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casspurrjoybell-23 · 9 months ago

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LOST and FOUND - Chapter 2 - Part 3

*Warning Adult Content*

On Thursday night I was pushing a shopping cart down the cereal aisle at the grocery store and failing at not worrying.

I had to be at work tomorrow morning and I was so nervous to see Jona again.

If he ended up showing up.

Which I was pretty positive he would.

He didn't look like the type to take no for an answer.

I picked up a box of strawberry Pop Tarts and tossed them into the cart.

They were on sale so I threw in a box of blueberry ones too.

I only had forty dollars to spend on groceries so I needed to spend it wisely.

Going to the store was very hard for me.

This particular store wasn't one that Harrison and I had gone to often.

He had insisted on shopping at the local health food store but that was where he had his heart attack and I refused to go there.

I knew if I went there a breakdown was inevitable.

I would be reduced to a sobbing mess on the dirty linoleum.

So that meant I had to go to the bigger chain store, which made me drive right past Harrison's bookstore.

It was a lose/lose situation.

I sighed and went to grab a box of cereal.

I was contemplating the many choices, trying to decide between Frosted Mini Wheats or Coco Puffs, when I heard...

"Beau?"

My brain short circuited as I recognized the voice.

I turned my head to right to see Jona coming down the aisle with a basket in his hand.

"I thought that was you," he said happily as he stopped next to my cart.

I didn't even know this guy existed five days ago and now I'd seen him three days this week.

I said the only thing that came to my mind.

"Are you stalking me?"

A short burst of laughter escaped his lips.

He shook his head.

"No, Beau, I'm not stalking you."

I looked at him and realized that what I'd seen him wearing before must have been his work clothes because now he was wearing a t-shirt that showed off his muscles and loose-fitting jeans.

My mouth watered and I looked away.

I decided to go with Coco Puffs and I tossed the box into my cart.

I really didn't want Jona seeing me right now.

I looked a hot mess.

I was wearing low hanging sweat pants and a shirt that Harrison had bought me at the fair two years ago, it had a fat unicorn puking rainbow glitter on it.

Plus my shoulder length hair was ratty and tangled.

I had put no effort into making myself look nice after I had gone to fix myself a snack and realized I had no food.

I figured it was late enough and there wouldn't be many people at the store, so who cared if I looked like a slob?

I was really regretting my decision now.

I started pushing my cart down the aisle and Jona followed me.

"Why don't you let me take you on a date?" he asked.

"No, thank you," I said, trying to sound polite as you could while turning someone down.

I needed to stay strong on this matter.

I couldn't let myself give in to his desires.

When I glanced back at him... I saw that he was watching my ass as I walked.

I frowned and looked forward again.

Who did he think he was?

Just staring at my ass like that.

I may have been trying to hide how much I liked it by pretending to be offended.

"I'm just going to keep asking until you say yes," he told me as I turned out of the aisle.

"That's harassment," I said.

"I don't think it's harassment, if you want to say yes."

I didn't know what to say to that because I'm pretty sure it would still be harassment if I kept telling him no and he kept pursuing me.

I turned down the aisle with the peanut butter.

"Don't you have better things to do with your time? Shouldn't you be golfing or something?"

"Golfing?" he asked but I could hear the amusement in his voice.

After a moment he said...

"I'm not really into golfing but I play on an adult softball team."

I stooped down to grab the biggest jar of peanut butter on the bottom shelf.

"What do you do for fun, Beau?"

"Nothing really," I said, waddling to the cart with the peanut butter in my hands.

"Holy shit, that's a lot of peanut butter."

His cursing made me smile.

Harrison would have never said something like that.

The two of them were pretty much completely different.

That might have been a good thing.

I thought the only thing they had in common was that they were both the Alpha male type but Jona definitely showed it more outwardly.

"What are you smiling about?" he asked curiously.

"That's the first genuine smile I've ever seen from you."

"Just thinking," I said and began pushing the cart.

He stopped me by grabbing my arm.

I didn't try to get out of his grasp.

"Please go on a date with me, Beau."

I frowned.

"I can't. Please stop asking."

I lightly pulled my arm back but he didn't let go.

"You only want me to stop asking because you know you'll say yes eventually."

I couldn't deny that that was true.

I didn't say anything and just pulled my arm away again, testing him.

He squeezed my bicep and then let me go.

That's when he looked in my cart.

He looked confused.

"Do you have younger siblings, that you are shopping for?"

"No, it's just me."

I started to push the cart but he gripped it and held it in place.

"You can't live off this shit," he said, picking up the box of blueberry Pop Tarts, then dropping them back into the cart.

"You need to take care of yourself."

I lost my voice, thinking that Harrison would have said something really similar.

I looked up at Jona's face, the concern that showed in his expression.

Why did he care?

He didn't even know me.

I lifted my chin.

"Unless you're my boyfriend, you can't tell me what to do."

His nostrils flared at that.

I could see anger in his eyes but also... interest.

He had read into the subtext of my statement.

I liked my boyfriend to take control, to tell me what to do.

And now Jona knew that and he liked it.

I figured he would... I could feel the dominance rolling off him.

"I need milk," I said and started pushing the cart towards the dairy section.

Jona followed me.

I grabbed a gallon of one percent milk and set it in the cart.

Jona opened a nearby door and pulled out two containers of cottage cheese, one he put in his basket and the other he put in my cart.

"I don't want that," I said.

"It's good for you," he stated as if that would change my mind.

"I'm not going to eat it."

"It's good with peaches. You'll like it."

"I don't have any peaches."

He pulled out two peaches from his basket and set them in my cart.

I started breathing heavily.

I couldn't afford to pay for this stuff.

The reason for eating crappy food, other than not knowing how to cook, was that I literally could not afford healthy food.

The world was fucked up and food that was good for you was way more expensive than food that was bad for you.

"No, Jona," I said, still breathing heavily.

"I can't... I..."

Holy shit I was panicking.

Right in the middle of the store and right in front of Jona.

"I can't buy this..." I gasped.

"I can't afford it."

I was grabbing for the stuff in my cart but Jona grabbed my elbow and pulled me away from it.

"Hey, shh," he said and I took big gulps of air, trying to breath.

"Look at me. Look at me, Beau."

I looked up into his chocolate brown eyes.

He ran his hands up and down my arms and began talking me.

"Just look at me and try to breath, okay? Take slow breaths. Slow. Slower. That's it, good... you don't have to buy those things. I'll buy them, okay? I didn't mean to push you so hard... good breathing. See? I can handle your complicated, can't I?"

A little laughter bubbled up inside me and I let it out.

I started to lean into Jona and he wrapped his arms around me.

My cheek rested against his chest and I breathed in.

He didn't smell like Harrison but he still smelled like a man and I missed that scent.

He smelled so good, outdoorsy and musky and mouthwatering.

I let myself relax in his arms for much too long but eventually I pulled away.

"Thanks, Jona. I... I just... thanks."

The way he smiled at me was much sweeter and more subdued than his smile in the past had been.

It made my heart flutter.

I rubbed my eyes.

"What time is it?"

He checked his watch.

"Ten thirty."

I sighed.

"I need to go home. I have work in the morning, I should be sleeping."

He picked the peaches and cottage cheese out of my cart and put them back in his basket.

"Let me help you out."

"No, Jona," I said gently.

"Please, just let me go. Let me do it on my own."

He didn't look happy at this comment.

"I'll see you tomorrow, right?"

That seemed to appease him because he nodded but he didn't smile.

"See you then. Bye."

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angry-geese · 3 years ago

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For Myself

Sukuna x Reader

Warnings: nsfw mention. mention of violence, blood, injury, and cannibalism. implied murder. starts off kind of dark but gets fluffier towards the end. gn!reader.

obligatory warning for my poor editing skills. if theres any egregious errors i'll get to them when i get home from work

Summary: some fluff where Sukuna comforts the reader while they're sick

Word Count: 2.4k

He's certain you would be more comfortable in his lap than on the floor. Even as he beckons you to sit, you refuse, turning your gaze away. You adjust your position to a more comfortable spot on your knees. The floor is hard and cold, but you don't have much longer to wait anyway. Sukuna has grown bored of the man standing in front of him. A peace offering, in exchange for not razing their village. A young woman, brought here against her own will. Her life to replace yours. It's nothing Sukuna wants, nor can he make use of her. She’s no sorcerer, likely no good in a fight, and too frail to be worth eating.

Worst of all, it insults you.

An insult to you, is an insult to Sukuna himself.

The man was only delaying the inevitable. Humans have a habit of doing that. They’re resilient, like cockroaches. You can squash, poison, trap, or drop a nuke on as many as you want to, but they’ll always come back.

He planned on killing him from the moment he stepped foot in the door.

And when he kills him, he makes sure to have the woman watch. She lays curled at your feet as you regard them both with cold eyes. Not a scream passes her lips. She’s either frozen with fear, or knows that moving is the worst thing she can do.

She begs for her life.

Sukuna leaves it up to you to decide.

It was an insult to you, after all. In a past life you could see yourself letting her go. There's many things in life you used to do that are no longer habits of yours. You were in her shoes years ago. Time has hardened you, made you cruel. If a past version of you could look at you now, you don't know if you’d recognize yourself. Not all change is bad. People are meant to change, and they’re going to do so.

You give her a minute to start running. After that, it's up to Sukuna with what he wants to do with her.

She takes the opportunity, thinking she has a chance to survive, and flees. The guards and servants let her. Your word is second to Sukuna’s. The only person who could overturn an order put in place by you is Sukuna himself. He usually doesn't. The resulting chaos from anything you do is good entertainment. And he has all the time in the world. Being immortal leads to a lot of boredom.

Sukuna would hunt her down before she could escape the estate.

Nobody got away from him. Not even you. Nowadays you’re much less serious about leaving but you still threaten it if he dares piss you off.

He'd never let you go. You know that. Try as you will, you're never getting free.

Not that you have anything to go back to. And you're rather comfortable here. Comfortable may be a bit of a stretch, but you're housed, fed, and protected. The basic human needs are taken care of. Sukuna cares about you in his own, twisted way. You may have first been just a plaything to keep his stomach full and his balls empty—a toy to be discarded after a day or two—but you've earned a place by his side. He wakes up next to you, he goes to sleep next to you. He's grown used to having you around. And you to him.

You're just as much his, as he is yours.

Everything about the man is selfish, and all-consuming. But when he is with you, he finds himself giving for the first time in his life.

He gets a servant to draw him a bath. He has the decency to scrub the blood off before finding you, and asking you to join him. His bloodied kimono is replaced with a clean one. It's black, the sleeves are wide enough to accommodate his four arms. Blood doesn't bother you, but he doesn't want to track it all over his house.

Something is wrong.

He doesn't remember you getting hurt, but you’re acting like you’re injured. He thinks back to this morning, how he had to drag you out of bed. How sluggish you acted.

Worry creases itself between his eyebrows.

Your mortality was something he knew of, but never gave much thought. There was no need to. The mortality of others was something he didn't care about. You weren't supposed to be kept long. You were merely a sacrifice, meant to appease Sukuna, and in turn he wouldn't raze your village. While young, and pretty, not good enough to save your people. He planned on fucking you, burning your village to the ground, then eating you. Not necessarily in that order, but that was the plan.

He's taken everything from you. Your home, your life, your family. Even as you were forced to face your fate, you never gave in, never lost your bite. You defied him and lived. You had a malicious streak in you. You were never as sweet and as innocent as the people of your village first played you up to be. Years later you still put up the same fight. It's a constant back and forth between you two.

You’d never be able to hurt him. As much as you'd scratch and bite, you'd never so much as draw blood. Harming the King of Curses was not an easy task.

His 'love' was much more material at first. As you got settled down, survived more than a week, gifts appeared. Jeweled hair pins and beautiful, expensive kimonos appeared. All made just for you. He'd never admit to being behind it. You were not complacent, but you were comfortable. You were his spoiled pet. That didn't stop you from clawing at his eyes whenever he picked you up when you didn't want to be touched. Being spoiled didn't make you nice.

None of his pets have lasted quite as long as you have. At least eight times the trees of his estate have shriveled and turned brown in winter, and the ground has hardened with frost. At least eight times they've bloomed and have had the life of spring breathed back into them, and the ground has thawed and turned muddy. You just did what you had to in order to survive. You've more than just survived. Some would say you’ve thrived. You would beg to differ. If you were the begging type.

He still views you as a pet. You’re human after all. Though sometimes it feels like you’re becoming more curse than human. Being viewed as an equal to him is impossible, but he values you. You're not something that can easily be replaced.

His hand touches your shoulder from behind. You don't flinch. You used to flinch. Then you started swinging. You're never able to hurt him. You're strong, but not that strong.

"She was far too frail to eat," you say, "I assumed you didn't want to keep her for that."

You don't eat human meat. Or try not to. Early on in your stay, before you knew better… It wasn't pork. Uraume was a wonderful cook, but not for anything you ate. Personally it's not your thing. Non-human meat is hard to come by around here, so you’ve stopped eating the stuff altogether. If you wanted it, Sukuna would make a servant get it for you, but you are content without it.

"You made the right call." He says. You always do.

He slips beside you, watching as you remove the intricate pins from your hair. You always loved your hair. Even at your darkest moment you took great care of it. It was a source of pride for you.

A wave of nausea rolls over you. Sweat beads in your hairline, rolling down your back, under the thin fabric of your—his—robe. You have little need for clothes. It doesn't get that cold here. Sukuna tears them off you anyway. Covering yourself up isn't necessary, but you do it out of modesty, and a sense of normalcy. You protest as he pulls at the fastenings of your robe, the flimsy fabric pooling at your feet. You have no plans on getting wet, you’d much rather go to bed. You’re tired, and you don't want to be bothered.

The tub is large enough to fit several of you. You guess it's fitting. The man is huge. He settles into the water behind you, pulling you to his chest. Try as you will, you’re not going to be able to struggle out of his grip. You’re too tired to put up much of a fight, though you do complain.

One of his sets of arms wraps around you, effectively trapping you in place. The other pulls a washcloth from the side of the tub, into the water with you. As much as you hate to admit it, the warm water feels nice against your sore muscles.

Sukuna is not a sentimental man. But with the way his hands trace across your skin, soft, lovingly, like he’s reading a book of braille, makes you think otherwise. He doesn't leer at the curves of your body like he normally does. His eyes scan across your body, looking for any sign of injury.

When he deems you clean enough, and your skin has turned a nice shade of pink from the hot water, he lets you go. You're the first to get out, drying yourself off. You never realized how cold the room was before.

He hauls you into his arms. You do little to protest, which worries him.

The King of Curses has no need for sleep. The bed mostly serves for asthetic purposes, though he's not opposed to fucking you across any flat surface, you seem to favor softer ones.

Much like the tub, his bed is large enough to fit several of you. You feel dwarfed by its size. The man is huge, he needs a bed to fit. You could sprawl out as wide as possible and never have any of your limbs hanging over the sides.

He follows you, silent.

He can't recall ever letting any of his pets share his bed before. Some have tried. Tried. He can't recall any of them surviving as long as you have, either. He finds himself irritated at the thought of anything bad ever happening to you.

He doesn't join you in bed.

He doesn't need sleep the same way humans do. He can, but if he were to decide not to, it would bring no harm to him. He used to never dream. It was something he did, back when he was human, but that time has long passed. But whenever he dreamed, he’d wake up next to you. Experiences like that made him realize just why humans like to sleep so much. Before he never woke up rested; he was never tired in the first place.

You shove the covers aside and crawl underneath. They smell like him. He snubs out the candle burning on the side table with his index finger and thumb. Though it's dark, there’s enough light in the room to make out his much-larger form.

You shiver, although sweat forms along your skin in a thin sheen. Sukuna knows it's not cold. He sits on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. The back of his hand presses to your forehead. You’re burning up.

You were warm before, but he thought it was because of the bath. He’s not really sure what to do. It's rare moments like these that he's forced to face your mortality. He knows you're fragile—compared to him—but he can't bear the thought of something bad happening to you.

One of his large hands moves to cup your cheek. It's just as warm as your forehead. The pad of his thumb runs across your cheekbone.

"Stay with me." You say. You stretch your arms out towards him, making grabbing motions with your hands.

You’re not one to beg. Even when faced with death, you look it straight in the eyes. Call it bravery, or lack of self preservation. He admired that about you. You ignored your mortality because it did not matter to you.

“What's the matter, pet?”

“I don't feel too good.” You say.

Though he doesn't say it, he can tell.

“I’ll get Uraume-”

“No,” your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him back towards your chest, “no. I’m okay.”

He settles down beside you in bed, on top of the covers. When he opens his arms, you go right into them. He makes sure to keep the blankets tucked around you. Sukuna runs warm naturally. You huddle close to him, trying to steal his warmth. Though your face feels abnormally warm, you shiver. His much larger body lays partially on top of yours, his head resting on your chest, ear pressed to your skin. He can hear your heartbeat. Steady, and alive. Something low in your chest rattles when you breathe.

He should get a servant to bring you water, or some tea. It occurs to him how little he knows about the mundane things humans do to make themselves feel better. Not that he ever needed to care. In all the years you’ve been by his side, he’s never seen anything like this happen. He can't decide, and instead calls for both. If you need medicine, he’ll get that too, but you don't seem to be at that point. Uraume knows more about humans than he does. He’s no doctor, but he’ll work. If he asks you, you’ll just say you’re fine.

He holds the cup up to you, beckoning you to drink. The glass is cold against your lips. Even as your hands wrap around it, he doesn't let it go. He sets the empty glass on the side table with a soft thunk.

His large hand smoothes over your head, brushing your hair out of your eyes. His nails feel nice against your scalp. Nothing about the man is soft, but when he’s left alone with you, moments like this are bound to happen. You allow yourself to be pet. The heat, combined with the weight of his body, threatens to lull you off to sleep. The ache in your joints keeps you from doing so.

When he kisses you, you taste like a curse.

#jjk x reader #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fluff

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green-and-grey-kenaz · 2 years ago

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And He Drank

Language: English

Characters: Regulus Black, Sirius Black (brief), Kreacher (brief) Walburga Black (mention), Voldemortk (mention)

Summary: Regulus struggles to reconcile his faith with his life as a Death Eater.

Word Count: c. 1,600

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43360729

“In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been two days and six hours since my last confession,” Regulus said, hands clenching. He could count the hours between confessions. It shouldn’t be like this. It was never meant to be like this. Their cause was just, it was honourable.

Last night one of his imperioused victims had come to him with information that had to be acted on immediately. He’d brought Barty along. The Dark Lord had been pleased with his initiative. Dark magic still tingled through his flesh, finger nails a dark blue-purple and hands stiff as if plunged into frost. He closed his eyes, as if that could offer some privacy, escape from the truth.

“I am a soldier. I fight for a better world. I fight for justice, so we will not have to hide who we are. God made us all, why should we be considered some great shame to be kept hidden and downtrodden? We’re all His children, we’re worthy of walking in the light!” Regulus bit back the spiel that threatened to spill from his lips as angry tears hit his hands. They burnt his skin. “I… I fear that we are becoming the persecutors. In the days since my last confession, I have witnessed… torture and murder. I played my part in it. I have enforced my will on others and felt pride in my skill. Forgive me.”

He fingered his rosary, lapsing into silence and praying for the understanding he had once had to be restored to him. To once again feel conviction in their war, to believe in all the good that would come would outweigh the terror and the sins. He desperately tried to hold onto the knowledge that all could be forgiven – the same way he could still forgive muggles for their ignorance and Sirius for his hatred of the family. Forgiveness was all that he had left.

The priest remained silent, but Regulus found that there was no more he could say, his chest cold and tight.

“I am sorry for all these sins and the sins of my past life.” Regulus whispered; head bowed.

_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_

His penance paid (as much as he could, for he could not take the advice to turn himself to the law) yet his soul not lightened, Regulus slipped from the church, knees aching from the hard stone floor. That in itself, he thought might bring him some solace.

“Reg?”

He refused to glance at the familiar figure who had been about to enter the church but Sirius turned about, quickly catching up and matching his footfalls.

“What are you doing here?”

“Confession.”

“At a muggle church?”

“I needed to Confess.”

“So much so that you couldn’t wait for Father Greengrass?”

“I don’t answer to you.”

“Reg… are you okay?”

There was concern in his brother’s voice and Regulus paused, turned and looked at Sirius for the first time since he had slammed the door of Grimmauld Place, supposedly only going out for a walk. That had been what mother had said, ‘he’ll be back’. It had happened numerous times before, so no one thought anything of it. Until he never came back. His last look at Sirius probably hadn’t even been a proper look. This time, Regulus tried to do him justice and raised his gaze to stare at his brother.

Sirius was dressed in muggle clothes, the tones dreadfully dull and overly form fitting, the legs covered only by what should be hidden behind heavy robes. It was a wonder that the muggle Catholic Church tolerated this shift in garb. But around his throat still hung the goblin-wrought gold cross that Sirius had been gifted at his Confirmation.

It occurred to Regulus that he had not expected Sirius to keep the faith, he had always been so contrary to the family, desperate to be something opposed.

“Reg?” Sirius repeated, taking a step forwards.

His face was open, inviting. Regulus looked into the face so like his and for a second he could imagine taking the poisoned chalice that promised the return of brotherhood and childhood innocence. He could accept Sirius unspoken offer and pretend that everything was behind them.

But Regulus was ready to forgive, not accept. He gave a small shake of his head and turned, walking hastily away. Eventually Sirius turned and made his way back towards the Church and Regulus wondered what someone of the Order would need to Confess. They always maintained their purity above all else.

A devilish voice in his head whispered, what hope is there, if both sides stain themselves in sin?

_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_

Sitting in his room, waiting for the fire to warm his frozen blood, Regulus stared at his wall of clippings and perhaps for the first time, wondered at the idolatry of it.

Should not mother or father have warned him?

How was it anything but a shrine to a man who fashioned himself the Dark Lord? Who claimed to have defeated Death itself?

It was not the Dark Lord who had done that.

His hand reached for the papers, fingers, near numb to the touch now, skimming the pages but unable to tear down his monument to the man he may not name. The Dark Lord was not nameless out of the fear his followers had for him, but it was not that which stayed Regulus’ hand. He could not bear the thought that he should remove that man from his heart. It felt like a betrayal, it felt like blasphemy, so close to his heart had he placed the Dark Lord.

Regulus knew that what the Dark Lord had become to him was the sacrilegious.

Why could he not abandon him?

There was no one on this Earth who was too far gone to be saved.

This Regulus knew with his very being.

But he felt that perhaps the fact that he could not turn from the Dark Lord was proof that he had fallen too far.

_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_

Mother had instilled in him an understanding. Look not at how a witch treats her equals but rather her inferiors.

It had seemed strange to Regulus, all five years of age and clinging to her knee, to consider that someone might be inferior. Different perhaps, with different parts to play, but equal in so many other ways.

But he had watched wide eyed as his parents donated to charity with numbers that his young mind had scarcely considered. They helped to fund St Mungo’s various research into magical maladies, housing for young witches and wizards who would otherwise have to seek accommodation in less savoury places such as the muggle world. To have such wealth, to be able to make such a difference… how could they be anything but superior?

He had watched as they spoke to Kreacher as befitted his place, but with the respect that any living creature deserved. It was a respect that Sirius did not afford their loyal servant but as Sirius so liked to tell them, they did not view muggles as equals.

Sirius had never been able to understand that being inferior did not make one any less worthy.

Regulus sat on his floor, holding Kreacher’s trembling body, desperately trying to nurse life back into him and he wondered at the truth. Were they not all equal in the eyes of the Lord?

He could scarcely feel the warmth of Kreacher’s body in his lap, the slight weight of his oldest friend. Dark magic had robbed him of that. Perhaps his life had left him the moment he had received the Dark Mark upon his arm.

He bowed his head and prayed.

_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_

Regulus would not put the name to his task, for he knew it would be a cardinal sin, one to which there would be no confession. He had no intentions of surviving this war.

There lay no interest in leaving the cave to which the Dark Lord had brought Kreacher and where his faithful friend came once again.

It had never been a possibility.

He could only pray that this was his Lord God’s plan, that this was the ordained path that he must tread. He trusted in his Father and left as much as he could to the hands of the Almighty, lest the devil lean too heavily on Regulus.

He paid the toll of blood despite Kreacher’s protestations. The Dark Lord’s magic would accept only one of human magic but in protestation to the man, the payment came from a crucifix carved across the Dark Mark. The tattoo parted, sending forth a sea of red blood to purify the darkness. Regulus thought he could finally feel its warmth.

His bloodied fingers marked the cave and he muttered a silent prayer to the Saints, asking them to beseech on his behalf.

He crossed the waters and saw the bodies of those the Dark Lord had desecrated in his bid for power. It was only right that he offer a prayer for the souls of those who guarded the island. They deserved peace.

At the island, he paused, touching the crystal that held the poisoned draught. One last prayer he offered. No one was beyond saving but with a horcrux a mere magical boundary away from him, Regulus thought that some more words may be of help. He gave his last living prayer for the salvation the Dark Lord’s soul.

He refused Kreacher the potion for it was his cross to bear.

He promised Kreacher that everything would be fine.

And he drank.

#Regulus Black #Sirius Black #the noble and most ancient house of black #Harry Potter #fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #Christian Imagery #Major Character Death

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florencwrites · 4 years ago

Text

ignoring is bliss 〚technoblade〛

in which [reader] struggles with her lover's inconsequent affection, and a good talk is unfortunately inevitable; the silent treatment has never worked well with techno.

"I don't know what you want me to say." His back had still been turned towards me at this point, the rake heavy in my hands as I tried using it to steady myself in the muddy stable. He kept loading dirty plucks of hay onto his pitchfork, the thinly lined buttoned shirt he was wearing easily letting his back muscles shine through.

I stood silently behind him, deliberating my words thoroughly. I hated when he acted like this, I absolutely despised him. He was one of the smartest men I'd ever had the pleasure of meeting, however, the second things went sideways conversation-wise he always played it painfully personally. He would start correcting my grammar or suggest synonyms for otherwise satisfactory sentences. "I don't either."

"I guess that marks the end of this conversation." He turned around to dump his gathered muck in the makeshift wheelbarrow Phil had built us. His face was hard, his brows furrowed and his features lax. He seemed indifferent, his attitude scaring me to pieces.

"Tech, please." I tried, putting one of my hands up to gesture for him to stop walking. He was now barely lifting the barrow from the ground, ready to head off to the dump. He huffed, his eyes meeting the floor as he put the wagon down. "You know I hate it when you call me that."

"I'm sorry," I muttered softly.

He ducked to grip his hands around the handles again, lifting it from the ground. His knuckles were white where they held onto the leather-covered grips. "Speak up."

"I want to have a conversation with you, okay? Stop acting so fucking stuck up and talk to me." His shoulder brushed past mine as he exited the stables, my voice was high in emotions, definitely on the verge of breaking with desperation.

He snorted. "I'll listen to whatever you have to say when you've calmed down."

"He won't talk to me, Phil." I groaned almost obnoxiously loud, taking a sip of water to wash down both my dinner and my agitation. "You know how he gets."

"All pissy? Tell me about it." He chuckled softly, his forearm shielding his bowl from my sight. He shoveled another spoonful of beef stew into his mouth. Phil and I had never been extraordinarily close, he reckoned Techno and me to be undeserving of each other. A terrible pair. And perhaps we were, at times like this I couldn't help but doubt whether or not we truly were the destined lovers we often thought ourselves to be. "I'll bring him some food later."

I laughed at him, a father at heart. A father to anyone but his actual sons, really. A playful grin on my lips, "You're an enabler, Phil."

That night I crawled into an empty bed. One I hadn't even doubted would be just that; empty. He was weak like that, he'd do anything to avoid conflict. Whether that was because he was afraid of what his blinding rage fits would conjure, or whether he was just an impotent coward. Someone who didn't know how to act around uncertainty and immorality and thus resorted to blaming everything on his treacherous temper.

The sheets still smelled of him, I held them to my nose.

There was no reason for us to fight, I hadn't meant to start one. I simply wanted him to realize how different he acted towards me when surrounded by any crowd. He acted so distant it made me doubt not only us, but myself. My heart ached anytime he pulled his hand away from where I tried leaving him a subtle touch. My skin crawled when he no longer referred to me by the mild, but unmissably warm names he had for me.

However, nothing would ever hurt me as much as meeting his eyes in a room of our friends and seeing the love seep from his irises. Physically witnessing his affection turn into nothing short of mere acquaintance.

Everyone knew us. There was no reason for him to act so cold, so distant. Though, I also recognized that perhaps there was an underlying reason. One I simply hadn't thought of, or perhaps one that I couldn't ever imagine. One that he had retained from his troublesome past.

The thing is, it hurt me to think he didn't trust me enough with his reasoning. That he didn't want to tell me about his thoughts. I'd been extremely careful and meticulous with any information he'd granted me, I was sure to never let what he told me change my opinion of him. I vowed to never look at him any different.

So, why could he not promise me the same?

There was no point in pushing myself from my sheets the next morning. I knew how long his episodes usually lasted, I wouldn't even have to try talking to him for at least two more days. Normally, I'd try, though. I'd sit in the grass right next to where he was working outside, just talking to him about anything and everything I could think of. Back then I thought for his silence to mean confusion, I thought his swirling mind simply needed a break. That a distraction would do him good.

I sat in the barely-molten grass for hours, never getting a reply.

His smell was constricting my airways slowly, every inhale making it harder and harder to breathe. What if Phil was right, what if he truly didn't love me, or not anymore at least? What if it was all an act to have a warm body to fall asleep next to, to have an extra set of hands around the cottage.

I kicked at the sheets, desperate to get them away from me, to get them from clinging to my sweaty body. I only tangled my legs further into the mess. The bed creaked loudly against the wooden floor of the attic, a gust of wind running through a small gap in the roof.

I shot up, finally being able to rid my body of the sheets. I huffed a few times, the annoyance getting the better of me. I slung my legs over the side of the bed, now just sitting on the wooden frame, letting my eyes wander over the walls. The pictures of us that were tightly tacked to the planks, photos of our favorite pets and our best of friends. Photos of us with Phil and Tommy, and even a stray photo of me and Wilbur, back when we were kids.

My gaze found its way towards the singular window behind our bed, the only one of two walls that weren't entirely slanted. His red robe stood out like a sore thumb in the feeble blanket of slushy snow that had been slowly accumulating over the course of the night. Summer was officially over once again, and the cold would soon make it so we could no longer afford to sleep alone.

He rarely wore his robe outside of special occasions, he usually would simply opt for one of his brown ones. One was trimmed with a thick deer fur, the leather on it sure to keep all frost out. The other one was his summer one, the more dirty one of the two. It was always stained with blood, since it would also be the one he went hunting with. He disliked hunting in the winter, the harsh winds and easily discernible prints made it no fun, according to him. He stacked up during the summer, drying his meats to allow them to be kept safe for months, if not years.

But now he was wearing his red robe, lined with the finest of polar bear fur. The one that had the special compartments for his potions, and the one I had sown a totem into. For good luck. He rarely wore it for any occasion but war.

He pushed himself from the ground, turning around swiftly; the velocity making his cape whisk dramatically up in the wind. His eyes seemed fixated on the ground until they unwarrantedly shot up to the window I was sitting at. Any other day, I would've averted my gaze. Not now. He knew I was staring, and he was allowed to know so. I held my eyes on him until his feet carried him out of sight, into the house. I sighed softly, I felt entirely forlorn without him, without his caring hands and loving eyes. I let myself fall back into the bed, cuddling the sheets once again as I curled away from the entrance. I reckoned he would have to change out of his robe soon, and I didn't want to face him when he did.

I heard the front door slam, and as predicted the rungs of the many ladders soon creaked in his hold. The worn, practically ancient, trapdoor was pushed ajar behind me. I couldn't be bothered to turn to meet his eyes. However, instead of quietly changing out of his clothes, I felt the bed dip. He sat on the side of it, much alike to how I had found myself just minutes before.

"I don't like feeling weak." His voice was rougher than usual, it kept its usual monotone aura, but for some reason, it felt more emotional than ever before. He cleared his throat as if to try and mask it, to no avail, "I don't love you any less."

I shifted in the bed, though, he quickly stopped me, "Don't look at me, that just makes it harder."

I obliged. He let out a trembling sigh, taking his sweet time to deliberate his next words, "Sometimes we are outside together and I'm afraid that when they see how much I care about you, they will realize that you make me weak." I stared at the wall, still curled into the blankets. I wanted nothing more than to hold his face, look at him as he spoke. Instead, I had to make do with the pictures of his face plastered on the wood. His pointy, flappy ears and peaked nose. The two sharp-looking fangs set in the corners of his lips, ones that seemed to disappear when he smiled. He didn't like smiling for pictures, I didn't have a single one of the two of us together where he smiled. The only ones that showed his beautiful pearly whites were the ones that had me behind the camera, something I only then realized might've not been a coincidence.

"It scares me to think they could hurt you for loving me, that's why I don't like holding your hand in town." I shot a quick look over my shoulder, his back was slouched over, his head in his hands with his elbows propped on his knees. He wasn't crying, he simply seemed lost."I never realized that what scares me even more is the idea of you not loving me at all."

I slowly crept from under the sheets as his words fell silent. I crawled over towards where he was sat, near the foot-end of the bed. I took one of his hands from where he had rested his face on it and pulled it out of the way.

I snaked my arms around his neck, pulling my body into his. I draped my legs over his lap as I held him. His built arms felt tender against my exposed back, however, he held me tight. He squeezed softly as another quivering breath escaped his lips. We sat in embrace for a while.

"That's all I asked for, Tech." I smiled into his neck. "I just wanted to talk, that wasn't so hard, now, was it?"

"Shut up." He playfully tried pushing me away from his torso, underestimating the power of my cling. "You know I hate it when you call me that."

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rodeo-boots · 3 years ago

Note

Could you write something for Flaco x f reader who is really short? NSFW if you want with some size difference, please!

This is entirely NSFW, I hope that's okay!!

Rating: Explicit

Words: 1343

AO3

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You weren't tall. By all means, you sometimes felt tiny while standing next to other people, most of all Flaco Hernandez, who you've been well-acquainted with for a while.

He wasn't your lover, wasn't more than a partner in crime, but sometimes, the both of you helped each other out... wherever you could.

It wasn't rare that he asked for your company, that he asked you to stay the night at his cabin. Sometimes there really was a snowstorm that prevented you from riding back home. But most days, you could easily pretend that was the case.

Tonight was no different.

You had arrived as always, had told him of the job you've finished and refused to take his reward. Because, really, you weren't doing any of this for money anymore. Every time you came to see him, it was a pleasure more than anything.

"So, Miss... is it time to go already?" He asked, his breath shaping clouds in front of his face.

Why he lived up here, in the cold and frost, you had never understood. You doubted you ever would.

"Depends," you replied, resting your hip against the desk he sat on. "Would you like some company tonight?"

You surely would, and you knew him well enough to tell that he thought the same way.

He took you in, eyes roaming your shape, or what was visible behind your layers of clothing. "It would be a pleasure." Always so damn courteous. You had believed him to be nothing but a rough and tough gunslinger, but it turned out he could be sweet as summer wine.

A smile shaped upon your lips, and you settled by his side to stay. After all, the warmth of his body next to yours beat the cold outdoors by lengths.

It didn't take long before things escalated between you two. Really, it never did.

Before the night had fully broken, you were already straddling his lap, his powerful thighs beneath your slimmer ones, and his big palms holding your waist so easily.

He was sucking and nipping at the skin of your jaw, planted kisses along your neck and up to your ear. His lips weren't soft, but they were perfect that way, your lips parting at the ticklish sensation of his mustache rubbing against your skin.

"You're so tiny, little bird," he whispered, teeth pulling on your earlobe until your breath hitched and a shiver ran down your spine. "Always hidin' in those huge coats to look bigger than you are, huh?" His assumption wasn't wrong, though you preferred the thick pelts solely to stay warm whenever you were close to his cabin.

Right now, there was nothing better than taking them off, however, nothing better than to allow him to take you in for what you were. His eyes followed your every motion when he leaned back, admiring you the moment you were left in only a shirt and pants.

"You only show yourself to Flaco, don't you?"

He could get possessive, but if that didn't turn you on, nothing would. "Of course," you mumbled, rolling your hips to offer him some friction. The space within his pants had to get smaller by the second, and you wondered how long he'd be able to stay patient.

Grumbling in apparent satisfaction, Flaco's hands wandered up your sides, fingers teasing at the hem of your shirt. "Think you're ready for me?" He asked, and you had the audacity to smirk and grind down on his bulge again, eliciting a deep groan from his mouth.

Flaco didn't waste a second. He scooped you right up into his arms, carrying you with ease while your legs wrapped around his waist.

While he carried you over to the bed, his lips mapped out the bare skin of your neck, teeth teasing your pulse point. But before you were able to react, to do more than take in another sharp breath, he had already dropped you onto the mattress, climbing over you and covering you entirely with his massive body.

In comparison to you, he was a beast of a man; most of all with his thick coat. You didn't have any complaints about that, however.

"Fuck me," you demanded, out of breath without him needing to do as much as touch you.

A single look of his was often enough to undo you, and right now, you've had plenty of those focused on yourself already.

He grumbled again, fingers hooking under your waistband to pull your pants down a little bit. Just enough to expose your dripping cunt.

You took in another breath, cold meeting your sensitive sex, your legs trying to close while he only pressed them up against your own chest.

Shit. You didn't know you were this flexible.

"Looks like someone's hungry?" The smile was evident in his tone of voice, thick fingers dipping in between your wet folds with ease.

You gasped, unable to deny his statement when your excitement was more than just obvious. If only he'd stop playing with you.

"It'd only be fair to treat my lady well, don't you think?" He muttered, first one and then another finger pushing into your tight heat, stretching you more than your own ever could.

He didn't even have his cock out yet, and you were already close to coming undone, your thighs quivering when he brought his fingers deeper and crooked them to massage your sweet spot.

Your fingers curled in the blankets, lips parting to release a needy moan. "Right there– please." Any sort of challenge had long since left you, your body needing more in this very moment, needing the release you haven't had in quite some time.

But Flaco grew confident at your shameless display, pulling his soaked fingers out and circling your clit only once, before his touch was gone for good.

Unable to squirm much when one of his hands still kept your ankles secure, you could only wait until he had opened up his bottoms, staring at his reddened erection while pre-cum spilled off the tip and onto the blankets.

You liked your lips at the sight, knowing that Flaco wouldn't want to make himself wait now, the man moving closer as he grabbed the inside of your knees, pushing them further down while he thrust in. With one swift stroke, he had bottomed out within you, the breath forcefully knocked out of your lungs at the stretch you'd never grow used to.

Whimpering when he pulled back out, you remained trapped beneath him, blood rushing within your ears while he started to take what was his without any care about your difference in size.

"So tight," he bit out, holding onto you with enough strength to leave bruises, your tangled pants and underwear only rendering you completely incapable of moving.

How he managed to fit, you still hadn't figured out, holding onto the sheets as he started to pick up the pace.

Each deep stroke knocked you backwards, made you gasp out and your vision darken. It felt good, much too good to be true – the fact that he could oh-so-easily crush you under his weight only making your heart race that much quicker.

You cried out, and he took that as his cue to go even harder. His balls slapped against your wet skin with each thrust, the sound of his grunts and groans mingling with your own pleasurable noises.

Of course you didn't last, couldn't hold back when he angled his hips and pounded into the most sensitive areas within your cunt, your body clenching around him when you came near entirely untouched.

Only his cock had gotten you off, your breath harsh and erratic, hips stuttering while he kept going, thrusting deep and hard while your walls milked him for his release.

At the last moment, he pulled out, making a proper mess of your bare thighs and your cunt, his seed dripping down to seep into the sheets upon the bed.

#flaco hernandez #flaco hernandez x reader #flaco hernandez x female reader #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 requests #rdr2 fanfiction #nsft #size difference #my writing #anon #im sorry this sucks ive been writing something else nonstop and wrote this to take a break lmao

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imagining-in-the-margins · 4 years ago

Text

Here to Misbehave (Pt. 22 | S.R.)

Summary: Things are changing for the better. Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Content Warning: Adults w/ Age Difference, Sub Drop, vague mentions of trauma/dissociation, PTSD (mostly comfort) Word Count: 7.25k

MASTERLIST

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The dulcet, bustling sounds of the Dulles International Airport were more soothing than I expected. Normally, the massive crowds and constant barrage of information would make my brain go into overdrive, but there was something about Spencer being there that made it all turn to white noise. If I had to guess, I would say it was the feeling of trusting someone to take care of you.

I still hadn’t gotten used to it.

“Hey, I got you something.”

Even then, when he’d approached me from behind and gingerly placed the bag on my lap, I barely even flinched. I smelled the contents of the bag before I noticed the logo or managed to open it, but once I confirmed it was what I thought it was, my eyes immediately teared up.

“Oh my god,” I keened, pulling out the familiar blue cup holding a much too sweet, much too large cinnamon bun. Although my mind was running with a million things to say to express just how appreciative I was, I took a bite out of it before I said anything else.

“I love you so much,” I mumbled around a mouth full of pastry.

Spencer tried to respond, but after one glance at me, fingers and face already covered in frosting after only a few seconds, he burst out laughing.

“You’re a complete mess,” he chastised, trying to cluck his tongue but failing in his laughter.

I just smiled back, not even bothering with the plastic utensils and enjoying the indulgence with absolutely childlike joy. It wasn’t even just the sugar or my fingers pressing into the warm, sticky dough that made the morning seem so much better; it was the way Spencer watched me.

With one arm leaned against the chair, his whole body was turned towards me. It was clear from the slightly glassy look in his exhausted eyes that he was also stuck trying to find the right words to say to express just how grateful he was that we could still have moments like that.

Those same eyes roamed over my figure with such an overtly intimate gleam that it almost made me blush. If he’d touched me, I definitely would have. But he kept his hands to himself, and eventually, buried them into his carry-on bag. I didn’t even look at what he was doing, too lost in the sweetness of being cared for.

That foolhardy trust was a mistake. Because, it turned out, Spencer Reid was a monster.

Without any warning at all, a cold wet wipe was dragged over my cheeks. I flinched back, only to find Spencer’s hand holding onto my head and stopping me from turning away. The madman even had the audacity to smile as he gingerly wiped the frosting from my cheeks and chin. Of course, considering the fact I was thrashing wildly away from him, it ended up mostly on my lips.

“Pfftbtb! Spencer!” I spit and whined, earning confused looks from basically everyone in the vicinity. What they would find when they looked over was him in a fit of laughter, continuing to try and clean my face, which was still covered in sugary frosting despite his best efforts to remove it.

“I thought you enjoyed the taste of alcohol,” he teased.

“First of all, no one does, and second—” I started, only to be cut off with a kiss over my much too clean mouth. I smiled, but only because it used to be my move. I wondered when exactly the tables had turned, and it became his job to shut me up with a kiss.

“I know,” he whispered, licking his lips just to cringe at the taste he’d forced on me, “I’m just joking.”

I decided then that the sight and shared disgust for ethyl alcohol were enough for me to forgive him for the time being. I let him clean the rest of the evidence of my greed from my face but decided to clean my fingers myself. I popped each one into my mouth in what I’d imagined was a very non-sexual manner, but Spencer still seemed to enjoy watching me as each digit was cleaned. Granted, he handed me another wipe seconds later. Damn germaphobe. Like he didn’t shove his tongue in my mouth on a daily basis.

The rest of the treat was shared between us, with utensils this time, in a relative quiet. Brief giggles or sighs were all there was to be said. Once there was nothing left to fixate on, I was left only with my thoughts and Spencer’s eyes that still watched me like a horribly affectionate hawk.

“I’m really sorry,” I mumbled without realizing. I’d almost hoped he wouldn’t even hear it, or let it go without a conversation, but of course, he couldn’t do that.

“For what?”

“For making you do all of this,” I explained with a heavy sigh, “I feel like a big baby.”

Spencer’s hands came to brush away the stray strands of hairs from my face. They weren’t actually in the way of anything; I think he just wanted to make a better view. That alone was enough to make me smile, but that only seemed to make him feel guilty.

“Don’t apologize for this. This is my fault,” he said just as quietly. I mirrored his motion, running my fingers through his hair and watching as his mouth dropped open in a pleased smile.

“No, it’s not. You’re wonderful,” I said through my own. It was only a little bit sadder than his, but wasn’t that usually the case? I could only imagine what would happen the day we were both overflowing with nothing but joy. Before, that thought might lead me back to the bank, the place that ended our last purely happy encounter, but…

I looked at Spencer, with his mouth still slightly open and his head lolling back and forth with the little weight of my hand, and I couldn’t bring myself to think of anything bad. So I just thought of the picnic, instead. I thought of him licking my hand as we rolled in grass, and of his own hands working through my hair to make it into something besides a mess on my head.

I looked at Spencer, and I saw beautiful things. And the longer I played with his hair, the more relaxed and content he became. Of course, I would never be satisfied. His smile was the most beautiful thing to see, and I needed it to deal with the guilt still sitting like rocks in my stomach.

“Besides, it’ll be so much easier putting down my work and actually getting sleep when you’re waiting for me,” Spencer slurred, his neck relaxing to drop the weight of his head against my palm.

“I hope not too easy. The world needs you, Dr. Reid,” I kindly reminded.

His eyes fluttered open, trapping me in dark honey irises filled with pure adoration. “You need me, too,” he whispered.

“Arrogant bastard.”

Naturally, he took it as a compliment, his smile growing into a smirk as he answered, “A little bit.”

He should have known better than to give me that look, though, because within seconds my hands fell from his hair. A small whimper came from the pitiful man at the loss. It was quickly followed by a sharp inhale when my hand grabbed his thigh.

“You think I’ll actually let you sleep?” I whispered.

Aside from the obviously tense quadriceps beneath my palms, Spencer showed very little response to my suggestion. Well, rather, he showed little arousal to it. There was a reaction— just not the one I expected.

He looked... nervous.

“I actually wanted to talk to you about that...”

“What?” I shot back immediately, my hands withdrawing and tugging on my shirt while I instinctively tried to hide from him. I was trying to look less guilty, but I was acutely aware that my actions screamed the opposite. So, I tried to combat my obvious anxiety with a voice that was far louder than it needed to be. “I swear I’m on all my medications. I haven’t missed a single therapy appointment, either!”

Spencer’s hands were gentle and cautious when they came to my wrists, gently pulling them away from my chest. “I know. I trust you,” he said with a sad but still genuine smile, “I just wanted to ask you how you wanted to handle this.”

“What do you mean? I’m fine.” The words tumbled out of me in the least convincing manner. Spencer was too smart to fall for them, although I could see a playfulness bloom through his features.

“No offense, but you just cried over a cinnamon bun,” he said, unable to stop a few chuckles from mixing with the words.

“It was just really good, okay?” I scoffed, tearing my hands away from him and feigning offense despite his little disclaimer. From there, I sank down in the shitty airport chair and refused to look up at him. I could still feel his cheeky, arrogant little grin watching me.

Eventually, after I thought we’d suffered enough and I could already feel my legs going numb, I weakly conceded, “Fine. What are my options?”

“Well, basically anything. But the main thing to consider is...”

He paused. It was one of the sure signs that he was taking the situation very seriously. Usually, he would just spout out whatever came to mind and sort out the details later. But this time, he spoke slowly and purposefully. “Majority of our relationship has been based on physicality. Whether it was sex or healing or hurting and I... I want to give you the option to not do that. At least, not for a little while.”

A feeling of dread filled my blood that I could suddenly hear rushing through my ears. I didn’t tell my heart to beat faster, but it did. My hands that had once again crossed over my chest suddenly itched to hold him.

“Why would I not want to?” I asked, fiddling with the buttons on my shirt and occasionally glancing up at him only to realize that he wasn’t looking at me, either. I tried not to read into it. After all, he was the profiler— not me.

“It’s not a matter of avoiding it. I just need you to know it’s not expected of you.”

Without shifting my body at all, my eyes were glued to him. The strain of the angle and the sound of those words caused them to burn, but I refused to let tears fall again. He wasn’t rejecting me, right? He was telling me that he loved me. There was no reason to be scared.

I wasn’t used to that yet, either. But I wanted to be. And judging by the way his hand cupped my face and guided it back to his, I think Spencer felt those anxieties. He tried to will them away by pressing his forehead against mine and letting his thumb ghost over flushed cheeks.

“Don’t be scared. I just need you to know that we don’t have to have sex for you to be worth my time and attention.”

The tears grew bigger under his scrutiny, but they didn’t fall until he closed his eyes. I think that was why he did.

“I love you,” he assured me with a whisper, “I’m not going to deny you affection or intimacy if that’s what you want. I just need you to know that it is always an option.”

Normally when Spencer pulled away, the air felt cold in his absence. For so long, my body had felt lonelier and less than without him. But in that busy, bustling airport, I felt just as loved even when his hands fell away and he sat back up in his chair.

For those who might’ve been watching, they would just see two lovesick idiots whispering sweet nothings in a flagrantly public display of affection. They wouldn’t have heard the weight of the words or felt the way my perception of the whole world shifted from them.

Spencer smiled again, still nervous, but also clear and authentic.

“I’m sorry,” he told me with his eyes fixated on my hands in my lap. He made no move to hold it, although I could tell he wanted to. I suspect he wanted me to focus on the words, so I tried my hardest. I almost asked him what he was sorry for, but he answered first, “I don’t think I’ve ever told you that before.”

A lump quickly formed in my throat that I tried to swallow. When that failed, and I felt the telltale signs of tears filling the sides of my eyes, I did the only thing I could think of to hide. I threw my arms around the only thing that never failed to make them better. I buried my face in Spencer’s neck and laughed along with him as my eyelashes and breath tickled the soft skin.

After a brief second of listening to our hearts settle into a matching rhythm and letting our body heat sink into the clothes between us, Spencer groaned, “How are you still sticky?”

—————————————————

A couple weeks prior, the thought of being alone in a hotel room waiting on Spencer to finish work for the day would have instilled the fear of God in me. I would have done just about anything to avoid the exact situation I found myself in now.

But honestly? It wasn’t all that bad. It was the perfect opportunity for me to force myself to slow down. Granted, that mostly just meant that I would watch bad TV in a bathrobe with overpriced food, but... like they say, change is as good as a rest.

The hardest part about it was actually just convincing myself that I deserved the rest. While I was taking naps and trying to do anything to unwind, I knew what Spencer was doing.

Well, I had some idea of what he was doing. Reality was probably worse than my imagination— it usually was with his job. At first, I had let that guilt get in the way, but at some point over the nine hours, I realized that I would have to find a way to cheer myself up. Because as soon as I heard that small beep of the keycard, I would have to find a way to remind him of all the beautiful things in the world.

No pressure, right?

The sun had already started to set, and I hadn’t heard from him in hours. We’d started the day out with a constant line of contact, but over time he became too busy. Which, again, just meant that I would have to work even harder when he finally arrived.

Luckily for me, by the time Spencer had arrived, there was no need for a pep talk or acting of any kind. My heart immediately started to race the second I heard his voice down the hall. I had already bolted from the bed and positioned myself just far enough from the door that I could jump forward the second it opened far enough to fit me.

And when it did, I pounced.

“Spencer!” I cheered, throwing myself into his arms that had fully been expecting me. Still, the two of us crashed back against the frame and I heard the breath be knocked out of him from the impact.

“Hey, little girl,” he managed to laugh with empty lungs that made it impossible to forget how tired he was. His arm eventually settled at my lower back, lifting me slightly so he could move us from the door’s path. But when we were out of harm’s way and the latch clicked softly in place, Spencer didn’t let me go. In fact, he tossed his bag into the chair at the desk and wrapped his other arm around me, too.

“How was work?” I asked, afraid I already knew the answer.

“You know...” he muttered with a crackling voice, “awful.”

If that hadn’t given it away, the way he buried his face in my neck certainly did. His hands were even more insistent, pressing into my back as he led us both to the bed.

I had to laugh, though, as the realization dawned on him that he’d have to let go of me if he didn’t want to track filthy shoes in our bed. A heavy sigh fell from his lips when he finally released me, practically throwing me onto the terrible mattress before taking his seat next to me.

“I missed you,” I announced in the ambient noise of the cheapest hotel that the government could justify using.

Spencer looked up at me, but the words took a little longer to register. I could only imagine how busy his mind must’ve been, and the guilt quickly came creeping back.

“I missed you, too,” he returned, albeit with a tint of sadness in his tone. But the longer we stayed there, the calmer he seemed. It was such a powerful effect of our proximity that by the time he did lay down next to me, he seemed like the man that had wiped frosting from my face in the middle of a busy airport.

Spencer must have noticed the shift, too, because no sooner had his head hit the pillow than he had flipped over, throwing his leg over me to pin me down against the bed.

My initial reaction was to keep laughing, but the noises were muffled by the persistent kisses he gave. They started at my cheeks and over the bridge of my nose but landed on my lips. I felt the tension leave his shoulders as he lowered more of his body weight against me, and I reveled in the feeling of his presence.

“God, I needed this,” he growled just before his tongue slipped into my mouth.

Everything we’d talked about at the airport felt a lifetime away, and as soon as I felt his erection pressing hard against my thigh, I only had one goal in mind. I forced my hands between us, trying to remove his tie with the hope that it would shed some of the thoughts he’d brought back from work.

But then it all stopped. Spencer had pulled away, grabbing onto my wrist and pinning it to the bed beside me once more.

“No, we don’t need to do that. I just wanted to kiss you,” he panted through heavy breath and swollen lips. I couldn’t stop staring at them long enough to answer, but it was clear from the look on his face that any plea I gave would be for naught, anyway. “I’m honestly way too exhausted to give you the attention you deserve.”

I believed him. Even when he hadn’t slept for nearly two days, he still looked livelier then. I had a sneaking suspicion that it had less to do with sleep and more to do with emotions. I wanted to help him with that, too, like he did for me, but I didn’t know how. So, I did the only thing I did know how to do well, which was to place a soft peck against his lips until they turned up into another smile.

“Get some rest, old man,” I murmured, “I’ll be here to kiss again when you wake up.”

“Let me hold you,” he answered immediately, nuzzling his face against my neck like a puppy seeking any shred of attention. I couldn’t tell if I was laughing because of the way his hair tickled or because it was so strange to see him so vulnerable while still in dominant, albeit disheveled, work clothes.

“Fine. Only because you asked nicely.”

Continuing the trend of being remarkably adorable, Spencer giggled as he rolled onto his side. I was almost tempted to turn towards him, but he had already wrapped his arms around me before I could decide. He pulled me as close as he could before his lips once again settled against the column of my throat.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” he stated absently. It was so quiet that I’m not sure he’d actually planned on me hearing it. But when I reached a hand up to run through his hair, he spoke with a shaky, relieved whine, “I can’t believe you’re here.”

A gentle, warm exhale breezed over my skin as he continued, “I love you so much.”

From that point, any words he might’ve whispered were muffled through sloppy, sleepy kisses over my neck and shoulder. His hands, though slow, were still rough and purposeful as they pawed at me in a way that was only vaguely sexual. It was more like he was trying to prove to himself that he was actually here with me, and my breasts just happened to be the first thing he could grab.

That still didn’t stop my mind from running wild. The hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention as I focused on the way his breath felt against areas still wet from his kisses. And when I arched my back, I felt his hips press harder.

Eventually, when I could trust myself to speak without whimpering, I asked, “Are you sure you don’t want to...”

I peeked back at him before continuing, having noticed a lull in his kisses. Sure enough, Spencer was fast asleep, his lips still attached to my shoulder. I had to chuckle at the sight, but my heart did hurt for him. I couldn’t imagine how tired he must have been to fall asleep then, and still in his clothes, much less.

The guilt over being the main cause of his tiredness was enough to keep me still for at least two hours. I spent that time slowly inching to a more comfortable position, only to be squished seconds later by Spencer. Even in his sleep, it seemed he was terrified of the prospect of me slipping from his arms. He was just being dramatic, though. It’s not like I had anywhere to go.

Wait, that sounded wrong. Truthfully, there were many places I could go, but I didn’t want to. I wanted to stay with Spencer, tangled in his long limbs and tickled by his hair that had grown long enough to gracelessly flop onto my face regardless of position.

For the first time in my life, I didn’t want to leave at all.

But I did. Inch by inch, I carefully slipped from Spencer’s arms. Against all odds, I managed to maneuver through the death grip he had on me and plop down on the ground beside the bed. My mind found that to be the perfect time to recall the lecture he’d given me about how suitcases, and more specifically, their wheels, were the most dangerous bacteria-laden aspects of traveling, but I dismissed the thought shortly after I stood again.

I didn’t want to leave Spencer’s embrace. I’m not really sure why I did. There wasn’t even really a particularly angsty reasoning for it. I just had this feeling, this tingling on my skin and a weight in my stomach that told me I was meant to be doing something different.

The only problem was that I had literally no idea what the fuck that something different was.

So, naturally, I did what every young child does when their parents had grown tired of their restless children jumping on the hotel bed. I grabbed the keycard and the ice bucket and set out on a very thrilling journey to find the vending room. The first part was the hardest. It was shutting the door to return the room to darkness, knowing that Spencer was alone in bed.

It was hard, but it wasn’t impossible. I slipped from the room into the horrible yellow lighting of the halls with the dizzying wallpaper and patterned carpet without another thought. I’d hoped that the walk might bring me answers to the mood I was currently wrestling with, but I was wrong. Because it basically only took me three doors to find the room that I was looking for.

Great.

I threw the door open haphazardly, actually contemplating grabbing the ice and returning to bed no wiser than I had left it. But when the door swung shut behind me, the humming from the machines bled into my brain and started to cover all the other thoughts. It was warmer than my room, as well as smaller and quieter. Of course, it was also remarkably less private, but it was also like 2am. If someone came in to find a strange girl sitting on the floor next to the ice machine, that was their own fault.

In a strange way, it was the most peaceful I’d been in a long time. As much as I loved being with Spencer, these circumstances made it hard for me to not feel like I didn’t belong. Probably because I didn’t. He was here on work, a life that he’d tried very hard to keep away from me. I didn’t blame him for that, either. I was sure he’d gotten a number of questions from Morgan and Garcia about my presence, but he hadn’t shared them with me. I’d even asked him, just so I could concoct my own retaliatory questions for the nosiest of them, but he just laughed the question away.

Maybe that was it. Maybe it was just the realization that Spencer had a life of his own and I was just starting to see it for the first time. I was learning so much about him and honestly… None of it was bad. Most of it was just downright silly. Things like prank wars and physics magic and careful, chemistry-based improvements to shitty coffee. I was just too busy realizing that I was falling even more in love with Spencer to notice anything else.

Including, apparently, the sound of the door to the room opening. Trust me when I say that was saying a lot; the presence of Aaron Hotchner was not easy to miss.

“Can I join you?” His voice filled the room despite its low volume, and I followed the sound with a small smile that grew at the sight of him in casual clothing. It wasn’t something that happened often, but it sure did make him less intimidating than our previous encounters.

“Sure,” I said as I pulled the still-empty ice bucket into my lap. Once he took his seat beside me, I rolled my head toward him to try and figure out what exactly he had planned. But after another few seconds of silence, I realized that he was doing the same thing I was.

Improvising.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” I asked, insistent that it wasn’t my job in this scenario to come up with the advice.

Hotch seemed equally lost, and with a slight shake of his head, he explained, “I only heard the door open once. Figured it was worth a trip to get some ice to check.”

He held up his matching ice bucket, to which I lifted mine to knock together like the worst kind of toast. It at least succeeded in making him laugh, although the sound was short-lived. We both recognized the shoddy attempt at humor was just masking the things I didn’t want to talk about.

“Why can’t you sleep?”

He had never really been a beat-around-the-bush sort of guy.

“Freakin’ profilers,” I affectionately muttered back, which only earned me a playful warning glance that I, for once, didn’t choose to ignore. “I don’t know. I’m guessing it’s probably the 3-hour nap I took when we got here.”

Then, deciding that still didn’t describe the situation well enough, I tagged on, “You know, while you all were working and saving the world and what not.”

Unfortunately, I’d forgotten the cardinal rule of the BAU: Do not ever speak poorly about yourself. Not even an implication.

“Rest is important. No reason for you to suffer for us,” he returned without pause.

“You sound like Spencer,” I said through a half-hearted laugh.

Hotch shared my laughter, causing them both to grow in volume as he snarkily replied, “And who do you think taught him?”

“Right. Sorry.” I held my hands up in surrender, but we both knew it would be harder than that.

But that was okay. He came prepared.

“So, what else is wrong?”

“So persistent, you lot,” I chuckled. I half expected him to let it go, but he just turned to stare at me with that usually stoic face contorted with an obvious reprimand. I swear, I didn’t even realize his eyebrows could move that far. But there were, raised up his forehead as his cheeks dimpled from his little, knowing smirk.

“I don’t know,” I sighed, “Just thinking about things and I was scared I would wake up Spencer. Like he would feel my anxiety in his sleep.”

“What’s making you anxious?”

I paused. For a moment, I thought about lying. Not the kind of transparent lie that you do when you say that everything is fine. The kind of lie that also contained the truth. There were many things that had happened lately that would explain my anxiety, and they would be believable enough because I did still feel them.

“Everything. You know. The usual,” I said softly, attempting to stall.

Because that wasn’t what the problem was that day. The problems that day were… complicated in a different way than the usual angst. So, I let the thoughts marinate for a moment, considering the different outcomes and deciding which I really wanted.

I hadn’t let myself want things in a while. Maybe that realization was why I decided to just tell him the truth, despite how embarrassing it felt.

“It’s not bad anxiety, necessarily. It’s just this realization that… I don’t know.”

“Take a guess,” he pressed, feeling the hesitance as I stood at the brink of what I really wanted to say. The real answer to why I was sitting on the floor of an ice machine vending room with my boyfriend’s boss, who also happened to be our shared adoptive father figure.

I took a deep breath, clutching onto the ice bucket so tightly that my knuckles blanched and the edges imprinted on my hand until I blurted out, “That I think I’m ready for something else. Something more.”

We both stopped then, enjoying the noises of machinery and the barely-there echo of my words.

“Something more, huh?” he repeated more clearly.

I didn’t appreciate the way the words were practically sung through a clever grin, and before he could take that train of thought any further, I stopped him with an answer too loud to not be deemed defensive.

“Not like that! Not like, let’s run off and elope and have lots of babies tomorrow!“ He didn’t look convinced, so I continued with a much more believable promise. “Don’t worry, I’m not sniping your genius.”

“Thank goodness,” he replied sarcastically. I appreciated his ability to keep things lighthearted, and for a second I did have to laugh at the fact he was such a different person when he wasn’t at work. He must’ve taught Spencer more than I realized. And, in turn, Spencer was teaching me. I just wasn’t sure when the lesson would be over, or if it had already ended.

“I’ve just held onto my independence and this… heavy bullshit for so long, and I’m a little worried about what that means,” I thought aloud.

Again, Hotch had read my mind, or at least, my body language, and demanded the answer he saw written across my features. “What do you think it means?”

“Do you always give fatherly advice like this to whiny girls in ice machine rooms?” I shot back with my first attempt at a glare. It only lasted until he flashed me a toothy smile and his own clever retort.

“No. Now answer the question.”

“I had to try,” I grumbled, only to be shut down again in an instant.

“I’ll forgive you when you answer.”

With a begrudging sigh, I tried to do what he asked. But I only barely got through one word before they turned to a lump in my throat. I choked on the words strongly enough that tears I hadn’t anticipated began pooling on my eyelashes. The power of a profiler, I guess, to know I was on the verge of an emotional catharsis before I did.

“I know we all change. I know that no one stays the same. We all go through things and they change who we are. And that can be good, right? But…”

Once the words started, they wouldn’t stop, turning and tumbling from clumsy lips still chapped from incessant biting. But teeth and willpower couldn’t stop the feelings that caused them, and if Spencer had taught me anything, he’d taught me that speaking a feeling into existence was half of the battle to let it go.

“But sometimes it’s gotta just be bad, right? Like, we’ve got to acknowledge that sometimes we change in an irreparable way that’s just bad for no reason.”

“Right,” he very eloquently returned. Normally, I would have bullied him for giving such a simple response to such a complex question, but at that moment I was just grateful that I could continue. Heaven knows Spencer wouldn’t have let me.

“So, what if that happened to me? What if one day I wake up and finally find out the answer to the question I’ve been asking myself?”

When I turned to the man then, I saw a genuine confusion for the first time that night. I couldn’t tell you where I’d lost him, but it was clear that he heard something in me that alerted him that some deeper rooted issues were just now finding the light of day.

Of course, in this situation, it was really just a flickering fluorescent bulb.

“What question is that?” he whispered, like his voice would intrude in the thoughts.

But the truth was they didn’t feel like they belonged to me, either. That was the problem. I’d spent so long with memories that felt like a dream. I saw them playback when I closed my eyes, just to open them and find the same images reflecting in Spencer’s. I knew they were real because they were written into my skin, yet my mind rioted against them so hard that instead, I just started to think that this body wasn’t mine, either.

“How much of me died that day?”

The question sat with us, taking form in the reflection on the metallic surface that hummed a somehow somber tune. And even though I knew I was looking at myself, it didn’t feel that way. When I saw Hotch move in the background, I turned to him just in time to feel his hand resting over mine on the metal pail in my hands.

“Can I tell you what I think?” he offered.

“I’d like that.”

I felt the warmth flow through him, bringing life back into a hand that suddenly started to feel like me again. His voice shared the same rejuvenating quality as he quietly but confidently answered, “I think… it’s much less than you think.”

As tears slid down my face, they felt less like the beginning of a downpour and more like the drizzle that follows the storm. I let them fall without wiping them away, hoping that as they fell away, they would take the fear with them.

After they did drip from my jaw, I laughed. I couldn’t hold it in because it seemed so silly how much lighter I felt after losing just a few droplets of saline. But, realistically, I knew it had more to do with his hand still holding mine.

I dropped my head to his shoulder, selfishly stealing his body warmth as I croaked, “Thanks for talking to me. I know I must sound like a stupid kid to you sometimes.”

“Not at all,” he said with that tone that was difficult to discount, “You sound just like you should.”

“Can I tell you something now?” I asked between sniffles.

“I’d like that,” he mirrored.

“You’re like… a really good dad.”

It was his turn to shed tears, then, which he did. They were much manlier and less silly than mine, but they were there. I almost accused him of creating them just to make me feel less embarrassed, but before I could, he’d enveloped me in a hug that was way too genuine to question it.

As I hugged him back, I realized just how badly I’d missed moments like this. I’d fooled myself into really believing that loneliness and independence were the same things for so long that when I was granted the support all human beings need, I didn’t know how to respond.

But that was the beauty of family, right? You don’t have to try to earn their love. They already thought you were worthy.

So I hugged him harder, ignoring the clanking of the machines and the sounds of crowds of people stumbling back from bars in the hall that could walk in any moment. I wasn’t embarrassed to be sad anymore. I was just a person. It happens sometimes.

“Speaking of, it’s well past your bedtime,” Hotch said finally, gracelessly shattering the moment in a very dad-like fashion.

“I walked into that one.”

Following that trend, he continued with a gentle bump of his shoulder against me, “If you don’t want to go yet, you can talk to me about that something more.”

I practically shoved him off me, huffing between chuckles and shaking my head in the hope that he wouldn’t notice how it flushed.

“Please. Spencer talks about that stuff, but he’s all talk.”

At first, Hotch just nodded. But after a few wayward glances, he confessed, “I wouldn’t be too sure about that.”

That time the warmth I felt came from within, carried by butterflies that had burst in my stomach at the thought. I almost asked him what he meant, but then felt the familiar, creeping embarrassment that came along with loving someone a little too much.

“Yeah, right,” I scoffed.

I knew he was reading my expressions, but I couldn’t hide the smile, no matter how hard I tried. He still had the decency to ignore my blatant displays of excitement, instead asking the question we both knew the answer to already.

“Is that something you’d want?”

“I…” Such a simple syllable still seemed like too much, and I stuttered it a few more times before I landed on an answer that wasn’t too humiliating. “I guess he’ll have to ask and find out.”

“I hope it turns out well when he does,” he said, pausing to correct with a sarcastic, “Sorry. If he does.”

“Yeah, me too,” I sighed heavily. It was a last ditch effort to hide the way my cheeks were still stuck in a full-faced smile. I turned to see him with a very similar expression.

I knew just how to change that. When he stood up and offered me a hand, I took it and let him do half the work for me. But once we were on equal footing, I placed my hand on his shoulder with a complacent pat.

“You know, if it doesn’t turn out well, you’ll have to figure out how to comfort the both of us.”

“The horror,” he jokingly cringed with a shake of his head.

I almost left then, but thankfully he’d remembered the actual purpose for the room we’d had our impromptu surrogate-father-daughter moment in. He grabbed my ice pail from my hand and dropped it under the dispenser without saying anything else, letting the chaotic crunching signal the real end of the moment.

Once it was over, I looked down at the now freezing bucket in my hands that suddenly felt warm. Then I looked back up at him and saw a pride that I wasn’t expecting.

“Goodnight, Aaron,” I said as the last remaining bit of tension fell from my shoulders.

“Goodnight,” he answered, opening the door and watching as I padded down the hall. He waited until I slipped back into my room before his door clicked shut, and mine quickly followed.

That tiny sound was just enough to wake the man in the bed, and when I turned to him, the sight took my breath away. Because there was Spencer, the man I loved, reaching his arms out into the darkness and grabbing the empty air as he whined, begging me to come to him faster.

And I did. Tossing the bucket onto the table, I rushed over to him and threw myself into the bed beside him without any grace. With a similar restlessness, Spencer wound his arms around me as soon as I was within his reach, pulling me as close as he could without sacrificing all the air in my lungs.

“I missed you,” he mumbled against my hair.

“Don’t worry. I’m back,” I whispered back. The words were lost in his shirt, but he somehow heard them well enough to ask, “Where did you go?”

I didn’t know how exactly to describe what had happened, so I told one of those lies I’d contemplated earlier. “To get ice,” I said. It wasn’t exactly a lie. It was just a very inefficient summary.

Spencer didn’t care, either. In fact, he giggled at the thought, nuzzling his face down into my neck and tickling me with his lips as he mumbled, “Let me warm you up.”

It did succeed in warming me up, but only because it turned into a fit of giggles and more intense tickling. His fingers danced along my sides and his whispers turned back to the same kisses that we’d started the night with.

But it couldn’t last forever. The poor guy still had only had a couple hours of sleep, and I felt the excitement wear off all at once, leaving him only half-awake on the pillow beside me. He still found the energy to look at me like there were stars in my eyes.

“Where did you really go?” he asked again, dragging his hand over my cheek like he could see the tears I’d shed just a few moments before.

“Just ice. I promise,” I answered, ending the thought with a quick kiss on his palm. When I could tell that he didn’t believe that, I brought my hands up to his face as I snickered, “See? Cold hands.”

Surprisingly, he didn’t flinch. Instead, he just leaned forward, letting our noses touch and pulling me in to him again. His eyes fluttered shut, and I could almost see the way his body started to return to sleep as he barely muttered, “No cold feet, though?”

It took me a moment to register the words, and once I did, I still couldn’t believe them.

“Cold feet for what?” I whispered back.

Spencer’s answer only came in the form of a dreamy laugh. He didn’t open his eyes again, instead choosing to drop his face back into my shoulder just like he had before. This time there were even fewer kisses against my neck before he went still again.

Once again, I was left with my thoughts. Only this time they weren’t scary. Because marrying Spencer Reid was not the worst thing to imagine by far. In fact, there were very few things I’d ever wanted more.

—————————————————

| Part 23 |

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds self insert #spencer reid series #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #dr spencer reid #spence reid #spencer reid request #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction

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bakuhoes-dumbass · 4 years ago

Text

Lacking Love

Shoto Todoroki x F!Reader

Slight Angst/Fluff

Words: 1.7k

A/N: Hey, this is my first anime based fic! I hope ya’ll like it~ (They’ll get less shitty as I continue lmao)

Warnings: None!

~~~

"I'm sorry again, Y/N. I didn't mean to be late to our date."

You're sitting across from your boyfriend in a nearby cafe. He noticed how unnaturally quiet you've been for the past hour, his concern growing with every passing moment.

"I had gotten caught up-"

"It's okay, Sho. I already know how you've been feeling."

Todoroki tilts his head, confused at the statement. "I don't quite understand-"

"I know you don't love me." You cut him off. "At least, not like I love you."

Todoroki's eyebrows furrow, a taken aback look on his face. "W-What? You don't think I love you?"

You let out a soft giggle. "I know you don't. And it's okay. Not everyone falls in love with their partner right away."

His mouth drops open slightly in shock. "Y/N, b-but I do…" He trails off.

You shake your head. "You're quite often late to dates. You never call me any pet names. You rarely kiss me. I haven't even heard an 'I love you' leave your mouth first. How often do we cuddle or hold hands?" You speak in a quiet voice. "Shoto, do you even know what today is?"

Your last question catches him off guard. Shit, today is a special day? Why couldn't he remember?! Taking his silence as his answer, you smile sadly. "It's okay, Sho. It wasn't anything special."

Suddenly, your phone rings. Todoroki looks down, noticing Mirio's picture pops up, signaling an incoming text. He furrows his brows in confusion, wondering why the Big 3 member was messaging you. You read the text and put your phone away. Todoroki is surprised when you suddenly stand up.

"Hey baby, I gotta go. But I'll see you later tonight, yeah?"

Todoroki opens his mouth to speak but closes it and chooses to nod instead. You give him a quick kiss on the cheek.

"I love you. I'll see you later."

"I-I love you…" you were out the door of the cafe before he could finish his sentence. "...too." Todoroki sighs and stands up to leave.

On his way back to the dorms, Todoroki's head is spinning. Your words and your disappointed expression flashes in his mind. He never knew this was how you were feeling and now all he could do is worry.

~~~

"Hey, Todoroki. How'd it go?" Midoriya greets him as he walks through the door. Todoroki mumbles something before walking into the kitchen. Midoriya follows closely. "Are you okay?"

Opening the fridge, he continues to ignore Midoriya, choosing to mindlessly stare into the fridge. Midoriya tilts his head at the boy. "So I take it something happened?"

"Y/N said something…" Todoroki trails off, still in shock at what happened in the cafe. Midoriya gestures at him to keep talking. He sighs. "She said I don't love her-"

"Move the hell outta the way, half-n-half. You're letting the cold air out." Bakugo shoves the boy out of the way before rummaging through the fridge for his drink.

Midoriya stares wide eyed at Bakugo's rudeness before turning back to the duo quirked boy. He shakes his head, confused. "Wait, what? What do you mean?"

Todoroki shifts his eyes to a certain explosion boy who finally found his drink, now just leaning against the counter listening with a curious scowl. Todoroki rolls his eyes but turns his attention back to Midoriya.

"I'm not sure. She just started saying how I never show affection or say 'I love you' first." Todoroki runs a hand through his bi-colored hair. "I've never really been in a relationship before but Kaminari had mentioned how girls like guys who play hard to get-"

Bakugo chokes on his drink, nearly dying from a coughing fit. He bursts into laugher. "You're taking relationship advice from dunce face?! Dude wouldn't even know what to do in a relationship if it bit him in the ass."

Todoroki's face turns bright red and holds out his hand, freezing Bakugo's drink. Bakugo stops laughing and glares at him. "HEY, WHAT THE HELL, ICY HOT? WANNA DIE?!"

Todoroki huffs, clearly embarrassed. "Shut up. I just have no idea what I'm doing, clearly."

Midoriya sweat drops, holding up his hands and trying to calm his two friends down. "Alright, let's all just calm down. This is easily fixable. You just have to do the opposite of what Kaminari suggests, right? Easy enough. Did at least the gift you got her help kind of ease her worry?"

Todoroki's furrow his brows. "Gift? Why would I give her a gift?"

Midoriya's jaw drops. Before he can say anything, Bakugo speaks up. "Isn't it like, her birthday or some shit today?"

Upon hearing those words, Todoroki freezes. "N-no, that can't be…" He fumbles with his phone to check the calendar. "Her birthday isn't until-" His eyes widen and his face pales. "-today." He slams his head against the kitchen wall. "Fuck!" He slides down against the wall onto the floor, his hands over his face. "No wonder she doesn't think I fucking love her. I'm such an awful boyfriend."

Bakugo was able to unfreeze his drink. "Yeah you are." He takes a sip before heading out the door. "Better hurry the fuck up and fix it before she dumps your emotionally challanged ass."

"Kacchan! What the hell!" Midoriya throws his hands up at the explosive boy. Bakugo flips him off before heading back to his room. Midoriya sighs and turns to Todoroki once more. "She's not going to dump you."

Shoto leans his head back against the wall and side eyes his friend. "Why wouldn't she? I sure would."

Midoriya shakes his head. "Y/N isn't like that. She's an understanding person."

"Mirio texted her earlier. She's probably with him right now. Probably treating her to a birthday dinner or something." He clenches his fists, frost building up from his right hand.

"Okay, you need to calm down before you freeze the entire dorm." Midoriya sweat drops. "You can fix this, I have a plan. I promise, everything will be alright."

~~~

"Thanks for the ice cream, guys! I really appreciate it!" You smile at the Big three members.

"Of course, Y/N! It's your birthday, after all." Nejire giggles.

The corners of your mouth twitch, suddenly remembering how your boyfriend forgot what today was. Tamaki furrows his brows, noticing your sudden change of mood. "A-are you okay, Y/N?"

You shake your head to rid yourself of those thoughts and smile at the shy boy. "Yeah, I'm okay. No need to worry about me!" Suddenly, you feel your phone go off in your pocket.

♡Shoto♡: Please come to the dorms when you're done, love.

You smile slightly at the text from your boyfriend and quickly send a reply.

You: I'll be there soon. ❤

"Um, sorry to run out on you guys. I have to meet back at Heights Alliance."

"Oh, we're headed that direction anyway! Why don't we accompany you?" Mirio speaks up with a smile.

You giggle at his always sunny attitude and smile back. "Sure, that would be great."

~~~

Todoroki paces back and forth in the dorm common room. Anxiety overwhelms him, the only thing running through his mind is you breaking up with him. He knows he royally screwed up, but you love him too much to leave him. You'll forgive him… right?

He looks over at the dining table, set up with your favorite take-out and a beautiful birthday cake that Sato helped him make. Your gift lay wrapped behind him, wanting to surprise you with it. He really hoped this would help make up for his stupidity.

His head whips up after hearing the door to the building click open. You poke your head around the door giving your boyfriend a smile before closing it behind you. Todoroki rubs his hands on his pants, his anxiety causing him to sweat.

You walk up to him and give him a peck on the cheek. "Hey, Sho." Your eyes wander behind him to see the table set up. "What's all this?"

Todoroki takes your hands into his shaking ones, avoiding your eyes. "I-I know I've been a horrible boyfriend from the start. I haven't shown you how much I appreciate you. How much you mean to me." He squeezes his hands over yours, his eyes now fleeting to meet yours. "How much I love you."

You tilt your head. "Baby, you're not a horrible boyfriend."

"Yes, Y/N. I am. I've kept myself so distant from you, I've neglected you. Fuck, I forgot your fuckin birthday was today!" His eyes turn hard, his tone angry. But not at you, at himself.

"Sho, it's not a big deal-"

"YES IT IS! WHY DO YOU KEEP SAYING IT'S NOT?!" He raises the tone of his voice, making you flinch slightly. He notices and immediately regrets it. He brings his tone down to his natural softness. "I've been so busy training and thinking about becoming a Hero, I neglected to remember an important event. Even fuckin Bakugo remembered."

"Pfft!" You cover your mouth with your hand before bursting out laughing. Todoroki's face turns confused at your reaction. You wave your hand. "I'm sorry, just the fact that Bakugo remembered for some reason is hilarious to me."

Todoroki sighs and smiles softly at your beautiful laugh. He runs a hand through your hair, caressing your cheek. "God, I love you more than anything, baby. I really truly do." His smile drops, anxiety once again taking over. "Please, don't leave me." He practically whispers, his other hand squeezing yours again.

"No no no." You grab his cheeks with your hands and kiss his nose. "I absolutely was not even remotely considering it. I promise."

Suddenly Todoroki pulls your body against his, making you squeak. He tilts his head slightly before meeting his lips to yours. You melt into the soft kiss, feeling nothing but love being poured into it.

"Oh, I have something for you." He speaks after pulling away. He picks up the nicely wrapped package from behind him and hands it to you. "Please, open it."

Carefully tearing the paper off, you gasp. "Oh my god, Shoto! This is the limited edition Mirko figure! I thought these were sold out weeks ago?!"

Your boyfriend smirks. "I was able to snag one before they sold out. I'm assuming you like it?"

You squeal and throw your arms around the hot and cold boy, squeezing him tightly. "Thank you so much, Sho! I absolutely love it."

Todoroki buries his face into your neck, holding you tightly as if he's still afraid of losing you. He smiles into your neck and murmurs.

"Happy Birthday, Baby."

#shoto todoroki #shotou todoroki #shoto x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #todoroki x reader #todoroki angs #todoroki fluff #mha angst #mha x reader #mha fluff #my hero academia x reader #my hero academia angst #my hero academia fluff #bakuhoes-dumbass #bakuhoesdumbass

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jademakean · 4 years ago

Text

𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬

Timothée Chalamet x Reader

｡･:*:･ﾟ

RAYS OF GOLD peeked through the blinds causing you to lazily drape your arms over your squinted eyes.

Beige satin sheets curled around your body, softly caressing your thighs as you shifted to your comfort.

A smile made its way to your lips, recognizing the faint sound of the vinyl downstairs along with the subtle footsteps.

You moved your messy hair out of your face as you sat up.

It's Valentine's day, the clock displayed 8:52 A.M. specifically. You and Timothée were planning on going to Paris, spend the Holliday in the city of love, suffocating on the romanticized areas with twinkling lights and bouquets on display. However, due to the circumstances the world was in, it became evident that the idea of travelling during a pandemic wasn't very safe. You both settled on staying home and enjoying each other's presence.

Warmth comforted you as you wrapped your fur blanket around your body, slipping on your cotton high socks. The smell of toasted bread filled your senses the more steps you took down the flight of stairs.

You peeked into the kitchen, laying eyes on your boyfriend. His fluffy hair was going in all different directions, bouncing slightly as he moved around. A sage green apron was fitted around his lean torso to keep anything from dirtying his clothes, the colour contrasting his brunette hair beautifully.

"Timothée." you cooed. The sudden sound of your voice frightened him, resulting in him quickly turning towards you with widened eyes. "Happy Valentine's day, hun." You moved from your place, making your way over to his startled body before welcoming him in a loving embrace, which he returned shortly.

Once you looked up at him you were able to acknowledge his troubled expression. "What's wrong? Did you forget it's Valentine's day?" You wouldn't mind, he's been quite busy lately. It's not like it's a birthday or anything.

"No, it's just- I was hoping I could've brought you breakfast in bed, but I woke up later than usual and I was supposed to prepare a lot." He sighed in disappointment. You eyed all the laid out fruit and different sweets on the counter. The only things that seemed finished were chocolate-covered strawberries and toast.

A smiled was visible as you gazed up at him. It was usual for him to go all out no matter how unnecessary it was. You softly placed your hands on his rosy cheeks. "This is more than enough don't worry." he smiles softly at your words but there was a dissatisfied glint to his eyes that remained. You thought carefully about what to say that would make him feel better. "How about this, you can put the food on the coffee table, I'll organize everything." carefully toying with a lock of his hair "After we finish we can eat and cuddle on the sofa, whatever way you'd like."

Timothée's lips contorted into a playful grin, nodding at your suggestion and bolting towards the table with the breakfast. You laughed lightly and his childish behaviour.

As you poured all the ingredients into the ceramic bowl you felt Timothée's presence behind you, bending down and resting his chin on your shoulder.

You proceeded to give him instructions on what to do, which he obliged to, wanting to make the baking process as effortless for you as possible until there came a point where he couldn't do anything but watch.

He sat on the marble counter observing the way your hands moved swiftly while pouring the batter into a heart-shaped pan, perking up when he noticed you opening the heated oven. "Done?" He asked quietly "Yup, we gotta check back in twenty minutes though."

Carefully taking his hand in yours, you guide him towards the couch, his bunny slippers dragging on the floor lazily. You sit down taking a strawberry between your lips before biting down. The unusual mixed flavours exploded in your mouth urging you to hum in satisfaction.

"This tastes delicious, Timmy." Your praise brought a smile to his face which he attempted to hyde. "Movie?

He looked down at you for a moment before laying in between your legs and resting his head on your chest. This had always been your favourite position, his heavy body making you feel comforted.

You moved your fingers between his locks of hair, massaging his scalp gently. Timothée's face flexed slightly indicating that your gesture caused him to smile. He played with the hem of your shirt strap before dipping his fingers underneath it and caressing the soft skin of your shoulder. “You seem very quiet today.” You noted half way into the comedy movie.

His frame shifted slightly before pressing a kiss where his face rested. “Im just glad we're together.” You glanced down, in an attempt to read his facial expression but his halo of hair was covering it. “Awe, look at little Timmy going all soft.” You teased poking his side to which he laughed at. “I guess you bring it out of me.” He said gazing up at you with a million-dollar smile. “God, how dare you be romantic with your girlfriend. You’re starting to gross me out. I think we need to break up.”

You shimmied from underneath, a lazy whine came from him.

The velvet cake steamed from the counter you placed it on, different coloured frosting in your hand as you massaged it slowly “You know.. I've been trying to do my worse but I guess I don't have it in me, especially when my girlfriend always checks up on me and makes me laugh-” his voice gradually got louder the closer he moved towards you “She treats me well.. I love it when she makes sure I ate enough when she makes me lavender rose tea with a touch of honey when she notices I'm stressed, how she kisses my cheek in public because she's too shy to kiss me on the lips-”

Timothée turned your body towards him before guiding you to sit on the counter, his fingers detangling the silk belt that kept your robe closed causing it to slightly fall from your shoulders. His arms wrapped around you from underneath the gown, his rosy nose brushing against yours gently “But I especially love the way she makes me feel.”

You hum in question, a visible grin on your face “She makes me feel warm inside. When I see her, I see the reason why I've been looking at everything through rose coloured glasses. Why I feel so happy to be alive.” He sighs as you traced his scattered freckles “Every time she smiles I need to take a step back and just say ‘Wow..this woman is with me. How did I manage to do something like that? How is it that she loves me as much as I love her?’, every single time.” He whispered

“It's charity work, I know.”

He laughed wholeheartedly causing you to do the same. Your cold fingertips gathered some frosting before lightly pressing it on his lips. Stealing a kiss from him. Sweet and stained with emotion.

His heavy breathing mixing with yours, fanning each other's faces harshly but somehow gently at the same time before you pulled away. “I love you, Timmy.”

“And I love you.”

#timothee fanfic #timothee fluff #timothee imagine #timothee x reader #timothee x y/n #timothee x you #timothee angst #timothee chalamet #timothee chalamet x reader

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kikilefangirl · 4 years ago

Text

Finest

Logan Howlett x Reader

(Word Count: 1628)

“This exercise requires you to be self reliant in order to escape. While we are a team in and out of the field, each of you must be comfortable and connected with your gifts, individually.” You called out.

All of your students seemed to be a mix of over confidence, no confidence, or outright fear. You frowned.

A demonstration would be best.

“Pay attention everyone, when the test starts you’ll be on your own.” You told them.

Concentrating on the potential energy around you, you tapped into it with a stream of golden light. You collected a portion of it in your hand, and willed it into a broadsword. The energy hummed through your body as you moved with it, slashing in a downward arc through the air.

“Make your gift work for you in the moment,” With a swift motion the blade morphed into a shield, and then With a breath, you let the energy dissipate into nothing at all.

“And know when not to use it. You’ve got two weeks to prepare. And I’ve opened up office hours everyday up until then. Got it?”

The kids gave enough yeses and nods for you to dismiss them early. Once they were gone, you heard a drawn out huff from the back of the room.

“Logan!” You broke out in a wide smile and ran over to him. You knew better than to hug him, so you opted for a light hit on the shoulder.

“Charles didn’t tell anyone you were coming!” You exclaimed.

“Didn’t tell him.” Logan explained. You rolled your eyes because that was such a Logan thing to do.

Taking him in, you noticed his hair was a little shaggier than the last time you saw him, and his clothes looked like they’d been worn completely down by cold weather. He’d probably been up in the wilderness for all this time.

“I brought you booze. Most people say thank you.”

That was how you and Logan ended up drunk off your asses in your bedroom before dinner.

As a teacher you were given some grace with your room choice, meaning a larger room far away from students. You were free to do whatever and whomever, so long as you kept to yourself.

That was also the reason why you were dancing on Logan in a t- shirt and panties with the music blasting in the background. You felt his hands roam all over your body as you whined to the beat.

He was currently the one with the bottle, too. You drunkenly swirled around and took it from him. The liquor burned down your throat, but the feeling dulled when Logan slammed his lips on yours.

You felt like your body was on fire. Partly from the alcohol, partly from Logan’s hands and his kisses. He had you pinned against the wall farthest from the door, and you couldn’t concentrate on anything but Logan nor he you.

...

You woke the next morning to a hard body intertwined with yours.

Your room was an absolute mess, but you settled on resting your head on Logan’s bare chest. You’d get up later.

Your hair was matted in the back and the hair around your perimeter had reverted back to their coils in spite of the gel you used the day before. Plus, drunk you didn’t wear bonnets.

“Morning.” Logan said. His rough voice was throaty and tired. A pounding headache made you close your eyes and nestle in closer.

You were grateful not to see the two of you together anyway. It was never for long and never more than a fun way to spend time before you went your separate ways.

You and Logan were tumultuous at best.

The last time you saw him you were cussing him out and leaving him stranded in the city after a night out. That was two months ago. Last summer you decided to try dating, but the truth was if it wasn’t one thing, it was another, making the two of you very touch and go.

“I have a class in an hour.” You admitted.

Logan peered down at you. The corners of his lips were down turned, and his eyebrows were knitted together.

“The rug rats can live without you for a day.” He said, pulling you on top of him. You yelped at the sudden movement, but guessed that was an appropriate response to the naked girl lying in bed with him, telling him she was leaving. Even if it was for kids.

“I don’t use sick days on anybody but my mama, my daddy, and my brother.” You explained. You pecked his lips and got up.

“I fit in one category.” Logan said with a satisfied grin. You scoffed at him as you gathered your shower stuff.

“I don’t use sick days on you, Logan. Never have, never will.” You replied with a sarcastic smile.

A frantic banging on your door made both of you go quiet. Logan sniffed the air and snarled.

“It’s pretty boy.” Logan growled out. You huffed in annoyance––between him and Scott (and Jean for that, matter) nothing ever got done unless you did it. It was one of the many reasons Logan was a recurring guest at the mansion and not an occupant.

You swung the door open to a wide eyed, modest Scott, who quickly turned into arrogant, incensed Scott at the sight of a very naked Logan in your bed.

“Not now. What’s going on?” You demanded. Something wasn’t right if Scott was coming to you so early.

Bobby’s name was all he could say.

...

The scene that awaited you at the front door was heartbreaking.

Bobby was pacing up and down the balcony freezing anything he pointed at as he walked past. Blasts of frost shot from his hands in all directions. It was wild and uncontrolled. By the door, what looked like his parents and a brother were shouting his name in frustration. Bobby wasn’t the type to lash out for no reason, he just wasn’t that kid.

“I’m not leaving! This is my home!” Bobby cried out.

You sighed and cut your eyes to the professor, who was ushering children and staff away. A warning would have been nice, Professor.

I do apologize, this was...unexpected.

His voice rang out in your head, and you resisted the urge to roll your eyes. Beside you, Logan drew his claws, but you put a hand on his chest. Bobby’s parents were clearly afraid of mutants and Logan was a walking stereotype of a scary mutant. Definitely not helpful.

Stepping forward, you used your powers to create a bubble around you and Bobby. Nobody needed to get hurt accidentally.

“Bobby! I need you to listen to me,” You started. The boy looked up at you tearfully, and you could see them freeze as they fell.

You took his hand, that along with the rest of his body fluctuated between ice and flesh, and held it. The cold stung, but he needed to feel your human hand.

“They’re taking me away!” He hollered. You narrowly dodged a blast of frost from your head. You held on tighter.

“I know that isn’t fair, Bobby! I know! But you have to calm down. Breathe, Bobby.” You pleaded with him. The less his parents saw him so out of control, the less likely they would send him to some camp or home for wayward mutants.

You took a deep breath, and Bobby did the same. One after another. In and out.

Slowly, his human form stabilized and his body temperature was so cold you could see his breath. You gave him a hug when his ice hand had fully reverted back to his human one. The boy clung to you for dear life, and you felt horrible for him.

“Bobby, don’t forget what you learned here, and keep in touch. When you need any of us, we’ll be there.” You said softly, pulling out a small coin and a business card. Bobby took it, confused.

“Whenever you don’t feel safe, call the number and the place they tell you to meet, then show them the token. Emergencies only.”

You walked Bobby down to his parents and they left shortly thereafter.

Watching them go sucked all the air out of you, enough for you to lean on Logan. In public. The Professor was next to the two of you.

“You are one of our finest, Y/N.” He said.

“Maybe, but it wasn’t enough.” You countered. You didn’t feel like an educator. You felt like you were fighting a losing battle and not too many of your kids would make it out unscathed.

“Social services could get ‘em.” Logan suggested.

“They might bite if they see a white boy, but the second he goes full icicle, all bets are off.” You lamented the fact that there were very few people looking out for mutant children, and you weren’t going to put Bobby on anyone’s radar unnecessarily.

The Professor nodded, before heading off to deal with the fallout with the student body. It was never easy losing a student in such a way. You weren’t prepared to do that just yet, so the two of you went back to your room.

You stayed in Logan’s arms until dark. It was the first time you and him had a rational understanding about what each of you needed in the moment.

“When I head through the city, I’ll stop by and check on the kid on my way out.” Logan said. You side eyed him.

“Play nice.” You warned. Sometimes cases required a delicacy Logan didn’t have, but his willingness to do it was a new thing for him. Far be it from you to stop him from doing something good. He finally saw how important your job was and how much you cared for your students.

You planted a kiss on his lips. And his nose and his ear and neck, among other things.

“That means I’ve got you at least one more night. Better make it count.”

#logan howlett #black!reader #poc!reader #logan howlett x reader #Logan howlett x black!reader #wolverine #x men fanfiction #x men

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nestasgalpal · 3 years ago

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The ball is in his court

Fixing ACOSF Part 8

Masterlist | AO3

Summary: Cassian knows Nesta is supposed to dance with Eris and lure him into a stronger alliance with the Night Court. He knows he's been forbidden from getting close to her during the whole event. He knows she loves to dance. He knows he wants to be the one swinging with her.

A/N: angst because Cassian got very little character development in the book for someone who had that much family drama to deal with. It's not that big of a change as other chapters, but I thought it made sense to add this here with how these three acted in the ball.

Tagging: @gwynriel @zoyaslai @clolikescloquetas @amelievrstr @t8astr8ng @wanderlustlastsforever @saltydreamcollector @lordlorcan @esrahiba @queenestarcheron @jemstan300 @nessiantrashh @azrielsgirl @poisonus-bloom @loveadora @frosted-crackers @mireillemystique @pataytayo @968sunflower968 @caram267 @jainadurron @darkshadowqueensrule @amphiptree @finae-bookshelf @niytavia @brainlessfruit @dontgetsalmonella @messyhairday-me @sunsummoner @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @wannawriteyouabook @psychoticminx @misswonderflower @drielecarla @silvernesta @k0ombayamylord @nina-zcnik @arinbelle

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list in the upcoming chapters!!

Cassian stood firmly on his feet as he made Mor spin once again. The House was playing music for them, and in some strange way, he felt it getting annoyed at how many times he had demanded to go- "Again". The waltz had just finished, and he was already positioning himself to start all over.

"Cass, you already know the moves, you've been dancing these for centuries" she laughed it off "I honestly don't think you need any more practice for tomorrow."

"Again" he insisted.

With a sigh, his friend went back to first position, seven feet away from him. The sound the House played for them was more like a trumpet with a shoe stuck in it than the beautiful harmonies they had been practicing with.

"Please, I want to make sure I get it right before we leave for the ball" Cassian gave her his best pout face, which made Mor roll her eyes.

"You are not going to dance with her, Cass. You got clear instructions from Rhys about that. I don't even know why I'm helping you with this, we both heard you are not allowed near her." The House probably felt like Mor was doing a good enough job at remprimanding him for his stubbornnes, because the melody of the waltz started playing again, and they moved to the sound of it. "Gods, you two are already making this way harder than it needs to be with your non-stop fucking" Cassian laughed, but Mor was not in the mood for joking, "This is serious. I heard Rhys complain about how long it took to hide your scent on her." With their palms in the air almost touching, they turned and gave two steps back "Behave." she reminded him of what his role was tomorrow night, and how important it was that he didn't ruin Nesta's mission by approaching her at all.

Cassian smiled again. "I'll try my best".

"Cassian" her tone made clear that she was not amused by the idea of what he may do with with all this dance practice.

"I know, I know. I'll be a good General Commander and stand by my High Lord's side the entire night, while she dances with Eris Vanserra" the lightness with which he spoke did very little to hide the feelings behind it. The jealousy.

Mor let him guide the dance, shadows in her eyes. Their imminent visit to Hewn City must be disturbing her, specially knowing both his father and Eris would be there. The stress of the negotiations with Vallahan was wearing her down as well.

"Why do you insist on going after her?" The sudden dryness she spoke with took him by surprise, and so did the question itself. Nesta and whatever the nature of his relationship with her was, wasn't a topic they ever talked about. For the last couple of years, they avoided the subject, pretending it didn't exist. That's why it felt so odd how mad she seemed to be now without any previous warning that the matter was present in her thoughts at all. That it could disturb her so much, was the most unexpected part of it.

It rubbed him the wrong way, but Cassian kept on moving, the smile in his eyes not fading one bit as he looked into hers to answer.

"Jealous that I'm spending my time with her and not you lately?"

The blonde's gaze pierced through him with a cold disdain he hadn't prepared himself for either. "Not at all. Unlike you, I understand what an order is." Ouch. "I don't blame you for following Rhys' command and babysitting her when he asked you to. She's your job, I guess."

"She is not a job"

"Cassian" His friend hardly ever called his full name. This was now the second time in a matter of minutes.

The conversation was taking a turn he didn't like as a sense of danger that made him on guard sat between them. But it was his best friend talking, his sister, so he ignored his instincts and kept moving to the rhythm. He tried to be graceful and move with precision, imagining it was Nesta's pale hand in his.

"I'm serious. You really need to come back from this recess sooner or later. Better if you choose the former, considering you have a job to do, a role to play as the rest of us do. Her included." The dance required him to spin her twice, an artificial pause in her speech as she twirled on his arms "I'm sure it was fun, but Feyre already revoked the order, so it's time you move on and take things seriously again. You have no idea how bad the treaty with Vallahan is going. We must prepare for the worse, have the armies ready".

"You think being here with her is some kind of vacation?"

The flow of her practiced movements didn't disappear for a second as she dissed Nesta, which was unsettling. Apparently, it came natural to her and putting these thoughts into words required no effort. For how long had Mor been thinking this way about his stay in the House of Wind?

"You sure smell like you are having a good time". Mor gave a step forward to the beat of the orchestra. Cassian didn't follow her movement, their bodies colliding.

It was now making him truly angry. Not just her usual dismiss of Nesta, which he had grown accustomed to, but the little care she was showing for him. He hadn't been working less on Illyria for the past months, his duty with Nesta being piled up on top of his previous responsibilities, and in addition to his new assignments as courtier to cover up her absence. He was working his ass off.

Countless, sleepless nights trying to come up with new ideas to help Nesta weren't something he had told her about, but she certainly knew about the exhaustion they put him through. The fighting, the struggle. Having to finally face how lost she was and stop pretending he had nothing to do with it had been a wake up call. Trying to put the pieces together, a painfully slow process they were still working on. They were achieving it bit by bit... and together, he wanted to think. It had been anything but a vacation.

His biggest regret, however, was printed all over her words, truth slipping through the cracks in the lie he had crafted for himself so long ago. That's why Mor's words hit him like a punch in the guts, because he had actually treated Nesta as a job in the beginning, and Nesta probably had thought the same thing -if she didn't still feel about it like that. A job. Cassian flinched. An order given to him to follow, and not his own decision to sought her and be there for her after the war.

"This is not time off for me, and, again, she is not a job."

Mor wasn't listening, "You need to be honest with yourself, Cass. You need to come to terms with whatever it is your cock feels for that female, and move on."

"You did not just say that" Cassian was speechless.

Knowing what she knows.

Cassian put distance between them and scanned the room looking for a chair, needing to sit down. There was one left alone by the wall where they had pushed it to have more space for their dancing. He sat before he felt his blood drop to his feet, his head uncomfortably light as his sight became dizzy.

Mor hadn't just said that. She would never cross him like that. Denial took over, his trustful self convincing him he just needed a moment to focus. Once he felt better, he would realize her words were only a friend worrying, not an attack on him. She was helping. Mor was always there for him when he needed a friend. She was only trying to give him some advice.

Then why did it hurt so much to hear those twisted truths from her mouth?

"Oh, come on!" she was saying behind him. Mor's words were distant and distorted, as if he were underwater. It took him a moment to understand and process them. "You saw what she became after the war just as clearly as I did. You did nothing about it, just like I did. And we were okay with that, we have our own life, Cass, and she doesn't fit in it. There is another war waiting for us in the corner that threatens to break this moment of happness we've built. For our future, you need to come back to be who you are, the Cassian I know. I miss him."

Once again, the plain truth. He had drifted away like everyone else. They had all decided that space was what she needed, and when that didn't work, it was once again them deciding what to do with the pieces that were left. He had agreed to every plan, convincing himself they knew what they were doing and they knew her better than she did. That they had any right to pick a path for her, the biggest lie of them all.

And now Mor's words were shattering the wall of self-inflicted fabrications he had slowly built while Nesta faded away from his reach. He took in his friend's words, their meaning. What she thought, and some of his friends -family- shared.

It made his heart skip a bit to realize that Nesta probably saw it like that too to this day. He had already accepted his mistakes to himself, he knew before the blonde said it what he had done wrong. Yet Cassian hadn't thought about how his actions were read from the outside. Nobody had called him out on his bullshit. Nobody had interfered -wasn't that what friends were supposed to do? So there it was, the reason why none of them had ever tried to help him smooth things between them: they didn't want him to. Stupidly and blindly trusting his friends would have the respect for him he had proven to have for them, he assumed they were just as blind as he was. Apparently, they weren't, and they had purposefully left her to rot.

Up until now, Cassian hadn't entertained the thought that she most likely didn't let him in because she also considered his presence there a task for him to handle, even if they had grown to be... friends.

That was it -a dead end for them.

No matter how hard he insisted on being there for Nesta now, he had already failed her too many times, and she simply wouldn't allow him to get closer a second time. Not the way he wanted to, at least.

His pulse was in his ears. Or maybe he was hearing again the dreadful noises the house played for them before.

Oh, Nesta.

Had she agreed to the plan because she didn't really care for him watching? Did Nesta not care because she simply didn't want to be anything else than friends in the end? Did she even trust him enough to call what they had a friendship?

A glass of red wine appeared on the table next to him and was it was in his hand a second later. Cassian swallowed its content in one sip. It was refilled instantly. Realization hit him right then and there, that he might be in time to save her, yet too late for what he wanted from her. And his ass would be the only one to blame for that. His cowardice. And how could he hope for a second chance from someone who didn't grant one to herself?

A movement in his field of vision took him out of his trance. Mor, who was carefully approaching him, gave a jump back when he got up from his chair, letting it fall back. The loud noise scared her too.

Those damned reports. He should have never agreed to that stupid idea. Nor to the plan they had for tomorrow night. Yes, she had agreed to it, but maybe if he had asked her not to... No, she would have still done it, convinced it was the only way she would not be seen as a coward.

Who gives a fuck about how anyone sees her. She certainly didn't use to. And he used to love that about her.

But now she clearly did, and was ready to do anything to change how he and his friends saw her. Even seducing Eris Vanserra right in front of him.

"Why can't you just leave her alone?" he asked, defeated at the thought that Nesta was indeed going to allow him to be by her side, but probably where he was right now was the closer he would ever get to tearing down her walls.

Mor looked back at him, marking the way his arms hung by his sides, the picture of a defeated male. She showed no compassion.

"Because I can't forget what she did to Feyre. I still remember the night she told us her story, what she went through. I see her grow every day and I'm reminded of who broke her in the first place. I can't let that slide like nothing." Cassian opened his mouth to say something, not knowing what exactly. He closed it again as Mor lifted a finger to stop whatever words he would have come up with from escaping his mouth. She was angry, "She let her 14 year old sister go wonder the woods next to the Wall all alone. Feyre was a child, Cassian. A kid who had to risk her life on a daily basis because your lover didn't want splinters in her fingernails."

Cassian sighed, tired of a conversation that kept circling back to the same point over and over again. He knew what Nesta's choices had meant to Feyre, but he had seen her regret as well, and what those same choices had done to her. Cassian had seen and heard the forgiveness coming from Feyre herself, her actions a window to what his High Lady needed: to move on. They had talked about it, his friend had opened up to him and she was obviously determined to have her sister back at any cost. And so was him. He was determined to help his friend and at the same time assist Nesta with whatever it was she needed... once she came to terms with what it was.

He had taken her to the old cabin they used to live in and had stand by her side as she scanned the place, finding only bad memories of the person she used to be. She wanted to move on as well. So if the two people involved wanted the same thing, why did their friends keep getting in the way using a wound that was already healing as an excuse.

"But you can forgive Elain?"

"Elain has at least tried to be one of us, Nesta has done nothing since she arrived but be against us."

Cassian laughed at that, a bitter, joyless laugh. "Elain is trying to be our friend, while Nesta doesn't like us. Is that it?" He chuckled again. "Are you telling me that the only reason you pick on her is that she doesn't want to be your friend and you can't just accept that? I thought it was her actions to Feyre in the past, but yes, this makes way more sense now." This time it was him stopping her from talking back, "I can see a pattern there. Isn't that the same reason you don't trust Lucien no matter how hard he works to help us? That he has his own life beyond us?" The volume of his voice went in crescendo as his anger rose to meet hers, "You can't be seriously expecting me to leave her because of a petty fight that only exists in your head."

"It's not just me, Cass. It's all of us. No one likes her, no one wants her around, and we are not having our days ruined every time she shows up so you can fuck her. You are not like this, you are not selfish like that." The indignation simmering in her brown eyes didn't make her an inch scarier to him, the childish reasons for it almost making him consider the argument over, hadn't him been so heated himself. "I want my friend back. And so does Rhys, who can't look at her -or Lucien, for that matter, without being reminded of what his mate went through before he found her."

Cassian snapped.

His siphons glowed scarlet red, goosebumps in his arms from the contained adrenaline rushing through his veins. He screamed at her in anger for the first time in... for the first time in as long as he could remember.

"Don't you dare try to make me feel like I'm a bad friend to Feyre to justify your bigotry. Don't you dare try to convince me that I'm the one hurting others, so I stay in my place while you do whatever the fuck you want and then blame the problems that surface on me. Don't you fucking dare play the victim of this when it's none of your business."

There had been genuine happiness in Feyre's eyes the night Nesta and her decided to give themselves one last chance.

Now Mor was reducing Feyre to nothing but an excuse for her own grudges. She was trying to yield her past suffering as a weapon against her sister, which would make Feyre just as furious as he was. She would never use the damage she experienced to hurt someone she loved, and that was the kind of friend he wanted in his life giving him advice. That was the kind of friend Cassian needed.

He had taken Nesta to the mountains and listened to her cry. He had heard from her mouth how she felt.

Worthless.

She had felt like she didn't deserve to be alive.

And apparently, Mor agreed.

It couldn't be wrong to have sympathy for her. It couldn't be wrong to want her. And he did want her. Cassian wanted everything with her. Was he a bad friend to Feyre for that? How, when his friend wanted the same thing?

"She saved my life twice. She was ready to die with me instead of running away. Does that mean nothing to you?" Above all, what broke Cassian's trust in her wasn't simply her disapproval of Nesta. Rather than that, what Cassian wasn't sure he could forgive was how little care she showed for him. "If you don't like her, that's fine. I don't care, and I can promise you she doesn't either. But don't you dare use Feyre or me as an excuse for it."

"I won't apologize for caring. I won't apologize for protecting my High Lady and my best friend, and the life you really want and deserve".

"At what point exactly did you decide Feyre's happiness was above Nesta's life? Was it after you met her, or had you already ranked your priorities the night Feyre told us about her sisters? Oh, sorry, our priorities, since apparently you know what I want better than I do." Cassian wasn't sure if he would have stopped his ranting right there if he had seen any regret coming from Mor, and he never got to find out. His friend's face was a mask of faked boredom as he spoke. "From all people, I would expect you guys to know what it's like to be perceived by outsiders in a way that's different from who you are as a measure of protection. You simply fail to understand that, for her, we've been the bad guys she has to be wary of since day one. And the reason is precisely that we made our minds clear about her in that fucking dinner party and refused to change it independently of what she did to be better".

He would know about it.

A blank expression was painted on her face. "You need to chill."

"Leave." he ordered. It was no up for discussion. Cassian couldn't even look at her right now. He was fuming and didn't want to say things he would later regret. As he opened the glass doors for Mor, he knew he would, unless one of them left.

"Are you seriously going to let a stupid fight about her get between us?"

It was the way she said her. Like she had said it a hundred times before, like others had pronounced as well, including him not so long ago.

Cassian turned to face the blonde, a special kind of anger glimmering in his eyes.

"Me?!" he screamed. Mor gave instinctively a step back, "Am I going to let it get between us!? You are the one who brought her up, Mor. You are the one who has a problem, and I'm the one pretending you don't trash her at every chance you get, so we can still be friends. I'm not the one letting an argument get between us, for the only thing I've been doing over five hundred years is make everything easier for you. And now, I'm done." Her eyes went wide.

But Cassian was now beyond turning. He had tried to leave and make her go to avoid exactly what was about to happen, "Are you seriously going to let a stupid sister fight only you care about at this point get between me and my happiness? You really despise her so much you would take the chance of being happy with Nesta away from me only to make her miserable?" he spat.

Cassian took a step forward and Mor gave another one back at the same time, recoiling. There was fear in her face as he made his way to her, a kind of fear he had never seen on her features whilst looking at him. "Just look at me in the eye and answer this question, Mor, and I promise there won't be more fights between us for better or worse: Would you rather have me unsatisfied for the rest of my days than have me happy, if that requires her being blissful as well? "

Her silence was too long. It was too damn long.

Cassian spread his wings, the glimmer of his siphons mirroring his anger, and went for the glass doors.

"I only want to protect you." Mor cried behind him. Cassian walked fast, but she was at his heels when he reached the banister, begging him to stop and listen.

One single tear run down her beautiful face. If any other person had made her shed a tear, he would be the first one going after them to make them suffer unimaginable pain. Mor was his best friend, had always been. Cassian thought there was nobody in the world he wouldn't at least beat up for making her sad the way she looked now. But he heard her whimper, saw the hurt, and realized it was too little compared to what she had inflicted on him. On Nesta.

She had gone too far. And at the same time, she was giving him too little.

He turned to face her, needing to make sure he wasn't making a mistake. A part of him refused to believe this was actually happening, wanted to trust in that, once he met her eyes again, he would see regret in her pupils. The hope he had learned from her ages ago making him give her one last look before he aimed for the sky.

Of course, Mor was too stubborn to show any kind of surrender. Too proud to be regretful.

"I am a 500 year old warrior. She is a 25 year old female whose family she can't talk to without pushing them away. And you think I'm the one who needs protection because she is mean to those she doesn't like."

It was not a question. Cassian wanted Mor to hear what her case sound like to him. Before he left, Cassian wanted her to know this was not going to be a short argument and they wouldn't be having lunch together next week. It was a breaking point in their friendship, and he was going to stand on this hill as long as it took, unmoving no matter how many jibes she trowed at him or how many tears wetted her face.

Mor cried in silence, and only because the winter breeze was cooling him down, he didn't get angrier at her for that, at himself, and at the world. Why did they always find a way to make things harder than they should be?

"Wait, please, don't go." The sound of his wings spreading again almost prevented him from hearing her whimper as she said, "I can still teach you one last dance," she murmured. Cassian listened carefully, she didn't dare moving, monitoring his position as if he were a wild animal and she was a rabbit trying to be discrete to not become his prey "There is one gavotte they are likely to play. She is so good at it, you would think she's known the moves for decades and not days."

A temtative hand reached for his arm and stayed there. He had never seen Mor stutter, especially when it came to him. Cassian had always been her best friend, the one who never got mad at her and she could count on. Now she was unsure if he was leaving for the day, or if he was flying away from her for Cauldron knows how long. She didn't tighten her grip on him when he didn't push her away, it remained light and unsure. "I think you already know it, but we can practice that one a couple of times. Just in case you get a chance to dance with her. You'll look great by her side... like it's meant to be".

Cassian noticed his cheeks were wet as well. His gaze burned so fiercely Mor couldn't hold his stare. With anger still painted all over his features, Cassian nodded and followed her inside again.

Mor didn't say a bad word about her for the rest of the evening, and even if he couldn't know where she went afterwards to rant about it, he appreciated her silence.

---

A couple of minutes after her orgasm, Nesta's legs were still shaking. Cassian drove his hand up and down her thighs, feeling her soft skin with the excuse of a massage to help her muscles relax.

He needed to calm down as well -it had been a particularly long day. Nesta had been happy to follow him into his room after dinner, feeling something was off. He had to restrain himself from telling her when she asked about it. First, because he didn't want her to know he was taking dance lessons with Mor. She would know the reason behind it in a second, and he didn't feel like exposing himself like that for a second time that day.

He also couldn't tell her about the argument that hours later still kept his head bussy. He didn't want her to know how frivolously she had been discussed, what both Mor and him had said about her in the same living room where their kisses after dinner had started.

Nesta's breathing was steady, tranquil. His cock was still inside her. He needed to feel her touch. She wasn't in conditions to leave his room even if he came out of her, but Cassian didn't want to give her a chance to get rid of him just yet. He needed her presence there a little longer.

Nesta's fingers tangled themselves in his hair, pressing his head to the crook of her neck. He kissed the soft skin and felt her pulse beat fast against his lips. The path of wet kisses he planted all the way up to the spot behind her ear made her moan.

Cassian felt his blood rushing back to his cock.

With his hands, he cupped her breasts. A sigh escaped her swollen lips, his own closing around a hard nipple. Cassian marked with kisses and playful bites his way down her abdomen to the apex of her thighs. Nesta's let a loud moan escape when his tongue hit with precision her bundle of nerves, drawing circles around it. Teasing her. Making her wetter if that was even possible.

Unaffected by Nesta's pleas, he enjoyed playing with her, his mouth exploring her folds as if wanting to drink her in. Cassian couldn't hear anything, the sinful sounds she let out a song his blood echoed, roaring in his ears. Her hand found his head, her hips clashing against him as she tried to ride his face. Oh, he loved it when she did that, so desperate to have him closer, for his touch to never leave her.

It was his lust what determined every movement his body made, convincing Casian he could reach heaven just by climbing up her hips. Cassian didn't stop until he felt her thighs clench the sides of his head. The hand that held him fixed between her legs became a fist in his hair, encouraging him to keep going, keep licking and keep playing with her most sensitive spot until his tongue took her over the edge one more time.

Yet he hadn't had enough of her. He needed more and more, and after each time they slept together, the urge to have her again grew stronger, as Cassian became more impatient for the next time. Nesta felt the same way, by how her hands found his wings by reaching behind his shoulders and aroused him again. A grin spread through her face when he let his lover play with him in whatever way she pleased. Whatever she wanted from him, Cassian would give.

He climaxed one more time all over her breasts, before he finally renounced to her body. He was content resting by her side, their legs tangled under the sheets.

It was now a matter of time before Nesta left his room.

Cassian's legs tangled with hers. Nesta moved idly against him, making herself comfortable. Their bodies fitted together like pieces from a jigsaw puzzle, their breaths the only sound in the room. He could tell she was cold as he once again found himself caressing her arms, pale like porcelain under the moonlight that came through the window. Cassian pulled the sheets to cover them and planted a kiss on her forehead.

Nesta had her walls down. She looked so peaceful curled up against him.

"You don't like us, do you?" even if he whispered the words, they were loud in the silence of the room.

Nesta was fighting to focus her sight, just as tired as he was. "What do you mean?" Oh Cauldron. That raspy voice of hers after sex. Too much moaning for her own good. And he hadn't even enjoyed her throat that night. He had to picture terrible things in his head so his cock would behave and not react to her "that was really great sex" voice.

"My friends and I. The Inner Circle as a whole, you could say." His hand rested in the small of Nesta's back, drawing lazy circles.

She maneuvered to get rid of his touch, sitting up on the bed. The absence of her body against him was painfully obvious. Cassian laid on his back, fighting the impulse to sit up as well. He moved his hands to his nape with faked laziness, as if the question was simple small talk. Yeah... the small talk they never had after sex. Not weird or suspicious at all.

Good job, you idiot. She's not coming to your room in weeks. He cursed himself.

He couldn't withdraw now, it was too late. Nesta's gaze was feline. On guard.

"I don't think I dislike any of you more than you dislike me."

"Hey, I don't dislike you!" he ignored the cautiosness on her tone. He would pretend everything was okay and pray Nesta somehow went with it, "I would say, in fact, that I am very fond of you. And so is Az, for what's worth."

She smiled, a cold grin that didn't seem to fit with the rest of her face, still flushed, eyes glassy and tired. "Then you don't have to worry about it." He said nothing, only kept looking at her. He had learned that, if he waited long enough, she would go on. It could be only to insult him and then leave... but she would go on.

---

Nesta sighed. Where was he going with this? What was she even supposed to respond? No, she didn't like half of them... that if she counted the ones she barely tolerated. But she could sit in the same table as them and be civil. She was even working for them, so why he would bring that up two minutes after he came all over her, was beyond Nesta.

"I thought you didn't care what your friends thought of this" she pointed between the two of them, her gesture just as calculatedly casual as his had been.

A wet washcloth appeared on his nightstand. Nesta mentally thanked the house for her timing. If she was forced to have this conversation, she would rather be clean for it. Nesta rubbed it on her chest, Cassian's gaze following and fixing on her breasts. She cleared her throat, urging him to answer.

"And I don't. I was just curious if you did."

Nesta sigh.

"You've snapped at me before for calling one of you an asshole, Cassian. Do you really expect me to go on a detailed answer on how much I value them and their opinions?" Cassian tightened his jaw, but didn't answer. He waited for her to go on, knowing his silence was pressure enough for her to give in and talk.

If she said she didn't mind what they thought of her, she would be lying. But if she told him she did care, she would be lying as well. It wasn't that simple, a "yes" or a "no".

Nesta cared and worried about their opinions, not because she valued their judgement, but because she was still afraid she didn't have enough power in that Court to face their truth with hers. She had her own thoughts about them, but they didn't have the weight on Cassian one word from any of his friends had.

Nobody ever asked her what she thought of them, because it didn't really matter. Yet everyone expected Nesta to take into consideration what they wanted -who they expected her to be. They had crossed the line in the most disgusting ways to make sure she did the right changes to fit into the mold they had created for her. And Cassian had been a part of it.

Now, from all people, Cassian was asking.

"Don't mention them when we are in bed if you want to see me here again." that was the little bargain power she was sure she had over him. The territory she could claim for herself.

Once again, it took Cassian some time to come up with his own words. Nesta's brain was going a thousand thoughts per minute, reading his face, his body, trying to anticipate where he was going to strike next. He had chosen to bring this up right after sex, when she was slower with her wit. Prick.

When Nesta thought he simply wouldn't answer, Cassian finally sat on the mattress, shoulders down, his body apparently relaxed, his muscles tense and wings tucked in "I know this is just sex, and that's enough for me. I'll take it." As he mouthed the words, Nesta came out of the mist that clouded her thoughts, ready to cover up any crack on her armor. "I just want to know if my friends have anything to do with you not wanting... more."

For that, the answer was yes. She did worry what they thought of Cassian and her being... close, only because she wasn't sure what Cassian would do if they didn't approve of them together.

Nesta didn't care, but she worried what it would mean for her if they asked him to leave. Nesta was sure she meant enough to Cassian for him to put on some resistance. But when push came to shove, if they ever asked him to choose, she doubted Cassian would put her before them.

And she wasn't ready to be broken like that.

There was one thing about Cassian she admired above anything else he had and was, and that was his loyalty. Absolutely unmoving. She saw first-hand how this male loved, so ardently, so unwavering. If Cassian was asked to choose and chose his friends, she wouldn't blame him, she would understand. She had seen him put his life on the line for them without thinking, the act natural to him.

It was knowing that Cassian wasn't the obedient dog others had claimed him to be what would be devastating for her. To be so sure that he didn't feel the need to follow his High Lord to the end of the world.

If he chose them, duty wouldn't be the reason. Cassian would do it because he literally loved them more.

It was precisely that what made her so afraid to let him in. To not know if whatever he wanted from her would ever mean to him as much as the bonds he already had. If there was a chance for him to value it even above those. Because she wouldn't take less.

Nesta couldn't tell him she didn't care what they thought, for it would be a lie. And she couldn't tell him about her reasons either without bearing her heart more than she was ready for. And every time she reminded him -or herself- that it was just sex, she remembered why she refused to give him anything else.

So yes, Nesta cared about what they thought only because she feared them in a way Cassian wouldn't understand. He had defended them against her in the past like he didn't know that side of them existed at all.

Unable to answer, Nesta nodded.

Cassian took in her gesture. At his silence, Nesta practically launched herself out of Cassian's bed, aiming for the door and grabbing her nightgown on her way.

He was there before she could grip the knob. His hand slammed the door to make sure she couldn't open it. Nesta turned on her heels to face him, angry at how aggressive his gesture was. At the audacity to behave like this after she gave him the answer he had asked for, only because he hadn't liked it.

She was trapped between his body and the wooden door, her face an inch apart from his naked chest. Because they were still naked. He banged his head against the door and closed his eyes.

"You know I would give my life for you. In a heartbeat. Without hesitation." Nesta could feel her mouth dry. She couldn't believe he was making a scene about this, considering what her mission the next day. What had happened that afternoon before she came back from the Library to shake him like this? "You know that, right?" Cassian insisted.

She nodded one more time, her forehead brushing his shoulder.

"I know you have good reasons to want them far away from you, Nes, but they are part of my life. My family. When I ask myself what I want in my future, I know I want them in it. We've been through so much together that I really can't picture my life without them at this point. To be honest, I don't want to picture it either."

Nesta's throat burned and so did her eyes, lined with tears. She wasn't ready to listen to this coming from his lips.

"But I want you too, and I don't even know if you think that's possible or if I'm making a fool of myself by trying to go after you."

She was glad Cassian had his eyes closed so he wouldn't see the mess she became as his words hit her. Nesta closed them as well, so the tears didn't come out. "We have a mission tomorrow, Cassian. I need to get some sleep and be well rested."

He didn't move.

"Let's not jeopardy the mission for a question you already know the answer for".

In a matter of hours she was going to be dancing with Eris in Hewn City trying to lure him into an alliance with his beloved friends because they had asked that from her. And she had agreed because the future of the frail political situation they were in depended on it. She needed to focus her mind back on that. She told herself that by doing so, she would forget about his confrontation, and by some miracle he wouldn't bring it up again after that.

"Why did you even accept to help with that plan, Nesta?" Cassian asked again, an angry whisper in her ear.

Because it's worse to stay in my room while you are there with them and wonder if you would vanish away once again if I don't follow all of you wherever you go.

The low light of the lamp threw shadows on Cassian's hazel eyes when he opened them to look straight into hers. They were so beautiful. He stretched his arm to cup her hand, but Nesta hid it in her lap before he could.

His arm hung there for a moment, as if not knowing what to do with it.

Don't worry, Cassian, I'm choosing this for myself. I'll do it. I want to do it.

And in return, she only asked him to keep things casual.

Nesta knew it was unfair to him. She was giving him no choice. It was selfish. But no one expected anything better from her anyway. She was self-absorbed, everyone knew that. It seemed to be her defining characteristic in their eyes from the beginning. No need to change that now. The only thing Nesta was willing to replace was her relationship with herself, with who she was. The only goal in her mind was to be as ready to fight for her life as she was to give it for others. Only then, she would be able to share her heart the way she wanted to. And if he was still around when that happened, she would gladly give him a piece. Just not yet.

It would take time, but he had promised to stay no matter how long it took. He had sworn.

Her voice was too close to cracking. "You should go get some rest as well. Don't think too much about this, Cassian. It's just sex, remember?"

"Just sex" he agreed.

Nesta moved her hands up and carefully placed them on his chest to push him away. He obediently gave a step back, freeing her. She went straight for the door knob and opened it. Nesta exited as fast as she could to turn her back on him before he saw the effect his damned questions had had on her.

"And I have no intention of changing that for my own reasons. Your friends have nothing to do with it."

It's you, she thought.

"So many things are happening to me at the same time," she said instead, "that...I don't even know how to deal with them and not have a breakdown every five minutes. I need you to be the one thing in my life that is easy. Please." there was no point in hiding her weeping anymore. "And I don't need anyone to die for me. I would hate that, actually. I want someone who is going to stay alive and by my side all the way. And that's why you need to let go." Nesta wasn't sure whose heartbeat she was hearing, but it was thundering at an alarming pace.

"I understand" he said. His voice was not her lover's caring tone, nor her friend's easy-going voice. He was putting distance between them, making it impersonal. She didn't blame him, as she did the same thing and closed the door behind her.

She went straight to her room and asked the House to warm up the cold space.

There were no dreams for her that night.

---

On the same room one floor above, Cassian stared at the ceiling for hours, unable to find sleep.

The sun came up before he got to close his eyes, still thinking about what Nesta had asked from him. What his High Lord had asked from him aligning with her request as well. What Mor thought of it all. The ball and Eris being the one to spend the entire night with Nesta Archeron.

He had a job to do, a character to play he knew too well to mess it up even if he had gotten no rest, so that part didn't worry him one bit.

Only when he finally got up with the first rays of sunshine, Cassian came to terms with what he would do that night and how far was he willing to go. If what he wanted for himself was worth risking all the good things he already had, both with his friends and with her.

Maybe it was time to stop being a coward who adapted to the group's needs. Maybe it was time he gave the first step. Or perhaps he would do better waiting, not rushing things and allowing people to come to him whenever they were ready. No. The person he had in mind the entire night and kept him from resting would never go to him, pride and uncertainty preventing her from taking risks with him. Yet one step too far could mean three steps back, and then none of it would be worth it.

Mor was right, he was not being his old self as he took a cold shower, put on his leathers, and flew to the River House to put Rhys' plan for tonight into motion. Cassian was not being the illyrian Commander they had always known when he stepped into Hewn City armed to his teeth and ready to improvise and do absolutely everything his heart asked him to do.

#fix it fic #fixing acosf #nessian #nessian month

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cienie-isengardu · 3 years ago

Note

There is one thing that you mention a lot and it is Bi-Han's lack of social skills and well I do not agree at all, that is, Bi-Han as with Sektor is quite introverted but I do believe that the Lin kuei taught them social skills to be able to infiltrate them among the people during missions. Bi-Han I think he has manners and social skills but he doesn't hide when he doesn't like someone. He was sarcastic with Quan chi but at no time did he insult him or refuse to do his job

I do not have any doubt that Bi-Han’s speech patterns depend on whom he is interacting (x) but as much as honesty and straightforwardness are in itself valuable traits, frankness is not always an acceptable choice to rely on. Having social skills helps to navigate how to behave and talk to different people to not overstep or break generally accepted norms and in result, to build a healthy relationship, or in case of living in a strict warrior society, to not get in trouble. Bi-Han for me lacks in this department, especially in mentioned interaction with Quan Chi, because he was not on equal ground with the sorcerer yet had this borderline challenging attitude. And most likely yes, some of the rudeness came from not liking nor respecting the suspicious guy that already proved to be some insidious bastard for hiring another man for the same job. But the thing is, he wasn’t there to question a lucrative customer that was personally approved by the Grandmaster and he should keep his accusations and rude remarks to himself, not throw it into the sorcerer's face just like that.

I mean, as much as dark and evil Lin Kuei are, customer service is a vital part of the earning money process. Bi-Han wasn’t there as equal to Grandmaster (the superior whom he swore to obey) nor Quan Chi (approved client). Between these three characters, Sub-Zero was just a tool to finish an already made transaction, no one was interested in what he thought or felt at that moment. As much as the accusation to some degree may be forgiven, since Quan Chi openly antagonized Sub-Zero by calling Lin Kuei the ninja (an intended insult) and admitted to hiring Shiray Ryu (the enemy of Lin Kuei), he shouldn’t be so aggressive nor so open. It toned down once Grandmaster stopped their argument. Even then, Bi-Han could - should - ask about the mission in a more polite or at least neutral way, instead of “If it's so precious, why don't you get it yourself?”, since his superior made it clear Sub-Zero is gonna do another job for the client (“Now you will use the map on your next mission. Quan Chi has once again retained your services”).

The whole situation feel to me like Grandmaster promised Quan Chi the best man for the job but said man had this “fuck you” attitude from the start. Sub-Zero represented Lin Kuei but instead of the professional and obedient subordinate of Grandmaster there was an abrasive warrior who called Quan Chi on his lies and backed down only because his boss had enough of his attitude and the pointless argument. Not the best social awareness if you ask me.

Bi-Han wasn’t any more polite to Raiden (“That's it? Not even a thank you?”) and either deliberately provoked Scorpion during the Tournament or he was simply brutally honest about not caring about Shirai Ryu’s fate. Which, considering what he knew about the massacre, Scorpion’s obsession about him and just heard Hanzo’s promise to not kill him, he was stubbornly arrogant or really lacked empathy or good understanding of emotional impact his words may have on his sworn enemy. Considering how Bi-Han is described as “the most cunning” above all, we know he is pretty intelligent. But his harsh, abrasive, often confrontational behaviour makes me think he is good with cold logic, not exactly with empathy and because of that, he is not always reading the situation well and may “forget his place” when dealing with people he does not respect or care about or outright provoke them in the worst way. The whole argument with Quan Chi in the first place shouldn’t even happen because really, it wouldn’t be the first time an outsider (client) didn't care about the assassin's life and saw him as just a tool. Grandmaster himself wasn’t bothered nor surprised by Quan Chi’s deal with Shirai Ryu and so Bi-Han’s outburst is even more out of place in my opinion.

How much of this is Bi-Han’s intention to be a rude bastard and how much came from limited social skills (and maybe from introverted nature?) is of course up to debate. But to be fair, all cryomancers have this cheeky and passive-aggressive attitude in common (Frost for example seems like being constantly angry at everyone and doesn’t hold her sharp tongue, younger Kuai Liang literally disturbed Mortal Kombat last Tournament and told Shao Kahn to give him murderer of brother, Conquest!Sub-Zero was no less stubborn and asocial). I do see cryomancers in general as the asocial, aromantic & asexual (maybe even autistic to some degree?) people whose natural coldness may have handicapped sense of social norms and the fact that they are trained killers (thus have empathy dulled even more) don’t help at all.

At the same time, I strongly believe that not every warrior was constantly or even often working undercover and Lin Kuei used its members adequately to their skills. Some are better at spying (thus are better at interacting with people to get the needed information), some are better killers (whose interaction with people doesn't matter as long as the job is finished). There is not enough source material to say for sure what was Bi-Han’s specialization but Mythologies: Sub-Zero strongly suggest is was actually assassination and theft, as we were told by Grandmaster (“Once again, our most cunning assassin and thief is successful.”). The known jobs he did involved breaking into heavily guarded places (Shaolin Temple, Temple of Elements) to steal artifacts and killing people on the way. There was no need for Bi-Han to have any social skills nor during the Mortal Kombat Tournament, when he was hired exactly to eliminate (kill) Earthrealm’s Champions. Of course, this is barely the tip of the iceberg, more or less the last year of Bi-Han’s life, but if he truly was one of the clan's best, sending him on long-term undercover missions could be a waste of an opportunity for profitable earnings. I mean, stealing and killing are usually short-termed jobs, the “go in and get out” as fast as possible to not leave any trace behind. Those jobs of course also take time for proper preparation but because of its specific nature, a warrior can be sent from one place to another almost immediately, especially if the lucrative customer (like Shang Tsung or Quan Chi) needs to solve an urgent problems quickly. The game and movies are separated sources, but Mortal Kombat (2021) seems too put Bi-Han mainly on the assassination jobs or staying at Shang Tsung’s side than anything truly involding good understanding of social ettiquete; beside the sorcerer, Bi-Han did not interact much with other people, even with his own allies. Then there is the possibility that Bi-Han could work ultimately more in lawless, wild Outworld than modern Earthrealm which also would affect his behaviour and sense of social norms.

I believe Bi-Han took some undercover missions, but I see him more like operating in the city to do some quick dirty jobs and moving to another target than staying in one place for months while playing “normal” human being. That way he was more useful to clan by earning good money in short period of time and maybe correcting faults of other warriors (supervising them) or killing Shirai Ruy / enemy’s agents along the way. He probably could fit into society for a specified period of time if that was absolutely necessary but I don’t think it happened often. And even then, he most likely kept to himself because Bi-Han is introverted by nature.

At the end of day, the coldness and social detachment was a useful trait for a killer and murdering was most likely Sub-Zero’s expertise so forcing him to spend months on anything else seems to me like wasting both his potential and good job offers. So the Grandmaster (Lin Kuei) could tolerate Sub-Zero’s natural frankness because his social skills weren’t ever the priority.

Bi-Han’s abrasive ways to communicate with others, lack of empathy, the visible isolating himself leads me to think he lacks social skills (and maybe even could fit somewhere on autistic spectrum). At this point of time, I think cryomancers in general are dense when it comes to social norms and interacting with people and I don’t mean it as they are stupid or unable to learn. They just have different (mental?) mindset about such things than other people, even other Lin Kuei warriors. Of course, it is just my take on the matter so anyone can disagree : )

(Ironically, I have the impression that Sektor would do better in long-term undercover work than Bi-Han but he is hardly better at pretending to be a normal human being. The difference is that he is the quiet type easy to overlook while anyone not familiar with Bi-Han's specific behaviour will see him as the rude bastard.)

#mortal kombat #my replies #bi han #sub zero #sektor #lin kuei #cryomancers #are in my mind the asocial aromantic asexual group that has zero social skills #which is why they seems to be the angry rude bastards with no will to change in that matter #you can rip this headcanon #from my cold dead hands #also lately more and more i wonder if Bi-Han (and Sektor for that matter) is not autistic to some degree #with the visible isolating himself and bad communication skills #ramblings #anyway i think there is not enough sources to tell for sure if bi han is just a rude bastard or just bad at talking to other people

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heyitssmiller · 4 years ago

Text

Frosted Windowpanes: Part One

The Christmas Fic is here! Featuring Logan the lumberjack, Leo who owns a diner, and Finn who was just trying to have a quiet, uneventful holiday (lol). This was supposed to be a oneshot, but y’all know I’m too long-winded for that, so it looks like we’ll be having at least one more part for this story!

@donttouchmycarrots Thank you so much for proofreading/encouraging/being such a wonderful, wonderful friend. I don’t think I’d still be writing without you and iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou

@lumosinlove Again, thank you for such wonderful characters! And for creating such a wonderful, welcoming fandom! I never thought I’d post my writing where people could read it, but then I met y’all and here we are! You guys are amazing! Happy Holidays, everyone! <3

Part Two is now up!

It's that time of year When the world falls in love Every song you hear seems to say

- The Christmas Waltz

Piercing, bitter cold greeted Logan as he stepped outside for the first time that day. The kind of cold that made the entire body tense up and the breath hitch. It was a quiet early morning, with a stillness that only freshly-fallen snow could bring. Logan took a second to pull his toque further down over his head as he grabbed the chainsaw by the door before heading out to the truck, passing the sign with red, clean lettering that read Tremblay’s Christmas Trees.

“Took you long enough, sleeping beauty.” His sister, Noelle, teased from the driver’s seat of the beat-up truck that barely started most mornings.

“It’s too early for this.” He grumbled back, sliding into the passenger’s seat as the truck reluctantly spluttered to a start.

“The faster we get done out here, the faster we can go deal with customers.”

“That’s not exactly helping.”

Noelle laughed as she drove back into one of the fields, parking the truck at the far end. “Come on, it’s not that bad. They ask to buy a tree, you help them pick one out, take their money, and strap it to their car. Easy.”

They got out of the truck, grabbed the chainsaw from the back, and headed towards their first tagged tree. Logan grabbed the tree around its trunk to stabilize it while Noelle powered up the chainsaw, putting their conversation on hold. She crouched down to start cutting the base of the tree trunk, creating a notch before starting the back cut. Logan waited until the tree felt unstable before giving the tree a gentle push in the right direction and removing his hands. The tree hit the ground with a thud.

Noelle took that as her cue to continue their conversation. “Don’t pretend to be all grumpy and stoic. I know you like some of our regulars.”

“Some being the key word here.” He replied, grabbing the tree trunk again and beginning to drag it to the truck. Noelle just gave him a look that clearly said I see right through you but didn’t comment as she looked for the next tagged tree.

Logan heaved the Christmas tree into the bed of the truck and shoved it into one corner; he could probably fit one more tree alongside it before he started stacking them. He stood up straight, turning his head to watch the sun rise and peek over the tops of the trees, bringing rays of light and warmth with it.

Leo basked in the warmth coming from the oven as he took out a fresh batch of croissants, a welcome reprieve from the weather outside. He quickly put the next tray of pastries into the oven and transferred the baked croissants onto a plate, where he let them cool just a little before drizzling them with honey. He hummed along to the Christmas music playing on the radio as he worked on getting the diner ready to open in a few hours. He started the gumbo, red beans and rice, and jambalaya, letting them simmer on the stove before whipping up his fried chicken batter and breading so that it was ready whenever he needed it. Next was the cornbread, which was made from scratch and poured into muffin tins to create the perfect individual servings. Coffee was brewed, quiches were placed in the display window, waffle batter was whipped up and sitting in a bowl on the counter.

Leo was arranging croissants into a basket when the back door opened, letting all the cold air in and a small flurry of snow with it.

“Good morning!” Nate called as he came around the corner, shedding his coat and hat. Leo honestly wasn’t sure what he’d do without Nate. Running his own diner was hard – it was even harder when he’d moved to a different country, not knowing anyone there, and kept afloat with barely anything but his optimism and his confidence in his cooking. Nate was the first person he’d hired when business actually picked up, and he’d been there ever since. He had a real knack for cooking and managed to make every person that walked through their doors feel welcomed.

“Headed out to the farm?” Nate asked when he saw the basket of croissants and the large thermos Leo was filling with coffee.

“Yeah.” Leo said, grabbing coffee creamer and sugar and shoving them into his coat pocket after he slipped it on. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“Nah, I can hold down the fort while you’re gone.”

Leo smiled as he grabbed his hat. “Thanks. There’s croissants in the oven, but they’ll be done as soon as that timer goes off! I’ll be right back, ok?”

Nate gave him a look. “No you won’t.”

“No, I won’t.” Leo agreed with a laugh. “But I’ll be back before morning rush.” He said as he braced himself and opened the door to be greeted by the frigid Canadian winter.

Even after a year and a half, he had a feeling he’d never get used to this weather.

He made a beeline for his car, quickly getting behind the wheel and cranking the heat as high as it would go. He put the car in drive and slowly pulled out onto the road, keeping a firm grip on the wheel and his eyes on the road. He knew he was probably causing a traffic build-up behind him, which made Leo feel a little guilty. He’d driven through hurricanes countless times, but snow? Black ice? He was absolutely terrified of that. So he took his time, eventually turning off the main road and driving until he reached a sign with red lettering and a Christmas tree lot. There were handmade wreaths and garlands, and white Christmas lights strung up over the rows of trees for sale.

Leo put the car in park and grabbed his stuff, breath hitching as he faced the cold winds again. Marius, the head of the Tremblay family, was at the checkout counter, writing something down on a pad of paper. Once he looked up and saw Leo, he smiled broadly. “Hey, Nut!”

“Good morning.” Leo replied, raising the basket and thermos in his hands. “I come bearing gifts. Coffee and croissants.”

“You know you don’t have to do that.” Marius said as he gave Leo a stern look. “I’m sure you’ve got other things to do.”

Leo shrugged, opening the basket and offering them to the man. “I like doing this. Y’all work hard and have ridiculously long hours. And you work in this weather. I feel like you could use a little warmth.”

“You and your southern manners.” He grabbed a croissant anyways, taking a big bite. “Your favorite’s still out there bringing some trees in.” He said, motioning to one of the groves to the left. Leo could faintly hear the sound of a chainsaw in the distance.

“I don’t have favorites,” Leo protested as he set the thermos and croissants down on the table, even though it was clearly a bald-faced lie. He thought of evergreen eyes and a gorgeous laugh and a smile that left him breathless. He blamed the redness of his cheeks and ears on the cold. “I like all of you equally.”

“Right.” Marius said, dragging out the vowel. He was smiling, though. “He’s lucky to have a friend like you, you know.”

Leo had to force his smile to remain steadfast. Friend. That was all this was ever going to be, no matter how much his heart yearned for something more. He needed to learn to be content with that – it wasn’t fair to Logan otherwise, or to himself for that matter. He could be a good friend and leave it at that. It was still better than not knowing him at all.

“I think I’m the lucky one.” He said, only then remembering the sugar and coffee creamers in his coat pocket. He fished them out and set them on the counter next to the thermos. “I do have to get going, though. I’ve got the breakfast rush to deal with.”

Marius waved him off playfully, grabbing another croissant. “Go on, then. I’ll try to save some for the rest of them.”

Leo laughed at his antics, breath clouding in the air. “I’m holding you to that.”

Marius watched him get in his car and drive off very slowly with a chuckle. Damn southerners. He looked down at the coffee creamers and sugar, knowing Logan was the only one in the family that used them, and started speculating.

He heard the rumbling of the truck as it came in, the back loaded to the brim with trees. Noelle and Logan’s bickering could be heard before the truck’s engine got turned off, which was saying something. Marius grabbed a cup and filled it with coffee. He was going to need it.

“I mean, come on. Back to the Future is clearly the superior 80s movie. It’s definitely better than Top Gun.”

Logan closed his door, staring at his sister with a combination of horror and disbelief. “How dare you. Those aren’t even in the same genre!”

Noelle looked over at Marius right as she was about to start her counterargument and spotted the pastries and coffee. She grinned and abandoned Logan at the back of the truck in order to beat him to the food. One croissant was immediately shoved into her mouth as she grabbed another and then reached for a coffee cup one-handed. Marius snorted and grabbed it from her, filling it with steaming coffee.

She groaned. “Lolo, your friend needs to stop by more often. Fuck, this is good. If I wasn’t in a committed relationship already, I’d ask him to marry me.”

“Please don’t call me that.” Logan said gruffly, but his words were betrayed by a smile. He looked down at the pastries, eyes soft and smile dopy.

Marius knew that look. More importantly, he knew his son. And everything fit together like pieces of a puzzle.

“Maybe Logan should ask, instead.” He teased, although a part of him was completely genuine.

Logan choked on his first bite of croissant.

“Finn!” June shouted as soon as she flung the door open, throwing herself into his arms. Finn laughed and hugged her back. Two seconds into his visit and he knew this was going to be the best way to spend the week before Christmas. He hadn’t seen June since they graduated college and, even though they kept in touch, it wasn’t the same.

“Four years is way too long.” He said as she let go. “Let’s not go that long without seeing each other again, ok?”

“Deal.” She replied, grabbing his bag for him and leading the way inside. The apartment was warm and cozy and lived in – there were books on the coffee table and a large pile of mail on the counter and a few stray dishes in the sink.

Finn loved it.

Heather, June’s fiancée, smiled in greeting and stuck her hand out to shake. “You must be Finn.”

He had originally thought it might be a little bit awkward, meeting his ex-girlfriend’s fiancée, but Heather seemed kind and welcoming and unperturbed about the whole thing. He shook her hand and returned the smile. “Heather. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Oh god.” She laughed, shooting June a look. June just winked and leaned over to check whatever food was in the oven.

“All good things.” Finn promised, letting Heather lead him to the guest room. It was as happy and welcoming as the rest of the apartment. As soon as they were out of earshot, he continued, “I’m really happy for you guys. She’s happier than I've ever seen her.”

“So am I.” Heather said wistfully as Finn set his bag down. “Bathroom’s through that door if you need it.”

“Thanks.”

When he rejoined the group in the living room, he noticed something: a distinct lack of Christmas decorations. June used to love decorating her college dorm room for the holidays – she went all out with little things she bought at the Dollar Tree and a miniature Christmas tree from Walmart. They used to get the tree together every year. It was strange that she hadn’t continued the tradition.

“No tree?” He asked June, surprised. She shrugged and scooted over on the couch to make room for all three of them.

“Haven’t had the time. I’ve been so busy at work and Heather’s been traveling for conferences. It’s not the same when you have to decorate by yourself.”

Finn hummed understandingly. He knew the feeling. “Why don’t we go get one now? Do you think some places are still open this late?”

Heather and June looked at each other, seeming to have a telepathic conversation. Finn watched on in amusement as they communicated with raised eyebrows and narrowed eyes and shrugs until they apparently made up their minds.

“Tremblay’s is probably still open. They’ve got the best trees, anyways.” June explained, turning to look at Finn. “But I’ve got to stay here and make sure our dinner doesn’t burn.”

“And I’ve got to stay here and supervise June while she uses the oven.” Heather added. Finn laughed, remembering too many times June had burned herself while using the rickety old oven from the 1970s that still lived on in their dorm building.

“Yeah, that sounds about right.” Finn teased and ruffled June’s hair. She just rolled her eyes and didn’t even bother trying to smooth it out again. Ruffling hair was one of Finn’s main ways of showing affection – she knew it would just get messed up again. Finn fished his phone out of his pocket and pulled up his navigation app. “I can go get the tree, if you want. You said the place was called Tremblay’s?”

“Finn, you really don’t have to-”

“No, I want to!” He cut in, standing up from the couch to grab his coat. “I didn’t bring presents for you guys because I’m so bad at gift-giving, so this can be my Christmas present.”

Heather hesitated. “Are you sure you don’t mind?” She asked, glancing at June again. “We can always go out and get a tree tomorrow.”

“It’s fine. I’ll be back soon, and with a tree!” Finn said as he reached the door, turned to give a cheery salute, and headed out to his car.

After a frankly terrifying drive through narrow back roads and potential ice hazards, Finn followed his app to a little tree farm off of the main road. There weren’t many cars there, thankfully, and it still looked open. The rows of white lights hanging above the trees were all lit and glowing, snow was falling at a slow, sleepy pace. It looked perfect, like something out of a dream.

And that was before Finn saw him.

The man working the front counter.

Finn raked his gaze over the man and swooned. Wavy brown hair, bright eyes, shoulders and arms so broad and built that it seemed like they were about to rip the plaid shirt he was wearing. With a nametag that stated Logan, he seemed like a rugged, Canadian, lumberjack dreamboat. Finn swallowed, making his way to the counter and the absolute vision behind it while he focused on not tripping over his own two feet.

“Hi,” Finn managed, trying not to get lost in evergreen eyes. “I’d like to buy a tree, please.”

“What type of tree would you like?”

Oh, the accent.

Finn was screwed.

“Uh…” Finn trailed off, looking at Logan and struggling to find words. “A Christmas tree?”

“Spruce, pine, or fir?” When Finn’s expression turned more confused, Logan smiled in exasperated, awed delight. Who drove all this way for a tree and had no clue what they were looking for? Most people at least had some idea. But not this one, apparently. Those big, Bambi eyes were lost and absolutely adorable.

“Do you have a size you’re looking for?” Logan asked, receiving a more perplexed look.

This was too funny. “Do you know anything about what kind of tree you want?”

“A pretty one? But not too expensive. Or too tall. Or heavy – I’ve got to get it up a huge flight of stairs.”

Logan couldn’t hold back the laughter any longer. He leaned forwards against the counter and laughed, eyes squeezing shut and shoulders shaking. Finn watched with a smile of his own, taking in the way his eyes crinkled at the corners and the contagious nature of his laugh. He felt like this – this right here – was the only thing he wanted to do for the next several hours, especially if he was the reason for the laughter. He thought of that song he could never remember the name of but heard a lot on Tiktok that said, “oh no, I think I’m catching feelings” and never related to a song more in his entire life.

“Ok,” Logan said when he’d finally caught his breath. “Ok, I’m going to pick one out for you, how’s that sound…?”

“Finn.” The redhead supplied with a laugh of his own. “And please. I have no clue what I’m doing.”

“Clearly.” Logan stepped around the counter and led him towards a group of trees. “These are Douglas Firs. They last a long time, smell great, and they don’t take a lot of trimming or maintenance. They’re also pretty cheap since they’re so common.”

Finn looked from the trees to another group of trees a little ways off. “They all look the same.”

“Who’s the expert here?” Logan teased, shooting him a look over his shoulder as he walked from one tree to the next. Finn trailed after him eagerly, watching calloused, muscular hands trail along the needles of the trees.

“We can go look at the Fraser Firs, if you want, but I really think one of these is your best bet.” Logan continued, stopping in front of a mid-sized tree. “How about this one?”

Finn looked at it, then back at Logan. “What do you think? Since I clearly don’t know anything about trees.” That drew another smile from Logan, which made Finn vow to himself to make the brunet smile like that again.

Logan dragged the tree out from the rest of the group and looked it over. “I think it’s a good one. Good shape, healthy. I sure know how to pick ‘em, eh?”

Eh. How adorably Canadian.

“Sounds good. It’s not even for me, so my input doesn’t really matter a whole lot.”

Logan sent him a confused look. “So you went out at nine o’clock at night to get a Christmas tree, and it’s not for you?”

“I don’t even live in this country.”

“What?”

“I’m visiting friends that live here, and they’ve been traveling or too busy to decorate like they normally do, so I decided I’d get the ball rolling and find them a Christmas tree.” Finn shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Not only was he stunning, he was thoughtful to boot.

Logan clearly had a type.

“That’s nice of you.” He removed the tree from its stand and started lugging it to the counter, watching the redhead trail behind him yet again out of the corner of his eye. When he reached his destination, he set the tree down and found Finn staring at him with a look of awe on his face. He bit back a smile. “How long are you staying?”

Finn was silent for a second, as if in a trance, then snapped out of it with a little shake of his head. “Huh?”

That smile he was holding back broke through. “How long are you staying in town?”

“Oh. Just for the week, then I’m off to spend Christmas with my family back home in New York.”

“A New Yorker, huh?” Logan asked as he bagged the tree up, attempting to do the accent and making Finn laugh. “This must be quite the change of pace for you.”

“You have no idea.”

Finn’s stomach growled, making his eyes widen and his cheeks burn in embarrassment. It must’ve been loud enough for Logan to hear because he turned back around to face Finn and quirked an eyebrow. “Hungry?” He asked, then told Finn the price of the tree. Finn handed his card over.

“Yeah. Haven’t had dinner yet.”

“I, uh, I know a place.” Logan said, playing with Finn’s credit card before meeting his eyes and quickly adding, “If you’re interested. I haven’t had dinner either.”

Finn grinned, not even trying to hide his excitement. The only thing he’d wanted when he left June and Heather’s apartment was a tree. Now he had a potential date with this gorgeous, witty guy? Yes please. “Yeah?”

Logan shared his smile, leaning forward against the counter and looking up at him through dark, dark eyelashes. Finn’s heart fluttered. “Yeah. Sounds fun to me.”

“Great.” Finn said, unsure of what else to say and suddenly feeling a little awkward. Was he supposed to wait for him to finish his shift? Were they driving together? Where was this restaurant?

He needed to text June.

Shit. She had been making dinner when he left. But he’d already agreed to dinner with Logan. But it would be so rude to not spend time with his hosts. But he would regret it for the rest of his life if he didn’t go on this date.

He pulled out his phone as Logan ran his card through the system to text June.

To June: Sooooo there might be a change of plans. Some hot guy is my acting tour guide for the night and I won’t be making it home for dinner. But I promise I have a tree and I will be back eventually.

It only took June a few seconds to respond.

From June: Damn. You go, Finn.

He laughed under his breath, then pocketed his phone. When he looked up, Logan was looking at him and holding his card out. Finn grabbed it and shoved it into his wallet, which he pocketed. “Ready to go?” Logan asked, grabbing the trunk of the tree and preparing to drag it again. “I can drive, if you want. We’ll strap the tree to the top of your car and then head out.”

“Works for me. Do you need help with that?” Finn motioned to the tree. Not that he minded the view – quite the contrary – but he felt bad not doing anything.

“Want to grab the netting towards the top? We can carry it instead of dragging it.”

Finn grabbed the netting and followed Logan’s lead as they both lifted the tree and started carrying it out to Finn’s car, Finn giving directions as they went. Getting the tree to the top of the rental car was a struggle, but they managed and strapped it down.

They hurried to Logan’s car and shut out the cold as quickly as they could. Logan started the rickety old pickup truck that smelled strongly of Christmas trees and took off down the road at a much faster pace than Finn would ever dare to drive these roads.

“I have a feeling you’re going to love this place.” Logan said as he turned right onto the main road, accelerating a bit more. “Pretty much everyone does. It’s not very Canadian, but you can’t beat the food.”

“What defines a restaurant as Canadian?” Finn mused, looking over at the driver. “Maple syrup? Poutine?”

“Watch it.” There was no heat in Logan’s voice, so Finn didn’t take it to heart. They slowed down and pulled into a parking lot of a diner simply called Leo’s. The outside looked a little rundown, which made Finn a little apprehensive, but the windows were all fogged up from the temperature difference between inside and outside, which was always promising.

Logan turned the car off and shot Finn an excited grin. “Ready?”

Finn couldn’t tell if he was excited for dinner with him or just the food. Hopefully it was both.

The inside of the diner was… eclectic. The walls were a faint yellow, but there were splashes of deep purple, green, and gold in the decorations on the walls. Mardis Gras, Finn realized as he spotted some masks hanging on the wall. The food smelled amazing – warm and spicy and savory. Behind the baked goods on display counter stood a young kid with a cleaning spray and a rag, wiping down the counters. He looked up at the bell that signaled the door opening and instantly recognized Logan. He sent them a smile before turning his head and shouting towards the direction of the kitchen, “Leo!”

There was a loud clang, followed by a muffled curse. “Be there in a jiffy!”

Finn looked to Logan in confusion. “Was that a southern accent? Like American south?”

“Leo.” Was all Logan said, a happy smile on his face.

“You guys can go ahead and sit down,” The kid at the counter said. “I’ll bring some menus.”

“Thanks, Nate.” Logan led the way towards a booth in the front corner of the dining area and sat down facing the door. Finn sat opposite him, accepting a menu with thanks. The menu consisted of southern U.S. staples – biscuits and gravy, grits, red beans and rice, fried chicken, etouffee, jambalaya, po’boys, fried catfish, cornbread, the list went on.

“So is this guy from Louisiana?”

Logan wasn’t even looking at the menu, he was watching every nuance of Finn’s expressions as he took everything in. “New Orleans, born and raised.”

“How the hell did he end up here?”

“He had an uncle who owned this place and left it to Leo when he died. Originally he was just going to fix it up and sell it before going back home, but two months led to a year and he’s still here. Doesn’t seem to be planning on going anywhere else for a while, either.” Logan suddenly perked up, looking at something over Finn’s shoulder. “Here he comes.”

Finn swiveled in his seat and stopped dead in his tracks.

Tall.

They were both greeted by a dimpled smile as Leo approached their table, flour or powdered sugar – Finn wasn’t sure which one – all over his apron and a dusting of it in his fluffy blond hair.

“Hey, Logan. See you’ve brought company!” His accent dragged sweet and slow like molasses, so very out of place this far north. But it was refreshing, like a breath of fresh air or the sun coming out from behind the clouds after a week of rain. As he got closer, Finn realized what he’d thought to be flour in his hair was actually a gray streak. And wow, were his eyes blue.

How was everyone here so attractive?

“Finn, meet Leo. Leo, this is Finn.” Logan said, smile never leaving his face as he looked between the two. “He’s new here.”

Leo arched an eyebrow. “And you brought him here?”

“You do have the best pie in town.”

That got another sunny smile from Leo. “Damn right I do. But dinner first. Can’t go on spoilin’ your dinner with pie.” Those blue eyes turned to Finn, causing his breath to hitch just a little. “What’ll you have, sugar?”

Finn simply wasn’t going to survive this night. Was this a dream? That would explain all the attractive guys – the probabilities of something like this happening in real life were slim to none. He pinched his arm harshly. Not a dream.

What the fuck?

Finn realized he still hadn’t answered and was just staring at the blond. He cleared his throat and quickly averted his gaze to the menu, not really reading anything but grateful for something else to look at besides the two guys in front of him. “Um… what would you recommend?” He finally asked, grateful that he could get his vocal cords to actually work.

Leo hummed, thinking about it. “Personally I really like the muffuletta, if you’re looking for a sandwich. Definitely the gumbo if you’re in the mood for soup. I do make a mean fried catfish, too.”

Finn wasn’t sure what exactly a muffuletta was, but he ordered it. Logan got his usual, whatever that meant. Leo wrote down their orders and gave them one last smile before retreating to the kitchen. They both watched him go, then Finn whipped back around to face Logan.

“Is he real?”

Logan just laughed, leaning back in his seat. Finn panicked for half a second, terrified that what he’d said was the worst possible thought to voice on what was potentially a first date. But Logan didn’t seem to mind. He just looked back at the kitchen with a soft smile Finn hadn’t seen before.

“You know, I ask myself that a lot.” He said quietly, as if he hadn’t meant to say it out loud. And Finn finally understood.

He was in love with Leo.

The sound of a record scratching filled Finn’s head.

Wait.

That didn’t make any sense… because Finn was ninety-five percent sure that Logan had been flirting with him all night.

Hadn’t he?

They made small talk while they waited for their food, and Logan was pleasantly surprised at how… easy it was. He normally didn’t like small talk and didn’t share personal stories with strangers, but here Finn was, pulling stories out of him that he normally wouldn’t share on a first date.

Was this a date? Logan couldn’t decide if he wanted it to be one or not. One hand, this was definitely the most fun he’d had in weeks. On the other hand, Leo. He sent a glance towards the kitchen window before focusing back on Finn’s story about one of the parties he and June went to back in college. There was lots of alcohol, mattresses, and a roof involved. Finn’s storytelling included a myriad of different expressions, all of which Logan found endearing. The wrinkle of his nose when he talked about drunk frat boy antics, the way he got all soft whenever he talked about June, the laughter lines around his eyes when he told a funny anecdote.

How was it possible to be so cute and yet so hot at the same time?

And how had he met two guys who fit into both of those categories?

Nate brought their food out while Logan was in the middle of a story about the time he’d found a squirrel in one of their trees and got attacked when he tried to relocate the thing when Nate came back with the food. Finn had the muffuletta, which was apparently meat and cheese and some sort of olive spread or something – Finn had no idea, but it looked and smelled amazing. Logan had a bowl of red beans and rice in front of him, but he was waiting to see Finn’s reaction to the food before starting his own.

Finn took a bite of the sandwich, then his eyes widened almost comically. “Oh my god.”

“I know.” Logan said, getting a spoonful of red beans and rice.

“Where has this been all my life?”

“Just wait until you try the pie.”

Finn didn’t speak again, he just ate. The food clearly took precedence over any possible conversations. Logan couldn’t help but agree. Finn ate like a man who hadn’t seen food in a week, finishing the sandwich in record time. He leaned back in his seat when he was done, letting out a happy, content sigh. “Holy shit. Is everything on the menu that good?”

“Pretty much.”

“And he hasn’t been on the Food Network yet?”

Logan grinned. “Not that I’m aware of.”

“We should tell them to get up here and try this food.”

“Y’all, I don’t have time for the Food Network.” Finn jumped a little as Leo reappeared with two slices of pie. “I appreciate it, though. You liked it, huh?”

Finn looked up at him. “I kind of want to come back every day I’m here.” And he meant it. He wouldn’t be coming back just for the food, though.

“Well, I definitely won’t stop you.” Leo said with a dimpled smile. Finn barely held in a dreamy sigh.

Dimples.

“Why don’t you join us?” Finn asked, scooting over to make room for the blond. But Leo just shook his head with a rueful smile.

“I wish I could, but I’ve got twelve pies that need to be made.”

“Twelve?” Finn asked in mild horror. “When do you sleep?”

“The chocolate crème pies are in high demand, especially around the holidays. But it’s fine, I don’t mind it. I’m just glad I've got business.” Leo seemed to be ignoring the sleep question, which was never a good sign.

“You look tired.” Logan noted, face muddled with concern.

Leo laughed softly, but didn’t seem to take offense. “Thanks a lot, darlin’.”

Logan broke eye contact and pushed the residual whipped cream around on his plate. Finn hadn’t even realized he’d started eating, but he quickly followed suit and fuck, was that good.

“I just meant you need to take care of yourself, that’s all.” Logan mumbled into his plate without looking up, almost as if he was afraid to see the cook’s response.

“Says the guy who works even longer hours than I do.” Leo teased, causing Logan to roll his eyes.

“That’s because it’s almost Christmas and I work at a Christmas tree farm. It’s only temporary. We’ll be back to normal by the end of the week.”

“Well, good. You deserve to sleep in for once.” Leo said, taking a step back towards the kitchen. “But I really do have to go. Those pies won’t make themselves.”

“Do you want help?” Finn asked hopefully, He honestly couldn’t think of a better way to spend the night than baking with these two. Being given instructions in a thick southern drawl, helping Logan make pie filling, trading stories (and maybe kisses) while they waited for the pies to be done.

But Leo quickly dashed his dreams. “That’s sweet, honey, but I think I’ll be faster on my own. I’ve got a system that makes it pretty efficient. And I don’t give out my recipes to just anyone, you know.”

Oh, but I’d love to be someone to you.

Logan also looked disappointed. “We should get going, then. Don’t want to keep distracting you.”

“At least you’re a welcome distraction.” Leo said with a wink before he turned and disappeared into the kitchen. He let the door close behind him before backing up to lean against it, tilting his head back to rest against the wood and closing his eyes. The happy façade dropped in an instant.

Because Logan was out there, on a date with a guy. A handsome, kind, funny guy who would have absolutely no trouble sweeping Logan off his feet.

And that guy wasn’t Leo.

Finn flopped dramatically onto the couch back at June’s apartment, muffling a scream into a poor, unsuspecting pillow. June looked up from her book with a laugh. “Well hello to you, too.”

“I’m in love.”

“Oh?” Heather asked from her spot cuddled up next to June.

Finn turned his head sideways to open one eye and look at the two of them. “With a lumberjack and a cook.”

“Ah,” June said knowingly as she dog-eared the page she was on and closed the book. “Beware the lumberjacks. They’re known to be irresistible. Alright then, which Tremblay was it?”

Finn cocked his head. “What?”

Heather smiled as June tilted her head back and let her run her fingers through dark brown curls. They were so cute it was almost sickening. “There’s four of them: three sisters and a brother. Which one did you fall for?”

Finn couldn’t have held back the smile that crossed his face even if he tried. “Logan.”

June groaned. “I get it. Holy shit, those eyes.”

“I know.”

“I didn’t know he cooked, though.”

“No, the cook was another guy.” Finn sighed as he twisted to lay on his back and stare wistfully up at the ceiling. “Leo.”

“The southern one with the diner?”

“That’s the one.”

“Damn, O’Hara. You do know-”

“They’re head-over-heels in love with each other? Yeah, I got that.” Finn stretched his legs out to rest on June’s lap. “But I’m also pretty sure that was a date. And that Logan was flirting with me.” He sighed again, covering his eyes with his arm. “I’m doomed.”

“Always so dramatic.” June teased. “Just date both of them.”

Finn froze, his mind going completely blank. “What?”

“Date both of them.” She repeated, unfazed. “Polyamorous relationships are a thing, you know. Who says you can’t date both of them?”

Finn moved his arm away from his face to stare at her. “Huh.” He finally said, mind kicking back into gear. That sounded… perfect, actually. Only a few hitches. Did Leo even like him? They’d barely talked to each other. Finn could see Logan being ok with the whole dating two people thing, seeing that he was flirting with both of them, but what would Leo think? And the other hitch. “I’m only for a week, though.”

“Then you’d better act fast, lover boy.”

“I’ve got a question.” Heather piped up.

Finn looked at her and raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to ask her question.

“Where’s the tree?”

He could probably see it from their front window if he bothered to stand up, still strapped to his rental car. “Shit.”

#lumosinlove #o'knutzy #finn o'hara #logan tremblay #leo knut #christmas au #frosted windowpanes

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flippin-fins · 3 years ago

Text

Guilt

LadyNoir July 2021 Day 23: Guilt

Read on AO3

As Ladybug landed on the familiar balcony, she could see her partner’s slumped shoulders, a sure sign of his mood for the day. Not that she coud blame him. The excitement of defeating Hawkmoth and Mayura, of getting back the two missing miraculous, was easily overshadowed by what Chat Noir was going through.

All those years ago, when Ladybug had offhand mentioned the idea of Gabriel Agreste being Hawkmoth, she hadn’t expected it to be true, to lead to that night, surrounded by disappointment and butterflies.

She certainly hadn’t expected him to be the father of her partner, to watch the heartbreak cross Chat’s face as he realized who had been wearing the butterfly miraculous this whole time.

It was a good thing she had changed her mind on the knowledge of each other’s identities. Finding out who her partner was in the middle of the battle that they had been preparing for would have led to her being far more distracted than she was. Taking the time to realize what their identities meant for their partnership, for Marinette’s friendship with Adrien, proved to be important as she had his back that night.

And every night afterwards, for that matter. He hadn’t mentioned it, but after the arrests of his father and his assistant, the mansion was certainly too big, too empty, to stay in. More often than not, Ladybug would find Chat on the roof they met on for patrols, lost in his thoughts. It turned out tonight was no exception.

“Chat,” Ladybug called, not wanting to sneak up on him. She watched his shoulders drop, a sign he had heard her. At first, he had tried to turn her away, to try to deal with his pain alone, but Ladybug had been persistent. They were partners and she would be by his side through anything.

“Chat,” she whispered as she kneeled down, reaching out to rub his back. He leaned against her hand for a moment, before turning to her to reveal his red eyes and tear stained cheeks. Pulling him in for a hug, she could only murmur, “Oh, Adrien.”

It wasn’t fair. No one deserved to be related to Hawkmoth, but Adrien Agreste least of all. The model-slash-superhero deserved a different life than he had been granted, but he had survived this one as an optimist, a piece of sunshine brightening everyone’s day.

Ladybug felt his shuddering breath against her, and she went back to rubbing his back, hoping to ground him, remind him how much she loved him.

She could feel his tears against her neck, and she bit her lip to stop her own tears. She wanted to move him, take him home for a night of warm croissants and cuddling while watching movies, but it was too soon to move him. The night was dark and they were high enough up to avoid being seen from any Parisians anyways.

Ladybug’s heart broke at the idea that Chat’s life had been destroyed, his family completely gone, but that wasn’t the worst part.

As she heard Chat Noir speak, apologizng, she knew the worst part. The guilt that struck deep, that he carried every day, that was the worst part.

As Ladybug, she had done all she could to convince Paris that Adrien hadn’t been involved in his father’s affairs, at least not in the way they implied. However, it took the police, after many more interviews than should have been necessary, agreeing with her statements before the city’s anger at the young model subsided.

Alya had been a good friend for listening to Marinette’s rants about that whole fiasco.

Chat Noir’s shuddering breaths brought her back to the roof. She could hear him trying to stop his tears, unsuccessfully trying to even out his breathing. Ladybug would let him go for a little longer before dragging him home.

Her parents had welcomed him into their lives with open arms, even before the public opinion had shifted. She was sure they’d found the two of them bundled in blankets on the couch, the glow of the tv illuminating the room, but her parents hadn’t enforced any boundaries, trusting the duo to be smart.

Marinette had never revealed their superhero identities to her parents, even if sometimes the older couple let on they knew more than they should. Tom Dupain and Sabine Cheng had been more than willing to provide comfort, a home, to Adrien, and Marinette knew he cherished it more than he could say. She’d even found Adrien and her father in the bakery, Tom whispering secret family recipes as he showed the blond the best way to frost.

She remembered that night, holding him in her arms in her room. His sobs, unable to voice why he had been so hurt. How he hadn’t gotten to have moments like that with his father, always having been shut out, sure it was his own fault.

Her heart broke all over again at the memory.

All Ladybug wanted for Chat Noir, for Adrien Agreste, was for him to be happy, to feel loved, to never feel so shut out, so alone, the way he was in that house. Akumatizing the citizens of Paris was terrible, but sometimes the idea of how he treated Adrien, especially after his mother’s death, felt like the worse crime.

Finally, Chat’s breathing slowed, his shaking ceased, and Ladybug gently pulled him away from her shoulder, looking him in the eye.

His eyes were puffy, his hair more of a mess than usual, but to her he was just as beautiful as he was on the magazine covers. The sight of him took her breath away everyday.

‘I love you,’ her heart whispered, but her mouth said something different. “Come home with me? We can watch a movie, I could bake some cookies? Whatever you’d like.”

He nodded slowly, as if the simple movement exhausted him. She’d have to dig up some brie from the bakery to thank Plagg for letting him come out here night after night.

When they made it to her balcony, Ladybug made a move to go inside, but a hand on her wrist stopped her.

Turning, she saw Chat Noir settled on a lounge chair, eyes fixed on the stars. They weren’t as easy to see here in the city, but she knew he liked to spend nights caught up in their shine.

“Do you want me to get blankets for us?”

He nodded without looking at her, and it takes everything in her not to walk over and curl up by his side.

She moved quickly in her room, hoping not to disturb her parents. She’d kept a stockpile of blankets and pillows for nights on her balcony, and she was grateful to not have to stray too far from the blond that had captured her heart.

She slipped onto the balcony, nodding as Plagg and Tikki floated past her, presumably headed towards the bakery for some snacks.

Adrien helped her adjust the blankets until they were all spread out, and the friends could lay out on the cushioned ground.

It was easy to pretend, especially when they were snuggled under blankets and watching a movie or curled up and talking about their feelings on rooftops. It was easy to forget they were just partners, friends, and that was the extent of it. No matter how much her heart wanted more, it didn’t matter.

She wasn’t going to rush him, to risk the balance they had. She didn’t want to scare him away from the only support system he seemed to have.

Marinette had forgotten to grab her laptop, but snuggled under these blankets with him, their kwamis having returned and curled on their laps, she was content to just live in this moment.

She slowly reached out to run her fingers through his hair, listening as his breathing evened out. She’d noticed the dark bags under his eyes a while ago, but he hadn’t mentioned anything, so she pretended to not notice how often he fell asleep when they were together.

She tried to ignore her heart whispering they were better, more complete, together. That his state of relaxation was related to how perfect they were for eachother, as if the strength of their partnership with the masks equaled the safety they felt in the other’s arms.

Peeking up to look at his face, Marinette realized he was fully asleep. She hoped the same was true for Plagg and Tikki, but wasn’t brave enough to check, not wanting to find two sets of us peering up at her.

“I know I’m not what you wanted,” she whispered, hoping not to wake him. If her words brushed past his dreams, she was sure she didn’t mind. “But you deserve so much, so much more than the legacy you’ve been left behind to clean up. You deserve all the love in your life, possibly more. Do you even see how much love is out there? From Nino, Alya, our classmates? The love they have for such a good friend? From my parents? I’m pretty sure some of the recipes my dad has shared with you are ones that I’ve never been told. Even the love I -'' she froze, listening to his breathing, but it didn’t change. “Even the love I have for you.

“Love comes in many forms, and you deserve them all.”

She sighed, shifting slightly to lean against his chest.

“Loving you, it’s always been so easy. That moment with the umbrella, how fitting the crack of thunder was, unexpected and quick, just like the love I felt for Adrien. It wasn’t the model looks, but the sweetness, your smile, how nice you were to be when I didn’t deserve it. And Chat Noir,” Marinette smiled, playing with a loose thread on one of the blankets. “It wasn’t out of convenience, or you wearing me down, but who you are. The puns, the optimism. Your heart, how thoughtful you are as you check in with the Akuma victims, the first to remind them that it wasn’t their fault. Those moments we got to share, on patrols or against Akumas. Chat crept up on me, too slowly to notice, until one day I turned around and there it was, undeniable. You and me against the world, right?

“To think, I got the oppourtunity to fall in love with someone as amazing as you, twice.” She sighed again, letting herself be lost in the memories.

“I’ve spent so long picturing a future, a future with you, both versions of you. Dancing in the soft lights of Paris, coming home to sweet smiles, the small patter of feet. Even the smell of camenbert haunting my dreams.” Marinette sniffed, smiling to herself. She could feel Plagg snuggle closer, softly bunching the blanket.

She reached her free hand down to brush against both of the kwamis.

“But it doesn’t matter. Loving you, it could be so easy, but you deserve more. More than me, more than just someone that’s nearby. I’ll spend my life making sure you know how loved you are, even if it’s from a distance. Love isn’t because of or in spite of, it’s just there.”

She ran her fingers through his hair again. “Loving you was easy, but this could be enough. I love you enough that knowing you’re happy would be enough.”

Marinette startled when she felt something wet on her arm. Looking up, she was met with green eyes. She froze, caught in his gaze.

He opened his mouth to speak, but she recovered quickly.

“How much did you hear?”

“Do you mean it?” His voice was thick, his eyes still shining.

She looked in his eyes, but she didn’t know what she was looking for. After a moment, she blushed, looking away.

“Every word,” she breathed.

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous fanfic #miraculous lb #ladybug and chat noir #LadyNoir July 2021 #Day 23: Guilt #My Fic #my reputation's never been worse #so you must like me for me

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