how angry they've been the past few days. Surprisingly, only two texts were from Jamil in the last 24 hours. One was a photo of a teary-eyed Grim being held like a baby by Kalim in the background, crumbs on his overstuffed cheeks and Kalim flashing a peace sign. Mildly blurry in the corner of the photo was the side of Jamil’s face, a half-in-frame peace sign hiding his mouth. The simple message attached, ‘Grim is fed and being held. Love you’

Yuu smiles, sending him a quick message before replying to the other texts, making sure to send Ace several middle-finger and a single heart emoji. She groans, seeing a few texts from Vil. But looking closer, she sees most of the missed calls were from Vil, maybe she should call him…

Listening through a few of the voicemails, Yuu notes how calm Vil sounded in the first recordings. The blonde only asked how their day was and if they were still on for their bad movie night. The next few voicemails slowly increased in panic, the last one being a chaotic audio of Epel wailing in the background. The sound of Rook trying to either comfort or hold the country boy back drowned out while Vil yelled into the phone, “You better be dead when I find you, or so help me you’re going to be for making me worry like this!”

Yuu personally made sure to save that voicemail. It was rare to hear such emotion from Vil Shoenheit without having paid him an insane amount of money and hours of makeup and hair styling. Should Crowley try to withhold their allowance, they had a nice little nest egg to sell.

Soon, Yuu heard the front door swing open, the wood slamming against the wall and no doubt deepening the dent that was already there. Crewel really needed to announce himself at all times when he was annoyed. Yuu doesn’t rise from the couch; instead, he lets out a high-pitched yip to let him know where they are in the house. Hearing the click of the adult's shoes, Yuu waves from the couch, “Sup, papa dog.”

“Hello, puppy.” Crewel leans over, his gloved hand petting her head and pressing a kiss to her hair, “How are you feeling?”

“Like bloody dirt.”

“Hmm.” Crewel drops a bag onto their stomach, the warmth and smell of it giving away that it was a take-out box of food, “Breakfast from your eels. You’ll need to eat it before you take this pain potion.”

Yuu smiles, pulling the food out and digging in. Mid chew, they raise an eyebrow, “Why’s this potion different? I normally take them without food all the time.” They watch Crewel pull out a flask, but instead of the normal green-colored syrup, it was a bright cyan. The bottle itself had a warning tag on the glass, “What the fuck is that?”

“This, puppy, is a medical-grade pain potion. While I am able to brew anything, it’d be illegal for me to brew something of this strength without proper licensing. So, I tasked Ms. Oster with making a few for you.”

The distrust Yuu had instantly faded, reaching out for the flask with a smile, “Oh, I love Ms. Oster.”

Crewel pulls the bottle from their reach, playfully sneering down at them, “Yeah, I know.”

Ingrid Oster was one of the science professors under Crewel’s direction in the school. She mainly taught Practical Magic and Magical First-Aid. Even though Yuu had no reason to even know the woman as a first-year student, they had managed to meet and were now teacher/student ‘besties’, something that deeply annoyed Crewel. The number of times the bi-colored man had walked into the staff room only to see the two of them having a luncheon and gossiping about other students. Not to mention, Ingrid only upped her teasing, telling Crewel that he wears the ‘dad look’ very well.

Crewel demanded they finish their food before letting them even touch the bottle. The teacher explained how a medical-grade pain potion had a much stronger effect than the standard potion. It lasted for nearly a whole day instead of the standard 4-6 hours, not to mention how it worked. Instead of simply numbing the nerves to give pain relief, a medical-grade pain potion targeted the muscle system, physically relieving tension and letting the fibers relax. As such, they were very rarely used outside of hospitals, but Crewel didn’t feel comfortable having Yuu drink possibly more than two common pain potions a day.

Once Yuu was done eating, Crewel held up a finger, making sure he had their attention, “Don’t drink all of this like a normal potion. This is much stronger than that, so I want you to sip. Understand? Sip.”

Yuu sighed, making a grabby hand motion until Crewel handed the flask over, noting how it still felt a bit warm through the glass under their fingers. Uncorking the bottle, they make sure to sip the liquid as loudly as possible. Pulling it away and smiling at Crewel’s annoyed look, “Sip.”

“Enough of the sass or I won’t be sending you lunch.” Crewel collected the trash, throwing it away for them in the kitchen before walking back into the lounge, “Ortho hasn’t answered me yet about any of his findings. But, then again, I think you actually managed to traumatize the poor boy. Until then, you’re sadly on house arrest, puppy. Invite who you wish, but no roaming campus how you like.”

“Fine…” Yuu slumped back onto the couch, pouting but feeling better as the potion started to take effect. They do smile as Crewel ruffles their hair.

Crewel reminds them once more to not drink the whole bottle, Sip, giving their head another kiss before he leaves. As much as he’d want to stick around to make sure his favorite pup was taken care of, he was a very busy teacher and he had lesson plans to prepare for tomorrow.

The second Crewel had slammed their front door closed, they uncorked the flask again and drank the whole potion. They’d rather just deal with the full effect of the potion in one sitting instead of having to sip for hours on end or wake up from a surprise nap in pain. Crewel would understand if he came back and Yuu was in some type of medically induced coma.

Lunch rolled around quicker than she expected, and along with it came three steady knocks on the front door. Yuu blearily blinked their eyes open, yep, they passed out on the couch. Luckily, they hadn’t rolled onto their phone, checking the time and messages before another three knocks rang out. Yuu let out a loud — bird-adjacent — call, their universal sign of approval. She giggles lightly, hearing Ace and Deuce return the call when they open the door, the muffled sound of Riddle scolding them for making nonsense noises without permission.

The Heartslabyul crew all walked into the lounge, each a different level of uneasy but smiling all the same. Cater was in the back, phone held nervously with both hands as he gave a wary eye at their prone form. Trey was cool as normal with a picnic basket in hand. Ace and Deuce were already in front of Yuu, leaning down and annoying her mildly. Mainly Ace, the redhead poking at her stomach asking if she was still bleeding. Deuce hissed at him to stop, ‘What if you poke them so hard they bleed more?’

Riddle stood with an extra type of rigidity in his stance, the only give that he was uncomfortable. Even with his medical knowledge, he always found blood to be a deeply uncomfortable topic. But, he was willing to face his apprehension if it was for his junior's benefit. Walking closer, Riddle clears his throat before speaking, “Apologies, Yuu. We’ve visited without a prior invite or call, but due to recent events, I believe we can have a pass on that rule for now…”

Cater nods his head, but still refusing to get closer, “We were totes worried about you, sweetie. Plus, the ADeuce duo over here wasn’t making things better by vague ranting in the dorm…”

The two freshmen glare over their shoulders at Cater. They had returned to the dorm yelling at each other the day prior, a common occurrence. What piqued the upperclassmen’s worry was the dubious context of their argument and their silence when Riddle demanded to know what had happened. 

Yuu smiles, blinking slowly, still half asleep from their nap, “Sorry. In fairness, I wasn’t expecting it to happen, so I was really unprepared.” Cater actually had a more familiar reaction, something Yuu wasn’t aware that she was going to miss. The mild fear from boys the second periods were mentioned, skirting around but still ready to help out because they knew they were in danger.

Trey chuckles, looking at Cater’s nervous self from the corner of his eye. Holding up the basket, he taps it lightly, “We brought you some croissants, freshly baked this morning. I can even make you a sandwich with fixings of your choice.” He wouldn’t mention the hastily compiled ‘survival guide’ Jade had sent him last night. The main point being that favored food seemed to be the only thing to keep Yuu in a relatively calm state.

“I just woke up, don’t give me choices…” Yuu whined lightly, curling into the couch but still muttered out, “You know I like croissants, savory or sweet, surprise me. And thanks for bringing me lunch.”

“No problem, Yuu. I heard from Crewel you were under house arrest. So, to ease his workload, we’ll be watching you for the day.” Trey calls over his shoulder, already leaving the lounge, “I’ll get to making you something to eat.”

“And I’ll help him! Bye, sweetie!” Cater hurried after Trey, seeing an opportunity to run and taking it.

Ace sighed, standing up straight, “Jeeze, you’re such trouble…You can’t even be bothered to sit up while you talk to us?”

“Don’t bully them, Ace! They’re in pain!” Deuce sputters, turning to Yuu with a worried, “Wait, are you still in pain? Should we have brought you a potion?”

Yuu waves him off lightly, slowly patting him on the face until his worried expression loosens, “Don’t worry. Crewel brought me breakfast and a pain potion. I’m as…chill as a…cold thing…Yeah…”

“You’re still half asleep is what you are…” Ace mutters quietly, rubbing the back of his head before he looks up. He looks back down, a smirk on his face, “But, since I’m such a good friend, I’ll help around since you’re too useless to do it right now.” Waving, he starts to walk toward the stairs, “I’ll go clean your room.”

Deuce jumps up, growling under his breath before he follows Ace, “You’re not slick! I know you’re just gonna goof around up there! Just because Yuu isn’t using their bed, doesn’t mean you get to laze around in it!” He had run out of the room after the fleeing redhead, only to rush back in. Kneeling down he gathers Yuu into his arms in a quick hug, “Glad you’re ok, Yuu.”

“Aw…Thanks, buddy.”

Deuce releases them, running back to the stairs and his yelling fading the farther he gets.

In the silence, Yuu drifted between half asleep and simply staring into the air. They probably shouldn’t have taken the whole potion, but they’d never admit Crewel was right. Not after they deliberately disobeyed him. While studying their hand in the open air, they notice Riddle had stayed in the room, looking more and more conflicted, “...You ok?”

“...” Riddle shifted nervously, looking to the side before he walked closer. Crouching down, he whispered, almost in fear of anyone else hearing him, “Are you really bleeding from your…your vagina?”

“...” She wasn’t going to laugh; she refused to laugh. Not when Riddle was looking at them so concerned. He didn’t deserve that. She didn’t know if her face stayed straight or betrayed just how hard she was trying to not laugh, but she reached out to pat Riddle on the head, “I am…but it’s fine. Other than cramps, this doesn’t actually hurt me. No need to be all worried…”

That seemed to be enough for Riddle, the Sophomore letting out a sigh of relief before he stood back to his full height, “In that case, would you allow me to interview you?”

“Interview?”

With a wave of his pen, a notebook appeared in his hands, “You are a biological alien to us, though we seem to forget that at times… Such functions don’t happen to the people of this world, it’d be any scholar’s dream to study it.” Coughing into his fist, he calms himself, “But, I understand if you are uncomfortable with such a thing. I only thought it’d be good to get the facts documented should something similar happen again.”

Yuu chuckles, seeing how eager Riddle was. One thing Yuu knew about Riddle was that he loved puzzles. Researching a new topic with little information was a blind puzzle to him and he dived into research like it was a water slide. Sure, he was trying to curb his enthusiasm since they were affected by an ‘alien illness’, but he just couldn’t stop how excited the idea of it made him.

“I don’t mind, Riddle.”

Riddle’s nervous energy instantly passes, smiling at them before he flips the notebook open. Sitting on the edge of the couch beside their legs, he clicked his wand to uncap the pen, “Perfect! Now, what is happening in broad terms?”

“Pussy peeling.”

Riddle sighed so hard that Yuu was worried he’d fall over dead from lack of air, “Yuu...You know I dislike that word, I’m begging you.”

Yuu giggles, a leg moving to lightly push against Riddle’s back before calming down, “I’m sorry…My Vagina is peeling, liquifying the scraps and then forcing it out of my body.”

Riddle looked ill, but kept writing, “That sounds horrific…”

“Oh, it is.”

“What function does this process serve?”

“Baby room reno.”

“...What?”

Yuu groaned, head falling back against the armrest, trying to figure out an easier way to explain. Snapping their fingers, they point toward Riddle, “My pussy is replacing her wallpaper.”

“In no way…does that help me.”

“Aaaaaokay. Imagine your hormones, like, spend the whole month decorating a nursery. But, turns out there’s no baby. So, the hormones throw a fit, tear everything down, and decided to redo the nursery for next month. Hence…” Yuu smiles, gesturing to their stomach, “Replacing the wallpaper.”

Riddle wrote down the long-winded analogy, making sure to circle ‘Wallpaper replacement’ with a question mark beside it, “And this is normal in your world?”

“Sadly. Girls get their first period sometimes at like… 8 years old or younger.”

“Why!? That just…What is the purpose of it? I assumed this was a feature from birth, not something you just…wake up to.”

“Oh, it’s a sign that your body can make babies. It’s a hormonal change that comes packaged with puberty.”

Riddle stops writing, “You said some girls get this at 8 years old?”

“Yeah…though it’s more common around like 12 or 13. My friend got her’s when she was like 9, and she said she freaked out so hard. Her mom hadn’t had the, like, talk with her yet. So she just bled everywhere and tried to hide it.” Yuu kept rambling, recounting the stories her old friend group had shared about their first-period horror stories, missing Riddle’s own dawning horror.

Yuu normally talked fondly of their old world. Funny stories with friends, and pleasant memories with their grandparents — Yuu never claimed to be an orphan. Had stated that both her parents were alive as far as she knew. She never shared a happy memory about them, though. But sometimes the things they said worried them. The violence, the discrimination, the constant fear some people had to live with. The fact that the people in charge would rather let their workforces starve than simply give them the rightful money earned. That bit of knowledge had even made Azul uncomfortable for a time. And now he hears that girls were ready to carry and birth children biologically? Girls, children themselves. He’s praying that it wasn’t okay for girls so young to be engaging in such…activities, but the fact that their bodies went through such a change at that age horrified him.

And a selfish part whispered that he was glad Yuu had managed to escape such a place.

Riddle manages to shake himself free of his spiraling thoughts, catching the end of Yuu's rambles.

"-And then my friend Tracy got her's in the middle of a ballet recital and she, like, bled all over the stage. Apparently, one girl was staring the whole time and tripped because of it." Yuu laughs, the sound coming out mildly choked, “Lisa…Lisa has like 3 older sisters, okay? They all got their period on the same day, so their house was super tense. Then poor lil Lisa comes out of her room crying, holding her bloody bedsheet, and everyone starts crying.”

Riddle looks at Yuu in worry from the corner of his eye, writing down more questions to review with Jade, “All of them at once? Would that be considered rare?” Was a period something like an overblot? The symptoms seemed to match…

“Naw, it’s common pussy ping, happens to the best of us.”

“One, stop saying that word. Two, a common what?”

Yuu nodded their head in a sage manner, eyes already drifting around the room again, “Yeah, pussy ping. It’s when you, like, sync up with other vaginas.”

“...” Riddle turns to Yuu, eyes wide in horror, “Sync up? As in…if someone’s period has started…”

“Yep.” Yuu smiles, making vague hand gestures, “If you spend enough time with another vagina, they send wifi signals to each other and sync up the calendars so that their hosts start on the same day.”

“I-Their hosts?” So Jade’s fears were founded, a period was like an overblot. An extremely dangerous one at that if they were able to induce overblots in others simply by being around them long enough. The very thought of his own overblot resulting in the others…

“Oh yeah. The pussy is a dangerous thing. It’s acidic and can influence other vaginas to rebel.”

“What do you mean it’s acidic!?”

“Oh, yeah.” Yuu stretched, back popping as they sat up to look at Riddle directly, “I guess some stuff doesn’t carry over, then. Yeah, my pussy is mildly acidic.”

Riddle looks down to Yuu’s covered lap, eyes panicked, “Is that healthy?”

“Yeah. If your pussy juice can bleach your underwear over time, your pussy bacteria is healthy.”

Acidic was healthy. Riddle cared about Yuu, he truly did. She was like the sibling his younger self would have desperately needed to be a reason to think of how his actions affect those around him and to physically slap him for going too far. But every time he spoke to them about their natural state, he felt intense concern. Things Yuu would joke about only made him realize that depression wore many faces, and that fact only made his worry expand to others in his dorm. Clearing his throat, Riddle edged just slightly away from Yuu’s lower anatomy, “Do you need to clean it out with soap or-”

Yuu was leaning against the back of the couch in a daze, cheek pressed into the fabric before shooting up and cutting Riddle off, “No. Nothing but clean water can go into the pussy. If you put any kinda cleaner up there it will anger the blood goddess and she will curse you and your pussy with dryness and wheat…yeast infections.”

“I- The blood goddess? You said your world didn’t have magic, who is this blood goddess!?”

“The Moon.”

…

“The…The Moon?”

“The Moon controls the blood tides and demands her daughters pay for the sins of old…”

Riddle wrote down the new information, eyes wide, “Ok, let’s change the subject.”

Yuu nods, head lulling back to rest against the couch, “Periods are like…insane. Girls only like talking about them because it makes everyone else terrified.”

“I can see why…But with this affecting possibly 50% of the population, you must have had a class about it? Do you remember anything you could tell me?”

“No.”

“...No?”

“I don’t remember.”

Riddle sighs, looking at Yuu with a stern frown, “Yuu, this would be much easier if you would cooperate with me-”

“No, really, I don’t remember. We had the ‘puberty talk’ when I was, like, in 5th grade? We don’t review that shit until we get to Sex-Ed and I didn’t have that class yet.”

“...That sounds incredibly negligent and poorly thought out.”

“You could also opt your kid out of the puberty talk, because you don’t want them learning about sex.”

“What-”

“Those were the kids who normally end up pregnant, funny enough.”

“Childhood pregnancy isn’t funny, Yuu.”

Yuu giggled, nudging at Riddle’s back with her knee, only stopping when the Sophomore forcibly shoved her knee away from him, “It’s kinda funny. At least to laugh at the parents' stupidity, you know?”

“You’re laughing at a child getting pregnant…” Please don’t let that be a common occurrence, “But, you are sexually active, aren’t you? How is that so if you’ve never had Sex-Ed?”

“The fuck kind of question is that? You’re the ghost of a sickly Victorian child who never lived to take ‘The Dangers of Spices 101’, how are you fucking Floyd?”

“It’s mandatory for homeschool curriculum to teach a basic Sex-Ed course at the middle school level, and you don’t need to know the details of my personal life.”

“Oh god, you had Sex-Ed with your mom.”

“Yuu-”

She waves his tone off, not at all bothered by his reddening face, “I learned from my friends and the internet. Honestly, I didn’t even know how a tampon worked until we had to make a midnight run at a sleepover one night.”

“Tampons…” Riddle writes it down, ensuring the page had plenty of space, “That’s a new term. What is it?” Jade’s notes hadn’t mentioned a ‘tampon’.

“Cotton you shove up your pussy to soak up the blood. Most of my friends used those but me and another gal named Rue liked pads better.”

Riddle nods, writing down the second word. He had heard of pads from Jade’s shared notes, and also from being manhandled by Sam’s shadows in his search for information. “I'm guessing a pad is also like a tampon, but less…invasive?”

“Yeah.” Yuu yawns, seeming to realize just how full of cotton her head was even when awake, “Though that’s mainly because I heard about what the fuck Toxic Shock was and it scared me enough to not want to use them.”

“I’m sorry, Toxic Shock? You couldn’t lead with that!?”

“Oh, right. This is like common knowledge for me so I don’t really care about it. But, Toxic Shock Syndrome is like…something that could happen if you use tampons. But it’s like super rare, to the point that if you got it from a tampon? You left that thing in there for days, and you deserve it because that’s just gross.”

Ok, that…that was calming at least. He wrote the new information under the Tampon page. As far as he was concerned, Yuu had made a good decision. ‘Tampons’ sounded nothing but dangerous. Though Yuu had stated most of their friends preferred to use them. Maybe there was a proper method to using them that Yuu didn’t care to learn? Which honestly fit them. He reviews his notes briefly, frowning at how most of the information was distressing, “Your reproductive health is surprisingly delicate.”

“Oh, you have no idea. I could have cancer, honestly.”

“What!?”

“The female anatomy is a hellscape. I could be dying right now, but the cramps basically overshadow everything.” Yuu laughs, picking at her nails absent-mindedly, “There’s plenty of people who’ve, like, died from actual internal damage, but they just thought it was their periods- W-whoa, Riddle, are you crying?”

“No, I’m panicking!”  Riddle scrambled off the couch, lifting the blanket to check Yuu directly. Or he would have if the sight of blood smeared across their inner thighs didn’t make his head swirl. The blanket drops from his hands, turning away and managing to catch himself onto his hands and knees as he dry heaved, “By the Seven, is there supposed to be that much blood!?”

“...” Yuu watches him in mild concern. But seeing how the Sophomore didn’t actually start vomiting, they answered, “I think so? I might be flowing heavy since I haven’t had one in a while…”

Riddle wiped at his forehead, taking slow breaths as he stood back up, eyes roaming the floor for his dropped pen and notebook, “Heavy flow? As in the flow can change pressure? Consistency?”

“Yeah, those are words to describe it, I guess.” Yuu shrugs, head turning in the direction of the kitchen. Were Trey and Cater making the jam from scratch? What was taking the two of them so long? Looking back at Riddle, Yuu shrugs again, “To be honest, I have… no idea what normal is. Honestly, no one in my world really did, I think.” “How?”

“Dude, people were fucking terrified of periods. Before I got here? They were just now actually, like, testing pads and tampons with shit that wasn't water. Aka, not the right cunt-sistency of periods.”

Riddle gripped at his chest. The lack of common sense was baffling. These were the people in charge of that world, half the population was suffering from this illness, and they couldn’t even test their sanitation products correctly, “Oh my Seven…”

“Some places were trying to ban talking about them in school, so fuck what shitty health class they had in the first place, I guess. Plus, periods can get weird, you know? Sometimes, you can like…bleed from other places.”

“What?”

“Yeah, like, from your butt or your eyes,” Yuu’s head rolls along the back of the couch, laughing as a memory resurfaces, “My friend, Chel, told us her cousin’s all came out in one piece once.”

Riddle dry heaved, stumbling back and coughing as the mental image started to form, “Trey…” He called out weakly. He was going to pass out, or vomit. Either one was wildly unwelcome at that moment.

“Apparently, it was like wet tissue just slid out of her.”

Another gag, Riddle fully turning away. The horror clear on his face, unable to stop his mind.

“Yeah, her cousin sent a picture too. It looked like a bloody piece of chewed-up gum-”

“TREY!” Riddle doubled over, just barely getting his yell out, coughing as he fought against his urge to vomit. Hearing the sounds of footsteps thundering down the hall, he felt relief flood him. He couldn’t handle another minute of this, he was never good with blood. Blood was always the sign of something being deeply wrong; blood outside the body, besides the need for a transfusion, was never healthy. Now, one of his friends was basically hemorrhaging and he had to deal with the fact that it was ‘healthy’.

Cater and Trey rush into the room, Trey dressed in Yuu’s black ‘Shut Up and Eat’ apron with a plate of croissant sandwiches gripped in his hands, “What!? Who’s dying!?”

Phone pointed in front of him, Cater films a video. If Yuu managed to kill all of them, someone would be able to find the video and know what happened to them, “Is Yuu still bleeding?”

At Riddle’s loud retch, Trey handed the plate of food to Cater. The Junior quickly walked over to Riddle, rubbing at his back and trying to guide him out of the lounge, “Okay, let’s get you outside. Some fresh air will help. Cater, keep Yuu company.”

Cater watches mildly stunned, Trey walking past him with his hands firmly on Riddle’s shoulders. With a plate of food in one hand and his still recording phone in the other, Cater looked at Yuu on the couch. Their head was leaned back against the armrest, watching him with what he could only describe as a predator’s stare. Putting his phone in his pocket, Cater grabs one of the sandwiches and slowly approaches Yuu, arm outstretched as he wiggles it, “Pspspspspspspssps.”

“I can not begin to tell you what I will do to you if you don’t stop that shit right now.” The threat was empty, and they both knew it. Yuu struggled to not laugh as Cater finally walked over to them normally, gently placing the plate in their waiting hands, “How fucking dare you…? I’m lying here in pain and ruining the nice towels Kalim gifted me, and you’re treating me like a cat.”

“A feral cat.” Cater had eased, if only a little bit. He still wasn’t standing at an angle to let Yuu get a quick hit in, but his shoulders had finally relaxed. It helped that he knew Yuu had food now. Trey was just as confused as he was when Jade kept sending texts stressing the importance of giving Yuu food lest they attack them in a mood swing. And now with said feral cat feeding on the still-warm sandwiches, Cater could feel a bit safer, “You’re totes a cute cat, but still feral. #Hot-Mess, #Hit-By-A-Bus, #Don’t-Bite-Me-Pwease.”

Yuu frowned, though a smile was clearly winning the fight over their expression, “Shut up…” Taking a big bite, the buttery sweet sandwich filled them with a sense of comfort. Trey’s cooking always had an odd effect Yuu found. No matter what he made, it would make others feel content and full. They and the ADeuce duo would joke that Trey was using his Unique Magic to make his food replace negative emotions somehow. 

Trey hadn’t answered their joke, only smiling at them and offering another pie for their hangout.

With a plate of warm food, Yuu was more content, almost melting into the couch and snoozing into the armrest as she hummed. In their hazy mind, Yuu could hear Cater’s chuckle. The redhead sat carefully on the armrest above their head.

“Aw, my poor rag-a-muffin froshie is having such a hard time. It really makes me wanna be a good senpai and look after you.” He sighed dramatically, tapping at his cheek as he playfully pouted, “Is this how Trey feels looking at Ace and Deuce?”

“Only if you feel a deep sense of disappointment and contempt for everything I do.”

Ace and Deuce had just entered the room, both of them with messy hair and disheveled clothing, clearly having gotten into a scuffle before coming back downstairs. The redhead Freshmen scowls, clicking his tongue, “Shut up. I’ve never done a single thing wrong in my life.”

Cater snorts, trying to hide just how hard he was fighting back his laughter.

Yuu raised an eyebrow, “Did you get fucking concussed up there? You’ve done nothing right since the day you were born, and you know it.”

“Shut up, you’re lucky you’re injured! Plus, where’s Riddle and Trey?”

Deuce looked around, walking closer to Yuu to once again give them a check, “We heard Rosehearts-Senpai yelling upstairs…”

“And you just now decided to show up?” Yuu tries to shove the whole of a croissant into her mouth, seeming to not realize the issue of it not being able to fit.

Ace scoffs from the staircase, “Like we’re coming down here if he was actually mad.” He watches Yuu with a raised brow. She was just…holding the sandwich now, as though she was trying to figure out how to properly eat it.

Deuce watches in silence too, only to gently grab the sandwich from Yuu, tearing it in half before giving it back, “Yuu, did you…eat anything else before we got here?”

“Yeah, papa dog brought me food…” Yuu stared at the new, smaller sandwich in hand. Half shoving it into their mouth they continued, voice muffled, “Why do you ask?”

“...Did you have one of those gummies Sam legally doesn’t sell you?”

“Are you high!?” Cater perked up, leaning over and tilting Yuu’s head back to look into their eyes. He lets out a laugh, noticing how heavily their pupils were dilated. Well, that would also explain why Yuu seemed so calm. Cater did the same when he had lingering body aches from tending the garden. If a pain potion wasn’t available, a nice ‘chill pill’ was plenty to ease the mind and body, “Let me have one.”

Yuu huffs, nearly choking on their massive bite, “I didn’t take a gummy. I took some medicine Crewel gave me.”

Deuce leaned closer, also checking their pupils before muttering under his breath, “Was it a tranquilizer dart?”

“Naw, it was a pain potion…Like a fancy one, with a tag on it.”

…

Ace looked around the floor near the couch, eyes catching the empty bottle half hidden under the skirt of the seating. Pulling it out, he read the tag and shouted in surprise, “Dude, this is like a ‘The pain is so bad I’m dying’ pain potion! Is it really that bad!?”

Deuce grabs the bottle from Ace, reading it over before handing it to Cater, “Yuu! Do you want us to take you to the hospital!? Wait, no, you don’t want to-”

“How is this empty already?”

“Huh?” Yuu clicks back into the conversation, looking up at Cater’s concerned glance, “What do you mean, how? I drank it.”

“Sweetie, these potions are like…You can take them orally, but they’re strong enough that they’re normally supposed to be given via drip for a safe, lasting effect…So why is it empty already?”

“...” Yuu started to cackle, the plate of sandwiches being saved from the floor as Deuce dived to catch it as they jostled off her lap, “I fucking chugged morphine!”

“You chugged this!?”

Ace slapped his forehead, “By the Seven, you’re fucking hopeless. Does this period thing make you bleed out the brain, too? You’re gonna lose what little sense you had to begin with.”

Yuu still chuckled, hand reaching back to bat at Cater’s fingers combing through their hair, “Fuck you, Ace. Even if I got a brain bleed, I’d still have more brain cells than you.”

“Doubtful. You’re so useless right now, you couldn’t fight your way out of a paper bag.”

Yuu’s laughter instantly stopped, smiling falling into a neutral line as their gaze snapped to Ace. The redhead’s eyes widen, fear suddenly gripping his chest at Yuu’s stare, “...Uh…”

Riddle's breathing had calmed while sitting on the steps of Ramshackle, head in his hands as he felt a headache crowning. Lifting his gaze, he stared at his palms, as though they held the answers to his questions, “This is bad, Trey. I don’t have any other way to describe it, this is bad.”

“Riddle, calm down. We can trust Yuu to handle themselves-”

“Except, we can’t! Yuu doesn’t even have all the facts, and what facts they do have may not even be true since it’s all second-hand knowledge from other uninformed minors! Not to mention, they haven’t even had a proper class on the subject…By the Seven, would it even be informative? They would have dealt with this for years at that point. They probably just went on the internet and read some uncertified drivel, lord knows they won’t open a book and research-”

“Riddle. Breathe.” Trey grasps Riddle by one of his shoulders, shaking him lightly and thumping the Sophomore on the chest with his other hand. Something to make Riddle take more than a shallow breath in his rambles, “Like you said, Yuu’s been dealing with this for years. They know what they need and we can help by giving them access to whatever that may be.”

Now that he was taking deep gulps of air, Riddle’s anxious energy had finally died down, his stomach easing into rest. He turned to Trey, worry clear in his expression, “But it’s concerning. It’s so simple, yet the difference is so obviously alien I can’t help but want to…fix it. But it’s not my place to fix it, because there’s nothing to fix and this is completely natural for them…”

“...That’s right…Riddle, did something other than…the blood upset you?”

“...” He sighs, “Yuu says they have no idea about their overall reproductive health. Since they refuse to see a real medical professional and Idia isn’t going to permit Ortho to do intrusive body scans, we have no way of checking. They could have cancer and we’d have no way of knowing until they got sick or they died! They said this ‘period’ isn’t always a standard thing either! They could bleed out of their eyes one day and we won’t know if they were actually about to expire or if they were simply on their ‘period’!”

“...” Trey sighs, rubbing the back of his neck at the new information, “Ok, yeah, that…that is very worrying…But,” Trey turns to Riddle with a smile, trying to find the bright side, “Yuu knows their body. If something was really wrong, you know they’d at least tell Crewel about it. And…” He trails off, letting Riddle’s mind come to the conclusion itself.

“...” Yuu’s relationship with Crewel was, to most of the other students, blindingly trusting. She would tell the teacher anything and everything if they truly felt concerned about the information. Yuu continued to trust Crewel so much since he responded to such faith with the same intensity and care. “And Crewel would physically drag them to a hospital if he truly felt their life was in danger…” He took one last deep breath, nodding at the ‘fact’.

Trey watches with a smile as Riddle gathers himself up. What was once a too-small teen curled in on himself in anxiety and physical illness stood his good friend Riddle Rosehearts, a calm and collected figure of authority.

“Ok, I feel much better now, thank you, Trey.” Riddle looks to the door, “I should finish interviewing Yuu. There was so much information Jade wasn’t able to collect regarding the physical aspect of this…”

Trey hums, opening the door for them as they walk back inside, “He did say Yuu was very hormonal during their visit. Eel noses are really sensitive, so he might have been distracted in his own interview by that and the smell of blood.”

“Possibly-”

The sound of Ace yelling and a loud crash coming from the lounge sends them both sprinting. Riddle reached the archway first, nearly being rammed into the side by Trey sliding to a stop beside him, “What’s happening?”

“Is anyone hurt!?” Cater chuckles from the back of the couch, phone poised in his hands to film the fight between Ace and Yuu on the ground, “Poor Acey is gonna be.”

Ace and Yuu were spread out on the ground, Yuu quickly making progress to reach Ace’s face to slap and tug on his cheeks, “Say uncle!” He kept pushing at Yuu’s hands, face pulled into a scowl as a stray drop of blood eased down from his nose, “You bitch! You punched me!”

“You’re the one saying I couldn’t fight my way out of a paper bag! Are you weaker than a paper bag, Ace!?”

“Senpais!” Ace flips onto his stomach, reaching out to Riddle while his other arm braced against Yuu’s chest to keep them away from his face, “Help me! Cater and Yuu are bullying me and Deuce isn’t being useful!”

Deuce calls out from the other side of the fight, holding his thumb up, “I’m helping, Yuu. The hair, prefect! Pull him by the hair and slam his face into the carpet!”

“Senpai! Help!”

“...” Riddle turned away, holding his hand over his mouth, “Don’t bleed on Yuu’s rug…”

“ME!?”

Yuu cackles, finally managing to tangle their fingers into Ace’s wild hair to pull, “Yeah, Ace! Don’t bleed on my rug!”

[npookie0]

Their Love Was God

Ther x Ronin, Heathers AU, Veronica!Ther x JD!Ronin, Our Love is God inspired fic, commission

Words: 2060

Cws: Spoilers for Gluttony Gods, some for Heathers, murder, blood, slightly explicit language

Ethereality Estridge entered Angelwood High as always, head high as she-who-was-not-a-she walked past the other students. Ever since they joined the school's clique they had even more eyes on them than before, and being the Estridge's girl alone made them quite the eye catch for Angelwood High's society.

The high school was mourning, Heather, the cliques leader was found dead, she committed a suicide. Truly a tragic show of emotion for the whole school to eat up and choke on.

But, there was something the people of Angelwood didn't know. Heather Chandler didn't kill herself, she was murdered. By Estridge and the guy who should have never came into Angelwood - Ronin Beaufort. This wasn't a planned murder, or at least that's what Ther thought to themselves.

It was just an accident. I didn't kill her, I just picked up the wrong mug. It's not my fault.... 

It was easier to live on with the thought, not seeing themselves as a murderer. it kept them semi-sane in this godforsaken town that just suffocated them with its roles and laws. 

Ther entered the classroom that was claimed by the school’s yearbook committees. Intending on helping them fill it in, but when they entered the room two girls cornered them, giggling before talking. 

“Hey Ethy, did you enjoy taking Craig and his friend both at the same time?” She giggled. 

The other one joined her, putting her hand on Ther’s shoulder. “I bet you did it to cope with Heather’s loss.” She said mockingly. “Letting two guys fuck you while also having a boyfriend! I never knew you were such a w-h-o-r-e Ethy!” 

“Yeah! Guess even the saints aren’t so innocent.” They didn’t even give Ther a chance to reply, they just walked away, laughing and whispering the most disgusting words between themselves. 

Ther was dumbfounded, hugging themselves with their arms, feeling small under the other student’s judging gazes. The feeling haunting them was so unbearably big. Disgust was the main one. They felt disgusted at the thought of even doing that and with Doughton and his stupid friend of all people. Their stomach twisted uncomfortably, the breakfast they barely touched coming up to their throat. Ther felt dizzy, the world in front of their eyes was spinning uncontrollably fast and they felt like they were suffocating. “Fuck this I need out…” They whispered weakly, leaving the room and pushing between the students throwing even more distasteful jokes about their made up sex adventures with the two jocks. 

They entered the bathroom, falling through the door into one of the stalls and sliding down the wall. Their ears were buzzing. Shit why must this be happening to them, of all people? They just wanted a normal angsty teen life, some shitty break ups, getting wasted and god knows what. Not murder, blood and guts. Not an emo boyfriend who brings corruption and leaves chaos behind. They just wanted their teen years to be normal, ordinary. An 80’s movie level life would be good enough for them. Was it too much to ask for? 

“Well, well, well.” They didn’t have to look up to know who was talking to them. Voice hoarse and raspy from all the cigarettes stolen from his father he smoked, hushed because it sounds lower that way, and fuck it all if he can’t sound lower than his voice naturally is. 

Ronin Beaufort, the devil boy who brought blood, sin and ruin upon Angelwood the day he stepped foot in it. Black nail polish on his nails, messed up and uneven. Beanie with horns on his head, hiding the bleached-blonde rat’s nest on his head and adding up to the devilish aesthetic he wore as some badge of honor. Mostly black clothes, 90’s emo he called his style, though Angelwood just called him a freak, which he happily accepted with a shit-eating grin and a “bang” sound after “shooting” his finger guns into his skull. 

“Heard a rumour you took two dicks, didn’t know ya were into that, darl.” He cackled. 

They turned to look at him, mascara running down their cheeks mixed in with their tears. “Not now Ro.” They whispered. “Please.” 

Ronin’s mood changed. From amused by the absurd rumour to worried about Ther and slightly pissed about the two jocks who dared to spread that rumour about his partner. He sat next to them, taking their chin between his fingers and raising their head up, so they’d look at him. “They made you cry, huh? Fuckin’ assholes. Ruining their world with their bullshit, making others’ lives hell for fun and shit.” He wiped their cheeks with a tissue, gently caressed them with his thumbs and nuzzled his forehead against theirs. “You’re okay Ther, you know that you didn’t do it. You’re not a whore, slut or whatever those fucking pseudosaints will call you.” He whispered. 

Ther sniffed, looking into the black nothingness of Ronin’s eyes, somehow calming down just by looking deep into them, as if the mirror image of his soul was enough to bring them back to normal from the state of panic. “Ro I’m so tired. Of this facade, the pretending. I never wanted to be this popular girl known for her friend committing suicide and fuckign two guys at once.” They looked and sounded exhausted. Tired of life itself. Being an Estridge was too much for a single teenager who never wanted to be one anyway. 

Ronin hummed in understanding. “Why don’t we go to my place now? Daddy dearest is out, doing god-knows-what.” He stood up, helping them up too. “C’mon, I have an offer you’d love to hear all about babe.” Ronin took their hand in his and led them out of the bathroom, then to the exit and then to his house. 

Our love is God Ther, those motherfuckers will learn of it soon enough. 

They were laying in his bed, writing a suicide note, one that’d make Craig and his friend look like a laughingstock for the whole town, no one would shut up about their little tragic story for a while. And maybe the angels would even feel a little pity towards the two guys joining them in spirit. 

“Is it ready?” Ronin asked, looking over their shoulder at the paper in front of them. 

Ther sat up, a huge smile on their lips. “Yeah, wanna hear?” They asked. 

“Hit me.” Ronin replied, arms folded over his chest, head tilted in interest. 

“Craig and I died because we had to hide out gay forbidden love from the disapproving world.” They read out loud, trying to sound as close to the jock as possible. 

Ronin held himself by his stomach, bursting out into laughter. “Oh shit, you’re making it even funnier than it is! Imagine the cops faces when the two most misogynistic fuckers turn out to be just two little guys in love? I can already throw up at the comments about Jesus lovin’ them even if they’re sinners and allat bullshit.” He sat down on the bed. “It's time to make your phone call, baby.” 

Ther sighed. “Ugh I hate having to do this.” They groaned and picked up the phone, dialing Craig’s number and waiting. 

“Yeah-lo?” The jock said after picking up the call. Ther felt their gut twist and their hand gripping the sheets in anger. 

They were still able to speak in a sweet voice. “Hi Craig, it’s Ethereality.” They paused, almost gagging before saying the second part. “I was wondering, how did you know that I always wanted to have two guys at once.” They threw a pillow at Ronin who was laughing about the face they were making. 

“Uhh lucky guess?” The jock replied. 

“Well, if you’d like it to really happen, meet me at Ridge Grave, at dawn.” They hang up, bursting into laughter and then watching as Ronin pulls out a gun from his jacket. “Whoa, is this real?” They ask, taking the gun from his hands and watching it carefully. Their gut telling them that this was wrong, but who were they to listen to their gut feeling? 

Ronin took the gun back, a mischievous look in his eye. “As real as ever, baby. Bang and they’re gone.” He chuckled, twisted smile on his lips, wicked glint in his eye. A devil in boy skin, whispering temptations to poor lost girls-not-girls who seeked freedom more than anything. That he was, not less not more. 

But Ther was blinded, by their suffering and love for him. Their mind became hazy whenever he kissed them and they kissed back as passionately. Or maybe they weren’t blind. Maybe they relished in the blood and gut as much as he did. Maybe murdering Heather was the happiest feeling ever and they just tried to hide it, ashamed and afraid of the reality they found themselves in. 

They arrived at Ridge Grave. Neat rows of dead girls’ graves piled up next to the Stone Angel like she was their lead, guide and god. The one they worshipped and danced around. A perfect place for the worst boys Angelwood has ever seen to die in, ground that’ll never accept them, ghosts that’ll hate them and the Stone Angel who will taunt them for their sins. At least that she could do for all the girls the jocks put to grave with their destructive behaviours, hurting girls and killing their futures by barging into their lives uninvited. Spreading ruin and pain, making the world a worse place to live in. They should pay. And pay they will. 

“Hey Ethy.” Craig said once he arrived, his friend next to him. Both smirking, excited about the threesome they were hoping to get. 

“Do we just whip it out now?” The other jock asked, a look holding no thoughts in his eye. That one for sure used his second head more than the one attached to his neck. 

Ther giggled, wanting to die with every word they were about to say. “Strip for me, it’s more exciting that way.” 

“But what about you?” 

They had to fight the scowl that wanted to show on their face. “Well, I was hoping you’d rip my clothes off of me boys.” A sweet smile, one they perfected enough to make it look real. 

The two jocks needed eagerly, stripping in front of Ther, trying to make it look sexy when in reality they just looked like two clowns. 

“Okay, now I’ll count to three.” Ther said, taking a breath and squeezing the small gun in their pocket.

“One.”

“Two.”

They were counting slowly, taking their time. 

Then, surprising and scaring the two jocks, Ronin emerged from behind a tree.

 “Three.”

Bang

 He shot Craig.

The bullet was aimed at his throat and fit perfectly in. He fell to the ground with a loud thud. Blood leaking from the wound and running down his neck. Ronin didn’t waste town, shooting his friend after Ther missed their shot. 

He chased after the guy, leaving Ther alone with Craig’s body and all the forged proofs for the suicide behind. He caught up to him, taking a hit that almost broke his nose before shooting him into his chest. “Motherfucker.” He scoffed, dragging the body back to the place. 

Ther was kneeling in front of Craig’s body. Their mind a haze while their body had a clear reaction; laughter. Laughter and tears. 

They despised Craig more than anyone in this world, so seeing him dead was like a reward they didn’t even know they so dearly wanted. They didn’t care about being a murderer, a partner in crime. All they cared about was Craig laying dead in front of them.

 Their guilt may eat them up later, but it didn’t matter now. The adrenaline gave them more energy than they have ever felt in their life. They stood up from their knees, walked up to Ronin and wrapped their arms around his neck, pulling him close and kissing him passionately. It was a ‘thank you’. 

A thank you for all he’s done for them, for all the damage he’s brought, filth and corruption. It all made them a real person, someone who knew what they wanted. He loved them for them and that’s all that mattered to Ther really. 

God was their love and Angelwood will be the sin they’ll purge with the rot they’ll spread. 

teehee credits to this user for commissioning me to write this piece ^^

I hope you liked my little Heathers AU :D I'll see if I want to touch more content from Heathers with Thernin (I for sure want to use Freeze Your Brain and Seventeen from the Musical too since there are my go to songs for them other than OLIS)

Love you all, Nathan <3

[juppl]

𝕳𝖔𝖒𝖊𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖉 𝕭𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖉

A Silver x F!Reader Tale (High Fantasy AU) |Prologue| |Part 1| |Part 2|

What if… the boy in your dreams became the princess that needed saving.

Prologue

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Another hot summer’s night graced the Queendom of Roses as a bustling street of music and laughter filled the air in celebration of a wealthy merchant’s return. A loud booming laugh rung through the tavern walls as men and women clinked glasses after just finishing another round of booze. “A good haul—best haul if I do say so myself!” A drunken man cheered as I he wrapped his arm around a tavern girl’s waist. “Aye! How could you call it that, this is an absolute blessing. After this trade, our descendants will be knee deep in our own riches to come!” A rowdy woman chimed in as she playfully nudged the man.

“Exactly! That’s why we can’t just stop here, we’ll travel even further! To the Shaftlands even!” A large bearded man exclaimed as he excitedly pointed to his map that had been laid crossed the table. The group of merchants and townsfolk cheered happily at the thought of even more possible wealth to come their way.

“YEAH!!”

“Yeah..!” A small shout interrupted their celebration causing them to glance around for the source. “Think of all the treasure we could find at the Coral Sea too—!” The childlike voice chimed again, small hands desperately reaching towards the top of the table to help the young girl up, this drawing the attention of the now surprised drunken folk. “(Y-Y/n)?!” The bearded man yelped before hastily scooping the little girl up and away from any drops of alcohol.

“Hey! I wanna look too!” You fussed as you began to repetitively beat at the old man’s arms and chest. A string of groans and laughs could be heard from behind as you were carried away up the tavern stairs. “Learn to keep her away from the adults.” “Be a better father why don’t’ya and keep a better eye on her!” They laughed and teased before returning back to their drinking and crude activities.

“Damn it (Y/n) what did I tell you about leaving your room past your bedtime—why aren’t you sleeping at your bedtime?!”

“I wanna be a pirate just like you! Argh Argh Argh!” You laughed maniacally as you jumped onto your bed while throwing your pillow at your father. He only sighed tiredly in response as he shoved the pillow back your way, knocking your small frame down easily. “I’m not a pirate I told you. I’m a merchant, they’re two different things little one.” “Nope!” You bounced back up again. “Daddy! I wanna go travel with you and get rich too! I wanna see the worldddd with you daddy!” You outstretched your arms to exaggerate the subject, causing you to fall back onto the bed.

The large man could only laugh at your antics, scooping you back up to toss you in the air. “Is that right? My strong little girl wants to become a merchant just like her father!” He happily shouted as he brought you back down to hug tightly. “But being a merchant is hard work, why not stay here at the tavern and help your mother. She needs her little knight to protect her from all the bad men when I’m gone for work.” He sighed as he began to tuck you in for bed for the second time tonight. But to his dismay, you jumped up again, banging your head against his in annoyance. “Oof—!!”

“I don’t wanna be a knight!! I’m not a boy! I wanna be a rich princess in a big castle with lots of food!” You exclaimed as your hands shot up assertively. Your father only hissed in pain, before trying to calm your restless attitude once again. “Not all knights are men you know, some are really strong women as well—“ “But I want to be a princess!” You shot back angrily before being forcefully tucked back into bed… again. “Yes yes, a princess. My strong, beautiful, princess. But to be a strong and beautiful princess, you’ll need all of your energy for the days to come. So, why don’t you head to bed so you can wake up in time for your mother’s big breakfast okay?” You simply nodded, growing a bit more tired as your eyes were feeling heavier with each passing second that went by.

This was alright, you’d get to see that pretty girl in your dreams anyways so it was a win-win in your opinion. Going to bed to see your best friend then waking up to be a rich princess was all you could ask for. Soon, you allowed your consciousness to drift away into your familiar dreamland. “Goodnight little one.”

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

“Princess!” You shouted as you ran towards the young (girl?) inside your dreams. Your small hands took hers in their own. “I missed you! Today my daddy got a lot of money from his work so now we’re gonna be rich!” You exclaimed as you basically bounced in joy. The other little child could only smile awkwardly at your rather eccentric behavior. “Um, that’s nice I suppose. B-But why am I princess?” They asked in a soft tone that seemed a bit shy. You only blinked in response momentarily before clasping their hands tightly.

“Because you’re as pretty as one! And all girls should be princesses because they all deserve to be happy and rich. Especially you, because you’re my best friend!” You happily shouted as you danced with their hands in your own still. A small rosy tint enveloped their cheeks at your explanation as they tried to keep up with your movements. “I-I’m not a girl though…” They whimpered out shyly almost seeming to be embarrassed by admitting the fact of their gender. This leaving you stunned and absolutely shell shocked.

“You’re not a girl!? B-But you’re so pretty! Look at your pretty long silver hair! And your pretty eyes! And you’re shorter than me too!” You frantically tried to make reason of the situation, mostly to yourself. Now knowing that your dream friend that you’ve been seeing for a while was in fact NOT another little girl left you embarrassed yourself. The little boy huffed at your reasonings and swatted your hands away, “my hair isn’t that much longer than yours, a-and my father says that I’ll grow up to be a strong young man that’ll be taller than him!” You scoffed at his claims, thinking it impossible on how this short boy could ever surpass your own height now. “Yeah right! You’re as dainty as a girl, calling you princess wouldn’t be a stretch even if you are a boy.” You teased which cause him to flare his cheeks up a bit. “Yeah well at least I’m closer to being one than you! You look and act even more like a boy than me! No way you could be a princess.” He huffed in response, little to his knowledge this shattered your world and sent you into a downwards spiral…

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

“(Y/n)!! Come down and help me, stop hiding away in your room so late in the morning!” Your mother called out for you as she tried to handle the busy tavern’s morning rush. You begrudgingly dragged your feet down the steps, earning a few laughs and teasing comments at your drowsy state. “If it isn’t sleeping beauty, or might I say sleeping burly with how much of a man you’re looking today.” Your older aunt Rosemary cackled at her own joke, as if finding herself the most amusing thing around here. “Leave her be, you’re just going to upset her already tired mood.” Your mother frowned as she bumped her sister with her hip while she passed by. “Yeah when are you going to stop with the man jokes, don’t you know they get old after the first three times?” You grumbled back as you grabbed at any random booze you spotted first.

“Really?! Drinking this early? You haven’t even eaten anything yet!” Your mother howled in disbelief, clutching her heart as if she were in pain. She was always one for the dramatics, but caring nonetheless. “It’s fine, I’m just a little hot. Need something to cool me off.” But to your dismay, the bottle was snatched right from your fingertips leading to a long sigh. “Alright alright, I’m eating see. Bread, in my hands.” You said tiredly as you grabbed at a slice of toast from your aunt’s plate. “Good, then help me take some orders. Customers are coming in by the minute.” You responded with a hum as you took more off of your aunt’s plate, not as if it mattered to how she paid more attention to her mug of booze. “Best get to cleaning too, I’ve seen that one hogging that table as a bed for quite some time.” Aunt Rose gestured towards a small table that was surprisingly occupied by only one man. Poor thing probably already got robbed by now.

After scarfing down one last egg, you tied your apron tighter around your waist before making your way towards him. “Hey we don’t give naps for free, you want a bed you gotta pay for one.” You scoffed as you nudged him with the end of a broom. To no avail did he seem to wake up or stir though, weird, was he dead? Curious, you gently rolled him to the side a bit before jumping back from a startled yelp. The cloaked man that was once sleeping jolted violently from his slumber and yelped in surprise from being moved so suddenly. His shocked aurora eyes meeting yours in the process. You thought they were… pretty?

[bqstqnbruin]

Matt Rempe Teacher AU

I have actually written four little teacher au blurbs in less than 24 hours out of sheer boredom but I don't like one of them so here's the third one you get have fun

Teacher AU Series

Warnings: None

WC: 1848

“What are you doing?”

Leighton jumps when she hears his voice, not noticing the door even being opened as she scrambled to turn off her music so she could have a conversation with him. “I’m putting together first day of school gifts for my homeroom.”

Matt scoffs, inviting himself over to her lab tables, shuffling through the things she had scattered on the black table tops. “Why?”

“It’s their last first day of school, I wanted to do something nice for them.” 

“Something nice is a plastic lei, beads, and a wooden letter?”

“A: it’s something small for the first day, it doesn’t have to be that elaborate. B: I spent time painting these their class color and it’s their initials, not just a random letter. And, C: have you seen them on spirit day? They eat this kind of shit up,” Leighton scolds him, trying to push past him to get the bags together. She knew her homeroom students. She knew this was the kind of stuff they loved to get, and she wanted to make their last first day just a little bit more special if she could. Not to mention, it was all in a reasonable budget for having to make fifteen gift bags.

Matt scoffs again, making Leighton’s blood boil. “They’re seniors in high school, not first graders.”

“And what do you do for your homeroom?”

“Nothing. I don’t have to buy their affection the way you apparently do.”

“It’s not buying their affection if they were giving it to me for free to begin with. Now get out and go back to your own classroom, you have your own prep to do before students show up on Monday,” she says, trying as hard as she could to physically shove him out of her classroom, unable to see the smile on his face. 

“Did it already.”

Leighton steps back, throwing Matt off balance. “How?”

Matt shrugs, a smirk on his face. “It’s not that hard. I don’t need things on my walls and Mary already ordered all the supplies we need for this year when we were clearing out the budget last year.” 

“I don’t understand how you don’t decorate your classroom at the beginning of the year.” 

Matt gestures to the posters behind her desk, knowing that they were things for her homeroom from the previous years that she put back up every year. “I hang up students' work new each year. Let them decorate my classroom, not me.” 

“Get out,” Leighton says again, Matt laughing on his way to the door. 

That Monday, Leighton’s seniors loved their gifts, their classmates from Matt’s homeroom coming flying into her classroom to show off their brand new Stanley’s with their names embossed on them. Personal, flashy, and expensive. Not to mention, one of Matt’s girls, Vikki, placing one with the name ‘Ms. Cunningham’ on her desk, just for her. 

As soon as her students left, she took the cup with her down to Matt’s classroom. “What is this?” she asks, bursting into his classroom, thankful that he was alone in his room instead of with a student to see this. 

“It’s called a water bottle. Kind of. I don’t know if it counts as a bottle or a cup, but either way, you drink water from it.”

Leighton groans, turning on her heels before he can say anything else. She put the cup in one of the cabinets in her desk, hoping she could forget about its existence since she couldn’t forget about the person who gave it to her.

She avoided Matt as much as possible, knowing that anything he did would get under her skin and make her irrationally angry, a pit in her stomach whenever she saw him.

Christmas was coming up, Leighton already planning her Christmas gifts for her homeroom. They had gotten together and bought her a Ranger’s jersey with the name her favorite player from her childhood on the back for her birthday (apparently getting a bunch of anonymous students in on the gift to get around the ‘teachers can’t accept gifts of more than $25 from their students’ rule in the handbook), so she had to do something for Christmas.

She found someone on Etsy who made personalized necklaces for not much money, letting her put their names, their school name, and their graduation on charms for them. She stayed a little later before their last day of the calendar year to wrap their gifts for them, enjoying the peace she had in her room with the lights slightly dim, the sun already set, and Christmas music playing over her speakers.

“Now what are you doing?” Matt asks, his coat and hat already on, his keys in hand. Good, he had to be leaving soon. 

“Wrapping my homeroom’s Christmas gifts. And you look like you were leaving, so you should do that.” 

“Let me help,” he says, putting his bag down and taking off his hat. “It’s already after five, the faster this gets done, the faster you can go home and plan my demise or something.”

Leighton tries to hide the smile she wanted to mirror back to him. “That would imply that I think about you outside of work.” 

Matt shrugs, taking the necklace for Leah and wrapping it with more care than she had been. “I think about you outside work.”

Leighton rips the wrapping paper, clearly caught off guard. “What?”

“Yeah, wondering why you do this type of stuff.” 

Leighton swallows. “A couple of my girls' parents don’t have a ton of money. They can’t really afford to get them all the nice gifts that some of the other girls get. At least this way, I know they get something, and I know that it’s something that’s just as nice as the other girls get. I was that kid who would watch their friends opening these amazing presents, knowing that I would never get anything that nice until I could afford it myself.”

“So you buy yourself nice things now?”

Leighton laughs. “No. I spend pretty much all my extra money on stuff for the girls. Especially since it’s their senior year, it’s my last chance with this group to show them that there are people out there who are willing to do nice things for them.”

“What do the parents think?” 

“Most of them don’t care. But the ones that don’t have the money told me they like that there’s someone who can surprise their girls. They do what they can, but they can’t do everything, you know?”

Matt nods, giving her a soft smile. 

The next morning, her homeroom girls, again, loved their Christmas gifts, only to be interrupted, again, by Matt’s girls rushing in. Soph showed Leighton that Mr. Rempe had picked up every girl their Starbucks or Dunkin orders that morning, along with a Christmas ornament that had their name, the school name, and their graduation year on it, shockingly similar to the necklaces from her. Katherine hands her the same; her coffee from Dunkin and an ornament with Ms. Cunningham and the year she started teaching there on it.

Her students leave, and again, she storms down to Matt’s classroom, the Dunkin and ornament in hand.

“What is the matter with you?”

Matt turns to the student sitting at one of the tables, making up a test. “Jessie, I’ll be right back,” he says, grabbing Leighton’s wrist and dragging her into the prep room connected to his classroom, sending a shiver down her spine that she decided to ignore. “That’s an interesting way to say thank you to someone who got you a Christmas gift after telling them you didn’t have anyone who bought you nice things.”

“You keep one-upping my gifts to my girls,” she points out. “You’re doing the exact thing I watched when I was a kid with my friends getting better stuff.” 

Matt holds his hand up as if he were surrendering. “I like to get my students things I know they’ll like, just like you do.” 

“You are an insufferable walnut,” she lets out, not sure what else she could really say knowing there was a student within earshot of them. “Do not come into my classroom unless you’re told to, please. I am begging you.”

She leaves again before he could say anything, throwing the Dunkin in his trash can so he could see she didn’t take it with her. She sits down in her chair and lets out a long sigh, opening the cabinet to throw the ornament in with the cup from the beginning of the year. 

The rest of the year passed without much fanfare, Matt doing what he promised and leaving her alone. The last day of school and, therefore, graduation, was coming up quickly for the girls she had come to know so well over the last four years. She bought them custom wall art for their dorms next year that had their college colors on it. It was easily the most expensive and most difficult thing to get them, but it was the last thing she would get for them, it had to be special. 

“Are you ok?”

Leighton nearly jumped out of her seat at her desk, dropping the pen she had been using to write a letter to Katie, one of the last letters for her girls she would write. “You’re like the mold on my ceiling that keeps growing back.”

Matt looks up above her, a horrified look on his face. “You have mold?”

“Why are you here?”

“I was heading out and I saw you were crying.”

Leighton holds her hand up to her face, the tears on her cheeks long unnoticed. It was easy to get emotional writing about her girls; she watched them grow from scared freshmen into the women they were today, ready to set out into the world and hopefully change it for the better. “I’m gonna miss this group.” 

Matt nods, walking over to her desk, kneeling down in front of her and placing his hand on her knee. “They’re gonna miss you, too.”

Leighton laughs. “Do you remember your homeroom teacher from high school?”

“No, but I remember the ones who cared about me and my classmates.” The two of them sit there for a moment, Matt getting up off the ground. “Why did you never answer my questions?”

Leighton looks at him, clearly confused. “I have answered every question you asked me. All the annoying ones, too.”

Matt laughs, shaking his head. “No, the ones I asked you with the gifts.” She gets the gifts out of her desk, where they had been sitting all year. Matt takes the Stanley, opening the cup to reveal a note stuffed inside. He unravels what she thought was ribbon tied to the ornament that was another note. “I’ve been asking you to dinner all year,and you never said anything.”

“I ignored these gifts all year,” she says, bluntly. “I didn’t know you wanted to get dinner.”

“I would like more than just dinner, but I’ll settle for anything.”

[dark-frosted-heart]

Roger Barel Main Route - Chapter 4

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this. I’m doing this for archiving purposes and you can probably find a better translation out there.

Alfons led us to a room in the estate…

Alfons: Take a look inside.

When I peeked through the door, I was greeted with the strangest scene.

Glass inhalers lined the walls and party attendants were spread around the room, eyes glazed over—

I gently closed the door to not make any noises.

Roger: Those vacant eyes means they’re high.

Kate: …

Recreational—Just a glance had me realize the kind of effects the drugs had on your mood.

Alfons: As you can see, a show with laughing gas was going on. Aah, they looked blissful.

While I gave Alfons a reproachful look at the amusement in words, Roger calmly analyzed the scent in the air.

Roger: This smell…it’s ether.

Kate: Ether?

Roger: Ether’s a type of anaesthetic currently used in treatment. However, I’m personally skeptical of its use.

Kate: Why?

Roger: Don’t get me wrong, it’s fine if handled by an expert, but it’s dangerous if handled by amateurs. Worst case, an overdose can be fatal. Not only that, it’s highly addictive. I get wanting to escape reality and lose yourself in pleasure, but this is too risky. It’s a foolish thing to do.

However, Alfons disagreed with the perfectly reasonable opinion.

Alfons: You think so? Reality is full of shit…You need to escape to live.

Roger: Running away won’t change how shitty reality is. It just makes you feel more empty.

Alfons: That part of you is what makes me hate you so much I could throw up.

Kate: Um, we don’t have time to argue, you two…!

When I whispered for them to stop, the two looked away from each other.

Roger: …I wouldn’t mind just leaving them here if not for Her Majesty’s orders. “The hazard must be stopped,” she said.

Alfons: We’re not exactly heroes of justice.

Roger looked from Alfons to me with serious eyes.

Roger: Ether vapors are reactive to fire and can cause explosions. We’ll need to ventilate the area immediately and seize the evidence. Kate, you stay out in the hall. Don’t go in.

Kate: Got it!*

—From here on, it’s “Crown’s” job.

--

(I hope Roger and Alfons are okay…)

While the two dealt with the ether, I waited in the deserted hallway.

At that moment, the loud sound of the grandfather clock in the hallway could be heard.

(T-that scared me…)

I was so distracted when the clock struck midnight that I didn’t hear the door of what I thought was an empty room open behind me.

???: Oh? I didn’t realize we had a new guest.

Kate: …!

When I turned around, he’d already grabbed my hand…

And dragged me into a room with the scent of ether.

There was no one else in the room. Apparently the gentleman was the only one enjoying the ether.

Dazed Gentleman: My lovely lady. You came here to forget reality too, right?

Kate: I, um…I just got lost in this estate, so excuse me!

Dazed Gentleman: Just take two or three puffs and you’ll have a taste of the unknown world of death with a return ticket in hand. Now, come here…

The gentleman’s eyes were vacant, as if he hadn’t heard me…

(This man’s already addicted to ether)

Eyes unfocused, he tried to get me to suck on the pipe connected to the glassware.

Kate: Stop!

I struggled to escape, but the gentleman was too strong.

(What do I do…)

Cornered, my heart pounded loudly…

(Ah…)

Suddenly, past memories popped in my mind.

~~ Flashback ~~

Man 1**:  The delivery was delayed due to construction?

Man 2: Ha, how typical for a female postal worker.

--

Woman 1: Women can’t beat men anyway, so it’s dumb to fight back isn’t it?

--

Kate: If you think you can’t trust me, then go ahead and keep me under watch until you believe you can! I promise I’ll prove it.

—So please, don’t kill me.

~~ Flashback end ~~

I could hear my own voice coming from somewhere…

(...I don’t want to remember…)

Memories rushed forward like a muddy stream, and I shut my eyes tightly.

Roger: …Hold up. If you don’t wanna get shot, let her go.

When I slowly opened my eyes and saw Roger, I relaxed.

Kate: …Roger.

Roger: Kate, did you inhale any of it?

Kate: No…I’m…okay.

Roger nodded and struck the gentleman in the stomach with the butt of his rifle.

The gentleman collapsed onto the floor, unconscious, and Alfons’ head appeared from behind the door.

Alfons: The evidence has been safely seized. Let’s get the hell out of here.

--

We headed home through the deep darkness of night while keeping an eye out for any pursuers or  watchful eyes.

Alfons: Tonight’s mission ended peacefully without bloodshed. How unsatisfying.

Roger: With the evidence and report, we’ll can finally classify ether as a poison and regulate its sale.

Kate: …

Alfons: Ah, that’s right! I happen to have two tickets for tonight’s play.

As he said that, he held them out to me.

Kate: These tickets! They’re for the play everyone’s been talking about that’s hard to get tickets for, aren’t they?

Alfons: It would seem so. I received them through El’s connections, but… Unfortunately, I can’t go as I have some personal matters to attend to. I’ll give them to you, so why don’t you go see it with Roger?

Kate: With Roger…?

While I tilted my head and wondered why he brought up Roger…

Alfons: I’ll be taking my leave now.

I watched him head toward the entertainment district and then melt into the dark valley between buildings.

Kate: Um, what should I do with these…?

Roger: Just a heads up, I’m not interested in anything related to the arts, like theater or paintings. If we go, I’m only going to escort you.

Kate: Were you planning on going with me?

It was rather surprising.

(I thought he’d go straight to a bar after work than do something he wasn’t interested in)

Roger: The show’s about to start. Let’s go.

Kate: O-okay.

I followed Roger as he walked away as if on a mission.

--

(Wow, it’s been a while. This atmosphere…)

As soon as the curtains opened, the audience that had been chatting amongst themselves were captivated by the spectacular stage and forgot about reality.

I loved this feeling of falling into a dream.

(But…)

For some reason, I couldn’t take anything in tonight.

(I love going to the theater so much that it’s pretty much become my only hobby, and we have great seats…)

Kate: …

The story continued as if passing right through my heart.

During the middle of the play, I suddenly noticed eyes on me and I redirected my gaze from the stage to the person beside me.

Roger: …

(...?)

Roger jerked his chin and quietly stood.

Roger: …Let’s go.

Kate: Huh? …Ah, wait.

--

Kate: Roger, why did you suddenly leave your seat? It’s rude to the performers—

Roger: There’s something up with you. Your tail’s been drooping since the mission ended.

(Tail?)

Treating my like a dog aside, I understood what he meant.

This was the first time I couldn’t focus on a play.

Roger: Sorry for leaving my seat when I wanted. It’s an insult to the art. But isn’t it sadder to watch something you like with negative feelings and end up hating it?

I don’t know myself +4 +4

I don’t know how I’m feeling

Did I do something weird?

Kate: I don’t understand myself. I love watching plays, but for some reason, I couldn’t concentrate…

Roger: That’s because your mind was somewhere else.

(Huh?)

Roger: I’m no counselor, but I think you need someone to talk to. Kate, look me in the eyes.

I raised my gaze like he told me to.

Our eyes met under the light illuminating Piccadilly. 

Kate: …

Roger: That’s it. Good. I’ll never dismiss your thoughts. I’ll agree to anything. Kate. What’s making you so sad?

(What’s making me sad is…)

Amber eyes staring straight back at me unraveled my heart.

Kate: Earlier, when the man held me, I tried to resist…but he wouldn’t budge.

Roger: You had this faraway look in your eyes as if remembering something. What did you remember?

~~

Man 1:  The delivery was delayed due to construction?

Man 2: Ha, how typical for a female postal worker.

Woman 1: Women can’t beat men anyway, so it’s dumb to fight back isn’t it?

~~

Kate: The feeling of being looked down upon because of what you were born as…The feeling of being ignored.

Roger: Kate. What frustrates you?

(...Frustrates?)

(Oh, I see…)

Perhaps I had been labeling all these events as sadness and ignoring the anger welling up inside me.

Because getting angry was pointless.

Because I hated being reminded that…

…Giving up is easier.

(What…was I frustrated with? What was I angry about…?)

~~

Kate: If you think you can’t trust me, then go ahead and keep me under watch until you believe you can! I promise I’ll prove it.

(So please, don’t kill me)

~~

(When I was brought to Crown’s castle, I didn’t have a choice but to do that to beg for my life)

Maybe…if I had been stronger, things could’ve gone differently.

There are so many things in life that are beyond your control.

But—How you handle it is up to you.

When I came to that realization, thoughts just started spilling out.

Kate: I’m…frustrated…by how weak I am.

Roger: Last question. Kate, what do you want to be?

Kate: I…

Next

-

*Fought the urge for me to have Kate say “Roger!”

**Interestingly, Man 1 and Man 2’s lines were all said by one person in chapter 0

[lovendeep-thoughts]

Raging Blue and his Pink Chaos

Part 1 | Part 2

This AU is inspired by Gone by Rosé.

pairing: Zayne x female character (might seem a bit oc to some, but I intend for her to be a self-insert)

word count: 4.3k

warnings: The female character here has some unresolved trauma and a tough-it-out personality. Since this is a high school AU set way before the main story begins, Zayne is much colder with his words. I tried to reflect how I personally saw and feel about his character when LaDs first came out: full of misunderstandings and miscommunication. Kyle is just a random name I picked for a supportive side character, but he’s not a love interest. Also, just a heads-up: there's slight gore and mentions of blood 'cuz Wanderers happened.

💌: I didn’t really plan to continue this story since it was just for practice, but my fingers had other ideas—and obviously, I couldn’t stop them—so haha, here we are. I might update the previous part and may or may not upload a part 3. Like I said, this is my very first time uploading fics, so comments on how I can improve, especially about the warnings I may have forgotten to add, are really appreciated. I’ll continue to update this accordingly. That’s all for now. Thank you, and I hope you enjoy this part from your—or the female character’s—POV!

It’s 8 in the morning, but it may as well be midnight during summer with how dark and hot it is here. I lie sprawled in the center of my room, the hardwood cold against my back, as I lazily watch the faint glow seeping through the cracks between the curtains. I can see the dust swirling above me like a ghost of the past. It’s as if the ceiling itself is trying to smother me, trapping every fleeting moment of happiness I should be recalling before I leave this place forever. But I can’t. There’s nothing left to remember. At least, nothing I want to.

Three months. It’s been three months since graduation, and the days have blurred together. It all slipped past me in a haze of silence. I spent the last day choking on tears, alone. I felt like a hollowed-out version of who I used to be. A ship going through the motions, carrying a truckload of shattered glasses and feeling used up.

Shutting away that memory, I force myself upright, limbs heavy with exhaustion that sleep never fixes. Trust me, I tried. I should be doing my final sweep of the house to make sure I haven’t left anything behind; but it’s hard to move when every corner, every shadow, feels like it belongs to him. His voice still lingers in the silence, in the fissure of the walls, in the air I breathe. It’s fucking inescapable.

And yet, these memories… they don’t even feel like mine anymore. They now belong to someone else, someone naïve and blind. I walk these halls like a stranger trespassing in a life I no longer recognize. That I do not want to claim. There’s an ache deep in my chest, like I’m searching for something that doesn’t exist anymore. Maybe it never did.

At least I’m leaving those behind. Mom agreed to let me move into an apartment near my college campus, and I’m already packed.

An hour from now, I’ll be gone, and this house, this suffocating tomb, will be nothing but a part of my life I can finally walk away from.

I should be excited, but all I feel is the weight of starting over. A new school, new faces, new routines, new ways to pretend like I have it all together. High school already drained me. Now, I have to do it all over again. Make friends again. Find my place again. Try to survive again.

But if high school taught me anything, it’s that not all endings are happy. And some nights, like that miserable graduation night, haunt you long after they’re over.

My strength to keep my eyes open drains like water through a colander, each second pulling me deeper into exhaustion. The weight of polite smiles and mechanical nods drags at me as people I barely know recount their first impressions of me, how much I’ve changed, how different I am now. For better or worse? I can’t be bothered to read between the lines.

My mom is busy entertaining the parents and classmates I’ve long since tuned out. I should be in bed, knocked out, dreaming about the life waiting for me beyond high school. College is only a few months away, and I should be excited about the things I can finally do. Well, technically, things I chose not to do before. Like dating, maybe. My mom keeps nudging me about finding a boyfriend, yet she’s terrified of me growing up too fast. The contradiction always makes me laugh. Not that it matters. The idea of romance exhausts me. I can’t picture myself giving my heart to someone, only to wonder when they’ll decide they’re done with me. People change for no reason at all. So why take the gamble?

I linger in the corner like I’m the one who’s been cast aside. #acting-like-the-victim. But in all seriousness, I know what rejection feels like. It’s disgusting. Humiliating. A memory I should bury, yet I keep it close to remind myself to never let it happen again. I push people away before they can do exactly that to me.

“Are you alright?”

My eyes flick up, and of course, it’s Zayne. Who else? He’s the only one who still insists on checking up on me, even though I do nothing but leer and curse at him. Sometimes, I think he enjoys irritating me. He must be a secret freak beneath that cold exterior if that’s the case.

“Yeah, just tired.”

Tired and guilty.

The memory of last night creeps up my spine like ice. I asked him something I shouldn’t have, something that clawed at an old wound I’d rather keep shut. His evol nearly killed someone, and I was supposed to leave it alone. But selfish curiosity won over reason. I wanted something from him. A piece of him, something uniquely his. Even if it meant dragging him back into that nightmare.

I’m an idiot.

Before I can dwell on it further, a warm arm snakes around my waist, pulling me against him. My breath stutters, and I keep my head down. Surely, my cheeks are betraying me.

He’s been doing this ever since we started practicing for graduation, and it’s killing me. Not because I’m uncomfortable with his advances, but because I know I don’t deserve it. I have nothing to offer him. I am nothing next to him. Not a trophy girlfriend, not an overachiever, not someone with a bright, shining future like him. Just a normal student with no accolades, no fixed friend group, no grand ambitions. And that’s enough for me. As long as I graduate, get a stable job, and live comfortably, I don’t need anything else.

I don’t need him.

I don’t need anyone, for that matter.

“Are you really that tired?”

I nod sluggishly.

“Let’s get you home.” He tugs me gently, guiding me toward the exit.

My fingers catch the fabric of his sleeve. He stops and glances back at me.

“Wait. What about you?” I tilt my head.

He watches me for a long moment before shaking his head. “I have nothing to do if you need to sleep.”

I release his sleeve and smooths the wrinkles I made with unnecessary focus. “Then what do you want to do if I’m not sleepy?”

“A walk with you would be nice.”

There’s amusement in his voice. I ignore it, still fussing with his sleeve. “Shouldn’t you be preparing for prom?” I ask nonchalantly.

“I don’t have a partner, so I can just not attend.”

I shoot him a glare and whisper-shout, “No! You must go!”

He raises a brow. “What about you?”

“Don’t mind me!” I wave my hands dismissively. “You should have fun! It’s your last night here.”

“Exactly.” His voice is quieter but firm. “I want to spend my time wisely. Let’s go.”

He turns, and I have no choice but to follow as he leads me out of the venue.

Once I catch up to him, he chuckles. “I already informed our mothers that we’ll be out.”

I scoff and playfully shove his arm. “You had this planned out, huh?”

“Since last year.”

We originally plan to take a quiet walk along the beach, maybe eat seafood together at a nearby restaurant, but plans change the moment we overhear a pair of elderly women chatting about a night fair nearby. I don’t need to hear more to pester Zayne into making a detour, much to his dismay.

When we arrive at the fair, I’m surprised it isn’t as crowded as I expected. It still buzzes with energy. There’s laughter mixing with the upbeat folk music and the occasional pop of fireworks illuminating the sky in bursts of pink and violet.

That’s when I realize something is missing. My wrist feels oddly light. My watch. I left it behind 'cause of the ridiculous dress code rules earlier at graduation. I vaguely remember Zayne putting his on earlier when he met with his parents after the ceremony. Without thinking, I reach for his arm, tilting it to check the time.

11:36 PM.

Late, but the night is far from over. Teenagers huddle together to snap multiple group selfies. The sizzle of cooking oil mingles with the crisp scent of grilled skewers, and neon signs flicker against the dark sky, casting warm orange reflections on our faces. They make everything feel like a scene from an old photograph.

Stalls stretch down the street, selling everything from delicate handmade trinkets to impossibly large stuffed animals.

And then I see it.

“Zayne, look! That teddy bear looks like you!” I practically bounce on my feet, pointing at the prize hanging from a ring toss stall.

Zayne follows my gaze, his expression unimpressed. “In what angle?”

I grin. “Mr. White Bear looks serious but cute with his glasses, and he’s even wearing a blue bow tie. Like you right now!”

I turn to the vendor just in time to see Zayne already handing over money for ten rings.

I smirk at him, eagerly accepting five of them. “I am so gonna get him.”

The timer starts, and I take my first shot. The ring sails through the air, completely missing the bottleneck I’m aiming for.

Zayne’s voice cuts through my focus. “You bought it.”

“What?” I shout back, quickly aiming my second throw.

“You bought my bow tie.”

I spare him a quick glance, catching the way his fingers briefly brush against the fabric at his collar. My next ring clatters uselessly against the bottles.

I try to focus again and squint my eyes for better aim. “You hate that?”

“I didn’t say that.”

I swear I catch a hint of something else in his voice, but I’m in desperate mode to get that teddy bear. By the time the timer runs out, not a single one of my rings lands where it’s supposed to. I sigh in defeat, shoulders slumping.

“Such a meanie,” I mutter, shooting Zayne an irritated look.

His lips twitch, dangerously close to a smirk. “It’s just a skill issue.”

“Shut up,” I huff.

He reaches for his rings on the table, his eyes flicking toward the teddy bear. “Guess I’ll have to win it myself, then.”

I reached for the white bear with the blue bow tie, finding it wedged in the corner of my shelf. I was surprised I hadn’t thrown it out like the rest of the trinkets that reminded me of him. Everything else was discarded the same night, as if getting rid of the objects could erase the memories attached to them.

Yet this bear remained.

And now, looking at it, I find it bittersweet how his personality and preferences unconsciously altered my surroundings. Every last thing he ever gave me was in shades of blue, laced with motifs of sweets and snowflakes. The blue and pink chess pieces. The vintage French-style rotary phone in deep navy with gold accents. The custom light-blue Air Force 1 sneakers he bought on a whim, just because I spilled ketchup on my old white ones. Even my bedroom walls, once winter-themed, had been repainted in soft pastel orange, as if I could scrub away the last traces of him.

But the bear? I kept it against my morals. Maybe because, deep down, I had been holding on to some stupid, quiet hope that he’d text me one day to ask how I’ve been. That he hadn’t just walked away without looking back.

I know better now.

He changed his number.

How did I find out? I tried calling. And the calls never went through. And I couldn’t exactly ask Mrs. Li. Not when she was always buried in work.

I understood it as his way of cutting ties.

Maybe that explained his unusual clinginess before he left. Maybe it had been his way of saying goodbye. Thanking me, in his own quiet way, for staying by his side even when he never needed me to.

And now, he doesn’t need to be involved with me anymore.

And that fucking hurts.

But what hurts even more is knowing I don’t have the right to feel this way.

“What’s the first thing you’re gonna do when you get to the States?” I drag my feet across the pavement. The soles of my shoes barely lift. My gaze trails to a group of kids squealing with joy as they ride the carousel. Their laughter rises and falls with the horses bobbing up and down.

Zayne walks beside me, casually nibbling on a stick of cotton candy. “Study.”

I let out an exaggerated groan and tilt my head back. “Obviously. Why did I even bother asking?”

“I’ll also try to find someone to spend time with.”

I glance over at him. “A friend? I mean yeah, that makes sen—”

“No. A girlfriend.”

I stop in my tracks, whipping my head toward him. “You’re seriously interested in that now? Wow. Are you trying to tell me you have a thing for American girls or something?”

He gives a small shrug while looking ahead. “Hardly.”

I nudge his arm with my elbow. “Well, either way, good luck with that.”

“I thought you’d be more pessimistic,” he says, side-eyeing me.

“My younger self definitely would’ve been,” I admit. “But... I made this dumb little bucket list for the end of the school year, and one of the items on it was to stop being immature.”

He raises an eyebrow. “I’d like to be the judge of that.”

“Unfortunately, you won’t be,” I say with a grin, walking a few steps ahead. “And that gladdens me deeply.”

He stops walking. I turn around to face him just as he opens his mouth to say something, but no words come. He closes it again, letting the moment hang awkwardly.

I don’t press him. I just keep walking, pretending not to notice the way he hesitates, like something unspoken has started to climb its way to the surface... and then sinks back down again.

And he did get a blonde American girlfriend, looking like a model on the front page of some local newspaper printed in this digital age. Casey had shared a photo of it in our group chat out of nowhere. Her message was barely readable between the typos and the evident fury.

We found her sobbing in a Ramyeon store later that night, already five bottles in. Her makeup was smudged and her voice hoarse from crying. I sat there listening to every insult I’d normally spit at shitty guys, but this time, they were all aimed at Zayne.

I sat there, silent, holding back the instinct to defend him. It wasn’t my place. The situation had nothing to do with me, at least not on the surface. But emotionally? It cracked something open.

I was tired, too. Tired of waiting for him.

Waiting for something that never really came. An answer, a confession.

I couldn’t bring myself to ask if he actually liked me. Not with all those flirtatious gestures he kept tossing my way like breadcrumbs. I wanted him to say it, clearly, face to face. But he never did.

And if he was too much of a coward to say it, then fuck it. I’d rather fall for someone who actually had the balls, to be honest. Someone who didn’t dance around feelings like it was some kind of game. I wasn’t about to throw myself at a damn maybe and end up looking pathetic.

Maybe I was just... comfortable for him. Someone he could be himself around. Comfortable enough to pull me in close, to say things that made my heart stutter. Comfortable enough to make me want more.

And then leave me.

It was my first time drinking. I nodded along with the girls as they tore into him and laughed so loudly that I bet all the customers inside the store were inconvenienced. I even threw my arm around Casey, like I wasn’t falling apart too, and I yelled his secrets out as if they weren’t pieces of me. As if I wasn’t still trying to believe he wasn’t that kind of guy.

As if he hadn’t already broken my heart the night everything went to hell at the fair.

The Wanderers appeared in the middle of the square at exactly 12:48.

For the first few months of this year, things had been quiet. Too eerily quiet. That kind of peace you realized too late that you could never be acquainted with because chaos can come at a random time.

Wanderers went on a rampage, kicking up sand and wind in a violent storm that blinded me. I couldn’t even open my eyes at first. I pressed myself against a nearby post, one arm shielding my forehead. When I finally managed to pry my eyes open, my heart fell to my stomach.

There were bodies. At least twenty. Blood soaking through their clothes and pooling beneath them. Some had jagged metal stakes piercing clean through their backs. I couldn’t look away. My lips were quivering, and water started to pool in my lower eye.

Zayne didn’t waste a second. He grabbed my arm with an urgent, firm grip and yanked me into a nearby alley.

“Stay here,” he ordered, not even glancing my way.

I grabbed his arm, desperate for eye contact. “W-What?” My voice cracked stupidly. “Where are you going? Don’t tell me you’re planning to fight them.” It came out more like a plea than a question.

He finally looked at me, and for a second, his expression softened. Then, it snapped back to stone.

“People are dying,” he said, his voice low and clipped. “The hunters already called for backup, but it won’t be enough.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to jump into it!”

“I can control my evol now,” he said flatly.

I shook my head. The panic bubbling up in my throat. “If you leave me here alone, I’ll try to get home. I’m not just gonna sit here waiting to die. The Wanderers—”

“No,” he cut me off sharply. “It’s too dangerous. Just stay. I’ll find a way to get us out.”

“Zayne!” I hollered as he pulled away. He didn’t stop. He hurled a shard of ice at a Wanderer that had locked eyes on him.

I turned away, pressing my back hard against the alley wall. My breathing became ragged and my hands trembled as I dug into my bag for my phone. Somehow, I managed to make a call before something shimmered in the air in front of me.

A Wanderer materialized. I ducked on instinct, barely dodging its strike, and scrambled backward. I ran, no plan, no direction, just away. When I looked back, the spot I had just been standing in exploded, flinging mannequins and shards of glass through the air.

I sprinted through the alleys. I didn’t know this area. I’d never even been here before. Every turn felt like a gamble. I tried to avoid the densest clusters of Wanderers, but one explosion caught me off guard, slamming my side into a wall. Pain bloomed through my arm like wildfire. I gasped, trying to suck air back into lungs that had been emptied by the impact.

Still, I forced myself up. I kept running.

Then, I saw it in the corner of my eye: a Wanderer teleporting behind me.

My body locked up, legs rooted to the ground. It was like time slowed. I couldn’t move. My brain screamed at me to run, but no muscles listened. I could only stare as the creature lunged at me, blade poised to tear through me.

I’m getting tired.

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes.

Then, I heard a crackle of ice.

Time crawled, and I had yet to be impaled.

I hesitantly opened one eye; I found Zayne standing between me and the beast with one arm outstretched and palm open.

The Wanderer was trapped in an iceberg, frozen mid-strike. With a flick of his wrist, the ice shattered, along with the monster inside it.

He didn’t look at me when he spoke.

“I told you to stay put.” His voice was as cold and sharp as the shards of ice still raining down around us.

“But—”

“You think charging into chaos without a plan makes you brave?” He finally turned his head and his eyes flicked toward me. “That was stupid. You have nothing to protect yourself with. No evol. No skill.”

I blinked. My throat tightened. Was this really Zayne? Or was it his evol talking?

“I— I was just trying to—”

“To what?” he snapped. “Be a liability? Get yourself killed so someone else has to clean up the mess?”

He rubbed his wrist like the entire encounter had been a nuisance. Like saving me had taken more effort than it was worth.

“There’s a difference between courage and recklessness,” he muttered, eyes sweeping over me. “You don’t get to confuse the two and expect someone to always show up and save you.”

That was it.

The floodgates opened.

The tears that had clung stubbornly to my lashes finally spilled over. 

It wasn’t just what he said. It was the way he said it. Like I was a burden. Like my fear was an inconvenience and my effort meant nothing.

I’d spent years trying to prove I could survive without an evol. Trying to prove that I wasn’t useless. That I could be strong in my own way.

But Zayne’s words tore all of that down in seconds.

All the failures I thought I had outrun now surged forward like a tide, dragging me under.

I didn’t feel human. 

I felt defective.

I felt… invalidated.

Whatever words he said afterward didn’t register in my brain. I stepped back when I heard the rocks shifting, and pain bloomed from my side like something had finally torn free. I still couldn’t look at him. I knew that if I did, I’d run into his arms again. And I couldn’t let myself do that. Not after what he said. Not when I already felt this small.

He reached toward my shoulders. I flinched.

His hand was cold.

Of course it was.

His words were as sharp as the icicles. I bet his gaze was just as distant.

“Don’t touch me.”

I heard him exhale. “Stop being irrational—”

“Hey! Are you okay?” A warm voice cut through the static in my head.

I turned, blinking away the tears. For a moment, I expected another stranger, another scream, another reminder that I was utterly alone. But it was Kyle, my classmate since junior high.

He jogged toward me. His bright red sling bag bounced against his hip with every step.

My shoulders sagged with relief, like someone had finally peeled the weight of the world off them. My knees finally gave out.

That’s when the sob broke loose from my chest.

It wasn’t a graceful cry. It was ugly. I don’t want to try to hold it together anymore. My throat burned from holding it in for too long, and I let it out because I finally could.

Kyle’s eyes widened in horror the moment he got close enough to really see me. His lips parted like he wanted to say something, but the words caught in his throat. And this made me remember that that’s the same thing Zayne did before the chaos, and I was afraid for a moment. But I saw Kyle smile at me, and somehow that made me cry harder. Because he didn’t look at me like I was pathetic or reckless. He looked at me like I was a person in pain. Like I mattered. Unlike what Zayne did.

“Shit, you're bleeding. Don’t worry, I got you.”

He didn’t hesitate. He slipped an arm around me and guided me toward a toppled monobloc chair. He gently righted it and eased me down before dropping to one knee, already unzipping the red sling bag.

He pulled out a gauze roll and began wrapping my leg.

“You need to apply more pressure,” Zayne said behind me.

Something inside me snapped.

“He’s doing his best!” I barked without thinking. My eyes widened, and I turned to Kyle immediately. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head with a small smile. “It’s alright. You’re under a lot of stress. It’s only natural.”

He finished tying the gauze in place with a neat bow, then gently tapped my knee. “Besides, you were amazing back there. I saw you dodging those attacks. I honestly thought you were a hunter.”

“I panicked,” I explained between sobs. “I didn’t know what to do.”

“Doesn’t matter. You’re alive. That’s what counts, okay? You made it out.”

The wailing of sirens in the distance snapped the world back into focus. Around us, the square was wrecked. stalls were crushed, and the Ferris wheel stalled mid-spin. People limped through the debris while looking for safe spots to rest. A little girl sobbed nearby, clutching a teddy bear and calling for her mom.

Kyle’s gaze dropped to the bandaged leg, and he let out a dry scoff. “We need someone better at this.”

I felt Zayne shift behind me, but I didn’t turn. I didn’t want his help. Not now.

“I want to see Chelsea,” I said.

She’s my friend who should’ve gone into pre-med if her family could afford it. The girl Kyle’s quietly in love with. I figured this was the least I could do for him.

Kyle crouched again, this time turning his back toward me. He looked over his shoulder and patted it. “Hop on.”

I hesitated for a second, then wrapped my arms around his neck and let him lift me. His grip was strong under my thighs as he stood.

“Hold on tight, hunter!” He shouted then flashed a grin. “We’re gonna run fast so they can’t catch us.”

And he did run fast.

And I didn’t look back.

[jocelynscrazyideas]

Champagne problems | Dawson Mercer x Fem Reader

Summary: Dawson and Harper(you) get in a heated argument, but you have a past in being left alone. Dawson makes it up to by dancing in the kitchen at night, and it ends up leading to something else.

Warnings: makeup s*x, unprotected, crying, language, not proof read

PLS NOTE: I don’t think Dawson Mercer would ever LIKE EVER make someone feel this way (and idk why he would get angry abt this but he did so yuhh)

I got kinda lazy towards the end- sorry in advance🫶

You book the night train for a reason

“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME HARPER!” Dawson yells out from our room. I hear his Newfie accent pop out. I think it’s so cute. Then. I hear pound stomps from upstairs in our home. He comes running down the stairs. He turns to face me as he scurries over at me.

Dawson throws my phone that was once in my hand and now is on the other side of the white couch, which I was comfortable sitting on. He never screams at me. I’m scared.

I’m scared.

I run for our dog, Mila. I grab our black lab and pick her up. Mila holds onto me as I run up the stairs with her. I don’t care about my phone, I need to lock myself away. I don’t even know what I did. But I’m is I’m terrified.

I dropped your hand while dancing

I run into the bathroom without a word said. I hear soft foot steps walking towards the bathroom. It’s not just a bathroom, it’s the place where we would take baths together, or when I get to drunk and he would hold my hair back when I throw up, or when he would get sick and I would shower with him.

This isn’t a home, not right now atelast. It’s a madhouse.

I’m not ready. It’s been a strong 2 years together, we have never been through a big fight where I felt I was threatened. I’m so scared I hold on to Mila, I feel like I’m going to throw up.

“please, Harper, open up. I didn’t mean to yell at you like that. But I’m upset, you pulled out like $200 out if the shared account.” Dawson has a good point to be mad at me. But he has to understand that it’s for bills. I just bought the house, it’s under my name.

“I’m sorry.” I say, and there I go. A tear is shed. Not only one, but it turns into many. I’m now bawling my eyes out. He bangs on the door. I know he’ll get mad if I don’t open the door, but I’m not ready to see him, because I truly feel guilty, but I cannot pay for the bills and in general everything on my own.

“I’m not mad anymore, I’m going to be upset if you don’t open the door baby. Are you hungry?” Dawson says in absolute despair.

My stomach dropped about 12 minutes ago, and I still can’t seem to grab it and put it back in place, my heart is doing somersaults- in a terrible way, not in a lovestruck way, more of a numbing pain. My head is pounding. I hear birds chriping through the bathroom window. I unlock the door taht im sitting against. I let Mila walk out, and I grab air. Then I walk into our bedroom. I open windows.

Love slipped beyond your reaches

And I couldn’t give a reason

Champagne problems.

I change into Dawson’s boxers, they have SpongeBob patterns on them, I picked it out. I throw on my sleep shirt. I tie my hair into a messy high bun, I let my neck hit the cold outside breeze. It’s offseason, Dawson and I are getting ready to travel back to his family’s home in a week. Right now, I’m not sure if I wnat to go.

I hear sizzling from the kitchen downstairs. And the smell of cheese, and toast. Is it Grilled cheese?

“BUBBA?!” Dawson yells out for me.

He walks up the steps with a green plate, and he steps into our room, he sees me against our bedroom wall that faces the entrance of the room. The window is above me, he come towards me. Grabs the grilled cheese and splits it.

“Did you know you look gorgeous.” Dawson says, not in a question format, but more of a statement. He opens my mouth and wipes the tear that had fell from my eye. He sticks the grilled cheese into my mouth and he looks at me, and smiles. I see his toothless corny smile. I love him.

“Come here. Baby I didn’t mean to get at you like that.” He says as he grips onto his blue t-shirt and wipes my mascara away.

“it’s my fault.” I say. I don’t want him to leave me.

We finish eating as he explains how it’s okay to take out money,but he should be able to pay, not that I should sneak the payment. He grabs my hand and he takes the plate that he placed the delicious grilled cheese on and placed it into the clean sink. He turns me around and he’s sits me on the cold counter.

“You look sexy.” He says and again, I hear his newfie accent pop out. I’m head over heels for him.

“In SpongeBob boxers?” I say sarcastically and I laugh away my sadness.

“Yes. Anything that you’re in, makes you extra sexy. And..” he says as he trails off as he nibbles at my neck. He kissed my index finger and trailed up to my left ear. I can feel his stubble.

He pushed up against me, and he kissed me. He then picked me up from the counter and twirled me down to the floor. And he continued to French kiss me. He tugs at my waist as he he tucks his head onto my neck. He’s 6”0 body leans into my 5”2 figure.

“I love you.” He whispers into my ear as he sucks into me, I’m sure there is a big bruise awaiting to be seen by his fellow teammates at holding tomorrow. Dawson is missing a tooth, but he’s still really good at giving hickeys. He starts to sway. Ironically, he starts to humthe words of champagne problems. He’s such a girl dad- not yet.

We dance in the kitchen for like an hour as we just talk. The beautiful daylight blue sky turned into a black sky lit by stars. He grabs me and sits me down on the couch that we met at earlier today.

Mila has her own bed in our bedroom, but for today she sat in her own room that she has in the main level right next to the kitchen. Dawson locks Mila in her bedroom and he sets her asleep with her night time water. He grabs me and carry’s me up the stairs. It’s like we are re-living our day.

He pushed me down the bed. He has one hand on my mid torso. And he slides his hand up, up toward my cleavage. He takes a hold of his SpongeBob boxers and slides them off. He smoothly takes my shirt off. He apply little pressure on my shoulders, an my bra is off my chest. He looks at my breast like it’s the first pair he’s ever seen. His face lits up in an eager smile. And once again I see his toothless expression. He takes my nipple into his fingers and twist them.

My breast is really tender from crying earlier today so I let out a little wince. Dawson looks down at me ready to study every little mark I have on me. He takes his shirt off. In a swft motion his shorts are also off. I see his face black boxers, but it’s accompanied by a large tent in the middle of his legs. He’s getting off by me in pain. Wierd kink.

“Daws.” I say, I’m letting him know I’m ready to take him. Dawson holds my hands up above my head and he opens his boxers, I can’t stop thinking off how that’s where he opens his pants to pee, but I take him in my mouth and he’s steady leaking everywhere.

I lick the tip of him and he screams in excitement.

He’s so easy.

He lets out a sigh as he finished inside my mouth, not letting me do any work.

“Okay pillow princess, show me how it’s done.” Dawson says as he flips me on top of him and we roll over to the other side of the bed. He lays down and he pulls off his boxers. He’s bare, I’m bare. I touch myself as I stand on top of him. I look down at him as I decide to squat down. I look at his face, he’s ready to be please, but I just took him inside of my mouth. I swalllow, but I forget… can he?

So I take his jaw in my hand and I tell him to open his mouth, he does so. He is expecting a kiss. But for me, I wnat to make him cum first. So I straddle his face, and I take his hard friend, into my mouth, once again.

Im laying on top off him, he has my clit on his mouth, and I have his dick into my throat. He’s tasty, very salty. He locks me out, and I feel like I need to piss everywhere. So I focus on my job. I need to make him cum. He goes faster on his tounge, he lifts his hips up to my face, he’s about to fall out of his momentum. He thrusts into my throat. And again, and again, he thrusts. He lets out a groan, and he starts to stick his large fingers into my hole. He sucks and fingers at my bottom half.

He’s going to play dirty, so am I. So I grab his large balls and start to rub. He starts to slap my ass, and he runs up and down my waist line. I grab his leg, and he thrusts into my mouth again, he lets out an exasperated groan, he drops his bridge down, and he slides me over.

He arrived, and I haven’t. Maybe I am better.

“No, I know what you’re thinking, you aren’t better than I am.” Dawson says as he walks over to grab a condom.

“No, I like it raw.” I say as I get up from feeling like peeing.

“Easier on me then.” Dawson says as he lifts me up and I wrap around his figure. My boobs are pressed up against his abs, my nipples are sticking straight into him. He lays me down gently as he sticks a finger inside of me. He licks his finger clean.

“You’re still pretty wet for me.” He says, “but I haven’t cummed yet.” I said, impatiently.

I push his anatomy onto me. His cock is pushed up against his abdomen. He kisses me and he did infancy swallow.

He leans back up from our special kiss, and he licks his hand, and pump onto his cock once. He grasps onto my thigh, he spreads my legs apart.

“DAWSON!” I scream out in enjoyment. I’m exhilarated. His shaft ponds into my hips. My pelvis is now perked up into his hands. I need more, but I cannot fit much more. He has so many inches inside of me,I feel like I might puncture ny uterus.

“He shushed me and started to bounce. He thrusted about 4 times before I begged him to stop. And I cimmed right there. He grabbed a tissue that sat on our nightstands, specifically for this reason.

“Okay baby. You wanna shower, or do you want to wait until tomorrow morning?” Dawson says and he always knows the answer. He made sure I wa clean and the bed sheets weren’t wet and sticky for our semen.

He wraps his legs around me, I’m little spoon, and he’s big spoon. We are skin to skin. And I feel safe in his arms as he kissed me goodnight. And I feel ready to see his family on our trip next week. And I’m glad that his friends will see my “burn mark” I got. Which we all know that Dawson took his kisses to strong and he bit and sucked on my neck to leave territory marks.

[fullofgutsndopamine]

i love you in the same way (there’s a chapel in a hospital)

wcbah verse more charlie here

based off the prompt; — “so, uh… how’d your date go?” wcbah verse (but not required reading)

TW : mention of past abuse, mention of injury/scars from abuse, cursing, idiots in love

the door slams and charlie winces.

he can’t help it. scrambles to sit up on the couch, pull the blanket tighter over himself as he grabs handfuls of the blanket until his hands turn white-

“Hey,” He calls gently, feeling dumb for the way anxiety bubbles and eats at his belly, “In the front room.”

It's your house he's in, but it might as well be both of yours, the way you both spend so much time at one another's house. Besides, charlie would rather die than tell his father you're on a date and hear about it, and besides, he smelled how much liquor he had today-pass all along

He hears your shoes hit the wall and you’re slowly passing through rooms, your hand in the air as you let down your hair you spent an hour getting just right.

And you’re just as beautiful as charlie remembers.

That much time hasn’t passed, and he sees you everyday, but fuck-even with your make up a mess from the date, and the clothes are old and worn with age-he still thinks you look beautiful

He knew it was bound to happen.

When summer came and the tourists came with it, the people who could afford boats and jet skis and the incredibly high grocery prices you could never dream of, came people, and charlie knew they would be out of their mind to not think the world of you. He does; why wouldn't they?

He remembers the day clearly:

charlie spends his days in the hot summer sun, the sun beating on his back against old scars that linger and loop and curve into one another, the sun burns against them, makes them angry all over again and if he closes his eyes, really slams them shut, he can think of the nights he got them all over again

charlie tries to not think about it.

Instead, he throws his time and thoughts into work; Ms.Anderson needs her sea wall redone, and Mr.Burns wants stairs on his porch redone, Mr.Reyes wants the seaweed raked-he spends his time in the water, his old pants that he's constantly pulling up rolled to his knees, his shirt long discarded and thrown onto the yard

He's humming to himself, thinking of you, of coming over after he's done with the chores, throwing the shirt over the laundry line and flopping onto the porch in the old chairs that creek and groan with age and spending the rest of the night with you

"charlie!"

He jumps, hearing his name. it's a habit, more than anything, the fight or flight still hasn't left, even when he turns around and it's you, his eyes are wide and he looks panicked, even if his voice doesn't say it

"Hey sunshine,” he leans against the rake, playing it cool, trying to not think about the seaweed that's up to his waist, "Missed you."

You're giggling, and smiling, which isn't weird necessarily, charlie has always called you a ray of sunshine, as he slowly wades over in the water to the seawall, where his hand spots you out of instinct as you sit on the edge, let your toes dangle in the water: "Guess what."

"Hm," He smiles, all his weight against the rake, a smirk on his lips, "You won the lottery."

You huff, dipping your toe into the water just to throw it out so he's lightly splashed: "charlie, be serious."

Finally, he laughs with ease: "Alright, alright. Fine. Let's see-you fixed the light in your house."

You huff, "I forgot how bad at guessing games you are," you tease, "I'll tell you."

You're all but squealing, and while it's nice to see you excited and happy-seeing you all of the above and in one piece is unheard of

His hand rests on your knee, "Go on, sunshine."

You giggle, "You remember James, right?"

charlie has to stop himself from letting you see his eyes narrow, "James from two houses down?"

You nod frantically, "Yeah! Okay so-I brought over their laundry and it was just James there, right?"

"Yeah?" charlie says slowly, holds in the part of him that wants to say: If he hurt you-if he laid one finger on you, moved one piece of hair-i'll kill him, i swear i will- charlie knows he's not much of a threat, ask him father, but this is you, and that's different.

"He asked me out!" You squeal, "He wants to go to the Commander on Friday."

Immediately, your face drops when you see he isn't excited, isn't jumping around with you-

"baby-"

charlie chooses his words carefully. He's a dick? he considers, decides against it, Isn't for people like us? What if it's a joke? let me protect you-

"charlie, you are such a dick." You huff, carefully getting off the wall, "Fuck, I'm so stupid, thinking you'd be excited for me."

"Sorry I didn't immediately jump up and down, sunshine." charlie huffs, his chest is hot and he feels like his father's son immediately, "He seems like an asshole. Maybe you two are made for each other-"

"Fuck you." You say one more time, your finger jamming in the air, "Fuck you."

Days pass.

It's weird, not seeing charlie everyday, going out of your way to avoid him when you're getting mail, or when you have work around the house to do-not having your best friend to talk about your anxieties about it with, about every thought

it's thursday and the anger you had in your chest at charlie has subsided, leaving a charlie sized shape there now instead. You're gathering up your shoes, tired and ready to apologize and about to throw open the door when charlie stands on the other end, his fist raised in the air, ready to knock

"charlie."

"sunshine."

It's said at the same time, and you both know, just like that, it's all forgotten and forgiven.

"Are those from my garden?"

charlie holds a small bouquet of flowers in his hand, a death grip on them. You insisted he make a space in his yard for a garden, make the house more of a home-and he obeyed, kept it up after all this time.

"They're apology marigolds," he laughs at the small bouquet, turns them over in his hand, "For being a dick."

He spends the night the night before, in your twin sized mattress, his feet hanging over the end, his forearm or chest your pillow-and you're thankful for his presence, makes the anxiety that gnaws as you hear a car on the gravel pull up, honk twice.

charlie hides the grimace at him not even coming to the door, being a dick, as he expected but he doesn't let his face show it, his hand under your jaw:

"Be safe," he says gently, his voice is low and gravely, like it's a secret between you two, "I love you."

He leans in, his hand goes to behind your head as he pulls you in, kisses the top of your forehead and watches as you run out.

He's back to now as you come into the house, using one hand to take the earrings out of your ear.

"So," charlie pushes as he sits up straighter, "Tell me about it."

You sigh, flop into his lap like when you were little and he was going through the growing pains; you swore you woke up one day and he was no longer the tiny guy you knew last night, is tall and lanky like he's learning to walk for the first time-

immediately, his hands wrap around your waist, his chin on your shoulder, what he'll insist is the most comfortable spot in the house-not the chair on the porch that hits the sun just right, or the old rocking chair upstairs-right here.

"You know it kills me to say this," you say gently, your head against his chest, the other plays with his hair gently, grabbing the curls and running your hands through them, "But you were right. James is a dick.I ended the date early; said I wasn't feeling well."

charlie bites his tongue, to stop from saying what he's thinking which is: this is the one time i don't want to be right, darling.

Instead he sighs, the pad of his thumb gently rolls over your face, the freckles he has memorized, "I'm sorry it didn't work out, honey."

You shrug, "They'll be other dates, right? With different people."

He nods, resists the urge to say the obvious, to let it be him: "that's right." He lands a messy kiss to your head.

"Get changed," he throws his chin at your kitchen table, where some of his old pajamas, some old pants and a shirt from his high school band days folded carefully, "I got us some ice cream. You're just in time for the show."

You snort as you stand, but obey and grab the clothes, can already smell him on it- "What show?"

He smirks, looks at the mirror that overlooks the small lake as the sun slowly sets, "Stars will be out soon. Wouldn't miss it without you."

You hesitate, theres nothing else to say, before you pad gently to him, pull him close and kiss his forehead as you pad to the bathroom.

He waits until you are gone for his hand to gently rest where your lips touched, his face bright red.