#i would’ve fallen love at first sight sorry . But like. first person to fucking believe in him. he’s been dismissed by everybody around him

[narugen-moved]

okay i’m back to yap. not even image limit can stop me.

after that mina and ebina visit hoshina in the hospital to reaffirm her request from before the attack happened and she unknowingly dispels his fear that it’s all just one big prank. she’s 100% serious and she 100% believes the skills he’s been constantly put down for will be useful to their team.

look at his shocked face dawg im gonna die we love u ashiro mina… the fact that he probably thought she forgot about it… because he never believed she was serious in the first place

he lays himself bare and tells them what he really thinks about himself and his swordsmanship (despite taking so much pride in it) and mina slaps him with the fact that she believes it’s possible for him to evolve just as kaiju have and with a team that encourages his unique skills, he’ll absolutely do much better than with a team that only knows to look down on him (she didn’t say this i’m just putting my ship goggles on but it’s true)

i just think the amount of faith and trust they have in each other could kill a man <- me. also the fact that he rose to vice-captain position even after all the years of being told he’s nothing more than a burden in other platoons . wow third division i love you

mina has faith that hoshina will successfully clear the path for her no matter what and he has faith that she’ll be there to take down any giant kaiju afterwards… GWUH!!!!!&3;&; i’m sorry okay it’s about the loyalty the devotion the trust..

(trust and faith in particular, because we know how mina feels about betrayal)

bonus hoshina for anybody who read until the end. little insect.

hoshina/ashiro agenda b-side edition!

i have so much to say about this but i’m so happy they went into further detail about this and hoshina’s thoughts prior to this moment… the fact that he genuinely thinks she’s playing a prank on him is so ouch

but then we get to the part where’s a sudden outbreak and we see how ashiro views him vs how he views himself because of being constantly put down by the people around him - even his own father, someone he desperately wants approval from. mina however, even before witnessing his skills on the field, already believes that he’ll be an asset just based on what she’s seen from joint trainings.

and mina probably knew the answer would be that he couldn’t take down the kaiju as he was, but she asked him anyway despite ebina’s orders on staying behind.

and her belief in him doesn’t go to waste because without his help and his skills, she wouldn’t have been able to kill of that kaiju. she was waiting on hoshina to ensure that child’s safety like he promised he would and she knew he would see it through

tumblr doesn’t let me post more images so i’ll just continue in a reblog 😒

[the-witty-pen-name]

Deadbeat Pt. 1

Lee Bodecker x F!Reader

18+ ONLY

Warnings: age gap (reader is 21), smut/masturbation (implied/mild), cursing, abandonment, infatuation, alcohol, cheating, violence?, mild housewife kink? 

Word Count: 4.3k

Summary: You work at the bar at the edge of town, the Sheriff is going through a divorce and needs to rent a room. 

A/N: I’m terrible at writing summaries and I’m so sorry about that! I don’t think I would consider this a dark!fic, but it does cover a lot of themes, and topics that are darker than I usually write about- but I think that comes with the territory of writing about Lee Bodecker. I’ll make sure to update the warnings for each chapter and do not read if you are underage. I also ignored canon for this one.

There are no tags on this one, because no one has specifically asked to be tagged on smut fics and I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable!

I hope you all enjoy!

Tags and Requests are OPEN

“Get out of here Lee,” you spat, pointing to the door he just walked into the bar from. “You swore to Janie you wouldn’t touch a drop.” 

“C’mon (y/n),” he said sitting at the bar anyways, a smug grin on his face, making you scoff. 

“I ain’t having anything to do with you breaking your promise to that lovely woman,” you say confirming your point. You wipe your hands on the towel that was hanging from your apron. 

“Jack and coke?” He asks, looking at you with eyes that would be endearingly puppy dog if it weren’t Lee Bodecker. You shook your head. 

“A coke it is,” you say and he gives up trying for now. He regrets telling you on his last visit he’d be swearing off drinking cause Janie finally threatened to throw him out. 

You slide a glass bottle of Coca-Cola down the length of the bar to Lee and he grinds his teeth slightly. The sugar was always his temporary fix. You also sent down his way a small bowl of roasted peanuts, feeling bad for the mess of a man. 

“She’s gonna leave me anyways,” he grumbles and you shake your head, picking up on his attempts to illicit sympathy to coax you into giving him a drop of anything. 

“Stop giving her a reason to Lee,” you point out, gesturing with your hands to emphasize that he was in the same small bar on the edge of town he always wandered into on weeknights. He’d tell Janie he was on duty but he’d really be down in this little box of a building getting drunk as a stunk. 

“She’s the one who gone and cheated,” Lee said in an angry tone, not towards you, just at his situation. “That Miller fellow living a few miles down from me. I see his truck parked outside my house plenty of times to know he’s not just being neighborly.” 

“I’m sorry Lee,” you say with a genuine tone of sympathy. You felt for him and his pain. You knew the stress of the job he led and the pain of knowing the love of your life don’t love you. 

“She’s going to leave me,” he says, staring intently at the condensation on the bottle in front of him. “I’d been trying so hard for her and our marriage and she’s two timing with the neighbor when I’m out working.” 

“And the thing is I don’t even care if she cheated,” Lee continued, “I’d look the other way if I knew she’d be staying with me. But it’s cause I know she don’t love me anymore. That’s what’s hurting me most.” 

“Maybe y’all can work through this-“ 

“This was inevitable,” he says, cutting you off. You don’t point it out, cause he’s clearly distressed but normally you’d have no problem saying to Lee ‘Fuck you, let me finish Sheriff.’ 

“Do you got somebody?” Lee asks you. The question takes you back cause it wasn’t like the Sheriff to ask your about anything personal. He would come in, and you’d shoot the shit, exchange small talk, maybe some harmless flirting for a larger tip, but that was the extent of it. 

“No, not anymore,” you say, having recently broke things off with your boyfriend. “I was seeing Arvin Russell for a couple months, but we just broke it off.” 

“You’re too good for him anyways,” the sheriff scoffed at the mention of the Russell boy and took another swing from his bottle of pop. “How old are you anyways, sweetheart?” 

“Twenty-one,” you respond, not thinking too much about the nickname. He had a habit of frequently using names like that when he talked to the women in this town. You think it started out as a tactic to win re-election and then it just stuck. He nodded. 

“Yeah you two are around the same age,” he said, more so thinking out loud than it being a statement directed towards you. “Why’d you break it off?” 

“Beat up my brother,” you answered, “Granted, the little shit had it coming. Can’t blame Arvin after I heard how the asshole was bothering that sweet thing Lenora. But he just took it too far. Almost killed the kid. The boy saw red so I got myself out of the picture. You can’t be with a boy who does that to your kin.” 

Lee nodded understandingly. You didn’t interpret his actions or questions as genuine concern or interest in you, but that he was just asking you questions to distract from his marital woes. 

“I’d do so many things different if I could be your age again,” he chuckled in a self-deprecating tone. “I’d sure as hell love to turn back time and have myself go down a better path.” 

“It’s not just you, Sheriff,” you reply after collecting money another man sitting at the bar. You nod as a goodbye to the man, and then curse under your breath when he doesn’t tip you. “Asshole,” you mumble, tossing the few pennies into the tip jar. You walk back over to the sheriff and prop your elbows on the bar. “I’m sure everyone is this town wishes the same thing,” you say, trying to make him feel better. 

“I’d love to just be your age again,” he says with a sigh, and then pops a small handful of the peanuts in his mouth. “Young, got your whole life ahead of you.” 

“I’m not sure working in a place like this is setting me up for great things, Sheriff,” you chuckle moving to wipe the bar in the area where that other customer left. “A woman working as a bartender is equivalent to just being a whore according to the eyes of the Lord... at least in this town,” you laugh, using the towel from your apron to wipe the rings left behind on the countertop from the glasses. 

“Arvin didn’t think so,” Lee countered, trying to make you feel a little better about your position. “I don’t think so. Hell, people in this town are so uptight about things that aren’t their business. You’re young, you need a job and you have one. It’s that simple.” 

“I wish more people in this town thought that way,” you reply with a smile. “That new preacher last Sunday-“ 

“Don’t listen to that asshole,” the Sheriff scoffed, and chuckled when your eyes widened at his derogatory words towards the preacher. “He’s a showboating son of a bitch and he’s as phony as they come.” 

“Those ruffled shirts are the most pretentious thing I ever seen,” you say, letting out a big laugh thinking about when he is giving a sermon in what looks like tacky prom attire. 

“Pay him no mind,” Lee said, bringing the bottle to his grinning lips as he looked at you. “You’re a better person than he is.” 

“I appreciate the sentiment,” you chuckle. 

“Have a goodnight hunny,” another customer at the bar says dropping cash on the table as they leave. “Goodnight Sheriff,” the older man tips his hat and then walks out. 

“Have a goodnight Marvin,” you call after him, “Give my love to Loretta!” You clear the empty glass and drop the cash off in the register. 

While you’re moving around, Lee takes a moment to actually look at you. Any man with eyes knew you were pretty, but he ain’t never noticed before just how attractive you were. His eyes lingered for a moment at how the canvas waist apron extenuated your figure. He couldn’t believe this stunning young thing was stuck in a place like this with a dead end job talking to a deadbeat like him. 

“How long you staying for Sheriff?” You ask suddenly, pulling him out of his trance. 

“Uh, not sure,” he says, looking up at the dingy Luger Beer clock that hung on the wall. “Why sugar?” 

“Seeing as though your sober I was hoping I could trouble you for a ride home?” You ask shyly. 

“Of course,” he said without hesitation. “No trouble at all honey.”

“Thank you, Lee,” you say with a smile, making his heart skip a beat. 

He’d talk to you most weeknights and never had this feeling. Maybe he had but he was too wrapped up in his own troubles to notice it. You were such a sweet girl, and he realized what an injustice it truly was for you to be stuck here. 

The thought crossed his mind very quickly about if he wasn’t married- even though he knew divorce was coming around the corner any day now. If he had met you at a different time in his life if it would’ve been better. Instead of meeting you as an overweight, deadbeat of a sheriff which a drinking problem- he’d met you when he was fresh out of school, same age you are now. You all coulda fallen in love, started a family, and that would’ve been enough to keep him from taking up drinking in the first place. 

He knew from the beginning Janie ain’t ever loved him. Hell, he’s not sure if he ever loved her thinking back on the whole relationship. Lustful, without any sort of promise behind it and they both were users. They used each other. He knew he treated her poorly as poorly as she treated him. He definitely had loved her, that much he knew was true, but now she’s cheating- something Lee never thought of doing at all no matter how many fights they had until the early morning hours.  

As you maneuvered around behind the bar, locking up the liquor and wiping down the machines getting ready to lock up for the night, his mind played little tricks on him. The canvas apron was instead a pinafore, and the bar was his kitchen. He’d loved the sight, thinking about coming home to you instead of what was soon to just be an empty house. 

Hell, he wasn’t even sure if he’d even be the one to keep his house. The idea of finding a new house- buying one for you, and being able to start over sounded like a dream life. Hell, he’d run away from this town right now if you said the word. He’s sure he could secure an election in another town, he had the connections to make it happen. 

“I just got to lock up the office and I’ll be ready to go,” you say, untying your apron. He gulps and nods as confirmation. You disappear in the back room, cash drawer in your arms to lock away in the safe. He heads behind the bar to dispose of his empty bottle and the cardboard tray his peanuts were in. 

You come back, your peacoat buttoned and the sash tied around your waist in a bow you had made. You had a small handbag in one hand, and your work apron in the other. Suddenly, he was nervous and didn’t know how to carry himself around you. Undeniably, the Sheriff was developing a crush. He couldn’t shake the feeling. He wanted to ask you out on a proper date, but he knew with his age and reputation- it wouldn’t be fitting. He was moving way too fast in his own mind to keep up with. Just daydreams, he thought to himself, suppressing the thoughts of a future with you for now.

“Okay,” you said, giving the place one more once over to make sure it was all set. “That does it.”

“After you,” he said, holding the door open for you. You giggled, and once you both were outside, you used your key to lock the front door. He held the door open for you to take the passenger seat in the cruiser. As you buckled your seatbelt, he walked over to the driver’s side and then slide into his seat.

You were a little nervous. You weren’t sure why. This wasn’t the first time you’d asked for a ride home. Usually, it’s never this late. When you close, you usually walk home alone. You definitely didn’t live that far, but again that was more dangerous than getting a ride home.

You realized that you were worried about nothing. You thought maybe some would accuse you of something scandalous, getting a ride home from a man so late. However, this was the Sheriff and the streets didn’t have another car on it at all. The town knew where you worked and if anyone were to see you, they’d know you were closing shift and you asked for a ride to avoid walking home this late alone.

“Thank you again,” you said, starting up a conversation as the sheriff was backing out of the tiny lot that was next to the bar.

“Oh, don’t mention it, hun,” he said, “It’s my job to make sure you get home safe. Your house is the white one at the end of Birch?”

“The very one,” you say, looking out the window. There aren’t any street lights, and the only light for miles is coming from the headlights of the cruiser. You don’t catch Lee stealing glances at you as he starts moving forward.

“How’s your ma doing?” He asks, making conversation.

“Oh, she left,” you said nonchalantly, and it makes Lee’s eyebrow raise in confusion.

“Wait. What?” He asks looking over at you for a second before turning his eyes back to the road.

“Oh, I thought you would’ve heard,” you say softly, your façade of indifference torn down. “She left us about a month ago. Met a man from Columbus and moved in with him. The whole town was talking about it for weeks.”

“So, is it just you and Tommy now?” he asks, wondering what kind of a mother leaves her girl to take care of her high school aged brother on what she makes at the bar.

“Oh, he went with her,” you explain, “House is all mine. After the whole thing with Arvin, she decided to pull him out of school and he goes to school in Columbus now. She wasn’t gonna bring him but after that, she changed her mind.”

“They just left you?”

“I chose to stay.”

“No offense but why would the hell would you chose to do that?” he jokes, making you laugh a little.

“It’s all paid off, and my grandpa left it to me and not her anyways,” you explain. “House has been in my name for three years now. And if we sold the house, she’d just piss the money away. Besides, would you move back in your mother now, Sheriff?”

“No, I can’t say I would want to,” he chuckles.

“So, I’m just supporting myself and that ain’t too bad,” you shrug.

“Sounds lonely,” he comments and you nod in agreement.

“It can be,” you admit, as he turns down your street.

“You ain’t worried living alone?” He asks.

“You tell me, Sheriff,” you joke, “If I got something to worry about it sounds like you’re not doing your job.”

“Ouch,” he says and holds a hand clutching his hand to his heart dramatically. It made you laugh, and it made him smile that he made you laugh. God, he loved your laugh.

“Thank you again, Lee,” you say sincerely, quickly kissing his cheek when he parks in front of your house. The gesture takes him back, and he’s relieved you can’t see how red his face is. He’s almost angry at how flustered you make him and you have no idea. “Have a goodnight,” you say.

“Goodnight, (Y/N),” he says, a little shakily. You get out of the car, and he watches you walk up to the porch, your hips swaying naturally, and he bites his lip. He groans, but at his disappointment in himself for staring again. You disappear behind the front door and he hits his palm on the steering wheel, trying to shake whatever feeling this was.

He reluctantly drove home, not wanting to have to talk or see Janie. He knew he was just heading home to a fight for being out so late, even though he knows she takes full advantage having fucking Miller over. His jaw is locked, angry about a fight he hasn’t even had with her yet. His cheek still tingles from your touch, and he thinks about if he should just leave Janie. He could just leave, get an apartment nearby or something. He doesn’t even care if she gets the damn house. He’s bracing himself for another night of fighting as he pulls into his own driveway and heading up to his own house.

He fumbles with his keys in the dark. He thinks he had the right one, but it doesn’t work. He tries another that is the same shape, still doesn’t work. He intakes a sharp breath and tries the first key again- he’s positive that’s his house key. “Fucking Christ,” he mutters when the key won’t even go into the lock. “Janie!” he shouts, pounding on the front door. She changed the locks.

“Fuck,” he exclaims, stomping down the front steps and walking around to the back door. He tries his keys again with no luck. He pounds into the door hard and incredibly loud. He knows she’s there, upstairs in their bed, ignoring his knocks. He tries the kitchen window, but it’s locked. Every window on the first floor is fucking locked. He curses again and heads back to his cruiser. He slams the door shut and his grip on the wheel is turning his knuckles white. Does she expect him to sleep in his car in the driveway?

He doesn’t even think about where he’s going to go, but he knows damn sure he’s not going to give her the satisfaction of sleeping outside of his house in his cop car for the whole town to talk about. He just pulls out of his driveway and starts driving. He isn’t even thinking about what route he’s driving, it’s like he’s driving on autopilot while he screams out every curse word in existence.

By the time he calms down, he realizes he’s driving down Birch again. His muscles in his body tense, and he thinks back to your conversation when he dropped you off. Your mother and brother were gone, meaning you have two spare bedrooms. He knows he shouldn’t but the temptation is way too overwhelming. He has nowhere else to go. If someone saw his car… well, he’d worry about that tomorrow. Your house is two miles away from your nearest neighbor, settled back at the end of a long dirt road. Someone knowing he was there was unlikely. He had people who could save your name. It was all innocent. Janie kicked him out and he knew you had an extra room. Hell, he’d rent a room from you- Wait. That’s perfect. That solved all of his problems and yours. He knows you were downplaying how hard it must be to keep up with the house and by him paying rent, you could take care of the house. It was a win-win.

He felt so confident now and he was so proud of himself for devising this plan. He parked his car out front and then walked up to your front door, knocking gently. The sound of the knock made him now incredibly nervous. He didn’t want to scare you or for you to think he was trying to take advantage. Granted, there would be a lot more than financial benefits to being able to live with you, which he knew were selfish, but the idea of being able to see you everyday was overwhelming. It was the closest thing to the dream he was wrapped up in back at the bar. He could live out his little pretend domestic bliss, and you’d get the money you need for the house. He knew he was insane and this was probably wildly inappropriate, but he knew you were too kind to turn him away.

You opened the door with a small yawn, a yellow bathrobe secured over your nightgown fully, to keep yourself decent when you answered the door. You were going to call the Sheriff when you heard the rapping at your door so late and ignore the knocks, but looking out the window of your bedroom you saw it was Lee’s cruiser parked outside.

“Lee?” you ask quietly, sleepiness very evident on your mumbled voice.

“Janie kicked me out,” he said softly, “Changed the locks on me. Darling, I’m so sorry for intruding but I have no where else to go.”

“Come in,” you say sympathetically, the news waking you up quite a bit. “Lee, I’m so sorry. You can take my mom’s old room; it’s got an attached bathroom you can use too.”

 “Thank you (Y/N),” he says quietly. You close the door and secure the lock and the chain again as he looks around the house.

“Don’t worry about it,” you insist. “I can take you there. Follow me.”

You walk up the stairs, Lee following closely behind and he’s ashamed that he took the opportunity to just openly check you out again. At the top of the stairs there was a hallway lined with photographs in mismatched frames. You point to the door at the end of the hall.

“That’s the master,” you explain, “There’s a bathroom attached inside if you want to clean up or anything. There’re clothes in the dresser if you want pajamas- should be in the bottom drawer.”

“Okay, thank you,” he replies, looking down at you as you yawn again, and he notices how your hair is a little messy. The sight drives him wild.

“Anything in the kitchen is up for the taking to,” you offer.

“Look, (Y/N),” he says, “I know this isn’t the best time to be talking about this, but I really need a more permanent plan on where to go. I know it sounds crazy and out of the blue, but could I rent that room from you? Name your price. I figured… I really need a new place, and you could probably use another source of income to keep up with the house. Plus, it’s safer than living alone…”

“Um…,” you begin to speak, but you bit your lip, showing that you’re intently thinking about his offer. Everything he said was right. You needed the money, and he was right that living alone was dangerous in this town and living with the sheriff is the safest person there was in the whole town. People would talk, of course, but no one would deny that the circumstances were just ideal for the two of you and nothing more. You were an adult, a homeowner, and it was your business who you rented a room too. “Yeah, I think that makes sense for both of us,” you agree. “We’ll sort out the details tomorrow.”

“Of course,” he says with a smile.

“Alright, um,” you say crossing your arms around your chest awkwardly. “Goodnight, Lee.”

“Goodnight, (Y/N),” Lee responds as you head back into your own bedroom. He let’s out a heavy sigh and heads into your mom’s room- or rather his new room. He’d have to figure out how to get his stuff back from Janie tomorrow. He’d really just need his clothes and some other necessities. 

The room was fairly spacious. There was a closet and dresser. The closet still had some clothes of your mom’s left behind, and for the most part, the room looked fairly intact. It was like she up and left with just a few things. Lee shook his head, angry at how poorly you were treated by your mother. He pulls off his leather jacket, tossing it and his hat onto the bed. He opened up the bottom drawer of the dresser, and just like you said, it was filled with men’s clothing. He concluded they had to belong to the man your mom lived with now, more things just left behind.

He tosses a pair of plaid pajama bottoms and a white t-shirt onto the bed, and then he heads to the bathroom.

In the drawer beside the sink, he finds a new toothbrush still in its packaging, that he opens for himself and drops it in the white toothbrush holder on the counter. The towels are all clean and folded neatly on the shelf above the toilet. He finds a new soap under the sink as well, and decided he needed a shower to just wash off everything of tonight off in hopes he’ll feel better.

He strips of his uniform, folding it nicely knowing he’ll need to wear it all again tomorrow morning. He steps into the shower and turns on the water. The hot water just immediately helps him to loosen the muscles that had been so tense. He lets the warm water run down his face and back, just letting himself enjoy the feeling. He lathers up his body with soap and then it finally hits him that he was here, living with you, and then suddenly he’s hard.

“Fuck,” he mutters, resting his head against the shower wall, the running down his back. He was in so much trouble he realizes. As he beats himself off in the shower, his mind is clouded with thoughts of you. The way the apron at the bar looked around your hips, and the smell of your perfume when you leaned into him. The way your body looked as you paraded yourself around behind the bar. The way you have no problem talking back to him when he walks into the bar after saying he’s off the bottle the night before, just making want to shut you up with a rough kiss. The feeling of your lips on his cheek and he imagines your lips on his neck. He thinks about how your hair looked tousled when you just showed him to his room. He lets himself slip back into that same domestic daydream. You being his wife… married to you instead dealing with this goddamn divorce. The absolute sickening sweet domesticity making him groan, as he imagines his hand is yours. Why on earth did he think he’d be able to do this?

PART TWO

[julemmaes]

honeybee

this is a following to my modern au nessian called drivers license (part one)

A/N: YOU REMEMBER WHEN I TOLD YOU I WASN'T SURE I WOULD'VE FINISHED DRIVERS LICENSE? CAUSE IT WAS LONG AND IT WAS TAKING A TOLL ON ME. WELL, FUCK ME. I DIDN'T KNOW REAL PAIN UNTIL I HAD TO FINISH THIS

the song this fic takes its name from is called honeybee and it's by the head and the heart

warnings: abusive household, description of violence, hospitalization

have fun I guess;)

Word count: 9,246

the day

When Nesta had broken up with Cassian in the middle of the night all those years ago, she had never imagined that her life would change so much.

Looking at the sparkling ring around her finger, with that delicate tiny diamond set in the equally fine and elegant silver band, she couldn't help but think that she had made the right choice when he had gotten up and decided to leave.

She had never regretted that call and she certainly wasn't starting to on her wedding day.

five years, three months and eighteen days before

Nesta had mentally prepared herself to see him once the door opened. She had prepared herself to see his dark hair tied back in a tousled bun and his thick eyelashes framing his equally dark eyes, still they would sparkle upon seeing her - as they had done every time since the day he had found her on that library's floor.

What she hadn't expected to find on his doorstep though, was the girl with blonde hair and long slender legs bare of any clothing and her torso covered by a t-shirt that Nesta recognised as one of Cassian's. A shirt she had worn several times over the months they had been together.

He looked into her face and it was hard not to notice the imprint left by the pillow on her cheek, her tired eyes still heavy with sleep. She had been sleeping.

Nesta glanced towards the living room, completely visible from where she was standing, and any hope she'd had at that moment that Mor was sleeping on the sofa vanished into thin air like smoke when she saw no pillows on the cushions. No blanket.

She looked back at Mor, who was now staring at her with a dumbfounded expression, as if she didn't believe she was standing there in front of Cassian's house. If she wasn't sleeping on the couch, it only meant she was sleeping in his bed.

He didn't have guest rooms, she knew that.

She was sleeping in his bed.

Her ears began to buzz and Nesta's vision fogged as she tried not to scream.

She had known.

Pursuing her lips into a thin line, she lifted her chin upwards a little, daring the girl in front of her to say something, and then turned, starting to walk towards her car, poised never to return.

She could feel her heart beating in her chest like a war drum and every step she took felt like her legs gave out a little more.

She was tired. She hadn't been able to sleep for weeks. To eat, study, read.

Nesta had died again under the unrelenting weight of the loneliness that had found peace the moment Cassian had set foot in her life and that had swept through her existence like a hurricane, turning upside down everything beautiful she had managed to find.

She felt the sting of emotion build in her throat, the ever-growing knot of tears that couldn't wait to be released, that Nesta knew would explode as soon as she stepped into the car and his house was out of sight.

She was sleeping in his bed.

She had just tightened her fingers around the keys when she heard it, Morrigan's ringing voice, calling her, and then her hurried footsteps behind her. Nesta turned.

"You're making a mistake."

Her eyebrows shot up, "Sorry?"

Mor seemed to flinch at the tone of her voice, "You're making a mistake." Nesta had to laugh and didn't hold back the stunned chuckle that escaped her control as the blonde continued, "You shouldn't leave."

She seethed, "You're wearing his clothes." she pointed out, taking a step forward and then another, forcing the other to walk backwards. She looked into her eyes, frowning, "You were sleeping in his bed only a few minutes ago," her words spoken in a whisper, but the poisonous emotion and hatred that laced the words conveyed everything Nesta was feeling, "why would I stay?"

Mor remained silent, studying her face, "Cass should be here any minute."

The way she said his name. Cass, like she had some kind of dominion over his person. Like she was the only one who knew him.

Nesta couldn't stop the words before they were out, "Why?"

And this time she wasn't asking her why she should stay, wait for him to come back. No.

She took another step forward, "Why did you let him lie to me? Why did youlie to me?"

The dull, dormant pain she'd felt that month woke up like a child pulled from sleep by a nightmare and hit her full in the chest. That emptiness that should have been filled with anger, jealousy, betrayal.

"Why not ask him to leave me? Why steal someone else's boyfriend?"

And at those words, she recoiled, because it wasn't true. Morrigan had never stolen Cassian from her.

Cassian had never been hers in the first place.

The girl opened her mouth to reply, but Nesta didn't give her time to speak and raised a hand, continuing, "Cause I ask myself that every night. I wonder what he sees in you," she laughed, letting out a choked breath as her eyes filled with tears, "What else do you have? You're older, it's true. You're prettier, blonder, taller. Perfect." she spat that word out in disgust.

"And you know what? I knew it. God, I knew it and I was pretending not to. The way his gaze would occasionally wander when we were talking or the mornings when he'd arrive at school in his clothes from the day before because he'd been to your place and hadn't slept." she clenched her hands into fists and smiled mischievously when she saw Mor swallow.

She was about to attack, to bite, to strike wherever she could to regain the dignity that had been stripped from her, but a deep, surprised voice interrupted her, "Nesta?"

She stiffened, turning around slowly. She didn't want to say anything, she just wanted to run to her car, get on and drive away, but what was in front of her knocked the breath out of her.

Nothing. There was nothing of the man she had loved in front of her now. The ghost of what Cassian had been no more than forty days before.

His eyes were slightly wide and that excited glint Nesta had hoped to see when he opened the door was just a miserable memory, because the hazel brown she loved so much was gone, covered by an opaque veil of sadness and pain she saw every day in the mirror.

Her gaze fell on the slightly hollowed cheeks and deep dark circles under his eyes, the messy, grimy hair, the dirty clothes that looked like they hadn't been changed in days, and finally to the cast around his left arm.

"What happened to you?" she asked in a weak voice.

He sighed and his eyebrows drew together. His shoulders visibly sagged and then the bag he held in his right hand fell to the ground as he took a step forward, "Nesta." he breathed.

She looked into his eyes, "What did you do?"

He gave a half-smile, bringing his free hand to his broken arm, "I-" then chuckled, "You're here."

"Cassian." Mor's voice made them both turn, but Nesta's eyes quickly went back to the man.

She needed to know if he was going to enter the house with her or listen to her, should she speak.

It was as if he hadn't even heard the blonde. "How are you?" he asked her, taking a step towards her.

Nesta couldn't connect her brain to her mouth, she was like a broken record when she asked, "What happened to you?" because Cassian wasn't well. And she wasn't talking about the broken arm or the dirty clothes, she was talking about the light that she saw was going out even now with every passing second.

She couldn't move, but she wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him until he came to his senses.

"Nothing," he said with that stupid weak smile on his lips, "you came here- do you want to talk? Can we talk?"

She heard Mor inhale sharply and then saw her walk around her until she was in front of him, and although they were close, Nesta couldn't hear what she said. She felt her heart break a little more and wondered how it was possible that it wasn't already sand in her chest. All she knew was that Cassian stiffened and swallowed twice when Morrigan finished talking to him.

"I should go." she managed to whisper, torturing her fingers.

He shook his head, taking a step forward and the blonde's hand snapped on his arm. Both their eyes fell on that touch and Nesta couldn't take it anymore, she had to go. The grip of her lacquered nails around his jacket was overbearing, possessive, but it was also familiar to his body and he wasn't retreating.

She took a step back, intending to run away and never return, and lost her balance, stumbling on the grass of the flowerbed. She opened her eyes wide and saw the way Cassian lunged forward to catch her, but Nesta was already on the ground. She cursed under her breath and the urge to cry only increased when she realised she had fallen onto a yellow rose bush.

Nesta burst out laughing at the irony of the picture they were composing at that moment.

"Nes, are you alright?"

If it hadn't been for Elain explaining to her the meaning of flowers every spare minute of her days, she would never have laughed, but the fact that she was now removing the thorns of a plant that represented jealousy and betrayal while standing in front of the man she loved and the girl who had managed to take him away from her was comical.

She stood up perhaps a bit too quickly as her head spun wildly and a myriad of black dots blurred her vision. She staggered a little and it didn't escape Cassian's attention as he moved even closer and wrapped his hand around her wrist. Nesta held her breath at the touch of his skin, so warm, so rough.

He was looking at her with a wrinkled expression and she just wanted the ground to swallow her whole when he asked, "Have you eaten today?"

She looked at him in amazement for a second, breathing out a laugh and then turned her head to the side, biting her lip. Because of course he was going to find out. That Nesta was no longer living.

After all, this Nesta, the Nesta who was now staggering around like a desperate drunk in his front yard, was the same Nesta he had met on that library floor.

She snatched her hand from his grasp and without looking at him walked towards the car, "Goodbye Cassian."

"Nesta, what- where are you going?" he asked her, following her, his hands raised as if he could grab her, keep her with him once he reached her.

She turned her head and caught him by surprise as he jerked back when she pointed a finger at him, too close. "I'm leaving and I have no intention of coming back. Don't follow me. I was wrong to come here in the first place."

The shock on his face was like receiving a punch in the gut. He lowered his arms, defeated.

"Why are you here?" he said softly. And it was as if he wasn't really asking the question. It was as if his mouth had finally decided to speak the words that had been rumbling around in his head until that moment.

Nesta shook her head and a weak sob broke her breath, "I can't."

Cassian stood there as she made her way to her car and when she finally touched the door and opened it, feeling the relief of freedom, he met her gaze from over the roof. She met Mor's gaze and felt the world crash down on her again. Heavier. More imposing.

Cassian took a step forward, "Why are you here?"

And Nesta exploded, "Cause I still fucking love you."

Her voice broke on the last word and she didn't even notice as tears began to stream down her face, "Because I still love you!" she screamed, slamming the door and spinning around the car, "Because I love you and I don't have-" a sob broke the sentence, "And I'm not okay! But you seem to be doing just fine without me!" she squealed even louder, bringing a hand to her chest. "I'm hurting! I'm hurting and I'm alone! And I miss you!"

She couldn't see it, but his eyes were glazed over too, and as he slowly approached her, a lone tear slid down his cheek.

"Fuck!" she cursed, turning around again and opening the door. She took a deep breath amidst the crying and looked at him, really looked at him, trying to memorize every detail, "Goodbye."

He shook his head, "No."

And Nesta waited no longer, got into the car and drove away.

five years, three months and seventeen days before

Nesta

"How did you find my house?" asked Nesta, clutching her sweatshirt to her chest.

Mor, in all her beauty and poise, stood at the door of her house, with her own clothes on this time.

"Hi Nesta." she said, biting her lip. Not out of embarrassment, to keep herself from saying anything else.

She didn't move, "How did you find my house?"

"I'd like to talk to you," she continued, still ignoring her question.

"It's hard to talk to a person if you keep ignoring what they say."

The blonde closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, "I know where you work, I followed you here."

Nesta's eyebrows shot up, "I could report you for stalking."

Mor gave a tight smile, "But you won't. Can we talk?"

Nesta felt the sudden urge to call the police, just to show her that she could, but she only said, "Why would we?"

"Because yesterday after you left, Cass tried to get in the car and follow you and he can't drive," Nesta found herself nodding thinking about his broken arm, weakened from the sleepless night, surely not because she wanted Mor to know she agreed with her. "I had to pull him out of the car by force to keep him from killing himself against a pole. I've never seen him so shaken up in my life and-"

Nesta interrupted her, "I don't know why you think it's my problem. You're his girlfriend now, the fact that you're coming to me for advice is concerning." then she stepped back, clasping her hand around the door to slam it in her face.

The audacity...

"Cassian still loves you."

She froze, holding her breath and looked Mor in the eye. She chuckled softly, shaking her head, "No, he doesn't."

The blonde huffed, bringing a hand to her forehead and moving a strand of hair, "I'm not his girlfriend anyway."

Nesta smiled sarcastically, "That too, the fact that you can't define your relationship, isn't my problem and I'd rather you leave."

Mor laughed in shock as her eyebrows shot up, "You're unbelievable," then she frowned, taking a step forward to push the door open, "Cassian and I aren't together. We never have been and I'm fucking lesbian."

Nesta's eyes widened in surprise, then she quickly recovered from her astonishment and shook her head, "It doesn't change anything."

"Doesn't it?"

"No, Morrigan," it was the first time she'd said her full name. That she was saying it directly to her, "It doesn't change anything because he would still leave in the middle of the night to come to you," she shifted her weight on her left foot, "It doesn't change anything because he chose you every day and I'm sorry I didn't realize that sooner. It would have saved everyone a lot more time and effort." then she held up a hand when she opened her mouth to retort, "And I don't care if you're lesbian or not. Cassian loves you and if he doesn't love you with words, he certainly does with actions."

Mor stared into her eyes for a while, silently, then nodded slowly, shifting her gaze to the houses around hers. She adjusted her sunglasses in her hair and then looked back at her, "Can I come in?"

"Why."

"Please, I just want to explain why what happened happened. And why things have changed or are changing, but I can't do that in half a minute and-" then she frowned, wincing, "Look, I'm not doing this because I particularly like you, but because Cassian has saved my life more times than he thinks and than he takes credit for. Talking to you is the least I can do to repay him in some way."

Nesta felt something tug at her heart and for a moment she thought about slamming the door in her face and going back to the couch to watch a black screen, but then she remembered the sleepless nights she'd spent thinking about what she could do. For her, for Cassian... to the person in front of her who was begging her to let her in, and she stepped aside.

The surprise on Mor's face was a small victory on Nesta's part, but she quickly recomposed herself, closing the door behind her once she was in the house and telling her to follow her into the living room.

And despite the situation, Mama Archeron had not raised her daughters to treat guests badly. She forced herself to say, "Can I get you anything? A drink, maybe water, I have wine if you want."

Mor gave the imitation of a smile, "I'd take something stronger, but I have to drive. Just water will do, thanks."

Nesta walked out of the living room and into the kitchen, and once inside she leaned against the table with both hands, breathing hard as if she had run a marathon. What was she doing?

She had let Morrigan, the reason for her break-up with the man she loved, into her house.

She closed her eyes, clenching her jaw, begging her body to relax, and then, when she realised it wouldn't take anyone that long to pick up two glasses and a bottle, she moved.

Walking back to the living room was like walking a thousand miles without ever eating, sleeping or drinking and by the time she sat down, she was exhausted. That conversation could have settled everything as well as confirmed any worries and erased any doubts Nesta had about leaving that city forever.

Mor drank a whole glass of water before she started talking and it didn't take long for her to realise that the girl was just as nervous as she was. The agitation evident only in the twirling motion of her ankle as she sat with her legs crossed.

She took a deep breath, "I've never talked about this with anyone but the boys." Nesta realized he was talking about Azriel and Rhysand, as well as Cassian. "So understand if I stop now and then, these aren't things I tell lightly."

She could only nod.

Mor cracked her fingers, then took a deep breath and brought one hand up to massage her right eyebrow, where Nesta had always noticed the small white scar that kept hair from growing there. It was the only thing that people could tell wasn't beautiful about the girl, but Nesta had never believed anything other than that it only added to her curiosity in getting to know the deity she actually was.

Every positive thought she'd ever had about that tiny scar disappeared as Mor began to speak and a horrible feeling clutched her stomach in an iron solid grip.

"My father is an alcoholic."

Nesta didn't react. She didn't know if she should say anything.

"He always has been. Even before I was born. I don't know how my mother ended up in a relationship with him, but she's a lost cause too. She started using drugs when I was around six. I still remember it like it was yesterday.

"Keir, my father, has also always been a violent man." Mor took a shaky breath, swallowing, "He did this to me," she whispered brushing the mark on her face, "when I was fourteen and got my period for the first time. He broke a bottle on my head-"

The fact she’d gotten her cycle so late only sprouted more doubts in Nesta’s mind while her thoughts ran wild, picturing a malnourished little girl in that broken home.

"You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to," Nesta interrupted her, looking her in the eye, "I know you're trying to help me understand, that you're trying to help Cassian, but-"

Mor put a hand on her arm, blocking her, "Don't worry about it." she gave her a weak, sad smile, "I know I said I didn't like you, but Cassian loves you." seeing that Nesta was about to interrupt her one more time, she tightened her grip on her arm, "He loves you. And if this conversation ends the way I want it to, you'll be around for a long time to come. So you'd better be aware of everything, don't you think?"

There was something in Mor's voice that Nesta couldn't identify. She remained silent, contemplating her words, but then nodded weakly.

"There have been so many other episodes and I still bear the marks of most." she lowered her voice, clenching her fists several times. "If I'm here to tell you about them now though, it's only because of Cassian."

Nesta braced herself for what was to come.

Mor bit the inside of her cheek, "All the times he came to me in the night, all the times he left you alone at the last minute or had to come away in the middle of your dates... he was coming to save me." she said with teary eyes, "For years, they took turns as to who should come each time, between him and Rhys and Az. But when the other two had to leave a couple of years ago and only Cass stayed here, well," she sighed, propping an elbow on her knee and resting her forehead on her hand, "I feel guilty every day for what they do, what he does. I don't know how I'm ever going to repay him for everything he's managed to save in my life. My life itself. So I need you to understand that it's not his fault."

She looked into her eyes and Nesta was so shocked by everything she had just been told that she couldn't respond.

"The night you broke up with him," she resumed after a few moments, bringing a hand up to the neck of her jumper and shifting the fabric, revealing a portion of jagged skin just below her collarbone. The only evidence of just how bad the cut she had suffered must have been. "-I was going to die. Literally. I called the police so many times, Nesta, they never did anything. I didn't even try that night."

A rush of anger raced through her body at that truth. She knew she wasn't lying.

"My dad found out I liked girls, somehow, and things escalated quickly. My mom was half passed out on the couch and he had just come home," she paused abruptly, frowning. "The boys came into the house after I managed to lock myself in my room and while Az and Rhys were thinking about me, Cassian tried to take Kier down, that's why the broken arm."

Nesta's eyes went wide. For it to come to breaking a bone... it must have been a long night for everyone, frightening and scarring. She looked up at Mor, placing one hand on the one still on Nesta's arm and smiled reassuringly at her, but with a serious expression.

Mor returned the squeeze.

"I'm staying at Cassian's now, at least until the others find proper accommodation. We're all looking for a flat together so Cass can finally be free of us all." she said, fixing her eyes in hers, "From me. From everything."

Nesta nodded, then cleared her throat, finding her throat dry, "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Why didn't you tell me this before?" Why didn’t he, were the unspoken words.

Mor bit her lip, "It's my fault," she said apologetically, "I've been dealing with the opinion and criticism of the rest of the world my whole life. I didn't know you and all the guys' exes were always very quick to judge me without knowing anything at all about me. By the time I realised you weren't like the others it was too late."

"You can flip me off if this question is too personal, but why didn't you move out sooner? Why stay in that house if..." she didn't know how to finish the sentence, but it was enough to make the other answer.

"They controlled all my money and I was in no position to ask for financial support from the boys. I couldn't find anyone willing to help me get back what was mine by right, but we're looking for a way now. Az just got a job at a law firm, he just needs to convince them to take the case on probono." she smiled tensely and Nesta could tell that even that small act of generosity from her friend was weighing heavily on her.

Nesta ran her hands over her face, taking a deep breath as each piece fell into place and each question mark disappeared. Now that she knew the truth, it all made more sense.

But did that change things between her and Cassian? Did it change the fact that he had lied to her, despite for good reason?

She didn't have an answer.

But she did understand Mor. She understood why she had asked him not to tell her anything. It was the same reason she had never told anyone about Tomas except Cassian.

Looking at her out of the corner of her eye, as she poured herself another glass of water and drank it in one go, she made a decision.

She owed it to the person sitting next to her, to give Mor something back for the trust she’d put in her, she’d tell her everything about Tomas, her mother. The way her family had managed to heal and left her behind, alone, until Cassian.

She was about to open her mouth when Mor's phone rang and an amused smile appeared on her face. She lifted the phone so Nesta could see the caller's name and wrinkled her nose, "His ears must have been ringing, hmm?"

Mor chuckled and then answered, "Hello?"

In the deathly silence of the house, Nesta clearly distinguished the man's words.

"Mor, I'm so sorry about last night, we didn't mean to get drunk like that, I promise it won't happen again. I didn't think about what you would-"

"Calm down you overbearing mother hen," Mor said harshly, "but yes, it won't happen again."

"Where are you? Come home so I can make it up to you somehow."

The blonde smiled wickedly and looked at her nails before saying, "I'm at Nesta's."

A pregnant silence made its way into the room.

"What do you mean?"

"We're talking," the girl continued undisturbed.

Nesta had to restrain herself from laughing because she could well imagine the expression on his face at that moment.

"Mor, stop bullshitting."

"I'm not bullshitting, I'm serious, listen," and then she pushed the phone towards Nesta, who's eyes went wide, shaking her head. Mor nodded at her and she murmured a weak, "Hello, Cassian." before the blonde retracted the phone, bringing it to her ear again. "See?"

"What the fuck."

"Don't worry, I'll be home in less than ten minutes. I think." then she eyed Nesta, covering the microphone with one hand as Cassian began to insult her in every way imaginable. "Do you want to come with me?" she asked her with a hint of hope in her tone, "To talk to Cass maybe? I understand if you don't want to come, maybe you need more time."

But Nesta knew the truth now, and that seemed to be enough, so she nodded and smiled slightly at her. She owed it to Cassian too, to let him explain everything too.

Mor let out a squeak of happiness and then interrupted the list of insults that kept flowing from the phone, "Correction, we will be home in ten minutes."

“Morrigan-”

“Take a shower, we’ll be there in the blink of an eye.”

And then she ended the call without even saying goodbye.

Nesta snorted, "You gave him a heart attack."

Mor smiled at her, clapping her hands, "Do you need to get ready too?"

She looked at her clothes and thought that yes, she should have showered too, but furrowed her brow and grimaced, looking at her, "Actually, I wanted to apologize first. I know what it's like not to have the courage to talk about your problems and I know it must have been hard to talk to me. So thank you and sorry for calling you a cheating bitch."

Mor's eyes went wide, "He never told me-"

"Oh no, he doesn't know, but I felt the need to apologise for that too." she smiled sweetly.

The other burst out laughing and then they stayed at Nesta's for another good half hour, talking about their own terrible experiences with men, shedding a few tears and offering words of comfort only when necessary. They didn't notice how much time had passed until Az called Mor, asking if everything was all right. Overbearing mother hens, the blonde had said once the call had ended, but Nesta had gone to get dressed and now they were going to Cassian's house together.

Something had changed and she no longer felt the urge to slam Morrigan's head against the edge of the table every time she saw her, but things with Cassian would take weeks, months, before they were back to normal.

Or at least she thought so.

Cassian

"Cassian, where did you put... what the fuck are you doing?" asked Azriel as he entered his room.

His head snapped up, only giving his older brother a glance before he returned with his fullest attention to the room. He was running from side to side, tidying up as fast as he could, but with a broken arm, swamped with dirty laundry and cans poised on his fingers, he probably looked crazy now.

"Nesta is on her way here."

Azriel's eyes went so wide that for a moment he thought they were going to pop out of his head, "Meaning what?"

"Meaning that Morrigan," he grunted his friend's full name, wrinkling his nose when he found a pair of dirty underwear under the bed, "went to Nesta's house to talk and now she's bringing her here to-" he threw his arms up, dropping everything he'd picked up and feeling a note of pain in his left, but he didn't pay attention to it, "I don't know what she's bringing her here for, but this house is a mess and I have to shower and tidy everything up and find a way not to go crazy and make her-"

He froze suddenly again, feeling a gag of vomit rise in his throat after the unreasonable evening where they had probably scared Mor with all the alcohol they had ingested.

Azriel sighed, running a hand through his hair, "How long did she say they'd be here?"

Cassian shook his head, "I have no idea. I stared at the phone for ages after she hung up." he narrowed his eyes. "I need to wash up."

The other nodded, "Why don't you go take a shower and I'll clean up here? Rhys went out this morning and I don't have a clue where he is." he warned him, pushing him towards the bathroom.

Cassian had only grunted a vague reply to him and then gone to get ready and was genuinely shocked when he had come out and the house was actually all clean. He imagined that the two years he'd spent in the house with Rhys had paid off. He remembered how dirty and messy their room had been when they all still lived together.

He was tucking a t-shirt over his head when he heard Mor's ringing laughter followed by Nesta's controlled, but still lovely, laugh. Then Azriel said something else and they both burst into louder laughter and Cassian felt his heart tighten in his chest.

These last few weeks had been devastating.

When Nesta had told him to leave and never return, he'd had no choice.

It had been a matter of deciding between Mor's life and his relationship with Nesta, and as much as he loved her, there would be no way to convince his girlfriend that she had to go, that she couldn't let her friend get beaten up again. Or worse.

When he'd arrived at Kier's house, it had taken all his self-control not to grab the man's head and slam it against the wall and get it over with once and for all.

He'd spent the week after the breakup in bed, eating and only taking care of his body when others reminded him. With a broken arm it had been easy to tell everyone he couldn't do anything about it, but they'd heard him the times he'd cried at night thinking about Nesta and it had been Rhysand who'd told him to call her after ten days. He had simply shaken his head.

He couldn't do that to her. He couldn't drag her back into a relationship where his head wasn't one hundred percent present.

He should have left her long ago, he just didn't have the courage.

He heard Nesta's laughter again and shook his head, now was not the time to think about what had happened in Mor's life. He needed to focus on his own now. He had to at least try.

And if nothing changed, if he couldn't win her back, he owed her an apology, an explanation.

He slipped on the first clean pair of trousers he could find and then, with steps far too fast to seem vague, hurried down the hallway until he found himself standing in front of his brother, his friend and the woman he had been convinced would never leave him.

Her eyes immediately found his and the smile she was wearing instantly dropped when she saw him, but she gave a small nod, "Cass, hi."

He felt something break inside him and his gaze misted over.

Azriel gave a cough then walked towards the door, tying one arm around Mor's and pulling her towards the exit, "We'll leave you two alone, text me later, alright?" he asked, but he didn't wait for an answer and suddenly Cassian and Nesta were alone.

Alone after all that time.

He took a deep breath and stepped forward, opening his mouth to speak, but no words came out.

Nesta lowered her arms along her sides and smiled weakly, "I think we should talk."

He couldn't get the lump in his throat down, so he just nodded, pointing to the living room.

She looked well.

Not well physically, but she seemed to be more relaxed, more at ease than the other day.

Her cheeks were still hollowed out and the dark circles under her eyes so deep that the temptation to ask her if they could go to bed and sleep, cuddled up like they used to, so they could both finally close their eyes for real without regrets and nightmares pulling them from sleep was so high that he felt something crack in his chest again, for the millionth time.

He only wished he could hold her one last time.

When they were both sitting up, mere inches between them, Nesta inspected him as he had inspected her up to that point and saw the way her throat moved when she swallowed air, probably trying not to burst into tears herself.

They must have looked pitiful.

"How are you?" she managed to say, in a weak voice.

Cassian looked at her face some more, deciding whether to lie or not. He took a deep breath before answering, "I've never been worse in my life."

The muscles in her face twitched as she tried to keep her emotions at bay. She nodded softly, shifting her gaze to the unlit television, "I've seen better days too," she murmured, torturing her fingers, "Even before you came into my life I didn't think I could ever be this bad."

"Nes..."

Her eyes closed tightly. Feeling the emotion attached to that single word, her name whispered with that clear desperation.

She tried to change the subject as quickly as she could, "Mor told me everything. Why you ran away every time like someone was holding a gun to your head," she began, getting straight to the point, not wanting to waste any more time. She couldn't look at him though, despite the fact that there was now nothing but truth between them. "It was because it was admittedly life and death situations."

Cassian took a sharp breath, "I shouldn't have-"

"You shouldn't have, no," she interrupted him. "You shouldn't have, and if we had communicated in any way - if you had even tried to explain to me what the hell was going on, you knew. God, you knew, I wouldn't have blamed Morrigan. That I would have offered her a home if I'd known how serious the matter was."

He felt his stomach clench so tightly he thought he was going to throw up.

"I just want to be able to trust you." she whispered after a few moments of silence.

"You can." he replied immediately, "You can." he repeated, trying to convince her.

Nesta looked up at him. She licked her bottom lip, biting into the skin there a moment later and then shifted her gaze to the floor, "I miss you."

Cassian had to swallow a breath before he could speak, "I miss you too."

She said nothing and he continued.

"I miss you every damn second of the day. And at night, when I can't sleep, thinking about you, I stay awake until I pass out from exhaustion." his voice became rougher as he tried not to think about the day they had met, when he had found her asleep on the floor of that filthy library. "And when sleep doesn't come I regret and blame myself for all the wrongs that have happened."

"Every unspoken thing. Every misstep, every broken promise." said Nesta in a trembling voice. When her eyes fixed on him one more time, he no longer knew how to breathe when she murmured, "Cassian you broke me."

And the single tear that rolled down her cheek broke the last whole part of him.

He couldn't stop the instinct when his hand reached up to her face, the tips of his fingers brushing against her cheek and they both sighed, locking gazes.

And in an instant, the second his palm clung completely to her skin and Nesta closed her eyes, reveling in that touch and thrusting against his hand, Cassian felt every broken piece, every splinter and shard of his soul return to its proper place.

"I'm sorry." he said, extending his other hand to cup her face as well. "I'm sorry, for everything. Please forgive me." I love you, Nesta, please forgive me.

And as if she had heard him, she opened her eyes and nodded slightly before they both let go of a breath of relief that still echoed through the room when she launched herself forward, crashing her mouth against his in a desperate kiss that tasted of salt and love.

five years, three months and two days before

When Cassian had invited her on a date, this was definitely not what she had expected. After all, she doubted it was even remotely close to what Cassian himself had expected.

Their second-first date wasn't supposed to take place in a hospital, yet there they were.

Cassian was lying on the bed when Nesta entered the room. A tight bandage around his head was the only sign of the actual blow he had taken when he had carelessly fallen down the stairs in his haste to leave the house.

As soon as he saw her, his mouth split open in a bright smile, "Love..."

Nesta, who had stopped in the doorway and replied with an equally dazzling smile, felt her heart tighten in her chest at that pet name. The morphine they had given him must have kicked in. She took a hesitant step forward, clasping her hands around her bag, "How are you feeling?"

Cassian chuckled, turning to the nurse who had accompanied Nesta all the way there - Gwyneth, she had read on the label attached to her scrubs - before saying, "She cares how I feel."

The flame-haired girl snorted a laugh, "No shit." she said in a mocking tone, this time turning to Nesta.

She had the decency to blush under the nurse's amused eyes. After all, she had come into the emergency room demanding to know what had happened and where he was at that moment.

Gwyneth had been the one to reach her first and tell her everything she needed to know about the physical state of Cassian, who had apparently lied about Nesta being his wife.

The nurse wasn't stupid, and she'd told her as much when she'd realised that neither of them were wearing wedding rings, but seeing how terrified Nesta had been as soon as she'd set foot in the emergency room, she'd turned a blind eye and assured them that after a quick check to make sure Cassian was okay, she'd give them some time alone.

"She cares how I feel," Cassian murmured again, almost not believing the fact that Nesta was there, for him. Then he turned back to her and opened his mouth wide when he realised what she was wearing. He brought his good hand to his chest, over his heart, and whispered, "You are killing me."

"Try not to die while I'm on duty, please," the nurse muttered, before warning them that everything looked fine and that if he passed out they should call her immediately. She walked past Nesta, brushing her shoulder and winking at her, but she hardly noticed.

She only had eyes for Cassian.

When Mor had called her, telling her there had been a little accident, the world had fallen in on her. She'd kept it together until her new found friend had told her that they'd taken Cassian to the hospital by ambulance after he'd passed out from a very hard blow to the head. She'd been vague about how it had happened, but Nesta suspected that Cassian had already been late and had been running down the stairs when he'd fallen.

She certainly wasn't going to ask him tonight, because her non-boyfriend was out of it and completely high on drugs. And the only thing she cared about at that moment was that constant sound of the machines monitoring his heart, assuring her that he was alive, breathing.

The second the door closed behind her, Nesta moved and it wasn't even five minutes before she found herself lying next to him on the bed, her heels forgotten on the floor as Cassian wrapped his good arm around her and intertwined their fingers.

She rested her head on his chest and felt the way his lungs released a sigh of relief at the contact of their bodies. She could feel the beat of his heart, rapid and steady, alive, beneath her fingers.

They weren't saying anything to each other, and Nesta knew there was no need to.

In the end, it had always been like that between them. Their mere companionship was more than enough.

It wasn't until an hour later, when she began to close her eyes, that Cassian moved his other arm up to touch her shoulder, drawing her attention.

She lifted her head enough to rest her chin on his chest, and when she met Cassian's eyes, she smiled faintly at the expression of pure love and devotion that shone on his face.

She saw the way his Adam's apple moved up and then down as he swallowed and the way his eyelids flickered and he hunched his shoulders, wrapping his arms around her body. Before Cassian could speak, she did, "I love you."

And maybe it was the moment, the emotion that had surely both built up in the weeks leading up to their date that had ended in ruin, the sheer desperation and loneliness they had felt in that long month away from each other, but Cassian closed his eyes, nodding softly, "I love you, Nesta."

She leaned higher, stretching her neck towards him and pressing their bodies together until her mouth brushed against his. The kiss was not hasty, not desperate like the emotions racing through their hearts. It was like a window to the future. Their lips moved slowly in harmony, without worry, without urgency in that infinite kiss.

Because they both knew that there would be no one else for the rest of their days and they had all the time in the world to show each other the strong emotions of life. In that moment, they were each other's calm and strength.

When they broke away, it was only because Gwyneth had brought them food. If cherry jelly could be considered food. Either way, they'd been forced to interrupt their make out session to stock up on some sweet, clear edible stuff, which Nesta had devoured like few things in her life. Cassian had left her half of his portion and then they had snuggled back under the covers, talking about this and that, happy just to be both alive in this cruel world.

four years, six months and twenty-one days earlier

"When did you say they were coming?"

Nesta shifted her gaze to Mor's face, who kept her head resting on her thighs while her very long, very smooth legs remained on display against the wall of their living room. The position couldn't have been the best, especially considering the amount of alcohol her friend had swallowed, but the blonde had promised not to vomit on her so Nesta had no choice but to accept her temporary role as a pillow.

She shrugged, taking a sip from her glass, realising that the wine had finished. "They said they'd be here around ten, so any minute now." Mor nodded absentmindedly, toying with a lock of Nesta's hair.

Someone took the glass from her hand and she lifted her head just in time for her lips to collide with Cassian's, who had intended to kiss her on the forehead. They both smiled into the kiss and when he made to pull away to go and refill her glass, Nesta grabbed him by the collar and pulled him back to her mouth, making him laugh.

A cry of disgust came from down between them, "I preferred you when you weren't together."

Without taking his eyes off of Nesta's, Cassian told her to fuck off, adding shortly after, "Remind me who went to Nes' house to beg her to get back with me."

The blonde mumbled something not too nice and Rhys, who sat next to Azriel on the couch opposite to theirs, was about to retort, when the front door rang once and then twice. Az frowned, eyeing Nesta, "They're impatient."

Nesta shrugged again, a gesture she'd begun to pull too often and which Cassian said stemmed from her spending too much time with Mor.

That was going to be the night her sisters would meet her new group of friends from a few months back and Nesta knew it would go smoothly. Elain would be her usual kind and festive self and Feyre would have everyone in that room wrapped around her fingers in a matter of seconds. She didn't have to worry.

Besides, the only opinion she really cared about was her boyfriend's, and Cassian had had a chance to get to know his sisters well before their breakup.

Rhys had gotten up, staggering just enough to go answer the door, but Cassian had already done the honors, and when the youngest of the brothers looked up at the newcomers, he stumbled over his own steps for a completely different reason than the alcohol in his veins.

Feyre Archeron stood at the entrance to the living room in all her beauty. The tight black dress she had chosen to wear showed off everything the younger of the sisters had to offer and Rhysand looked more than ready to pick up every bit of whatever she threw at him.

Elain walked past her with nonchalance, greeting Cassian with a chaste kiss on the cheek, then introducing herself to Azriel and Mor, who had pulled herself up to hold her in a breathless hug.

Nesta felt Feyre's gaze on her and turned to her, waving whimsically. Feyre chuckled, shaking her head, "How much have you had to drink already?"

Nesta would have replied that she didn't know if Rhysand hadn't lunged forward towards her, risking bumping into Cassian, who was returning from the kitchen with a chalice full of wine for her and her sister.

Her boyfriend's eyes went wide, "What the fuck, Rhys, be careful."

But it was as if no one but Feyre existed for the man anymore.

Feyre stepped back, eyeing Cassian and taking the glass with a simple thank you. Az had approached as well, but as he tried to speak, Rhys interrupted him.

"Hello Feyre darling, I'm Rhysand."

Nesta rolled her eyes, just as Mor did beside her, and Elain chuckled.

Meanwhile, Feyre had never seemed so hesitant in her life. Nesta saw the moment she decided to let go and reached out to shake Rhysand's hand. And then Feyre used the voice that Nesta had only ever heard her use when her sister wanted to get something out of the evening and understood perfectly well how it was going to turn out in a few hours. "Feyre, but I assume you already knew that."

The look Rhys gave her and the nod of assent he did made her think that maybe they wouldn't even wait hours, but mere minutes before leaving the party to go find somewhere more secluded.

When the introductions were over, Cassian took a seat next to her, forcibly pushing Mor away until Nesta was clear of everyone else. Circling her shoulders with one arm and pulling her as close to him as possible, Nesta soon found herself sitting on his lap, sipping wine as one of his hands rested on her thigh, massaging circles with his thumb.

Hours passed between board games and indecent jokes exchanged between the younger in the room and Nesta thought she could never be happier than she was in that moment.

Relaxed as she was, it didn't take Nesta long to let herself go completely and when Elain and Azriel also started talking about their partners respectively, sharing funny stories on how they met, she closed her eyes as well, lulled by Cassian's breath on her face and the fleeting kisses he occasionally left on her cheek.

She could feel his eyes on her, but she couldn't find the strength to open hers, and it wasn't until Feyre and Rhys had left and Mor and Azriel had offered Elain a ride that Cassian held her tighter in his arms and carried her to their room, where a bed that had smelled like both of them for two months now remained unmade from that morning's activities.

And though exhaustion was at an all-time high, it wasn't until Cassian lay down behind her, pressing his chest against her back and wrapping himself around her, that sleep finally found them both.

the day

Nesta kept one hand on Cassian's shoulder and the other on his forearm as he rocked her on the dance floor of the venue they had chosen for their wedding.

A few feet away from them, over her husband's shoulder - husband, she was going to have to get used to that title from now on - she could see Elain by the buffet tables laughing carefree as she held onto Lucien, who was laying both hands on her ready-to-burst baby bump, talking to his girls. Nesta smiled as she thought of the countless times she had caught Lucien on his knees entertaining his two unborn twins with conversations about sports.

Moving her gaze to the other side of the runway, she saw Feyre clinging to Rhys, who was surely whispering to her about all the dirty things they could do in the wardrobe of that place judging by her sister's lost and giddy expression.

Trying not to think too much about Feyre in compromising positions, she found Mor and Emerie at the bar, drinking leaning against each other, exchanging jokes that Nesta knew had to do with the outfits of some of their relatives.

A little further on still, Azriel was pirouetting Gwyn so elegantly that she felt a note of jealousy. Az had a faint smile on his lips, but the way his eyes twinkled as he admired her friend's fiery red hair twirling as she spun and spun made her wonder how much longer he was going to wait before he proposed.

She was about to voice her doubts when Cassian's hands lightly squeezed her hips and she shifted her full attention to the man of her life.

Nesta's breath caught for the thousandth time that day when she looked into his eyes.

She raised an eyebrow in question. Cassian smiled, bringing a hand to her face and brushing her cheek, "You look beautiful." he whispered in a hoarse voice.

Her features relaxed and she smiled back, "You're not bad yourself, Mr. Archeron."

Cassian threw his head back, moaning awkwardly and drawing the attention of everyone present. Azriel gave them an amused look and Nesta waved a hand in mid-air, to say it was nothing fancy.

"Mr. Archeron." repeated Cassian, pulling her away from him for a second, as if expecting from that specific dance, only to pull her back against his chest a second later. "If I hear you call me any other name in bed from now on, I might file for divorce."

Nesta chuckled, moving a hand to his chest, "Of course, my love."

His eyes softened even more when they moved back to her face. And Nesta searched his expression for something to tell her that he regretted his decision. That he was lying to her and that in fact the idea of bearing her surname, of being linked to her, repulsed him.

She found nothing that day. Just as she would find nothing in the years to come.

Only adoration and love and respect for the woman she had become thanks to him.

acotar tag list

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[angelicamerlinbarnes]

Okay but like I feel like Diego is the kind of person to flirt with really bad pick-up lines and Klaus is just Not Having It

featuring: Diego being a flustered Mama's boy and Klaus being a disaster dumbass and the two of them being completely in love with each other anyway

DISCLAIMER: None of the pick-up lines are mine, but the responses and ensuing shenanigans are :)

(there's fifty of these so buckle up kids :) sorry not sorry <3)

seriously though some of these are really bad

#1: He A Snack

Diego: Baby, you belong in the vending machine because you’re a snack.

Klaus: Diego you know I’m claustrophobic.

Diego: Don’t you mean Klaus-trophobic??? *finger guns*

Klaus: *blinks*

Klaus: I want a divorce.

#2: I’m From Hell

Diego: Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?

Klaus: I’m a veteran addict and abuse victim who can see ghosts, Diego.

Klaus: Everything hurts.

#3: Animal Puns

Diego: *points to TV screen playing the Discovery Channel* Hey Klaus.

Diego: You’re my otter half.

Klaus: Diego those are meerkats.

#4: Stars

Diego: The stars are beautiful tonight.

Klaus: Yup.

Diego: You know who else is beautiful?

Klaus: Ben.

#5: Get Out Your Handcuffs Mister

Diego: You’re under arrest… for stealing my heart.

Klaus: Diego you got kicked out of the police academy like five years ago, just give up.

#6: Bad Boys

Diego: *leaning against the doorframe like a moron* So. I hear you like bad boys.

Klaus: Diego you cried because you accidentally stepped on a bee last week.

Diego: Well yeah but -

Klaus: You held a funeral for it. You made us all speak. You had Allison fly in from California. It was a fucking bee, Diego.

Diego: … I wear leather?

Klaus: So does every other kid who shops at Hot Topic. You’re not special.

#7: Prince Charming

Diego: Your knight in shining armor is here -

Klaus: One, that’s a turtleneck, not armor.

Klaus: Two, you’re covered in blood. That’s the opposite of shiny.

Klaus: Three, you smell like dead fish. Go take a shower.

#8: Chemistry

Diego: Did we have a class together? Because I could’ve sworn we had -

Klaus: Chemistry? Yup. Also English and math and foreign languages and history and like every other fucking thing because we grew up in the same sadistic boarding school, Diego.

#9: The Store Can’t Just Give Away Things For Free. That’s A Terrible Way To Run A Business.

Diego: I like your pants.

Klaus: Thanks. I got them out of a dumpster. And yes, you can have them 100% off.

Diego: *voice cracks* Really?

Klaus: No.

#10: Boyfriend Material

Diego: My jeans are made of -

Klaus: You’re wearing leather pants Diego.

Diego: Okay but -

Klaus: So they’re made of leather and they’re not fucking jeans.

#11: Digits

Diego: I lost my phone number. Can I have -

Klaus: None of us have phones, Diego.

Diego: I can… buy us some?

Klaus: Fine. I want my number to be 1-420-420-4201.

Diego: Baby no.

Klaus: *pulling out the puppy dog eyes* Pwetty pwease?

Diego: Fine, but mine’s gonna be 1-696-969-6969.

Klaus: I love you so much. Marry me. Have my babies.

#12: Love At First Sight

Diego: Do you believe in love at first sight or -

Klaus: If I did I’d have already fallen in love with a lot of hot ghosts.

Diego: - should I walk by again?

Klaus: You’ve been pacing for the past ten minutes, Gogo. I think if it was gonna happen it would’ve by now.

#13: You Have Fine Written All Over You

Diego: Are you a parking ticket? Cause -

Klaus: Diego I can’t drive.

#14: His Eyes Are Green Not Blue You Dipshit

Diego: Your eyes are an ocean, and I’m lost at sea.

Klaus: ... can’t you, like, hold your breath forever?

Diego: *blinks* Baby, I love you, but you’re ruining this with our childhood trauma.

Klaus: Well since you’ve refused therapy I just thought this was the next best option.

Diego: I take back what I said about loving you.

#15: Math Is Dumb And I Wish School Would Stop Teaching It

Diego: Are you a forty-five degree angle?

Klaus: Actually, because humans have non-linear body shapes, it’s impossible for their specific angles to be measured -

Diego: Are you high or have you been defiling Five’s books again?

Klaus: *blinks* Why can’t it be both?

Diego: *rethinking life decisions*

#16: Baby I’m All Yours

Diego: Do you have a name?

Klaus: Klaus.

Diego: Or can I call you mine?

Klaus: I mean I prefer “baby”, but sure.

Diego: *super wide eyes* Really?

Klaus: *melts into a puddle of glitter* Yeah, Gogo.

#17: (Not) Bookworms

Diego: Thank god I brought my library card. Cause I’m here to check you out.

Klaus: *through a mouthful of waffles* God isn’t real. We all die and rot beneath the earth to be eaten by maggots. There is no such thing as a higher power.

Klaus: *swallows waffles and takes a really loud slurp of an orange juice and chocolate milk combo*

Klaus: Oh, and the library’s closed for renovations til, like, Christmas so you’re outta luck, sorry.

Diego: I thought you met god? Little girl on a bicycle?

Klaus: Her? Nah, only Satan’s got that much sass. Plus, that wasn’t heaven.

Diego: And you know this how?

Klaus: *squishes Diego’s face with both hands* Think about it. Do you really think dear ol’ dad’s in heaven?

Diego: Can you let of my face please?

#18: Bad Move, Buddy

Diego: Are you a pre-historic fossil? Cause you’re my missing link.

Klaus:

Klaus:

Klaus:

Klaus: Did you just call me old?

Diego, backing out of the room slowly: What? No! No of course not! No, obviously no, absolutely not -

Klaus: *releases savage war cry*

Diego: *runs for his goddamn life*

#19: I Rate This 0/10

Diego: Are you from Tennessee? Cause you’re the only -

Klaus: I don’t know where I’m from. I’m an orphan.

Diego: Oh… I know, baby -

Klaus: And the piece of shit that adopted me lived in New York anyway. We’re in New York right now actually. Do you need a geography lesson? I think Pogo’s got a map -

Diego: Klaus.

#20: Oh Shit

Diego: If nothing lasts forever, will you be my nothing?

Klaus:

Klaus:

Klaus:

Klaus: *tears up* I’m nothing?

Diego: Oh no. No no no. No, baby, you’re not nothing, don’t cry, I’m so sorry, that’s not what I meant, baby - oh my god please don’t cry -

#21: You’ve Got Everything I’m Searching For

Diego: Is your name Google? Because -

Klaus: Diego. For the last time…

Klaus: My name is Kimberly Linda Aerealia Ulysses Saffron Hargreeves the Twenty-Fourth. I don’t know why I need to keep explaining this to you -

Diego, kissing him quiet: You’re my favorite person in the world, you know that?

#22: Don’t Make Bets You’ll Lose, Luther.

Diego: Luther bet me a hundred bucks I couldn’t talk to the prettiest person here. How do you wanna spend his money?

Klaus: Drugs.

Diego: Baby -

Klaus: *beams* Nah, I’m just kidding. Stuffed giraffes.

Diego: *grins* For Five?

Klaus: *nods* For Five.

Diego:

Klaus:

Diego: He’ll hate them.

Klaus: Exactly. Let’s go.

#23: Deja Vu

Diego: Have we met before?

Klaus: Yes. Obviously. Are you also high?

Diego: No -

Diego: Wait, you’re high?

Klaus:

Diego:

Klaus:

Diego:

Klaus: No?

#24: Such An Optimist

Diego: Are you a time traveller?

Klaus: No, that’s Five.

Diego: Cause I think you’re my future!

Klaus: *stares blankly*

Diego: No? Nothing? Nada?

Klaus: In the future we’re all dead dipshit.

Klaus: Because. Ya know.

Klaus: THERE’S A FUCKING APOCALYPSE COMING.

Diego:

Diego: Okay then.

#25: Please Go To The Hospital.

Diego: Are you my appendix? Cause my stomach’s fluttering and I think I should take you out.

Klaus:

Klaus: Did you drink water from the fish tank again?

Diego: *turning green* Luther dared me to okay???!!!!

#26: Suicidal Tendencies

Diego: Hey gorgeous -

Klaus: Let me guess. I should drop dead?

Diego: What?! No! Baby -

#27: Infinitely On The Naughty List (And Not The Good Kind Of Naughty List (If There Is One I’m Asexual I Don’t Know))

Diego: Are you Santa Klaus? Cause you make all my wishes come true.

Klaus:

Klaus:

Klaus:

Klaus: You have five seconds to run.

Diego: *already two streets away* Fucking shit -

#28: You Can’t Use That Every Time We Have An Argument, Tony.

Diego: Kiss me if I’m wrong, but dinosaurs still exist right?

Klaus: I mean, there’s one in the corner of our living room right now, so I guess?

Diego:

Diego:

Diego:

Diego: *squeaks* You - you can see dinosaur ghosts?

Klaus: I mean, there’s a chance that thing Ben’s petting is just a super deformed ostrich, but yeah, I think so.

Diego:

Diego:

Diego:

Diego: *tearing up* That’s so cool.

#29: A Whole New Kind Of Thirst Trap

Diego: I’m thirsty. But guess whose body is 75% water?

Diego: *smirks*

Klaus: *frowns*

Klaus: Hold on, I know this one…

Diego: Klaus -

Klaus: *snaps fingers* Oh, I know! Luther!

Diego: *horrified* What the fuck Klaus why the fuck would you say that -

#30: What A Tragedy

Diego: You must be a campfire. Because you’re super hot and I want s’more.

Klaus:

Klaus: Diego sweetheart, you’re allergic to marshmallows.

Diego: *tearing up* I know.

Klaus: You wanna hug, baby?

Diego: *crying* Yes please.

#31: That Can’t Be Allowed

Diego: Don’t tell me if you want me to take you out to dinner. Just smile for yes, or do a backflip/somersault/counter-spin gymnastics combination for no.

Klaus: *smirks*

Klaus: *does a triple flip and lands perfectly on the top of the bar counter*

Diego: *turns bright red* That was h-h-hot.

Klaus: *beams and jumps down into Diego’s arms bridal-style*

Klaus: *kisses his cheek* I know, baby.

#32: Merry Christmas

Diego: You’re the reason Santa started the Naughty List.

Klaus: *blinks*

Klaus: *pouts*

Klaus: No fair! He told me last week I was on the Nice List!

Diego: What? Klaus? What does that -

Diego: OH MY GOD KLAUS IS SANTA DEAD???!!!!

#33: I’ll Keep You Safe, Honey.

Diego: I lost my teddy bear. Will you sleep with me instead?

Klaus: *pulls out a stuffed tiger*

Klaus: He got lost in the kitchen. Don’t worry, I rescued him for you.

Diego: *takes soft tiger*

Diego: *voice cracks* Oh. Thanks.

Klaus: *kisses his forehead* You’re welcome, baby.

#34: Excuse Me?

Diego: The only thing your eyes haven’t told me is your name.

Klaus, internally: Shit. What if he finds out I stole like five of his knives and all of the cookies last week?

Klaus, externally: *blinks*

Klaus: Um… Stefonopolis?

#35: I Am Not Apologizing For This One

Diego: If you were a steak, you’d be well done.

Klaus: But I’m so unique…

Klaus: I talk to the dead, Diego.

Diego: Okay…?

Klaus: *smirks*

Klaus: So wouldn’t I be medium rare?

Ben: Ooooooooooooooooohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

#36: Leonardo Da Vinci Was Arrested Multiple Times For Homosexual Activity.

Diego: Is this a museum? Cause you’re a work of art.

Klaus: *dancing to the soundtrack of High School Musical 3* Actually Five took me back to Italy once. Leonardo da Vinci and I had some fun.

Diego:

Diego: Oh my god. Seriously?

Diego: *looks up picture of Mona Lisa, now titled Mona Klausa*

Diego: How the fuck -

#37: Why Would You Say That Though

Diego: Am I sleepwalking? Cause I’ve only seen you in my dreams.

Klaus: *sitting on the counter and eating a donut in one bite* Are they dirty?

Luther: *chokes on a pickle*

Diego: Oh my god no -

Diego: Well sometimes -

Diego: I mean no of course not -

Luther: *praying to whoever’s up there to just kill him already*

#38: Be Safe Kids!

Diego: Can you hold this for me?

Klaus: Sweetie, you need to wash your hands.

#39: Apocalypse Averted!

Diego: If looks could kill, you’d be a weapon of mass destruction.

Klaus: *blinks*

Klaus: I thought that was Vanya.

Diego:

Diego, panicking: Holy shit Klaus you can’t just say things like that -

Vanya: *crying from laughter*

#40: Attractive

Diego: Do you swallow magnets? Because you’re -

Klaus: *shoves him up against the wall*

Klaus: How did you find out? Who told you? Was it Ben? I swear to god I’ll kill him -

Diego: *squeaks* What?

#41: First You’ve Gotta Propose Diego

Diego: Wouldn’t we look cute on a wedding cake together?

Klaus: Diego. Did you buy me a cake?

Diego:

Klaus:

Diego:

Klaus: I’m waiting.

Diego: Right sir yes sir right away sir -

#42: He May Not Be A Kitten But He Is As Soft As One

Diego: If I followed you home, would you keep me?

Klaus: I’m homeless, Diego.

Diego: What? You are? Oh no, baby - you can come stay with me?

Klaus: *looks up from Disney Princess coloring book and raises an eyebrow* Is your bed available?

Diego, blushing: Ye-yeah, b-ba-baby. Whe-whenever you-u w-want.

Klaus: *smiles*

Klaus: *takes Diego’s hand*

Klaus: Okay.

Diego: *dies a little bit inside (in a good way)*

#43: It’s Just You.

Diego: Is it hot in here or is it just you?

Klaus, blushing: I -

Five: DIEGO. THE HOUSE IS ON FIRE. NOW IS NOT THE TIME.

#44: ‘Scuse Me, Mate?

Diego: You know, penguins mate for life. Wanna be my penguin?

Klaus: Eh. I’ve always been more of an iguana man.

Diego:

Diego:

Diego:

Diego: What?

#45: You Look Like… Antonio Banderas With The Long Hair.

Diego: How’s the most beautiful person in the world doing today?

Klaus: *buried in a Vogue magazine* I don’t know I’m not Antonio Banderas.

#46: What The Fuck Klaus

Diego: Do you have a map? I keep getting lost in your eyes.

Klaus: *hands him a Candyland board* Here. I stole it from Pogo.

#47: You Dumbass

Diego: I hate my last name. Can I borrow yours?

Klaus:

Klaus:

Klaus:

Klaus: We have the same last name, Diego.

Diego: *blinks*

Diego: Fuck you’re right -

#48: Okay But Diego Would Make A Great Aladdin Though

Diego: I’m not a genie, but I can still make your dreams come true.

Klaus: *wrinkles his nose*

Klaus: You can get me a pink elephant with jaundice?

Diego: *blinks*

Diego: What the fuck Klaus -

#49: HELLO

Diego: Is that a knife or are you just happy to see me?

Klaus: I don’t just have random knives on me Diego, I’m not you.

Diego: So you are happy to see me?

Klaus: I mean you just interrupted a very riveting episode of Sesame Street, so… we’ll see.

#50: It’s Always Best To Start With The Truth.

Diego: I love you.

Klaus: *beams* That’s all you had to say, darling.

[delaber]

Could you do like a short piece where Daveed and reader are a thing but not really a couple. And he ruins it by not wanting more but comes back and apologises. Thanks!

Title: Stepping Up

Pairing: Daveed Diggs x Reader

Note: Thanks anon! First time I’m writing Daveed. This was fun and challenging.

Word Count: 1.7K

Warnings: mentions of sex. Slight angst. I think that’s it but let me know

"U up?"

Two words and a question mark. That was all it took and you felt your heart start pounding in your chest. Your feet started moving around, unable to stay in one place. You had to shred the duvet, you had started sweating. Two words and a fucking question mark and he could make your body betray you. Two words and you were ready for him.

You had to actively remind yourself that you were in withdrawal. That you couldn't hit him back no matter what. That he hadn't treated you the way you deserved. That he was fine and sweet and wonderful - but a dick nonetheless.

Still, it was hard to resist temptation. If you finally allowed yourself to text him back he would be here in a jiffy. You needed it. You missed him. And suddenly everything came rushing back: Daveed's athletic body the first time you'd seen him jump around on stage, his smile as he had introduced himself to you, his teasing manner as he had thrown around millions of jokes to you and the rest of your cast-mates. How you had already fallen for his wicked charms by the end of the first rehearsal. How you had flirted desperately to get him to notice you, and how he had finally pulled you backstage and kissed you in secret. It had all lead to a daring affair between the two of you, Daveed fucking you roughly every day in between rehearsals and later in between shows. His long fingers curling inside you while you moaned his name, the taste of him on your lips, his demanding movements as he took you in various positions all over your dressing room.

And no one could know. Not even Jas or Leslie or Oak. Daveed had made you promise not to tell - that this was your personal thing. You had agreed and said 'of course' right before he had hoisted you up beside the powder room mirror and slid into you. At first, the sneaking around had been nothing but arousing - you one hundred percent condoned it; your only goal back then had been to keep fucking Daveed in your costumes, the blue revolutionary jacket always open against his toned chest, but as the weeks proceeded, you felt yourself wanting more from him.

You wanted to be able to snog him senseless every time you saw him. You wanted to intertwine your fingers with his in public. Treat him to dinner. Take him home. Watch movies on lazy Sundays. Run your hands over his abs in your own bed. Waking up to find him covering your body with kisses.

But Daveed had said no. That he didn't want those things. That he didn't want to engage in anything serious with someone he worked with. That you were just co-workers who helped each other relieve some of the stress that the highly demanding job craved. Nothing more. In other words, you deduced that you were his stress ball - and you got angry! You yelled, and you threatened to kick him out of your dressing room, and you even threw a small lipstick at him, but his chocolate brown eyes were so sweet and so kind that you eventually felt yourself nodding along to his arguments of how the two of you could mess up the entire production if you started dating and things didn't work out. You sighed and you nodded and you agreed with him. And not even ten minutes later had he pulled off your panties, bent you over the couch, and dropped to his knees behind you. A lousy way to make up for it.

You had let it continue like this for eight months until his contract finally ran out and you were no longer co-workers. You had been looking forward to this. On his last night at the theatre, Daveed had stumbled into your dressing room in his Jefferson robe. The door behind him had barely closed before he had ripped your corset open, his warm fingers immediately rolling your nipples they way he knew you liked it. He had pressed his pelvis up against you and whispered in your ear that he had been hard on stage all night, patiently waiting for the show to be over so he could come see you. And you had decided that now was the time; slowly, you had turned around in his arms with a smirk and you had asked him out seeing as you wouldn't be working together anymore. You had thought it was a sure thing. But Daveed had pulled down your pants mumbling "My contract's in effect until tomorrow," right before you had felt his tongue on your skin.

"So what happens if I ask you again tomorrow?" You'd panted as his tongue was joined by his fingers.

"It'll still be a no," he grinned up at you, apparently unaware of your aching heart. He was a good man. If he knew the effect he had on you, he would've either stepped back or stepped up.

"And what happens after tonight?" You'd asked.

"We keep fucking," he had grinned with a content sigh as he spread your legs apart.

That was five weeks ago.

Now you had endured five weeks of Daveed constantly texting you that he was stressed, or hard, or thinking about you. Five weeks of him sending you dirty texts explicitly describing what he wanted to do to you. Five weeks of you ignoring him completely.

And now you were staring at his text consisting of two words and a question mark, contemplating if a small toe-dip into your old addiction was such a catastrophe. You felt your phone buzz in your hand as another text from him ticked in: 'I know you're reading my texts. Please stop ignoring me I miss you.'

You almost choked. In the year you'd known Daveed this was the most sensitive he'd ever gotten with you. You read the second text over and over and over again contemplating what to do; text him back? Call him? Or keep ignoring him?

In the end, you decided to call him up. He needed to be told of. He answered before the fourth ring.

"Hey," he almost whispered.

"Daveed," you let out a sigh, "you can't keep texting me."

"I know. I know I'm sorry," he mumbled, "are you mad at me?"

"Of course I'm not mad at you," you said quietly, "but things can't go on like this."

"I know... Are you in love with me?" He said abruptly but in a soft voice.

You went completely quiet when you felt your heart ache. So he did know about it. He had managed to put two and two together... "it isn't fair of you to ask me that," you almost whispered, "you know I am."

Daveed went quiet too and you could hear his steady breathing on the other end of the phone line. After a couple of seconds he finally said, "can I come over?"

"I'm not sure it's a good idea."

"Please. I have to see you. I want to apologise properly," he groaned painfully, "can I please come over?"

Unable to resist him, you breathed a short "yes," and ten minutes later opened the door to him.

"Hey," his face curled up in a smile the minute you came into sight. He stepped closer to you, and pulled you in for a soft hug, "you look cute."

"Yeah, well thanks," you mumbled against his neck. You didn't want to reciprocate his compliment even though he did look awfully cute too.

He followed you to the living room.

"Whiskey?" You asked him.

"Nah, I gotta stay sober for this," he shook his head.

"Sober for what?" You asked quietly.

"I - ehm - I wanted to apologise. Like a man," he looked at you with a firm gaze, "I've been a dick and I've been treating you badly."

"Yeah," you nodded and folded your arms across your chest, "you've been acting like an ass. When did you realise?"

"It's embarrassing for me, but I honestly didn't realise before you started ignoring me. I was so used to having you around me all the time, and suddenly I missed you like crazy," he took a deep breath before he continued, "I was so sexually frustrated that I called a friend back home in California and told him about it all. I thought he would agree with me and call you stone-cold or something like that but instead he called me an idiot. He called me out for the way I've been treating you. He made me realise why you wanted to ask me out. I didn't even realise. I'm very sorry."

"It's okay," you said softly, "I know you didn't mean to."

"Good," Daveed nodded and looked like a schoolboy who'd just been scolded and you suddenly felt bad for him.

"I didn't mean to ignore your texts. After your time was up at the theatre, I wanted to keep seeing you - it was just too rough. I had to back off."

"I'm glad you took care of yourself. It's made me realise some stuff about myself that I want to change. I want to be better."

"And how do you plan on doing that?"

"Let me start by making it up to you," he smiled, "tomorrow's Valentines day. Let me treat you to dinner. Give you the proper date you deserve."

"I'm not going on a date with you just because you're sexually frustrated and you know I'm an easy fuck," you huffed.

"No! Never! But how about going on a date with me because I like you and I want to see where it could go?"

You shot him a look.

"I understand if you don't believe me but in the past couple of weeks I haven't just missed having sex with you. I've really missed... you. The goofing around, the banter, your infectious laughter. I want to treat you to a date. Let me take you out."

You looked at him suspiciously, "romantically?"

"Yes. Rafa was right. I have a crush on you too. Let's see where this goes."

A small smile crept onto your lips, "okay. If you're sure."

"I'm positive," he grinned and pulled you in for a hug, "fuck I've missed you."

@ramp-it-up

[nintendousimp]

Train of Thought…

Epilogue: Marry Me, Please?

Previous 👈 Master

Word count: 2,9k

Released date: May 25th, 2021

Warnings: NSFW 18+, language and some grammatical errors.

Disclaimer: All Characters in this story are aged up!

I’m sorry I haven’t posted in a while now! Life hasn’t been easy and depression came and gave me absolutely no motivation to finish the story until now. So my apologies for posting it so late 😅😅 but now I’m back and I feel ready to write more! So request are now open once again!

With all that being said. Please enjoy the last part of this now completed story! I hope you all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

It had been two years since Atsumu and y/n parted ways, and yet, He still remembers that day like it was yesterday. The pain he caused his now ex-wife was something he carried with him for the rest of his life. Even though they’re on friendly terms now. The young man knows his decisions caused the woman he once loved to carry her life without him. Time moves fast when the wounds caused by another heal—something Miya had to learn.

The day Atsumu found out about y/n’s relationship with Akaashi, he was sitting outside of the old coffee shop you both used to go to. Scrolling through his social media, he noticed a picture she posted of her and Keiji at what looks to be a carnival. At first, he’d denied that it saddened him, even brought some painful memories of the past. Still, looking at the photo she took, he can tell that her facial expression gives that of a woman deeply in love. That made Atsumu happy, knowing the girl found love once again.

Done with his coffee, Atsumu signals the waiter. As he’s getting ready to pay, he noticed the young woman making her way towards him. “I hope we didn’t keep you waiting long,” the woman says.“No, not at all. I just got done with my coffee,” Atsumu says. He approaches the woman and gives her a friendly hug. “Thank you for letting me spend the day with our son. I know this must be hard for you, but I very much appreciated it”, He says as he makes his way towards the stroller to pick up the small infant boy.

At first, the boy gave Atsumu a confused look. His brown eyes focused on the sight of the man holding him. The infant stared at his fathers’ eyes for a while before falling asleep in the young man’s arms. “I wish he’d fall asleep as easily as he does with you,” the woman jokingly said. Atsumu smiled at the woman who took her backpack purse off the stroller. “Got a lot of errands to run?” Atsumu asked as he slowly put the boy back in his stroller.

“Not a lot of errands, but you did remind me that I need to stop by the market and pick up some ingredients I don’t have for dinner,” she said while taking her planner out of her bag to write that down. “ Miya san, do you got any plans for today?” she asked while putting away her planner. “We’re going to spend the day with the team going over last week’s game; after that, Bokuto and Shoyo Kun would like to take the baby to the aquarium,” he says. She handed him the diaper bag while he took the stroller from her.

“I hope you guys have a great time; remember not to let him have too many sweets and don’t let him take too many naps, or else he’ll be fussy,” The woman said as she kissed the sleeping boy on the forehead. She said her goodbyes and headed out to run her errands; meanwhile, Atsumu stood there staring at his son in complete awe. Who would’ve thought that he’d be a father?

A few months after the split, Atsumu got a call from your ex-best friend. He found from her that she was pregnant and gave birth a month or two after the divorce. At first, it took him by surprise. It had been almost a year since he last saw her, let alone heard from her. To drop these kinds of news really took everything in his willpower not to freak out.

As soon as Atsumu got off the phone with the woman. He immediately dropped everything and called his younger brother to let him know of the news. At first, Osamu didn’t know how to react to his older brother’s statement. The younger brother didn’t know whether to be disappointed or happy for his brother. To think the world was punishing Atsumu was an understatement. Osamu never believed that a pregnancy would come out of his brothers’ infidelity; he never thought of his brother as the father-type man; nevertheless, he decided it was better to advise his twin brother to take responsibility and be in his sons’ life.

Even if it was the right thing to take responsibility for his son, Atsumu felt like he’s betrayed y/n once again. She often wished to have his children; he remembers the times she’d get up in the morning to check on her cycle to see if she were ovulating. He also recalled that one time you both went shopping at a mall in Tokyo. He thought he lost the girl that day. He later found her in a baby store, looking at the baby outfits. Atsumu saw the joy in y/ns eyes when she picked out and bought two of the infant outfits.

The whole way home, they both talked about baby names and what future their children would have. She had even joked that his genetics would take over their children, and they’d end up being in love with the volleyball like their father. It made Atsumu so happy to know that she daydreamed about having a family with him. At the time, he would’ve wanted nothing more than to give her the life she wanted with him. He would’ve done anything to have children with her, but dreams can become the worst of nightmares.

The disappointment of finding out you would never become a mother really took a toll on you. You had become so depressed you rarely left the house. It took Atsumu months to get you to agree to do something with your free time. Around that time, you begin to take an interest in writing your book while your husband was out of town for volleyball tournaments. Neither Atsumu nor you noticed that you both had distanced yourselves from the other. You both did however noticed how often you’d get into arguments and days where you’d much rather spend your time working away from home than be in the same room as the other.

That night you didn’t come home was all it took for Atsumu to break the bond that shared your marriage. He knew what he’d done; he cheated on you. Atsumu wasn’t dumb, but he found comfort in her. The nights he spent with her (although it was so wrong of him to do!) were nights he felt loved. Atsumu has always had a talent for reading people. It’s what makes him one of the greatest setters in Japan. Your best friend was no different. He knew that she was falling in love with him. However, he told her many times that she meant nothing to him. He knew as well that he was falling for her too.

To avoid feeling that way, he always made sure to remind her every time after they’d fuck that he’d never leave you and never to think otherwise. He knew what he felt for her was more like a coping mechanism rather than love. It was lust and being loved by another woman, something he became so dependant on.

Even though it’s a thing of the past now, Atsumu is happy being a father. “Yer the one person I love the most, I hope you know that, my mini-me,” he said to his sleepy son. “Let us go meet up with your crazy uncles, or they’ll never leave me alone,” Atsumu said while pushing the stroller onto the sidewalk.

When it came to y/n’s love, Atsumu knew there was no way he’d ever win her back. Especially now that her relationship with Keiji is getting pretty serious. The only good thing from his relationship with your now ex-best friend is the child they now co-parent together. At the end of the day, nothing mattered more to Miya Atsumu than his son.

…

The night Keiji came clean of his feelings for y/n, He remembers he smiled at the fact that she was a blushing mess, like a high school girl getting her first confession. That’s what she reminded him of. It was even more shocking for him to know that the girl reciprocated his feelings back. The happiness she brought him that night was one he wanted to keep experiencing with her for many lifetimes to come.

Later that night, he was driving the girl home from the date. Akaashi remembered she had fallen asleep on the passenger seat. Even though he was focused on the road, Keiji couldn’t stop glancing at her every chance he got. He’d always found y/n so beautiful. To the man, this was a surreal moment. He never thought he’d be in love, let alone his feelings be reciprocated back. With just one look from the girl, the man became foolishly in love with her. Keiji dreaded the drive to her house. Part of him wished the morning would never come. He wanted to keep her, even if it was for just a little longer.

When they arrived at y/n’s place. Keji noticed the girl was still sleeping; seeing how peaceful she looked, he decided it would be best to carry the girl and bring her inside. He got out of his car and walked to the front door. Once he unlocked the door, he returned to his car and opened the passenger door. Akaashi unbuckled the girls’ seat belt while trying not to make too much noise and gently picked her up. He made sure to pull her out of the car without moving her around too much.

He shut the car door and made his way inside y/n’s house. Keiji took the girl straight to the bedroom and laid her on the bed while taking her shoes off. Carefully he pulled the comforter from underneath to cover her up. Tucking a loose strand of hair that previously covered part of her face. He stood there for a bit, admiring how peaceful she looked. He leaned in and placed a kiss on her forehead. He got up closer to her ear and whispered, “Can I keep you forever?”

As Akaashi was getting up to leave, he felt the girl’s hand lightly pull on his jacket. “Will you stay with me tonight?” she asked while rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. He blushed at her request. Keiji has spent many nights with y/n. It was usually the nights where they would work on her book or when Bokuto came back from his many trips and wanted to spend time with the both of them. But they never spent the night as a couple. “Please stay with me tonight. I don’t want to fall asleep without you.” Keiji took his jacket off and placed it on her chair. He went to her closet and took out a pair of black shorts and his old volleyball T-shirt from years ago.

While Keiji was changing out his clothes, the girl was slowly drifting back to sleep. Before that could happen, Y/n got up from under the covers and went to get changed into more comfortable clothes. She went back to the room and found Keiji was already under the covers, reading a book he found on her bookshelf. “Ready for bed, sleepyhead?” The girl nodded as she walked towards the bed. Once she was inside the covers, y/n consciously moved closer to Keiji to feel his warmth. He found a stopping point and placed the book on the nightstand next to him.

As she made herself comfortable, y/n was fast asleep; or so Keiji thought. He felt his eyes get heavy. As he was falling asleep,y/n got up close to his ear and responded with, “I’m already yours, Keiji.” She kissed the man on the cheek. The girl laid down and went back to sleep. What y/n didn’t know was that Akaashi heard everything but was too embarrassed to say anything back. He couldn’t believe that she listened to what he said to her. He pulled her closer to him and fell back asleep. After that night, the man knew that he wanted to marry the woman sleeping right next to him.

…

A few years have passed since Akaashi confessed his love to Y/n. As of now, a lot of things have changed. A year and a half ago, before things started to get serious. Keiji had asked the girl to move in with him.

The woman looked at him, shocked. “Did you causally just ask me to move in with you, Keiji?” The man looked up from his computer and said, “yes,” and continued back to typing. The girl couldn’t help blush at how honest and causal Keiji became around her. Over the years they’ve been together, the woman noticed how Keiji loosened up around her quite a lot. He became more affectionate physically and would call y/n cute pet names like my love or darling.

When Keiji went out of town for important meetings, he always made sure to send y/n her favorite flowers to let her know he’s thinking of her. To say that she hadn’t thought about moving in with Keiji would be a complete lie. y/n wanted nothing more than to live with the man she loves, but her mind kept wandering back to the time she and Atsumu lived together. It made her realized she’s been living on her own for quite some time. It made sense to moving in together, but why couldn’t she tell him yes already?

By now, Keiji felt the room go silent. He got up from his chair and walked to the sofa, and sat next to the girl. Placing his large hand on top of hers. “I’m sorry for suggesting us moving in together. I should’ve known it was too soon.” He said. “I want nothing more than for us to live under the same roof finally. But are you sure you want this Akaashi?” y/n asked. She reached to grab his face. It didn’t even take him a second for him to lean into her touch.

“I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t sure, my love. It wouldn’t make much of a difference since a lot of your stuff is already at my place.” The girl chuckled at the man’s comment. She pulled his right arm and leaned her face on his large hand. Keiji rubbed circles on her cheek as she stared lovingly into his eyes. “Let’s move the rest of my stuff this weekend. I’ll ask Bo and Omi if they can help out.” He got up from the sofa and pulled y/n up with him for a hug.

He didn’t need to say anything to the girl. She knew how he felt. Keiji couldn’t hide the happiness he felt that night when you agreed to live together. That weekend, Bokuto and part of the MSBY team came and helped get y/n moved into Akaashi’s place. It took her a week to unpack and organize all her belongings.

Living under the same roof took a little to get used to. Not once did Keiji regret his decision to live with y/n. Every day started and ended with her. The number of memories they built over the years they’ve been together as a couple made Akaashi realized he wanted to grow old with this girl.

…

The day their anniversary came. Keiji planned to take y/n to the ocean, where they had their first date. When they arrived, Akaashi found the spot where they had their picnic. He placed the blanket on the ground and signaled the girl to sit down with him. He puts the basket in between them, opens it, and hands her an onigiri. She thanked him for the food as she took a massive bite out of it. He poured sake into one of the cups he brought and gave the drink to the girl. They both ate and drank and conversed for a while.

Once finished with their food. Keiji and Y/n sat in comfortable silence. Watching the sky fill up with stars while listening to the ocean waves. He couldn’t have planned a more perfect date. He glanced at the girl who was still distracted looking at the stars and quickly pulled out the small velvety box from his jacket pocket. He set the picnic basket to the side and moved closer to where y/n was sitting.

Y/n laid her head on Akaashi’s shoulder without taking her eyes away from the view. He kissed the top of her head and rested his head on top of hers. Half an hour went by; Keiji got up from sitting on the ground and pulled the girl up with him. As she was stared into view of the ocean, He got down on one knee and took out the ring from the velvet box.

“Hey, Y/n?” Akaashi asked.

“Yes, Keiji?” she asked as she turns to look down in shock at Keiji, who was on one knee, holding an engagement ring in one hand.

“Marry me, please?”

…

And with that concludes Train of Thought! Thank you so much for taking the time to read my story! I was beyond static to receive so much positive feedback and I truly appreciated!

Summary:

L/N Y/N a young adult working on their first ever book with the help of editor and friend (Akaashi). Discovers that their husband has been cheating on them for the past few months that they’ve  been working nonstop. Heartbroken y/n decides to drown herself in their work. Will they be able to Forgive their cheating husband from his infidelity or will they approach the man who fell in love with them while working on their book?

© All fiction rights of the story belong to @nintendousimp​

Characters belong to Haruichi Furudate.

Taglist: @h0wab0utw3d0ntd0that , @brnda7rdrgz , @tsukkiswifeey

[itslieutenanthawkeye]

After Laughter

Day 1 of Jeankasa Week 2021: Reunion / After The Three Years

Ao3 

After over a thousand days of grief, Mikasa is able to laugh for the first time in years.

Mikasa’s heart was frozen in time, fixated, perhaps, on the man that had laid beneath the ground for three years now.

She’d almost refused going to the royal party organized by Historia in the inner districts, the one to commemorate the beginning of peace. Proposals from men swarmed her each time she showed herself to any event Historia invited her, and comments from people who hated her were even more prevalent. She didn’t like attention and it seemed that the older she grew, the more attention she received.

But above all, Mikasa Ackerman didn’t think she deserved the fun of that night. She could count the number of times she’d laughed since her return to the island with one hand. She wasn’t worthy of the island’s forgiveness, of the future it had to offer, not after seeing the horrors the man she had loved had caused, with the man’s head She couldn’t forgive herself for loving a monster, for mourning him still. Not now, not ever.

Thus, happiness was a commodity she couldn’t afford. Lovers of monsters didn’t deserve anything.

She wondered if the same thing went through her friends’ minds as she walked into the room, followed by two dozen pair of eyes. Traitor, A few voices echoed, giving her the urge to roll her own eyes. For some reason, jaegerists focused all their hate on her, going as far as using slurs against her whenever they saw her.

She didn’t understand it, neither did she like it, but Mikasa had learned to live with it. Maybe she deserved it, she thought gloomily.

Her feet took her to the first balcony she saw. What was she doing there?  Historia had invited her, but for what? What purpose did she have with all these people? She had a home, an empty home with a cold stove and a hard, colder bed, but a home she’d built herself nonetheless. She could’ve been knitting something instead of suffocating in the dress the queen had sent for her.

“Mikasa?”

Mikasa turned around, certain she could recognize that voice anywhere. “Jean,” she said, blinking in surprise at the sight of him. “You got taller.”

He wore a fancy looking black suit, which somehow enhanced the hazel in his eyes. “I know,” he said, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. “I must look like a big goof.”

“You don’t.” Mikasa replied, playing with the embroidered sleeves of her dress. “Welcome home.”

“Thank you,” he said, giving her the kindest smile anyone had given her in a while. “Armin’s looking everywhere for you in there.”

“I figured,” Mikasa said. “Did he send you for me?”

Jean lifted a packet of cigarettes in front of her, taking slow steps until he stood next to her. “I wanted to have a bit of a smoke,” he said, moving his neck one side to the other. “It’s a bit of a large crowd in there…and I had something different in mind for the first time I saw you again.”

“How so?”

“First, I wasn’t going to be reeking of cigarettes,” Jean chuckled, putting one in his mouth, struggling with what seemed to be an lighter. “Second, Connie and I thought maybe flowers would’ve been appropriate.”

“To hide the smell of cigarettes?”

“Good one,” Jean replied, giving her a sideways glance. “How have you been?”

His question was polite enough, but Mikasa knew of the layers of meaning it conveyed. She’d been apart from them for a whole three years, frozen in time and in grief, and Jean knew it as well as the rest of what was left of their squad. A cordial answer came to her mind, but she didn’t think Jean would be the person to believe a lie, not from her. “Lonely,” she admitted. “Sometimes scary.”

A crease appeared between Jean’s eyebrows. “Scary?”

“Sometimes I think I won’t get rid of the things we saw back then, and from the things I saw on the way back to the island,” Mikasa said without looking at him, knowing that he probably had his eyes set on her. “I see them when I’m asleep.”

“Me too.” Jean said. Mikasa turned to look at him and he smiled again. Suddenly, the music from the party became distant in her ears. “You’re not the only one who has it, Mikasa. The guilt. I see them every night, too. I feel bad for not stopping him earlier, I feel bad for not saving him. For still caring about him, too.”

“You as well?”

“I can’t imagine what it must be like for you,” Jean replied. “You loved him, didn’t you?”

Mikasa nodded; for some reason, admitting that she had loved Eren, to Jean of all people, didn’t make her feel as much of a terrible person. The syncopation of grief and peace was new, and not at all bothersome.

“Have you loved anyone since?” Jean asked suddenly.

“No.” she said. There had been more than a few men who had shown interest in her; they were handsome enough, good sons and brothers with good hearts, and yet Mikasa had never paid attention to any. But she wasn’t going to start gossiping about men with Jean.

“How about you? Any of you have someone back in the continent?” she asked, clearing her throat.

“Connie does,” Jean replied. “She’s a cute girl, a couple years older than him. I don’t know which one of them speaks louder, and I still don’t know which will get tired of the other first, but they’re happy. I’ve no idea how, though.”

A low chuckle escaped her, and Mikasa brought her hand to her chest.

“What’s wrong?” Jean asked.

Mikasa shook her head, undermining the matter. “I couldn’t remember the last time I laughed.”

“Well, it’s a lovely laugh,” Jean replied automatically. “I’ll tell the others to make a point of making it come out more. I’m sure Connie will help, also Pieck. She’s a bit of a handful, though. Lovely, but she does have a tendency to get in your nerves when she tries.”

“Are you and her…”

“Pieck?” Jean laughed. He hadn’t touched the cigarette he’d lit since the beginning of their conversation; and the embers of it had gathered in a heap near his hand. “No. She likes girls, for the most part. Besides, she’s not my type.”

“But do you have someone?” Mikasa asked, suddenly curious.

Jean turned to look at her, his eyes almost shinning in the moonlight. “How could I?” he said in a stark, unusually bitter voice. “I feel like I can’t move on.”

Mikasa nodded; she understood that better than anyone. “Move on from everything that happened?”

“That, and other matters.” he said, his eyes still on hers. He’d grown at least a couple of centimeters since the last time she’d seen him, which made him look even more mature, more like a proper adult. Years ago, during their attack against Marley, she thought Jean had finished with all his growth. But he’d settled more into his adult self even more during those three years across the sea. The lines of his face were sharper, his expression sterner and yet just as kind as before. He was truly a leader now, a diplomat and a war veteran. Adulthood suited him well.

The rest of them would be the same; they would all keep moving forward, growing, living life, and leaving Eren and their other fallen comrades behind, frozen in time as mere memories. There was a burst of energy in her chest all of a sudden; one that told Mikasa she didn’t want to be just another comrade left behind.

“What other matters?”

“That’s a secret,” Jean replied. “I’ve been keeping that one sealed for a while now.”

Mikasa frowned, curiosity growing. “Is it bad?”

“Is love bad?” Jean asked. Mikasa looked at him for a long moment, realizing how close they stood, how intently he was looking at her.

Jean laid his hand on the balustrade, his skin touching the hot embers from his cigarette. “Fuck!” he shouted, jumping up and down in the same place as he tried to shake off the ashes, cursing in both eldian and another language from the continent she didn’t recognize. He put the cigarette in his mouth, but it only fell apart on his perfectly white shirt, leaving a stain.

“Fuck!” Jean shouted again.

Mikasa’s chest jolted once, then twice, then thrice; each time, a little hiccup of laughter escaped her at the sight of Jean trying to shake off the hot ashes off him. She folded over herself, her eyes filling with tears, her laughter accompanied by snorts. It didn’t take more than a couple of seconds for Jean to join her.  

“Hey!” he said after a few minutes. “Don’t laugh at an injured man.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Mikasa repeated, laughing still, leaning against the balustrade and holding her stomach. She looked up at him. “It’s just…”

Jean smiled widely as another fit of laughter took over her. “Mi-ka-sa!” he shouted. “Come on, don’t laugh at your comrade.”

“I’m sorry,” Mikasa replied, catching her breath. She straightened and used the sleeves of her dress to wipe the tears that had spilled down her eyes during her fit. “You’re taller, but you’re as much of an idiot as always.”

“Am I?” Jean said, smiling. Mikasa nodded, covering her mouth with one hand to laugh a little more, using the other to lean on his shoulder to steady herself.

“Just as much.”

“Well, at least I made you laugh.” Jean pointed out. Mikasa’s lips fell open in surprise; how long had it been, really? She couldn’t remember one occasion in which she’d laughed this hard. Ever since Eren had told her he hated her—no, since before. Ever since Sasha’s death, or perhaps since before Sasha’s death…

“I don’t think I’ve laughed this hard in over ten years.” She admitted, almost embarrassed that her last memory of a fit of laughter was one from her childhood, from before the rupture of her small family. What a sad little human she must be.

“It’s lovely,” Jean repeated, smiling. “Even when it’s at my expense, thank you very much.”

Mikasa snorted again. “I’m sorry. It’s just…your dance, it was ridiculous.”

“I was on fire, Ackerman.”

“You were dancing, Kirstein.” Mikasa quipped back, surprising herself at how easy they’d fallen into banter territory. “Thank you, Jean. I don’t…I don’t think I remember the last time I’ve spoken this much. It’s weird to hear myself speak.”

“I’ll be here for a while, and then maybe a little while longer,” Jean replied, moving his arm to gesture towards the benches laid out across the balconies. “I’ve all the time in the world to talk, if you want to.”

Mikasa considered it, looking at his anxious face. Was he fearing that she would say no?

She couldn’t say no, not after what he’d done, not considering he’d been the one to make her laugh for the first time in an eternity. Besides, Mikasa realized, she didn’t want to reject his invitation. This was Jean, after all. She wasn’t talkative, but she knew he’d make up for it. “I’d like that,” she said. “I don’t have many stories, though. Do you?”

“I do,” Jean replied. “I’ve got a hundred stories for the continent.”

“You won’t mind telling me?” Mikasa said as they walked together towards the benches, separated by only a few inches.

“I’d love to tell you.”

Mikasa gave him another look. “You really did get taller.”

“And you really got lovelier.” Jean said. “Loveliest sight in a thousand miles.”

“Are you trying to make me laugh again?”

“I’m trying to give you a compliment.”

“Oh,” Mikasa said, lowering her face to hide the heat that had rushed to her face. “Thank you.”

“Your hair’s longer again.” Jean said.

“I was thinking about cutting it.” Mikasa replied. “But I didn’t want to, in the end.”

“Thank Ymir for that.”

“Why?”

Jean shrugged, smiling as he looked up at the sky. “That hair of yours is pretty.”

Mikasa smiled. “Tell me about the continent, please.”

__________________________

Armin frowned as he made his way across the ballroom, hand in hand with Annie. They’d been looking for her for the better portion of the party, and they hadn’t caught a glimpse yet. She was there, he knew from what some of the guests had informed him, but he couldn’t find her.

He wanted to show her their rings, he wanted to ask her to be at their wedding at the continent, he wanted to tell her of all the things that had happened in those three years while they’d been away. Above all, Armin wanted to hug her, to tell her, to promise her, that she wouldn’t be alone anymore.

“I think I see them.” Annie said, opening the glass door in front of her.

“Them?” Armin asked.

“There,” Annie said, pointing with her index finger. “On the benches. I think that’s Jean.”

“Jean?” Armin said, bewildered. Armin pulled him forward, and they walked across the balcony until they reached the two sleeping figures on the bench. Mikasa had her hand on Jean’s shoulder, while his head rested peacefully on hers.

“Should I wake them?”  Annie whispered. Armin shook his head, noticing the dark circles under Mikasa’s eyes. Anyone who knew her as well as he did would realize this was probably the first time in a long time she got to sleep peacefully. “Is this why he never paid went with any girls back home?”

Armin smiled. Back home. That was the continent now, for him, and for Connie as well. It had never been for Jean. To Jean, home was someone. And that someone had grown out her hair, and wore a pretty dress with embroidered sleeves.

“We should probably get them a blanket.” Armin said. “They’ll be embarrassed enough when they wake up though.”

Annie snorted. “I want to see that.”

__________________________

Mikasa leaned a little closer to the warmth to her right, which felt like sunlight itself giving her a hug. Dreamless sleeps were a bliss, a bliss she hadn’t had the privilege of in a long time. And the warmth next to her was soothing; an ointment for even the deeper scars of her heart. In her sleep, Mikasa smiled.

[gallavictorious]

Outsider POV Gallavich Fic: Captive Look

For a while there this spring, I was mildly obsessed with the CO in 10x03: you know, the good-looking guy who seems so completely unfazed by finding two armed inmates stabbing an old man, and then for whatever reason doesn't report it? (He can't have; Ian's parole wouldn't have happened so soon after something like that.) I also really dig his beard... Anyway, IMDB identifies him as Raymond and I've had this short little piece about him and his interactions with two certain dumbasses sitting almost finished in my draft doc for months and months and months, so... you're welcome? 2882 words, to help pass the time until the new episode!

You can read it below or on AO3.

---

It's half past eight on a Thursday when Raymond catches sight of them across the bar at South Side Social. He’s there to celebrate his baby sister’s birthday, familial obligation overriding personal preference, but after an hour of politely chatting with her increasingly wasted college friends over obnoxiously rustic-only-because-it’s-trendy food, he’s ready for a break. Catching Tina’s eye, he mimes lightening a cigarette; she raises an eyebrow at him and smirks. She’s a clever kid, his sister – the first in their family to go to college – and she knows him only too well. Knows, for instance, that he gave up smoking years and years ago.

Offering her a rueful grin, he gets up and gets out and spends the next few minutes breathing in Chicago’s poisonous evening air. It’s December, but unusually warm for the season, and somewhere underneath the dusty stink of exhaust fumes and concrete there’s a faint trace of melting snow.

On the way back to the table Raymond stops at the bar to order another beer, and that’s when he spots them, just three feet away. Two men in their mid-twenties, casually dressed and apparently in the middle of a not-very-serious argument, complete with waving hands and mock-scoffs. It takes a moment for the vague feeling of familiarity to click into actual recognition, and when it's does it's not so much their faces as the way they pause to look at each other.

It's not the sort of look you see a lot, especially not in prison.

So, well, he’ll be damned. It’s Milkovich and Gallagher. Cellmates, lovers, and occasionally a goddamn pain in his ass. Released, as improbable as it sounded, within days of each other less than half a year ago, and now laughing over drinks in a half-way decent restaurant in downtown Chicago. It’s not the sort of place he’d expected to find them in – but then again, there’d been a lot of unexpected things about that pair.

Not them hooking up, necessarily, not once they’d ended up sharing a cell; trading sexual favors for protection (whether voluntarily or not) was common enough. Frowned upon in theory, of course, but in practice –

Well. You didn’t have to like it, but it was what it was. Idealism didn’t survive long at Beckham. Raymond himself had never harbored any grand notions about the redemptive potential of his work, but he’d seen his fair share of fresh-faced new CO:s have their illusions crushed after a week or two caught between the often violent offenders who despised them, the indifferent malice of many seasoned CO:s, and the stifling drudgery of the American penal system in general. Not Raymond, though: he did his job, did it well, and went home and didn't spend waste moment of thought on it. You did what you needed to do to pay the bills; no need to dwell on it.

So no, Gallager getting in bed, quite literally, with Milkovich hadn’t been a surprise. The nature of their relationship, though...

Sure, it wasn’t unheard of for inmates to fall for one another, or for established couples to end up in prison together. Didn’t happen a lot, and actual homosexuality was still more likely to get you beat up than laid, but yeah, it did happen. What, in Raymond’s experience, never happened was having to people look at each other the way Milkovich and Gallagher sometimes did, whenever they thought no one else was watching: there was a kind of wonder to it, both staring at the other like they’ve been handed a goddamn gift and couldn’t quite believe their luck.

Particularly on Milkovich’s face the look was baffling.

Ever since the young man arrived at Beckamn he'd moved down the gray corridors and among the yellow-clad crowds like a man born to it. Raymond supposed he was; his father Terry had spent much of his adult life in the very same prison, as had a great many brothers, cousins and assorted associates. Though Raymond didn't know any details, and didn't really care to know them, he'd bet dollars to donuts that Mickey Milkovich's criminal career had had both an early start and a sense of inevitability to it. Various stints in juvie, followed by a real prison sentence for... attempted murder, wasn't it?... followed by a widely publicized jailbreak and an eventual and far less publicized return to Beckman.

Milkovich was tough enough to make others back down when he had to but smart enough not to start any unnecessary fights, not with the other inmates and not with the ones set to watch over them. Knew how to work the system, too: how to get things in, get things done, which guards could be bribed. Raymond didn't play that game himself, but he wasn't getting paid enough not to turn a blind eye when others do. And Milkovich had been pretty smooth about it, especially since his return; careful not to cause a stir.

Gallagher, on the other hand... He'd been the kind of inmate Raymond would've been seriously worried for, had he been inclined to worry and had Milkovich not been there to watch his back and show him the ropes. Not because Gallagher struck Raymond as even remotely helpless, but he so very obviously did not belong in prison, and so very obviously did not really have a clue about what was what in here. The nastier inmates would have eaten him alive long before he'd had the chance to navigate the intricacies of prison politics and find the friends needed for protection. He'd have ended up someone's bitch, or ended up in the infirmary, or dead.

But he'd ended up with Milkovich, and as unlikely as it had seemed at the time, that had worked out. (There were moments when Raymond wondered about that, wondered about them: apart from the looks, there were little touches, too, casual things that spoke of a familiarity far beyond what they could possibly have developed in their short time in a shared cell.)

That wasn't to say that their relationship had been all rainbows and lollipops, and it sure as hell hadn't been fun for everybody. They’d driven half the cellblock insane sometimes, as well as occasionally one another. Other prisoners had complained about their bickering and their fucking (though never officially complained, because you didn't, not unless you wanted to go looking for your teeth in the shower drain), and Raymond recalled vividly the time when not one but both of them had gotten roped into Chester Russom’s endless quest to spend the rest of his life behind bars –

He'd been passing by the infirmary when he'd heard the screaming and come running. Hadn't been surprised, exactly, to find what he found, but that didn't lessen the urge to smack both Milkovich and Gallagher on the head for being so damned stupid.

Neither of them had seemed particularly concerned about getting caught stabbing another inmate. In fact, they'd fallen over themselves to take the blame, which Raymond might have taken as an unselfish attempt to save the other – if he'd been a complete idiot and if the two of them hadn't been sniping at each other all the way from the infirmary, to the point where he felt like his head would explode.

“Imma murder you two if you don't stop talking,” he said, glaring at them as they sat chained outside the small office. Thankfully, they did stop, looking neither at him nor at each other.

Raymond waited for a moment, deliberating.

“What did Chester promise you?” he eventually asked. Gallagher might have agreed to help the old man out of the goodness of his heart, but Milkovich sure as hell hadn't.

Neither man answered. They were studiously avoiding looking at each other.

“You're not going anywhere until you tell me,” Raymond warned them. “If I have to leave your sorry asses chained to this bench all night that's no skin off my back.”

“We needed a break,” Gallagher offered eventually, reluctantly. Milkovich gave a little snort at that, but – wisely – kept his mouth shut. “So we thought that if one of us got sent to solitary... “ He trailed off, shrugging half-heartedly.

Oh, for the love of God - ! “Why did both of you have to stab him if the goal was to get one of you to solitary?”

Again, there was a protracted silence, and somewhere in it – in their earlier insistence that each of them had been the first to stick the shiv into Chester – Raymond could just about make out the shape of it.

“You are both idiots,” he said, moving to uncuff them from the bench, making a decision. “Come on, let's go.”

“Wait,” Gallagher said, not rising. “You're not reporting us? What about solitary?””

“You don't get a damn reward for stabbing someone, so no, you're not going into solitary, you're going straight back to your cell – where you will hand over all contraband you've hidden there.”

“Now, wait a minute – “ Milkovich began, but he faltered when Raymond fixed him with a hard stare.

Raymond had no illusions about intimidating this particular inmate, but Milkovich really did know how this worked; knew better than to ever be friendly with a guard, not even the ones he bribed – but knew when not to push too.

He had kept their hands cuffed for the walk back to the cell, which was policy, but was him making a point too. While there were extenuating circumstances – primarily the fact that Chester had asked them to stab him – by all rights they should be going down for this, and Raymond wasn’t one hundred percent sure why he wasn't letting them. Save himself the paperwork? Yeah, sure. Why not? As good a reason as any.

“Now, am I going to have to search the cell or will you give it up voluntarily?” he asked once they'd made it to the cell. “You make me look, I won't be too careful with your shit.”

A lot of the guards would be deliberately careless when they tossd a cell, either to prove a point or just for the hell of it. Raymond usually didn't bother with that sort of power trip bullshit, but he was prepared to make an exception if these morons proved stupid enough to give him any more trouble. He was already cutting them considerable slack here, and neither of them have the brains to appreciate it.

They had shared a look, and then Milkovich gave an imperceptible nod. Without a word they set to bring forth an array of cigarettes and foodstuff, little things that would have been commonplace and unremarkable in the real world but was made precious by its scarcity on the inside.

Raymond wasn't naive enough to believe they actually gave him everything they'd got in there, but enough of it to inconvenience them, which would have to do. He grabbed the the items, then fixed them both with a firm look.

“Either of you cause me any more trouble, I'm taking your books,” – he pointed to Gallager, then to Milkovich – “and your pens and paper. You think you have it bad now? Imagine sharing a cell and having nothing else to occupy you.”

He had hoped to God he wouldn't have to make good on his threat, though. The other prisoners would probably riot if they have to put up with more of ´bickering from these two.

“I catch either of you with a shiv again, you'll be fucking sorry,” he continued. “Talk it out, or agree not to talk, or whatever. Split the cell into his and his, I don't give a damn. But sort your shit out.”

Maybe they had, maybe they hadn't; the point became moot just a few weeks later, when Gallagher was released. Milkovich had soon followed him – and how exactly that had happened, Raymond still didn't know, because there was no way in hell anyone actually thought releasing that one back into society was a great move – and that had been that. For now, at least; he fully expected to see Milkovich again. Guy like that wasn't going to quit, and sooner or later he'd get caught and find himself back behind bars. Rinse repeat, until he got himself killed or locked away for good.

Only now here Milkovich is, but in front of a bar rather than behind them, and with Gallagher right by his side, laughing like they'd never stabbed a man just to get away from each other.

Raymond hesitates. There's some small part of him that actually wants to step up and say hello, and that throws him a little. He's got a rule about never getting emotionally invested in the fates of the inmates; that way lies nothing but heartbreak, because most of those who find themselves at Beckman will find themselves there again and again, for longer and longer. Don't abuse the prisoners, but don't care too much either: it's been Raymond's private policy for the past five years, and it's worked out so far.

Except now he's actually considering chatting with a couple of convicts, just 'cause he really is a little bit curious about how this unlikely pair is doing.

But nah. Forget it. His rule aside, it'd be pretty uncool to intrude on their evening out. They're free men now – kind of – and having a CO check up on them can't be high on their list of wants. But before he can move away, they both look his way; sees him. Recognizes him, too, from the way they freeze.

Okay. Call it fate, then. “Hello,” Raymond says, going for neutral good and a little nod; I come in peace.

A beat. Milkovich is eyeing him with a wariness he doesn't bother to conceal and it's Gallagher who speaks first:

“Officer Reese,” he says, managing a polite smile. “Hi.”

Raymond notices the way they glance down at the beers they technically shouldn't be having.

“I'm not your PO,” he assures them. “I don't give a damn if you drink. Might want to take it easy, though,” he can’t help but add. “Getting shitfaced is a quick way to get into trouble.”

Milkovich opens his mouth, but after a quick glare from Gallagher he closes it again. Probably for the best; Raymond can’t imagine him playing even remotely nice now that he doesn’t have to.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt your evening,” he says. “Looks like you’re doing all right.”

“Yeah, yeah, we've got jobs and... “ Gallagher pauses to glance at Milkovich again, as if asking his permission. Milkovich rolls his eyes but says nothing, and Gallagher turns his gaze back to Raymond. There's a real smile on his face now, small, but filled with something akin to disbelieving delight: “We got married. Couple of weeks ago.”

“Oh, wow. Congratulations.” Raymond isn’t quite sure what surprises him more: the fact of their marriage, or the fact that he is genuinely happy for them. Maybe he’s getting soft in his old age… Or maybe it’s just that there’s so very few happy endings for those who find themselves at Beckman, whether as inmates or as guards, that they need to be treasured whenever you find them.

“Ian!” someone calls across the room, and Gallagher turns his head to look at a blonde woman gesturing wildly. “Where are those drinks?”

“Shit,” Gallagher mutters. “Better get this to Tami before she has a fit.”

Another smile, and Gallagher is gone. Milkovich, however, lingers, seemingly debating whether to say something more. Curious against his will, Raymond does his best to look approachable. Evidently, it works, because Milkovich clears his throat:

“You’d reported us when we stabbed that old fucker in the infirmary, Ian wouldn’t have gotten his release.” He pauses, looking uncomfortable, then forces out: “Appreciate it.”

Raymond merely nods. Maybe he should say something about being glad taking a chance on them had paid off, that he is glad to see them doing well – but he’s pretty sure Milkovich wouldn’t much appreciate the sentiment.

“Your boy doesn’t belong in prison,” he says instead.

Milkovich face immediately collapses into a scowl. “Well, I didn't fucking put him there,” he growls.

But Raymond isn’t intimated; just hold his gaze. “Gonna keep him out of trouble then?” Gonna stay out of trouble, he doesn’t ask, but Milkovich isn’t stupid, so he'll hear it all the same.

Milkovich still glares, but something in his eyes seem to soften ever so slightly. “You betcha. Won’t have anything on us ever again,” he promises ambiguously, with a cocky grin and one eyebrow raised.

When he walks away, swagger in every step, he is every bit the unrepentant gangster – but Raymond keeps his eyes on him and sees the way he relaxes as soon as he stops next to Gallagher. Reaches out to touch him lightly on the arm, catching his eye. That same wondering smile on both of their faces.

Raymond thinks that maybe he won't actually see either of them again.

He is glad of it.

[butgilinsky]

honest man // tt

warning; language, underaged drinking, and mentions of smut if you squint real hard, a little angst, mostly fluff

summary; where you and topper are hiding from the world, even if one of you wishes you weren’t. based on the song honest man by ben platt

word count; 3.2k+

There's something about you in the moonlight But your eyes go so well with the day You won't let go of your layers But your power can strip me away

“why are you staring at me like that?” 

it wasn’t his fault. the way that the moon casted a blue light across the high points of your cheeks and shoulders had him realizing just how deep in it he was with you. he’d never seen a person glow the way you were glowing right now, and he would’ve given everything to stay like this, with you, forever. 

“you’re the most beautiful thing i’ve ever seen.” you didn’t think you were capable of smiling so wide. the ache in your cheeks was quickly over powered by the slight dizziness your mind brought upon by his confession. 

the two of you had only been together for a little less than a year, but he swore he’d spent ten lifetimes pining after you. sure, you both had been with people before you ultimately ended up together, but that felt like an entirely different lifetime. 

topper thought he had fallen in love before. he thought that he had experienced the greatest heartbreak when he’d caught sarah cheating on him. he thought that was the pinnacle of how it feels to get everything stripped away from him, but the sheer thought of losing you was ten times worse than what he had felt back then. 

“topper thornton, you’re quite the charmer.” 

this was his heaven. having his arm wrapped around your back, pulling you against his chest while your own arm hooked around his neck. having your bright smile directed up at him in a way that had his heart beating at a mile a minute. he swore he’d never felt anything as sweet as the feeling of your lips pressed against his lightly, just enough pressure to call it a kiss. 

he felt you smiling against his lips, though he didn’t mind as his own lips turned upwards at the feeling. he swore he would’ve traded everything in his life for you to kiss him like that for the rest of your lives. 

“i love you.” the words were soft and sweet, but it felt like they held the world within them. it was enough to make topper’s stomach flip, the thought of having the girl of his dreams let the words drip off of her tongue so easily felt like a dream to him. 

It's easier for us to hide If you come out, then so will I Promise that I'll meet you halfway 'Cause I see every part of you And I can tell you see me too By the way that you say my name

“do you ever get tired of hiding?” topper hated sneaking around the island with you. he wanted to go anywhere and everywhere with you. 

sure, it was exciting at first. doing things in secret, having you all to himself, it was a dream. he wouldn’t have done anything different, but he was growing tired of keeping you a secret. he was tired of being a secret. 

topper wanted everyone to know. he wanted to tell his friends that it didn’t matter that you lived on the wrong side of the island. he wanted to see your friends’ eyes bulge out of their sockets when he took your hand in public. he wanted to show up to the boneyard with you under his arm, and he wanted everyone to stare. 

“sometimes, i guess.” you shrugged simply, slipping one of topper’s long sleeves over your head before turning over your shoulder and crawling back up to him. 

he sat against his headboard, eyes locked on you while you moved up to sit beside him. his chest still bare from the moments prior to now, taking in the sight of his shirt hanging off of you as if it had been made specifically for you to wear. 

“so why are we?” his voice was soft, the fear stepping in with every word he let slip. he was scared of ruining things, scared he was pushing too far. 

“you know how that would end, top.” he sighed softly, figuring you’d say something of that sort. he knew where you stood on the issue, having far more to lose than he did. 

he knew rafe and kelce would get over it. they’d tease him for a bit, but accept you with open arms. he knew kelce liked you, despite the fact that you were a pogue, because he had said so once or twice. rafe didn’t care for you, solely due to your class ranking, but topper knew that out of all of the pogues, rafe would pick you for his best friend over the others. 

your friends, on the other hand, would not accept this deal with open arms and wide smiles. your friends would throw a fit, shocked by your betrayal of falling in love with a kook. you knew it shouldn’t have mattered, given kiara’s technical kook status, along with the fact that john b had been involved with sarah for over a year now. 

but it didn’t matter. if anything, having sarah in your group made it that much harder. sure, if john b loved a kook then so could you, but what happens when sarah and topper have to spend time together? topper wouldn’t care, because he hadn’t thought of sarah in that light since before the two of you had gotten together, but you weren’t sure the blonde bombshell felt the same way. 

“maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as you think, though. i mean, what if they don’t even care-” he stopped himself, seeing the deflated look on your face as he spoke. he didn’t want to push you, but he didn’t want to hide either. “we’re in it together, y’know?” 

you nodded, settling your cheek against his chest. you hear him let out a sigh through his nose, only making the thoughts in your mind race more than they had already been. 

I'm an honest man Why can't you take my hand I'm not what you planned But I'm a safe place to land I'm an honest man

you hadn’t expected to fall for topper. you were just trying to assure him that he didn’t deserve the hurt that sarah had dumped on him. nobody deserved that, kook or not. 

but it’s now, as you stand across the beach from the boy who had managed to steal your heart and sweep you off your feet, that you realize you’ve made a mess for yourself. 

all he wanted to do was hold your hand as you walked to the keg, swiping beers from jj, who was dishing them out for the night. he wanted to have his arm around you, as a silent tell to anybody with a pair of eyes that you were taken. you were off limits, and it killed him that nobody knew that. 

“earth to top.” rafe snapped his fingers in front of topper, shaking the boy from his thoughts and tearing his eyes away from the group across the beach. 

“what? sorry. what’s up?” he shook his head, trying to rid himself of the thoughts that were invading his mind for the past few weeks. 

“just go talk to her. something’s clearly bothering you, has been for weeks.” kelce shrugged his shoulders, raising his cup to his lips as he downed the rest of the golden liquid. 

“i don’t know what you’re talking about.” topper tried to wave them off, claiming that he had no knowledge of what their allegations were hinting at, but his friends weren’t stupid. 

they’d caught topper looking at you on more than one occasion. the fact that topper had a crush on you at the very least was anything but a secret to the two boys that spent way too much time with him to believe otherwise. rafe had also connected the dots one night when topper blew them off, again, for some mysterious set of plans he wouldn’t say much about. 

kelce and rafe knew. topper hadn’t told them, and there was room for error in their hypothesis, but they knew topper too well. they knew him better than he’d ever assumed, so a ten month relationship was harder for topper to hide than he’d originally thought. 

“topper, what do we care if you’re shacking up with a pogue? sarah left your ass for one, kelce and i have our fair share of our nights with pogues. who gives a shit, dude?” topper’s eyes snapped over to rafe’s for a moment, slightly shocked that he was anything less than an asshole about the whole situation. 

it took everything in him to stop himself from spilling the truth to his friends. they saw the way his knuckles turned white from gripping his cup tightly, his eyes locked on you, just yards away. 

you were dancing with pope, a reasonable distance that allowed topper’s mind to ease ever so slightly. but the way you smiled, the way your hips moved in a fluid motion, and your laugh filled the air, was enough for topper to want things to go as smoothly as you’d asked many times before. 

“i seriously don’t know what you’re talking about, rafe.” 

You're so afraid of tomorrow So you build your walls up today You won't believe that you're ready But I'd never lead you astray

“you’re never going to be ready if you don’t at least try, y/n!” you groaned again, balling your fingers into your palm to stop yourself from lashing out on the boy. 

“you just don’t get it, topper!” he could see the gears in your head turning, he knew your mind was racing but you were biting your tongue from saying what you were truly thinking. 

“what don’t i get, y/n? i love you! isn’t that enough? what else do i have to do to show you that i don’t give a shit about what your friends think?” you groaned loudly, feeling the lump in your throat slowly subside as the tears poked at your lash line. 

“i care what they think, top! i love you, topper, i really do, but i just- i can’t do it, top. not right now, at least.” he scoffed then, a sarcastic smile pulling at his lips before he ran a hand over his face in an attempt to wake himself up from this nightmare. 

“what’s the worse that could happen, y/n? they don’t like me? i already know they don’t! i get it, i have a past with them, but how’s it any different than john b being with sarah?”

“see! you don’t get it! this is the same shit you always spew when we talk about this.” 

“then help me get it, y/n!” his voice was back up, screaming across the room to reach your ears, though you would’ve been able to hear him all the same if he had spoken at a normal tone. 

“i can’t, topper!” 

“why not?”

“because you’re a fucking kook!” 

topper’s face dropped, his shoulders slumping as a sarcastic laugh dripped from his face. of course you’d go there. you always went there. it wasn’t anything he didn’t already know, it was pretty obvious that he was a kook and you were a pogue, but he didn’t need the constant reminder that the one thing he couldn’t change about himself was your least favorite thing. 

the thing that was holding you back from telling the world about your relationship. 

“and you won’t let me forget it.” topper grabbed his things, not even bothering to slip his shoes back on before he was walking out of your house, slamming the door behind him hard enough to make the windows on the same wall shake slightly. 

you let out a frustrated scream, one that he heard even out by his car. he paused in stride, having half a mind to turn back around and comfort you, suspecting that your cheeks were wet with frustrated tears while you chewed angrily on your bottom lip. 

but he didn’t. he just got back in his car and drove the distance from your house back to his on the opposite side of the island. 

I know I've played with hearts before Don't have the heart to play with yours I only swear to do the best I can 'Cause when you put your trust in me How beautiful our love could be If only you would take a chance

you’d heard the stories about topper long before you’d fallen for him. you’d spent too much time listening to random tourons, the repeats and the newbies, swoon over the boy who caught their attention quickly. 

after sarah spending more time with the pogues, it only got worse. you’d heart the mess of it all, practically having the notion of topper thornton being kook trash ingrained into your mind forever. 

you knew he’d done less than redeemable things. he’d done unforgivable things to your friends, and you’d never let him forget that. 

but your topper was nothing like the stories. he was gentle and kind, soft and sweet. he noticed the little things, and helped you when nobody else noticed you were in the mess of it all. he was there for you when nobody else was, and he provided a sense of comfort you’d never found in the pogues. 

topper, your topper, was the brightest light in your life. sure, you had walls built up, but he’d done everything in his power to break them down. he’d never hurt you, and you knew that. you knew he loved you with everything he had, and you returned the sentiment easily. 

you weren’t scared of how things would end between the two of you. you were afraid of the outside pressures. you were afraid of your friends’ disapproving glares and harsh words. you didn’t want the criticism that came along with dating topper, but you couldn’t pick and choose any longer. 

if you didn’t decide what you wanted sooner or later, you were going to lose topper, and the thought alone was enough to have you in tears for multiple nights afterwards. 

you had to choose between topper and your secret. there was no more hiding. 

I'm an honest man Why won't you hold my hand? I'm not what you planned I'm a safe place to land I'm an honest man See me as I am, show me that I can You make me an honest man

you knew he was on the golf course. it was friday, which meant a 12 pm tee time. you’d been with this man long enough to know his weekly routine, and golf was always written into the schedule. 

to say you were nervous had to be an understatement. your ripped jeans and crop top that you’d already worn once this week was a stark contrast from the rest of the people on the course, all dressed in recently dry cleaned polos and khakis, or tight tops and tennis skirts. 

you were walking around the course with no sense of direction, not having been on the course since the last time you helped pope deliver groceries, but that had been months ago. 

you didn’t know where the boys were teeing off from, since topper never told you that. there was no use of you knowing which hole the started and ended on, but it would’ve been useful information right about now. 

you swore the sky had opened up and handed you a gift on a silver platter when you caught sight of rafe’s tall stature on the green. he was laughing loudly at something that kelce had said, giving you enough of a hint to find him quickly. his eyes found yours, a smirk stretching across his face as you changed your path to walk directly over to the boys. 

“top, your girlfriend’s here.” rafe called out, stopping topper mid swing. 

he turned over his shoulder, muscles tense and face pulled together in confusion as you jogged across the course. he was confused, not having seen you in a few days at this point, along with never seeing you on the course in the entirety of your relationship. 

“what the hell are you doing here?” he wasn’t mad, that much was obvious enough, but he was surprised and confused. 

“i don’t want to hide anymore.” the words were falling from your lips before you could stop them, a sense of exhaustion hanging heavy in your mind as you begged him to connect the dots himself. 

“what? but i thought you said-”

“fuck what i said. i don’t care what anyone thinks anymore. i don’t care about anybody else’s opinion but yours, top. i love you and i don’t care who knows about it.” 

topper swore he’d never smiled so large. the realization sunk in quickly, resulting in his head filling with too many thoughts to decipher. to have you there, standing in front of him, telling him everything he’s wanted to hear for the past ten months, was more than he ever could’ve asked for. 

“you sure?” you laughed softly, eyes flicking over his shoulder to meet rafe and kelce’s gaze, who were both biting back gentle laughs. your nose scrunched softly, a sight that topper would’ve paid to see at any moment of the day. 

“it’s a little late for me to rethink all of it, don’t you think?” you lifted your chin in the direction of his friends, making topper look over his shoulder for a split second before rafe was waving his hand in front of him. 

“we’ve known for a while.” your eyebrows pulled together, confusion evident in your expression. “kind of hard not to pick up on it when he can’t keep his eyes off of you for longer than five minutes.” 

“alright, alright.” topper laughed gently while turning back to face you, trying to end the slightly embarrassing moment for him. “i’m serious though, are you sure? because i don’t care about-”

“i’m sure. i don’t want to hide anymore. if my friends don’t understand, then fuck them.” you shrugged gently, a wide smile spreading across your lips. “i love you, topper.”

“i love you too, baby.” 

“just kiss already, so you can take your shot and we can move to the next hole.” kelce called out, earning a soft snicker from rafe and an eye roll from both you and topper. 

topper broke out into an equally large smile, wrapping both of his hands, one gloved and one not, around your cheeks to bring your face close to his. your eyes shut before you felt his lips on yours, a sense of euphoria flooding through you on impact. 

you loved topper with everything you had, and he loved you all the same. the two of you might have been hidden form the world for the first part of your relationship, but you had a feeling that’s what made the two of you so strong. 

sure, the pogues might have had a problem with it at first, but if they were your friends they would get over it eventually. your happiness should’ve been a priority of theres.

it sure as hell was for you. 

I've said all I can I am who I am And I am an honest man

[tiny-slasher]

Billy Lenz x Reader | Coffee Shop AU

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

“U already know who this is... Coffee shop au but there's a competing coffee shop that sells holiday themed drinks depending on the day of the week (B I L L Y L E N Z I D E M A N D H I M)” - anon

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

Billy was pissed.

Stupid Coffee Shop with their stupid snowflakes- and who the hell painted that sorry excuse for a snowman on the front window?! It wasn't even December, and they already had decorations up and Holiday Specials advertised in big, bold lettering

Billy blew a stray strand of hair from his face, glaring out the window at the coffee shop across the street. Two years after they opened there, and he still couldn't believe they'd had the audacity to choose that location - maybe less that thirty feet away from the location of his shop. There he'd been, finally settled after years of therapy, content with the stability of his life, when they showed up.

Them and their hair...their clothes...their stupid face- stupid eyes-

They came and opened their shop, selling coffee a dollar cheaper than him and attracting half of his customers like moths to a flame. When Billy put up a sign advertising cookies, they advertised two-for-one deals. When he offered special holiday sales, they offered free cookies with any purchase on Tuesdays. When he advertised limited time coffee flavors, they advertised seasonal baked goods. Those with fewer tastebuds and lighter wallets began to switch to the other, lesser coffee shop within a couple of months, and Billy was left to suffer the consequences.

Granted, he still got good business, his coffee shop was unique, and obviously quite superior. Not only was he skilled in the art of coffee making, and served everything in ceramic cups unless otherwise specified, his shop was themed. 

Each day was a different holiday, with different options for coffee. He had 'plain' options for those who just wanted a caffeine fix, but he had alternating holiday flavors for the more adventurous. And damn it, if someone wanted a Leprechaun Cappuccino on Thursday then too fucking bad! They’d have to show up on Monday like everyone else!

It had started off with just Christmas themed brews all year 'round, but he'd expanded after the first year. He hated having to explain the menu to new customers every single time they showed up, but he did enjoy messing around with different types of latte art. That is, if everyone stopped ordering the iced coffee...

Glancing back at his rival, he snarled.

Billy hated them. He hated their coffee shop, he hated their smile, he hated their dumb laugh-

He'd often see them through the window, putting a sign out front, or sweeping off the front step before they opened. They looked dumber and dumber each time he saw them. Sometimes they had the nerve to wave at him and yell out a greeting like they had no idea they were rivals, and Billy hated it. He wanted to get rid of them. He wanted to dump boiling coffee over their head. He wanted to rip out their intestines and-

Bad Billy! Bad for having bad thoughts again! Stupid, nasty Billy! Stupid-

Billy took in a long, deep breath, just like his therapist taught him to, focusing on the way his lungs filled with air and collapsed when he exhaled. He played with the hem of his sweater, worn from years of doing so, feeling the way the fibers ran across his fingertips. He sighed, wishing for just one day without intrusive thoughts, but knowing he'd never be granted that sort of reprieve. No, it wasn't something he'd ever be cured from...but it was something he was learning to manage better as the years went by.

He glanced around the shop, hoping none of the customers noticed his little episode. Thankfully, they all seemed absorbed in their activities and conversations.

Billy sighed, a bit relieved. He wiped off some glitter that had fallen onto the counter from the tinsel hanging above him, hoping none had gotten into his hair again, when the front door of the shop opened. Glancing up he saw a woman and a young boy walk in and make their way over to the counter. They were regulars, coming every single Tuesday for the Valentine's Day special.

"Welcome to ‘Fa-la-latte’, what can I get'cha?" Billy asked with a smile plastered on his face.

"I'd like a Sweetheart iced coffee," she gestured towards the boy. "And he just wants a strawberry muffin. To go, please."

Billy nodded and spun around to get to work, withholding the eye roll he nearly gave her. If he had one more customer order the iced coffee he was going to take it off the menu.

He didn't notice the bell on the door ring, too focused on his internal dialogue and making a damn good iced coffee (or, as good as iced coffee is going to get). Even if he had to make the same damn thing every Tuesday, he wasn't one to disappoint. 

Shoving the lid of the coffee with one hand, he grabbed a muffin in the other, putting it in a bag and setting them both on the counter. The boy, like any child would, grabbed the muffin almost immediately, and Billy rang up the price on the cash register. While the woman pulled out her card, Billy saw the person behind them.

Billy's eye twitched and his pupils narrowed at the sight before him.

It was them.

The absolute nerve this person had was astonishing. They thought it'd be okay to just show up whenever they wanted? In his shop? The shop they were practically stealing money from by simply existing? With their little stupid, ugly smile, and their stupid-

"Thank you!" the woman's loud voice broke Billy out of his thoughts, taking her coffee and exiting the shop with the boy in tow.

Billy's knuckles were white as they walked up to him, a smile on their face. He saw through their facade. He wasn't falling for that sweet demeanor.

"Wow, they weren't kidding when they said you had a lot of options!" they said, eyes wide as they looked at the signs above Billy's head. "It must be exhausting having to have a different menu for each day!"

Billy's jaw began to hurt from clenching, eyes raking over their form as they rattled on about things he didn't care about.

"So, Tuesday is Valentine's Day, huh? What would you recommend for a newcomer?"

Billy blinked, "What?"

"I came to try it out myself! Everybody keeps raving about how good your stuff is, and I wanted firsthand experience!"

Oh. Oh this sneaky- They wanted to taste it so they could copy him! They wanted to steal his ideas and sell it for half price! He was so close to just leaning over the counter and grabbing them by the throat-

But, he couldn't just cause a scene in front of his loyal customers! This coffee shop was supposed to be their quiet space, where everyone could just relax and enjoy themselves. He wasn't about to ruin it for them, and risk losing business.

Gathering himself, Billy gave them a sickly sweet smile, "Well, everyone orders the Sweetheart Iced Coffee."

They shifted on their feet, "Is that what you would order?"

Oh they were good...

"No," Billy leaned on the counter. "I'd order the latte."

They glanced up to the sign, "Just a regular latte?"

"Yup."

Seemingly dumbfounded, they shrugged and said, "Alright. One medium latte, please!"

Sending them one last smile before he turned around, Billy scowled and got to work.

Who'd they fucking think they were? 'oNe MeDiUm LaTtE pLeAsE!' Like he was gonna make them one of his specialty drinks anyway! Still...if they were out for his recipe, they would've been more insistent to order a specialty drink, wouldn't they? He glanced back at them, watching the way they looked around the shop with an awed expression. Their acting skills were top notch, he'd give them that.

Billy shook his head, trying to stop himself from mumbling. A few phrases escaped his lips despite his efforts. He heard them laugh softly, and he nearly burst a blood vessel trying not to scream at them to get out. An image of stabbing them in the eyes with a candy cane abruptly took over his thoughts, and he couldn't help but muse over it with a satisfied hum. He'd watch as their blood warmed the candy in his hands, mixing into a sugary, sticky mess-

NO! Bad Billy! Bad, bad, BAD BILLY! Naughty, NASTY-

Billy closed his eyes for a moment, focusing on the way the coffee machine hummed.

"You have her father's love, Demetrius. Let me have Hermia's. Do you marry him?" Billy muttered in a low voice, steaming some milk with an iron grip. "Scornful, Lysander! True, he hath my love-"

"Are you quoting Shakespeare?"

Billy pointedly ignored them, trying not to break the handle on his coffee machine as he turned the steamer off while he murmured to himself, a bit softer than before, "And what is mine my love shall render him. And she is mine, and all my right of her, I do estate unto Demetrius."

He poured the milk into the coffee, swirling it into a neat, but not overly exotic heart. It was Valentine's Day themed, after all, and he wasn't about to get ridiculed for a sloppy job. Turning to set it down in front of them, he was briefly stunned to find they'd moved to sit over at the bar near him. His fingers twitched as he inhaled sharply, plastering a smile back on his face as he shakily set the cup down in front of them.

Their eyes scanned him for a long moment before falling to the latte in front of them, sending him a small smile and a thanks. Billy gave them a sickening "You're welcome" before turning to clean up, ignoring the pleased hum they gave after their first sip. He was mumbling to himself again while he washed out some used cups when they spoke.

"So, are you in a play?"

Billy paused for a moment, confused, "What?"

"Oh, you were just reciting lines, so I thought maybe you were trying to keep them memorized," they shrugged, and then lifted their cup of coffee. "This is really good, by the way!"

"Were you expecting it to be bad?" he bit out, a bit more harshly than intended.

"No, no! I'm just used to coffee that's not so great," they shrugged.

"If you wanted bad coffee, you should've ordered the Americano," Billy mumbled.

The laugh he earned stunned him, his thoughts pausing for a moment to take in the sight of their smile. Despite his suspicions, the twinkle in their eyes seemed genuine enough... It would be so easy to put that light out...make their eyes as dull as his own can be. Turn the whites into a scarlet-stained-

A cup shattered in Billy's grasp, slicing the silence like a knife through butter. A curse escaped his lips before he thought better of it, echoing throughout the room. Some of the customers looked in his direction. Billy wanted to apologize, but his voice wouldn't cooperate. He lowered his head a bit, hiding his face behind a curtain of hair, and shakily gathered the broken ceramic from the sink. Thankfully, he hadn't cut himself.

You should have, stupid, stupid Billy! You deserve it! Bad Billy! Bad-

"Are you alright?"

Billy turned to them, eyes manic. He relished in the way they tried to hide their discomfort.

"I'm fine," he bit out.

Billy seized the opportunity for a bathroom break, escaping the hellscape that was his coffee shop. Standing in the middle of the small bathroom, he spent the next few minutes trying to even his breathing. In, and out. In, and out. The breathing technique left a lot to be desired, and didn't do much for his racing thoughts...but it was better than nothing. If anything, at least he could tell his therapist he'd put in the effort. He glanced at his reflection in the mirror, unsurprised to see a murderous gaze looking back at him.

"If we shadows have offended, think but this and all is mended," Billy muttered, hands gripping the sink. "That you have but slumbered here, while these visions did appear. Heh! Dramatic."

Shaking himself off, Billy inhaled and exited the restroom. 

They were still there, sipping their coffee and eyeing him as he walked back behind the counter. He sent them a smile, as though nothing had happened less than five minutes before. They blinked at him, confused, but Billy paid them no mind. Instead, he decided to make himself a latte. His hands were still quite shaky, and his heart had yet to really calm itself down. He fumbled with the steamer a bit, but managed to complete the drink with no mishaps.

"So...which holiday is your favorite?"

Billy stared at them as he sipped his latte.

"Mine is Halloween! I'm curious to know what the Death Brew tastes like," they smiled. "Is it bitter?"

Billy's eyes were glued to them as they patiently awaited his answer, and he took his time swallowing his coffee. They wanted to know what his brew tasted like, huh? They were definitely out to steal his recipe.

"It tastes like death," he replied. "Hints the name."

He jumped when they laughed out loud, apparently finding his sarcasm amusing. Billy hated the little butterfly that flew around in his tummy, and promptly squashed it with an eye roll and a huff.

Billy watched as they continued to look around at all the different decorations adorning the coffee shop, seemingly in admiration, but he couldn't be too sure. This person was crafty, and he had to be ready for anything. They were clearly looking for some way to ridicule him, or one-up him, and he would not allow it.

Still...the twinkle in their eyes...and the soft smile that settled on their lips...

"Christmas."

Their sparkling eyes turned back to Billy, "What?"

"My favorite holiday is Christmas," Billy said.

They smiled at him, "I should've known...there's a lot of tinsel hanging around in here."

Billy looked down at his latte, trying to sort through his racing thoughts. He hadn't felt this unsettled in a while, and it was a feeling he hadn't wished to relive.

"Your place is a lot calmer than mine," they said airily. "It's nice..."

Billy's eye twitched. He couldn't tell if that was a compliment, or a well-hidden insult. He just hummed in reply, trying not to appear as frazzled as he felt. However, he was sure the trembling in his hands was giving him away.

"Christmas is on Saturday, right?" they asked.

He nodded and they gave him a sweet smile.

"Well, I might have to come back in a few days, then," they replied, hopping off of the bar stool. "I'll see you around! Thanks for the coffee!"

Baffled, Billy watched them leave with his mouth hanging open. He stared until he saw them disappear behind the door of their own coffee shop. 

Everything about that interaction had gone strangely, in his mind, and he wasn't sure if it was because it had been strange or if it was just him who found it odd. They'd seemed genuinely curious about everything, not with ill intentions in mind. However, they'd left so abruptly...almost like they did it on purpose.

They were probably scared of Billy. They probably heard him mumbling nasty things under his breath and ran away- T-they knew Billy is bad! They knew Billy has bad thoughts! Bad, bad thoughts! They- They...

They didn't fucking pay for their coffee.

Billy nearly saw red, glaring at the empty cup that sat on the counter. With shaking hands he grabbed it, doing his best not to toss it across the room in frustration. He froze, however, when he saw a small slip of paper flutter on the table where the cup had been sitting. Curiosity peaked, Billy set the cup in the sink and then picked the paper up between in fingers.

"Feel free to stop by my shop any time for a free coffee! We've got lattes ;)"

Billy didn't enjoy the way his face felt as it flushed, and he really didn't enjoy this new feeling of butterflies in his stomach. And yet, a grin split on his face, and a cackle escaped his lips, earning a few glances. He turned to see them staring at him through their own window. They grinned and waved at him, and he choked.

If they were so insistent on stealing his recipes, he'd just have to return the favor. He wanted to see what all those customers saw in their stupid coffee shop. They probably batted their stupid eyelashes at people, and smiled their stupid smile-

Their stupid, goofy smile... Made their eyes crinkle at the corners... He could think of many different ways they could use that mouth of theirs-

No! Bad, naughty Billy! Having naughty thoughts at work! Bad! Bad! BAD!

[rons-hermiones]

Come Find Me

Come Find Me

by rons-hermiones

Summary: Unplanned, Hermione is forced to spend Christmas at the Burrow due to her grandmother falling very ill. After being ignored by Hermione for weeks, Ron is determined to show her how much she means to him. Just before he gets the chance to tell her, Bellatrix Lestrange shows up with other plans for Hermione. Can Ron get to her before it's too late? (Ron/Hermione Half-Blood Prince AU)

Rating: M for language & dark themes in later chapters.

Chapter Six

“Oh Bill, wonderful to have you, you as well dear!” Molly exclaimed embracing Fleur. 

Nearby, Ginny scowled to herself. 

“Bill we’re surprised you came so early.” Fred commented. 

“What?” The eldest Weasley asked, confused. 

“Well, we thought you only came out when the moon did!” George laughed. 

“Boys!” Missus Weasley scolded, making a move to lunge at her two sons. However, a loud crack sounded, indicating they had left for work. 

“Those two, I swear.” Molly rolled her eyes. 

“It’s okay, you got a better welcome from them then I did!” Charlie’s voice sounded from the steps. 

Bill’s face brightened instantly as he unashamedly went to embrace his younger brother. They’d written each other any chance they got. They remained close, but it wasn’t the same as being with one another. 

“Charlie, I’ve missed you!” 

“Not as much as I missed you big brother.” He breathed pulling away, “I haven’t seen you in what a year? And you up and get yourself engaged. It’s like you're a new man.” He teases. Charlie knew about the engagement from their correspondences, but had yet to see the ring on Fleur’s finger in person. 

“And you are one brave woman, agreeing to marry a Weasley.” He said turning to the blonde. 

“Oui!” She teased back, making the room erupt with laughs, even eliciting a chuckle from Ginny. 

“Gin, why don’t you show Fleur around while I talk to Harry?” He asked hopefully. It was his goal to get his fiancé closer with his little sister before the wedding. 

With a small grunt, Ginny obliged as she ushered Fleur outside. 

“Not that I’m not happy to see you Bill, but what is it you wanted to speak with me about? Things okay with the order?” Harry asked in a whisper once the girls had vanished. 

Quickly, he nodded, “everything’s as good as it can be these days, I just was wondering how Ron’s been. He’s written me quite a bit.” 

“Oh,” Harry said relieved, “well, he was in a funk for a while there, I reckon he still is, but now he’s realized he’s in a funk, which sort of makes things better, you know?” He tries, never been the best with feelings. 

Bill chuckled, “alright I think I know what you mean. He wrote me yesterday, something about he had sort of broken up with Lavender, but made things worse with her.” He didn’t wanna say Hermione’s name in fear she was around somewhere. 

“Okay let me fill you in some. It all started two days ago in our dorms...” 

After twenty minutes Harry had thoroughly filled in the details Ron left out in his letter. He had also recalled some of the conversation Ron had told Harry he and Ginny had, something the youngest Weasley brother failed to mention to Charlie. 

When the chosen one finished, Bill let out a low whistle. He had known Ron’s situation was messed up from the letters, but damn, his little brother, the heartbreaker. Who would’ve thought? 

“Speaking of, where is Hermione? I haven’t seen her since we arrived.” Bill asked next. 

The dark haired boy nodded solemnly, “I’m afraid she won’t leave Ginny’s room unless your Mum makes her. She’s pretty bummed out about her Gran, but she also agreed to ‘stay out of Ron’s way,’ whatever that means.” Harry finished with air quotes.

At this, Charlie clicked his tongue, “Ron is hopeless. This isn’t exactly potions with Snape! It’s an easy fix.” He tutted. 

“Where is Ron? Surely he’d want to greet his favorite brother.” Bill says next. 

“Hey!” Charlie retorts, making Harry laugh. 

The oldest rolls his eyes, “all in good fun, but seriously.” 

“He’s been working on something all night. I could hear him.” Harry commented. 

Charlie nodded, “he had some sort of epiphany last night. He’s doing something for Hermione, all I know is that it involves Hogwarts, A History. He’s mental.”

“Ron wouldn’t pick up that book for anything!” Harry soon points out. 

“Well maybe not for anything, but for someone...” Charlie trails off. 

Suddenly, Ginny bursts through the door, alone. 

“Where’s Fleur?” Bill questioned. 

“She’s discussing something about the wedding with Mum, I had to get away,” she shakes her head, “anyone fancy a game of quidditch?” 

At this both Charlie and Harry jump at the chance. 

“Coming Bill?” Ginny asks as the other two boys disappear to gather their brooms. 

He shakes his head, “no, I think I’ll go say hi to Ronnie. Maybe when you're done you should check up on Hermione, yeah?” 

At this, his younger sister nods as he treks up to the attic. 

Once reaching the door decorated with Chudley Cannon posters and gold and red emblems, he knocks. 

“I’m awake Mum!” Ron promises through the door. 

“Not Mum.” Bill says opening the door. 

“Bill!” He exclaims excitedly, dropping the book to the ground and clambering off the bed, “how are you? How do you feel, wow, the scars have healed some. You look wicked! Like some bloke from those stories Mum reads.” 

At this, he laughs, “I feel great actually. Sometimes the full moon drives me a bit mad, but it’s not like I turn or anything like that. Plus, Fleur has done wonders taking care of me, making sure I take my potions and all that.” He assures, circling to sit on the edge of Ron’s bed. 

“Yeah I wouldn’t mind if she took care of me either.” He joked. 

At this Bill jabbed him in the ribs with his elbow. 

“Hey, kidding!” Ron laughed, “plus, I’m rather done with blondes. Forever.” He shivers remembering Lavender Brown. 

“Ah,” his brother breathes, “your love life has become quite the topic from what I hear.” 

At this Ron groans, “well I’m not to sure how many times ‘Ron is fucking moron,’ can be told but, glad your up to date.” 

Knowing Ron’s probably had his fair share of feeling bad, Bill holds off on making him re live anything, for now, “well, rumor is you’re working on something to fix your troubles.”

The youngest Weasley boy blushes madly, “it’s a bit stupid really.” 

“Come on just tell me.” Bill encourages. 

Ron breathes in defeat, wanting to tell someone, “alright well, Charlie said a gift might do then suddenly, I was reminded of this conversation from back in fifth year...” 

Ron sauntered into the common room with a moody Harry by his side. This behavior from the chosen one had become typical since the start of term, he was always so worked up over You-Know-Who and the ministry these days. 

And Ron could feel for him, he really did, he just wished Harry would drop the act around him and Hermione, who believed him completely. 

“Hermione.” Harry greeted too gruffly for Ron’s liking. 

In response, the bushy haired witch just hummed in acknowledgement. Hermione had been engrossed in her favorite book, so Ron knew better then to bother her and simply sat to her right. 

It was odd, but he rather liked to see her like this. It was almost adorable to see how invested she could get into something like a book. He admired her for it. 

Harry had fallen to her left and rolled his eyes, “are you good for anything but reading Hermione?” He asked viciously. 

At this, Hermione’s eyes finally left the pages of Hogwarts, A History and stared at her best friend in shock. Ron had passed shocked and moved entirely to anger. Harry looked as if he regretted what he said right after it left his mouth. 

“You say you’re sorry right now!” Ron roared, jumping to his feet. 

“Ron, it’s alright,” she began meekly from the velvet sofa. 

“Like hell it isn’t Hermione. Just cause stupid blokes like Seamus call you a liar doesn’t mean you get to start on her!” He pointed out. 

The dark haired boy sighed sadly, “I know, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, really Hermione”,

“It’s alright Harry.” She amended stiffly, “I think I’ll go for a walk.” The brunette quickly scrambled, grabbing her book before scampering out of the portrait hole. 

As soon as she was out of sight, Harry turned apologetically to Ron, “I shouldn’t have said that.” 

“You shouldn’t have.” The ginger replied softly, “and I know everything that happened with Cedric was really hard, but it’s hard for Hermione too. She thinks she could’ve done more,” 

“She couldn’t have.” Harry tells him sadly. 

He nods, “I know, but she doesn’t, so when you sound off telling her stuff like that, it just makes her feel bad.” 

The Boy-Who-Lived sighed, “I really didn’t mean it. You were right, I was just so done with people like Umbridge and Seamus calling me liars, sometimes I forget not everyone feels that way.” He admitted. 

At this, Ron stood as he clapped him on the shoulder, “it’s already done mate, just try to remember that from now on, alright?” He didn’t sound angry anymore, much to Harry’s relief.

Harry nodded as he watched Ron venture out of the common room, no doubt to find Hermione. 

“Hey Ron, wait.” He called out, standing and walking to him. 

“Yeah?” He asked. 

“I know I was upset about you two spending summer at Grimmauld Place together,” Ron opened his mouth to argue, but Harry stopped him, “and I know why you had to do it, I just wanted you to know, I’m happy you had each other. Well, I just, I reckon you two need each other as much as I need the pair of you, does that make sense?” He rambled. 

“I think so Harry, you sound a little mental though.” He joked. 

“It’s just, I know how you feel about her.” He blurted out. 

“Come again?” Ron had gone pale. 

Harry’s voice dropped to a whisper, “well I’ve always had some suspicions Ron. We do share a room you know, you mumble her name like every other night.” At this Weasley turned a deep shade of red that rivaled his hair. 

 Soon after, the green eyed boy pointed to his face, “see that! You blushed like mad whenever she came around first year, just like you are now. I know you were taking my invisibility cloak to go down to the infirmary second year. I heard you tell Neville back in third about how much you enjoyed Hogsmede and you were painfully obvious when she agreed to go to the ball with Viktor Krum, I reckon that’s when I really knew.” 

For a few moments Ron opened and closed his mouth like a fish, but in the end, he shockingly, didn’t deny it, “why didn’t you say anything?” 

Harry shrugged and thought about it, “well, I suppose I was waiting for you to figure it out as well. It seems to me you have.” He smiles slightly. 

Ron nods, “yeah, for a while there I just thought blokes felt like that around their mates who were girls. Probably around third year I realized it was a little different with her then it was with you. Definitely sorted it all out during that ruddy Ball.” He paused, “you’re not, well, you’re not angry?” One of the reasons Ron decided not to confide in Harry was because he didn’t want him to think there was any sort of divide. 

“Of course not. If anything I’m relieved I can stop pretending not to notice.” He laughed. 

At this, Ron let out an embarrassed chuckle, “well just don’t tell her alright?” 

Harry nodded, “will you ever? Tell her I mean.” He asks. 

At this the redhead shrugs, “I dunno, I just, it’s hard. I’d rather live my whole life watching her with other blokes then lose her as a friend.”

Potter lets out a whistle, “I can see The Prophet headlines now, ‘Weasley has Feelings!’” He laughs. 

They lapse into a brief silence, “you go after her.” 

Ron doesn’t need to be told twice and simply nods to his friend. 

“If it means anything, I think she feels the same Ron.” Harry says rather vaguely before going to a dark corner of the common room. 

For a moment, he considers staying and asking more about this theory, but instead decides to check on Hermione. Harry could wait. 

After wandering the dark corridors for a few minutes, he soon feels the urge to slap himself for not thinking sooner. He hadn’t checked the library. 

Set out on a new mission, he stalks his way to his new destination. However, halfway to the library he suddenly remembers that it’s probably closing soon, if not already. Inwardly groaning on not setting after her soon, he quickened his pace. 

And just as he’s about to reach the proper corridor something catches his eye. In between one of the many narrow hallways leading to nothing but a window, is someone sitting against it, book in hand. 

And not just anyone, Hermione. 

Breathing a sigh of relief, he slowly makes his way to her, “Mione.” He begins as to not startle her, she hasn’t seemed to notice his presence. 

Her brown eyes look up from her book, in the moonlight he can see them slightly glossed over as red rings appear around them. 

“Oh hi.” Her voice is croaked and throaty, it makes his heart break. 

“I’ve been looking all over for you.” He says softly, sliding down next to her. 

“Oh I’m sorry Ron.” She apologizes sincerely, “it’s silly though isn’t it, I’ve run off to read again. Maybe Harry was right.” Her voice cracks. 

“It’s not true, you know it isn’t.” Ron fiercely assured. 

“If he didn’t mean it why did he say it?” The brunette asked. 

He sighs sadly, “Hermione you know what he’s been like lately. As soon as you left he told me how sorry he was.” 

“But it’s true isn’t it?” She asks after a beat, leaving no room for him to even protest, “all I do is sit here and read while Harry and you are off actually doing something.” 

“Hermione what?” He asks genuinely confused. 

“Think Ron, who got rid of that troll first year?” 

“Well you were only in the bathroom because of me and you were the one who got me through the spell-” 

“Alright and who won the chess game the same year? Who got the philosopher's stone?” 

“Hermione we would’ve never even found the-”

She cuts him off again, “and who was lying useless petrified while you were in the chamber of secrets?” 

He groans, “again if you hadn’t had the note then Harry and I-”

She leaves no room for him to speak, “and third year you were the one who even spotted Sirius.” 

“I was also the one with a broken leg when the two of you-”

“Fourth year as well, you knew about the dragons.” 

“Only because Charlie told me, are you done?” He asks. 

“Or even this summer. You were the one who knew about the Order, even knew to handle Harry.” She’s now close to tears. 

Ron let’s a moment pass before speaking, “are you finally finished?” He whispered hoarsely. 

Next to him, she nodded, but didn’t dare meet her eyes with his. 

“You’re mental Hermione. Mental. Don’t you know we’d be dead without you? You’re the one who figured out the Nicholas Flamel business. You realized how the Basilisk had been getting around. And who had the time turner that saved Sirius, Lupin, and Buckbeak third year?” He reminded, “not to mention that without you, Harry would’ve never gotten through any of those tasks. Not to mention, him and I wouldn’t even be friends if you hadn’t convinced me to talk to him. And this summer? You’re the one who kept me sane when I was ready to hex everyone there.” 

He took a second to catch his breath after the long rant, “sure you read a lot of books, but that’s not why you’re brilliant. You’re brilliant because you know exactly what to say to help your friends. You know exactly how to save the rest of us.” At this, she completely broke down. 

Hermione’s head soon found a place atop Ron’s shoulder as she burrowed into it and cried silently. If this had happened a few years back, Ron would probably stiffly pat her head, but now, he knew better. 

Instead, he gently laid an arm across her shoulder and pushed her into him with a squeeze. His other hand made its way through her soft hair, letting his finger gently massage her scalp. 

“Thank you Ron,” she managed soon after, “I’ve just been feeling so useless, hearing Harry,” 

“Sh, Hermione,” he assured soundly, “I know how it feels too, but being here, even making you feel the tiniest bit better, well, it makes me feel not so useless.” He admitted, thankful she couldn’t see his now red cheeks. 

At this, Ron felt the witch nod into him, “you do make me feel better Ron. And you’re not useless, if I hadn’t made it clear, I think you’re rather brilliant.” 

A small smile grazed his lips as he continued to stroke the expanse of her hair. Her cries had now slowed, but he still felt she was tense. 

“You know Mione,” he began, making her hum softly, an indication to continue, “I understand you wanna read all the time, but this old book, again? You’ve been picking it up since first year.” He teased. 

Thankfully, a small chuckle bubbles past her lips, making him feel warm. 

“It’s rather pleasurable Ron, I’d love it if you read it. You have such an interesting point of view having grown up with this stuff, and well just being you, I’m sure your notes on it would be fascinating.” 

“Sorry to disappoint you Mione, as much as I love y,” he pauses, “as much as I love reading,” he amends sarcastically, “I’d need a bloody good reason to pick this thing up. And I mean important, life or death maybe.” He tells her. 

Again, a small laugh escapes from where she's nuzzled into his side. 

“One day Ron. One day.” 

They stayed like that until she fell asleep. 

“I thought maybe if I read this damn thing and made notes on what I thought and gave it to her, then it would show her how much she means to me.” He explained after briefly prefacing the significance behind it. 

To this, Bill smiled brightly, “I think it’s a wonderful idea Ron. Very thoughtful and personal to the pair of you, plus she’ll go nuts when she’s learned you picked up a book!” He teased, “what section are you on?” 

“I’ve gotten past the four founders. Right now I’m in the middle of all the troll business. I mean, sure it sort of feels like a textbook, but part of it reminds me of her, then it’s not so bad, is that mental?” He asks a little flustered. 

His older brother shakes his head, “no Ronnie, not mental. It’s almost romantic.” He jokes lightly. 

At this Ron rolls his eyes, but blushes nonetheless, “thanks.” 

A deep laugh escapes Bill as he stands from the bed, “I’ll be on my way now. You have a lot of reading to do in just three days little brother.” 

“Oi! And don’t I know it.” Ron yells as he leaves the room.

[secret-ssociety]

Let me down

Prompt No. 20 & 76. @allyourdirtythoughts​ “Stop you’re hurting me” “I think I broke her”

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader Warnings: angst, lots and lots of sweet sweet angst, cheating, breaking up, curse words and more angst cause why not Summary: after a very messy breakup, Peter finds himself outside his ex’s window listening her prayers and it absolutely breaks his heart A/N: I was feeling in the mood for something angsty (I don’t know if that’s actually a word) and I remembered that scene from that movie where Jim Carrie turns into God and hears Jennifer Anniston praying to stop loving him. Same rules, God-related talk and I don’t want any hate about it

Masterlist 

Part two

Silence. Pure pure silence. And it was making him crazy.

It would have been easier if you just yelled at him, if you called him names, maybe even hit him because there was no way your fists could actually hurt him and he knew he deserved it. But this wasn’t an easy situation. You were sitting in your bed, leaning into your knees with your face buried between your hands and you hadn’t said a word for about an hour. He was standing in front of you, he couldn’t bring himself to sit somewhere, he was feeling like an intruder.

“Can you please say something?” he asked, not trusting his voice. You looked at him with swollen red eyes, full of anger “and what would that be?” he expected your voice to sound upset, but it just sounded raspy, tired “ask for an explanation? What can you answer that won’t make my heart drop to the ground?”

You sighed. “How long has this been going on?” you managed to ask without looking at him “it was only one-” he started but you interrupted him “cut the crap, Peter, how fucking long?” you ordered, unable to put up with his shit. He lowered his head before answering “a couple weeks” he finally said “oh my God!” you cried in a whisper covering your face with your hands.

“I-I’m sorry!” he hurriedly said “I just... When I heard Liz was on town...” he realized he didn’t have the words to explain, so he just kneeled in front of you placing his hand in your knees, making you look at him. Tears were streaming down your face and you let out a few sobs, “when we saw each other we just... realized that a lot had happened between the two of us, a lot we just never had the chance to talk about.”

“So you are confused about what you felt for her and she’s confused about what she felt for you and I just gravitate somewhere in that equation?” you said, formulated like a question but he knew it was a statement. He shook his head no “no, it wasn’t like that” you stood up despite him being in front of you and started pacing around the room “I swear it didn’t mean anything!”

“Peter-” he interrupted you, his whole body was shaking and he was crying “no, you have to believe me! I wasn’t thinking straight!” he started following you as you walked around the room “we just hung out once and things escalated from there, I was oblivious, and when I realized what was happening it was already too late.”

You turned around, stone cold expression “bullshit” was everything you said, he frowned “what?” he mumbled, “bullshit” you repeated, this time louder “because if it hadn’t meant anything, you would’ve talked to me as soon as you heard she was in town and you would’ve told me that you were going to see her. You knew exactly what you were doing” he just stared at you, lip trembling as you balled your fists but didn’t raise your tone “you knew it, Peter, you fucking knew it. And you knew it was going to hurt me and you did it anyways, so don’t say you’re sorry, ‘cause I don’t want your apologies. Don’t say you’re sorry and don’t say that you care because when a person cares for someone else, they don’t put themselves in a position where they can lose them.”

Silence returned.

“You want me to go” he mumbled defeated, knowing that there was nothing he could say or do to appeal his case, “yes, please”. He nodded and left. He had known from the beginning that it was stupid to hope for you to just forgive him after he had cheated on you, but at least he had try.

He couldn’t reprimand himself enough for what he had done, how stupid he had been to get himself in that situation. You were right. He should’ve talked to you, maybe that way he would have had you more present when he first saw Liz and maybe nothing of what happened would’ve happened. But he didn’t because perhaps, deep down, he did know that something was going to happen, in the same way that he repeated to himself that this was the last time every time he sneaked to her hotel room.

He deserved what was happening to him.

School was tortuous, his heart broke every time you sneaked out of a room if he was there too, or when you hurried your way out of the halls at the slightest sight of him. The worst part was when he catched a glimpse of your face and saw how you looked sleep-deprived, as if you were crying your eyes out at night.

Which you were.

And he hated himself because of it.

But one day, maybe after a month, you stopped running away. The change was so sudden it confused Peter. You took your time in the halls and classrooms, you didn’t look away when he answered a question in class, you didn’t avoid him at all, you had even started wearing makeup and dressing nicely again. It was like you didn’t care anymore and that was somehow worse.

A few days into that new routine, while he was patrolling, he accidentally dragged himself to the fire exit just outside your window. It was usually open, you waited there for him most nights, with an orange juice and a peanut butter & jelly sandwich, because you knew he was hungry after patrolling and always said that the protein in the peanut butter was good for him. He sobbed quietly. How could he do that to someone who cared so much for him?

He was going to leave when he heard your voice from inside the room. He took off the mask and stepped closer to the closed window, covered by a pair of curtains.

“I lie in front of everyone at school but I just can’t lie to You” you were weeping “is this part of Your plan? Am I supposed to learn something from this? I see him everyday and sometimes I even think I should talk to him, that I love him too much to be mad at him. But then I think of him holding her and I just...” you sobbed. He realized you were praying.

He knew you prayed every night, before he arrived, and that sometimes you would caught up on it and spend hours doing it, and then you would smile at him and tell him what you had prayed for.

“I prayed for our chemistry test tomorrow.”

“I remembered the dog you took to the shelter yesterday and prayed for him to find people that love him. Can we go see him after school?”

“I prayed for Him to give me wisdom and not allow you to name our kids in the future.”

“I didn’t feel like I had much to ask for today, so I just thanked Him.”

“I prayed for you, I prayed for him to keep you safe.”

The last one, he heard it every night. You prayed for him every night.

“I don’t want anything bad to happen to him, I just want to stop loving him” you sighed and, the next time you talked, you sounded full of anger “why did You let this happen?! I thought You had my back! Are You punishing me for something?! Stop, stop, You’re hurting me!” your whimpered louder and it seemed like you were at that stage where one starts to forget to breath while crying.

“I’m sorry” you said weakly “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I repent, I’m sorry. I just... I-I just want to know what d-did I do wrong, w-what did I do to deserve this” a couple seconds of silence followed “please make it stop, I hurts to love him. I don’t want to keep feeling like this. Would You please make it stop?”

A few more sobs sounded until silence ruled over the dark room and Peter understood that you had fallen sleep. He found himself crying silently as well with a heavy feeling in his chest.

He returned home quickly and found May waiting for him. "Hi, honey, how-” she looked up to him and quickly wraped him in her embrace as soon as she saw his red cheeks and the tears streaming down them.

“May, I think I broke her.”

[kurts-still-here]

Nothing Breaks Like A Heart Chapter 1: You Can Close Your Eyes To Things You Don’t Want To See But You Can’t Close Your Heart To Things You Don’t Want To Feel Kurt/ Sebastian FanFiction

Hello everyone and welcome to my new fanfiction. I was thinking of more ways that I could torture Kurt because I love him (it's a weird thing I do and I'm probably projecting my problems onto him in some way) and this was born so I hope you guys enjoy!! It is very sad and angsty but like all my stories it will get a happy ending :)

WARNINGS: One, this is not Blaine or Klaine Friendly and yes I do not like Blaine very much but I'll admit that this is out of character for him. So if you love Blaine and/or Klaine then this is not for you :( Second, this will continue topics such as psychological, mental and physical abuse, illnesses and mental health issues. If you are sensitive to these topics then I would not recommend reading this fanfiction but it is entirely up to you, this is just a heads up:) Third, this is an endgame Kurtbastian story but it is a slowburn and they don't have may interactions at first. This will change though so for the people that do love them, this is for you and for the people that don't then this is not for you :)

Please leave any comments, feedback or questions on here or on AO3 or FanFiction.Net, I love hearing from you guys.

Archive Of Our Own

FanFiction.Net

(And yes, it is very late where I am right now but I needed t get this off my brain so your welcome to any fanfic readers who need something to read. I love you!!)

You Can Close Your Eyes To Things You Don’t Want To See But You Can’t Close Your Heart To Things You Don’t Want To Feel."- Johnny Depp

“What is your problem?”

When Blaine asked this question Kurt could feel his heart shatter into a million pieces. There had once been a time when Blaine thought Kurt was the most wonderful, perfect person in the world. But now… now there was something wrong with him. Something so dreadful and awful, something so repulsive that Blaine was yelling at him.

“Blaine, please.” Kurt begged his boyfriend. He had only seen Blaine get angry like this a handful of times but he knew how physical he could get. “Just calm down and we can talk this out.”

“No, don’t tell me to calm down,” Blaine shouted, making Kurt flinch. “You're keeping something from me. You’re a lying slut.”

“Blaine, you don’t mean that. You’re upset, don’t say stuff like that.” Kurt watched as Blaine closed his eyes and took a deep breath and thought that he was listening to him and was calming himself down. He was wrong though because when Blaine opened his eyes back up, they looked different. Violent and full of anger and resentment.

“Give me your phone,” Blaine demanded, holding out his hand.

“No, why would I do that?” Kurt asked, backing away from Blaine as he walked towards him, his fist clenched. “You don’t own me Blaine, I’m allowed to keep things to myself.”

“You’re acting guilty,” Blaine spat. “What are you hiding from me? You’re cheating on me aren’t you? Who’s it with? Sebastian, Nick, Sam? Who is it?” Blaine yelled. Kurt was now pressed up against the wall in Blaine’s bedroom, tears streaming down his face. Blaine got closer and closer to him until he was pressed up against Kurt, all up in his face.

“I’m not cheating on you and you know it.” Kurt told him and he wasn’t lying. “How could you even think that? Sebastian, Nick and Sam are my friends and they’re yours too, they wouldn’t do that to you. And Sam is straight.”

“Well if you aren’t cheating then why can’t I see your phone?” Blaine asked. Kurt was starting to get light-headed, his mind rushing with thoughts. He had nothing to hide but the fact that Blaine was asking him for his phone so he could look through all his texts and calls didn’t sit well with him. It was basically saying that Blaine didn’t trust him and that hurt him because he had never done anything to Blaine to make him not trust him. But then if he didn’t give Blaine his phone then Blaine would probably hit him and that would hurt even more.

“Because Blaine, it’s my phone. It’s my privacy. I may not have anything to hide from you but I’m not about to let you go through all my conversations just because you’re… upset or jealous. It’s not fair to me,” Kurt told him while avoiding his glare.

“What did you just say to me?” Blaine asked, poking his finger into Kurt’s chest. “You think I’m jealous? You think I’m upset? You don’t think I have any reason to be?”

“You don’t,” Kurt shouted but unlike him Blaine didn’t back away. He stood his guard, fists still clenched, that violent gleam still in his eyes. “I’m dating you and only you. I’m not cheating and I never will, Blaine. I lov… I’m with you.”

“You don’t love me.” Blaine said, lowering his voice to a disappointed whisper. “You can’t say that you love me.”

“No, Blaine that’s not…” Kurt started to defend his choice of words when Blaine punched him. Hard, in his jaw. And it wasn’t just one punch etheir. He knocked Kurt to the floor and when Kurt tried to back away from him, to get his stuff so he could leave before Blaine could cause anymore damage, Blaine striked again.

He took a fist full of Kurt’s sweater as he lifted him up in the air and punched Kurt below his right eye. Kurt’s head snapped to the side and then Blaine threw him down, into the wall causing Kurt to hit his head. The force of him knocking into the wall caused a shelf that had books on it to break and to fall onto Kurt’s face. The edge of one of the books hit Kurt right in the eye while the others hit various parts of his face.

“Blaine,” Kurt choked out. “Please stop, you’re hurting me.” He could barely move and every part of his body burned. The room was spinning, he felt nauseous, his head hurt and his right eye throbbed. What hurt the most was that all the pain was caused by his boyfriend, now probably ex-boyfriend, who used to hold his hand, who used to tell him how much he loved him. Were they even the same people now? Was this the Blaine that he had fallen in love with on the Dalton staircases or was this a different Blaine, jealous and cold-hearted?

“You don’t think I’m hurt Kurt?” Blaine yelled, tears of anger pouring out of his eyes. “You think I wanted to do that to you? I didn’t. I didn’t want to hurt you but you hurt me first. I can’t believe you.”

“Blaine, I don’t even know what I did wrong,” Kurt confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. “You beat me up just because I wouldn’t let you go through my phone? I thought you… I thought you loved me.”

“I thought you loved me too Kurt but it’s obvious that you don’t.” Blaine said, breathing heavily. “You hang out with all these other guys, oblivious to how I feel about it and then you go and act like what you did wasn’t wrong. How could you do that to me? Do you have any idea how you made me feel?”

“I’m sorry,” Kurt told him, even though he knew he had nothing to feel sorry for. He wasn’t going to stop hanging out with his friends just because it made Blaine jealous and Blaine should know that. It wasn’t fair to anyone. “I didn’t mean to make you feel that way but you… you should’ve talked to me about it instead of attacking me out of nowhere. Do you know how that makes me feel? You hurt me Blaine and this isn’t even the first time you’ve hit me. This isn’t you. Why are you acting like this?”

“Get out,” Blaine yelled. “How dare you? You can’t come in here and talk to me like that. You know what you did Kurt and… and I’ll never forgive you. I hate you. You’re nothing but a cheating, lying, fake whore. I’ve been there for you through all of the crap you’ve gone through and this is how you thank me. By acting like I have no reason to do the things I do or to feel the way I feel. Fuck you, get out of my goddamn house now.”

“Blaine, I didn’t mean to…” Kurt started but Blaine cut him off.

“Go,” He said, pointing to the door. “Don’t call me, don’t text me, I’ll call you when I’m ready to talk.”

“No,” Kurt said, hurt. This was Blaine’s last chance and he had blown it. This wasn’t the first time he had yelled at Kurt for no reason, this wasn’t the first time he had hit him. This wasn’t the first time that Blaine had made Kurt feel the way that he was feeling but it was going to be the last time. “You don’t call or text me. I don’t want anything to do with you Blaine. I’m done with you. We’re breaking up. I’ll return all of your possessions that I have to you but we’re through. I won’t tell anyone what you did to me tonight but it’s not for your sake, it’s for mine. You can stay at McKinley or you can go back to Dalton but if you choose to stay then you better stay away from me. Don’t act like you even know me.”

Kurt slowly stood himself up while Blaine stared him down intensely. He finally stood up straight when he felt a joint of pain shoot up his leg and he would’ve fallen back down if he hadn’t had catched himself on Blaine’s table. The pain had come from his right ankle and he looked down at it to see that it seemed to be dangling out of place. He almost puked right there at the disgusting sight but he wanted to get out of there as soon as he could. He carefully limped over to the door where he picked up his bag and opened the door. He turned back to Blaine who was still staring at him, the violent gleam in his eyes gone and instead he looked hurt and lost. Kurt wasn’t fooled though, Blaine was obviously acting. Trying to guilt Kurt into feeling bad for him so he would admit he was wrong because again, Blaine had tricked him like that before. Kurt didn’t feel guilty, he was the victim here. If anything Blaine should feel guilty and the fact that Kurt knew he didn’t broke Kurt even more.

“Goodbye Blaine,” Kurt said, coldly before he limped out of the door. He continued making his way out of Blaine’s house and when he made his way outside he realized that Blaine had picked him up from his house so Kurt didn’t have a ride home. What made his situation even worse was that it was pouring rain outside and Kurt didn’t have a jacket or an umbrella.

He would’ve called someone, Sebastian or Finn but he knew that he wouldn’t be able to tell them that he needed to be picked up without bursting into tears on the spot. He knew that the truth would have to come out eventually but he wanted to stall for as long as possible. He was going to keep his word and wasn’t going to tell anyone that it was Blaine who had beat him up but he needed time to come up with a lie, an excuse to protect his ex-boyfriend. It made him feel sick that he was protecting Blaine after what he had done to him. But then he realized that he was actually going to be sick and with that, ignoring the pain in his foot and all other parts of his body, he quickly ran away from Blaine’s front yard and threw up in the street. He tasted the blood that came up as he heaved and eventually fell down onto his hands and knees. He held his stomach as he continued to throw up until there was nothing left inside of him.

He was breathing heavily and was practically begging himself to keep it together and to not cry until he got, however that was going to happen. It wasn’t that far of a walk from Blaine’s house to his house but Kurt’s ankle was snapped and he felt so drained and faint. He slowly stood himself up again and clutching his bag in his hands, limped his way home. He looked down at his phone to see that it was already ten at night and seeing that it would probably take him an hour to get home, his family would probably be freaking out in about fifteen minutes. He was not looking forward to the many calls and texts that he would start to receive so he put his phone on silent and tried to focus on just getting to his destination.

He cleared his mind, feeling the cold rain fall on his face and the wind breezing around him. It was freezing, just something else to add to his nightmare. Wait no, not thinking about that right now, he needed to rid it from his mind. No thinking of Blaine or his dad or Finn or Sam. But then again everyone would eventually find out that they had broken up and of course Blaine would act like the victim and everyone would turn their backs on him. And when he got home and his dad saw the state that he was in, he would either have another heart attack or would demand to know who it was so he could shoot them with his shotgun. There would be the police and the ambulance and god, he did not want to go to the hospital no matter how much pain he was in. He would be much better off resting in his own comfy bed with his own pajamas on, not in some smelly, hospital bed with an itchy hospital gown on. All he needed was some sleep and some aspirin and maybe an ankle brace for his foot. Well, there went not thinking about it.

So while his mind was drifting through all the different reactions he would get from everyone he decided to focus on the one person he wanted the most right now, Sebastian. Sebastian was his best friend and if Kurt was going to tell anyone what had happened (which he was heavily debating on at the moment) then it would be him. Sure, Sebastian would be angry and upset and would want to go and kick Blaine’s ass but Kurt knew that once he told Sebastian that he didn’t want that, Sebastian would listen to him, which was more than he could say for anybody else. Sebastian would instead, cuddle in bed with Kurt and would comfort him whether Kurt needed or wanted to be comforted or not. Sebastian was a good friend and was the person that Kurt trusted the most.

That person used to be Blaine but as time went on, Blaine lost Kurt’s trust more and more. And now it was non-existent. Kurt didn’t even know what he had done wrong except apparently spending too much time with other guys but if that’s really all he did then Blaine was a hypocrite. How many times had he sat there at the Lima Bean while Blaine flirted with Nick and Sebastian, who knew that he was with Blaine and who knew how much it bothered Kurt. Nick and Sebastian weren’t even into Blaine, they simply had a platonic friendship but yet Blaine would stare at them with heart eyes and would tell stupid, cheesy jokes, trying to flirt. Yet Kurt spent time with Finn, Sam, Puck and the rest of the straight New Direction males and hung out with Nick, Sebastian, Jeff, Trent, Wes and David who were all just his friends and Blaine went and threw a fit. He blew everything out of proportion and made Kurt the bad guy. He was jealous of all the friends Kurt had when he knew how hard it had been for Kurt to acquire them in the first place and took it out on him. Blaine didn’t trust Kurt enough that he had demanded that Kurt give him his phone and when he had refused. Blaine had beaten the crap out of him. He thought Blaine was different but he was just like the other bullies that Kurt had endured crap from all his life and the worst part of all was that Kurt had thought that Blaine loved him. And Kurt thought that he had loved Blaine back. Well, he was wrong and he felt so stupid for thinking that anyone could truly love him. Maybe Blaine was right, maybe he was nothing. Because if his boyfriend could truly hate him, could hurt him both physically and emotionally in the way that he did when Blaine was known to everyone as one of the most gentle, caring people in the world then he must’ve done something wrong. Maybe he was wrong for hanging out with other boys but then again it didn’t matter now because they were broken up and Kurt was never going back to him no matter how lonely or unloved he felt. Blaine wasn’t worth it anymore.

Kurt continued making his way home, now just thinking about the sounds he heard. The cars, the wind, the rain, the animals. It was calming and peaceful and it helped him to remember to breathe. He eventually saw his house, dimly lit by the streetlights and quickened his pace a little so he could finally get home and could face everyone. He wasn’t ready but it wasn’t like he had any other options and he really needed to sit down, take some pain reliever and sleep. Change out of his clothes, take a nice, warm shower, washing all the blood off of him, tend to his injuries and wrap himself up in a blanket. He would probably stay in his bed all weekend if everyone let him, which hopefully he did because he needed it.  

He reached his doorsteps and fished the keys out of his damp pocket before opening the door. All the lights were still on and he could tell that the television was on in the living room. Ignoring the footsteps that he heard, probably coming to see him, Kurt went into the kitchen, getting a wet paper towel and dabbing his face with it. Usually Kurt would never use such a rough material on his skin but it’s not like using a paper towel was going to make him look any worse than he already did.

He sat down on a chair and leaned forward, feeling faint, and put his face in his hands. He heard the footsteps grow louder and louder until they finally reached the kitchen and he heard a collective gasp. He didn’t turn around, didn’t show him that he actually looked worse than they thought and kept hiding his face in his palms, the first tears starting to form in his eyes. He hadn’t cried since everything had happened and there was no more trying to prevent it from happening. His body shook as the crying took over him and he felt arms wrap him up and embrace him. He looked up and saw that it was Sam while his dad, Carol and Finn stood in the doorway with their mouths wide open.

“What the hell happened?” He heard his dad and Finn ask at the same time and Kurt was asking himself the same thing. He didn’t answer them though, just sat at the table continuing to cry while Sam held him. He was in for a rough week.

[jojosbizarreblog]

Hi! I don't know if you're taking requests, but if you are, I was wondering if I could get a small scenario set during part 4, where the Reader was a crusader and Jotaro needs her to help to catch Kira. But the reader herself is done with stands and all that jazz so she flat out refuses (and of course she ends up getting convinced to help!). Sorry if this is too specific... I like to go into detail with my requests ❤️

(Don’t apologize! It actually helps me out a lot when it goes in depth like this, so thank you! Hope you like it!)

(P. S. Zinnia flowers have a purpose in the title, trust me)

(P. P. S. It’s long. It’s angsty. Buckle up)

Zinnia Blossoms in Full Bloom (Jotaro x reader)

You opened up a little shop to get away from your past. Unfortunately it comes back to you through the visit of an old friend.

Opening the little flower shop outside of Morioh was arguably one of the best things that you’ve done. It was good to leave the old things behind, leaving behind the oozing monsters that threatened to drag you down and envelop you whole. Of course, you still kept in contact with some of your remaining friends, but it was difficult with them all over the globe. 

‘Fire Cherry Flowers’ was the name of the little shop, in honor of the ones who have passed. It was your way of remembering their life while you tried to forget the pain that came with their memories. Business was slow when you first opened but eventually, the shop gained popularity, and now you had no trouble keeping yourself busy.

You were getting ready to close up shop for the day, cleaning up the fallen flowers on the ground behind the counter, when the bell to the shop rang behind you. “In a moment!” You called. Straightening up, you started turning to the person. “I’m about to close up for the day, but what do you nee—” You froze as your eyes made contact with familiar ocean blue ones. 

“(Y/n),” Jotaro said. He still looked as handsome as ever, decked out in a long white coat and matching pants, almost like what he wore ten years ago. You couldn’t help but remember all those nights spent with the others, long lost memories.

You swallowed thickly. “Jotaro. What brings you here?”

“I need your help.”

“How about we sit down for some tea,” you said. “I’m closing up the shop, so we can sit in the backroom and you can tell me what’s going on.” You two parted on good terms all those years ago. He left Morioh to pursue his dreams of becoming a marine biologist while you stayed near to apprentice under a skilled gardener, learning about the nuances of plants.

He nodded and hovered in a corner of the shop as you bustled around, locking doors and turning off lights. You beckoned him to your back room, where a little stove accompanied by a table and chairs occupied the area. Tea was made in a few short minutes and you sat down across from him, setting down two cups.

“What brings you here?” You asked him, nursing the warm cup between your hands.

Jotaro sighed and took a sip of his tea. “There have been murder cases popping up around Morioh lately.”

You nodded. “That’s right... I overheard it in the news. What has that got to do with you needing my help anyway?”

“We believe it’s the work of a Stand user.”

Frowning, you told him, “Jotaro, you can’t be serious. I told you guys that I’m done with all that Stand business.”

“I know. I’m working with a few others, but it’s better to have more seasoned people to help us with this.”

You slammed the cup down, face shadowed by your hair. “I can’t! Stands have caused me nothing but pain! I’m done with that Jotaro, that life is over for me.”

“Please,” Jotaro said. “I’m begging you, (y/n). I know it hurts, I feel it too. I spend nights remembering their deaths, it hurts so damn much.”

You paused as a lone tear trickled down his face. Jotaro never talked about his feelings and showed them even less. Even when they were close to bursting. He must’ve really been desperate. You sighed and blinked away your own tears. “Let me think about it,” you said, even though you knew what your answer was. Scribbling down your address, you handed it to him and said, “Come back tomorrow.”

Jotaro nodded and set the teacup down. You stood there alone in the backroom as he left. The chime of the bell was the only thing heard before the silence overtook your shop.

Well, time to get ready for tomorrow. Who knew what laid ahead.

The car rumbled as you stared out the windows at the familiar sights that passed you. Buildings that were still so similar despite the ten-year difference.

The old cream parlor. Whose maraschino cherries were something Noriaki often gushed about

That ramen shop that had great sushi. Something Avdol would’ve loved. Perhaps even Iggy too.

Next to you, Jotaro was focused on the road. You couldn’t help but scan his features over. Soft dark hair, a sharp jawline, striking aquamarine eyes. Perhaps Noriaki was right when he told you that you had a crush on Jotaro. You’d thought the feelings would have been gone by now, but absence makes the heart grow fonder, you supposed.

His phone rang, somewhere in his coat’s pocket, and Jotaro fumbled to take it out and answer it. “Dr. Kujo speaking,” he said. You watched as Jotaro shrank back from the multiple loud voices screeching over the speaker. “Yare yare daze, I leave you three alone for one moment, and trouble’s already found you. I’m only a few minutes away so try not to burn down my hotel room.”

Jotaro sighed as he hung up, stuffing the phone back into his pocket. You raise an inquisitive eyebrow at him. “People you working with?” You asked.

“You could say that. I’m more of a babysitter for them though.”

You shook your head. What the hell did you get dragged into now?

The car rolled to a stop in front of a hotel. “We’re here, let’s go.”

You grabbed your bag and followed Jotaro as he briskly walked through the lobby and up the stairs, questions in your head. What sort of people was Jotaro working with? Detectives? Criminal investigators?

Your expectations were quickly dashed when he opened the door to three teenagers. Two of them were sporting pompadours, though one had quite a sizable one. Both were screaming their heads off, trying to yank a jar off of the one with a smaller pompadour. The last one, who was comically short, was sitting in the hotel’s armchair, watching the chaos in front of him.

None of them heard you two enter, too stuck up in their troubles. They didn’t notice the dangerous aura Jotaro was giving off either. You looked at him and said, “Are you shitting me? Jotaro are these who you’re working with????”

The screaming stopped and all eyes zoned in on you. The previously screaming teens straightened up, hiding the jar behind their back. Jotaro gave a long-suffering sigh as he shut the door behind you two.

“Jotaro!” The one with the larger pompadour beamed. “Who’s this?”

“This is (y/n) (l/n). She’s a friend of mine and a former Crusader.”

You nodded at them. The shortest one stood up and walked to you, sticking out his hand. “My name is Koichi Hirose, nice to meet you.”

Taking his hand in yours you gave him a smile. “Nice to meet you too.”

The larger pompadour wearing teen pushed Koichi aside, grinning at you. “I’m Josuke Higashitaka, Jotaro’s uncle! That’s my friend Okuyasu Nijimura!”

You blanked. He looked seventeen at the oldest. How did he end up being Jotaro’s uncle? You squinted at him and then Jotaro, trying to pick out any similarities. “What the fuck happened when I was out?” You asked Jotaro.

“Joseph got busy,” was his reply.

Sighing you turned back to the teen and nodded. “Pleased to meet you, Josuke.”

Josuke brightened. “You said you were a former Crusader, right??? What was it like, traveling across Egypt???”

Oh god.

Nights under stars. Making fun of each other. Two limp objects and a canid body in Polnareff’s arms. A crumpled water tower.

You forced a smile to hide the inky blackness seeping through your heart. “It was hell and high heaven at the same time.”

Josuke frowned at the cryptic phrase but was stopped from asking any more questions when something shattered and Okuyasu screamed. You winced at the volume and wondered how Jotaro managed to work with them.

“Crazy Diamond!” Josuke yelled. A being appeared and you blanked.

His Stand...

Oh god oh god oh god.

You flinched as Jotaro’s hand came to rest upon your shoulder. He turned your attention away from whatever was happening with the teens. “Will you be alright?”

Swallowing thickly, you replied, “There’s... going to be some adjustments needed.”

He sighed a straightened up, walking to the now quieter teens and ushering them out the door. “Come back tomorrow,” he barked. “We’ll work on some more stuff next time.”

The door shut with a resounding slam, leaving peace and silence at last. You found yourself drawn to the balcony overlooking Morioh. Jotaro’s presence settled next to you and you two stared at the little town below.

“Josuke’s Stand...” you began tentatively.

From the corner of your vision, you could see Jotaro give a shart nod. “I know. I promise that it’s different from his.”

You nodded stiffly. “Alright.”

“Hey... do you want to go to that ice cream parlor we passed?”

Your heart clenched at the unexpected question. “The one that Noriaki swore up and down had the best maraschino cherries?”

There was the barest hint of a smile in Jotaro’s reply. “Yeah... we did promise to try it out when we got back. Never got around to it.”

“I’m in,” you agreed. “We do need to fulfill our promise after all.”

“Alright. We’ll head over there tomorrow, then we’ll get to work on the case.”

That was it for the conversation between you two as a breeze passed over the quiet bubble that had set in.

In that quiet, you couldn’t help but reminisce about those long gone.

[Zinnia is a symbol of endurance. It also symbolizes lasting friendships, goodness, and remembrance.]

[straymackerel]

Hi Tara, congrats on 500 again!! Could I request no.6 with Dazai?

dazai + backpfeifengesicht (german, n.) a face in need of a fist; literally, “slap face.”

➽─{hi nicole, thank you!!! this was a bit of an... experiment hehe. definitely not the direction i'd normally go ✨}─❥

warning(s): stalking; mild yandere. 

it is worth noting that yandere is a horror trope at its core, not a romance trope.

Dazai was mostly harmless... right?

It would’ve done you some good to question this basic premise when he first crept back into your life. The need for concern, however, seemed scarce; the two of you broke up on what seemed to be good terms. What you failed to account for was Dazai’s acute ability to put on a show. Ironically, this talent of his was the very same reason that you cut him off to begin with.

When you first met Dazai, you could’ve sworn he was the wittiest, cleverest, and most charismatic man you’d ever had the pleasure of talking to─but eventually, you noticed that above all, he was hollow. 

Charming as he was, Dazai’s emptiness became most apparent to you once your relationship outlasted all of his previous ones─a careless mistake on his part. It wasn’t often that he kept a plaything for long. Your declarations of love were met with mirror-like reciprocation; your vulnerabilities were matched by few (if any) of his own. Try as you might, your connection to him remained shallow; even though he pretended there was something more to your companionship, you couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that the home you built for two in your heart was only occupied by one. 

Truthfully, Dazai fell short of valuing your relationship until he realized he’d fallen out of your favor. He swept you up in the exact same manner he’d done to many others, countless others. You were a commodity to him, but a replaceable one at that─just another mind to pick, another body to ravish. But Dazai was used to having his toys at his very fingertips; he grew a certain fondness of playing his lovers like marionettes. Your desertion made his head spin. Just how did you manage to make your escape? None of his string puppets have ever had their way with him before. And most certainly none of them had been the one to leave.

The first incident took place at your local grocery store. It was when you turned to the checkout line that you saw him, a vestige of your past wandering the linoleum aisles. You blinked once, then twice… still there. 

“Dazai, long time no see! What are you doing in these parts?” 

“Oh hey there! I’m just running some errands,” he said, his lips curled into a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Just running some errands?” you echoed back. “…But Dazai, you live on the other side of the city.”

“Yeah, I know, right? Get this: I couldn’t find crab meat anywhere else in Yokohama today!” the bandaged detective held up the package, all styrofoam and plastic wrap. “I can’t believe I ended up in your backyard looking for this!”

“Oh my goodness, no way!” You were tickled by his silly excuse, so you hardly thought twice about his roundabout explanation.

The second incident happened outside of your home. Dazai led a sulking Atsushi through your neighborhood, stopping right at your front door, apparently on the job. The silver-haired boy stayed back as Dazai made his inquiries.

“Fancy seeing you again! We were asking around for information regarding our latest case. There were some strange sightings on this street,” he said, rather cheerful for someone who consistently avoided his work. You helped the duo as best as you could, which was no help at all; you were unfamiliar with their client’s claims. They left presumably empty-handed.

When you went to check your mailbox that night, it was empty. In and of itself, it wasn’t much cause for alarm, until you realized the weekly newspaper was supposed to come that day. Maybe it’ll turn up late? You tried to brush it off as a coincidence, wanting nothing more than for Dazai’s cover story to bring you some relief.

It did, but not for long.

The third incident occurred at your workplace. Under other circumstances, it might have been a pleasant surprise; a beautiful, oversized bouquet of flowers exchanged hands between the delivery guy, your boss, and finally you. 

“You might want to keep your personal affairs out of the office in the future,” your boss joked at the time, winking. Much to your dismay, your nosy coworkers showered you with whistles and congratulations.

“Who’s the lucky guy?” they asked. You shook your head, shooting all of them a tight-lipped smile. Unease set into your stomach; you hadn’t dated anyone since Dazai. If it was from a friend, they could’ve given it to you in person. If it was from family, there would have been an occasion to celebrate. You waited for your coworkers to walk away before so much as touching the unexpected gift.

Turning the flowers over in your clammy hands, you looked for any indication of who the sender might be. There was no such thing hidden inside of the crinkly pink paper. You untied the satin ribbon, twirling it around your little finger. Your heart dropped when you saw the strip of paper that had fallen from its binding. 

The name “Osamu” was scrawled onto it.

“Dazai, what the fuck?” you spoke into the phone, voice rising and faltering, hands shaking ever so slightly.

“Whoa, whoa, what’s the matter?” he asked, his calm composure contrasting your very obvious distress.

“I’m talking about the flowers, Dazai. What the hell?” He paused as if trying to remember something.

“Oh, shoot. I forgot to give you the heads up,” he said slowly.

“What is that supposed to mean?” you asked.

“I won this giveaway thing out of nowhere.”

“And?” You twisted the ribbon, stretching the threads in the fabric apart.

“Look, I don’t even remember signing up for it, but this cute little flower shop was offering me a free arrangement, and I thought you’d appreciate it the most,” he explained. “They're your favorite flowers, aren’t they? Sorry, I forgot to tell you in advance.”

“…Oh.” You took one of the petals and stroked it between your index finger and thumb. He was right, these really are your favorite─part of the reason why you got so upset. “Well, that’s very sweet of you, but don’t send any more weird gifts in the future.” 

As much as you’d like to give him the benefit of the doubt, it was impossible to overlook his tactlessness. Something wasn’t quite right about his popping into and out of your life. You trashed the bouquet at your earliest convenience; if he tried anything funny again, you’d be sure to shut it down immediately.

Dazai made contact with you again less than a week later.

There was no ambiguity left in his intentions when you found him dining at your favorite restaurant, one you ordered takeout from often. The place was so packed that you didn’t see him until you were inside, allowing him to pounce on you immediately.

“You’ll never believe it: when I was trying to make a reservation for myself, they misheard me and booked a table for two! Care to join?” he offered, standing up from his seat. You looked at him, then at the large bottle of sake on the table, then at the curious waiter who eyed you from his post, then back at Dazai. His eyes shone with the flickering of candlelights, face slightly flushed from drinking alone.

“You’re right, Dazai, I don’t believe it,” you said, making a mental note to get delivery next time. “This is crazy, leave me alone already.” You turned on your heel at once, but as you tried to make your exit, you felt a cold hand wrap around your wrist. Your heart began to thump.

“Hands off,” you snapped at him, stride stunted. You tried to jerk your arm away, but he stared at you with an iron hold and an iron gaze, unrelenting. 

"It's all your fault," he said with mock tenderness. "I can't stop thinking about you."

"That's not my problem," you said, still struggling against his grasp.

“Don’t make me do this the hard way,” he said, voice lowering to a growl. His warning filled you with a mix of fear and annoyance. On one hand, he could easily snap your wrist in this position. On the other hand, did he really think he could get away with that in public?

“Here? Now?” you asked, gesturing towards the other customers. You gasped when he held on impossibly tighter, threatening to crush through flesh and bone. Raising your hand, you had half a mind to smack him across the head when he suddenly let go, the thudding of footsteps breaking his attention.

Saved by the waiter. 

A swarm of employees came to your aid, eager to diffuse the situation. They started to usher you out, clamoring over you: "Are you okay?" "Do you need a cab?" Dazai's features darkened as they took you away, but a twisted smile crossed his face when he noticed you clutching your swollen arm. His last words would ring in your ears that night:

“Oh, darling. I didn’t specify where or when, now, did I?”

--

If you believe you are in an abusive or unsafe relationship, please contact the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1-800-799-SAFE (7233), or try their live chat: https://www.thehotline.org/what-is-live-chat/

--

source(s):

link i: stalking behavior checklist

link ii

link iii

[star-quill]

When You Were Young

Words: 2.6k

Pairings: Javier Peña/Reader, Javier Peña/You

Characters: Javier Peña, Reader/You

Warnings: None

Summary: Summer for your family was always spent at their friend Javier Peña's beachside cabin. The same Javier Peña who you've been in love with for the last five years.

Notes: this was originally like 5k words so this is just part one and there'll be a part two later on, also this is slightly inspired by Futile Devices by @zeldasayer (so if you haven't read it go read it bc it's my absolute favourite fic ever)

July 24th 1982

The cool summer breeze whistled its way through your bedroom window, skimming across your exposed lower chest as you lay upon your bed. You had been trying to get some sleep for about an hour now but for some reason, your eyes just weren't tired enough to call it a night. Sighing, you sat up and stared out of the thin fabric hanging in front of your window. The sun had set about three hours ago, which left only the brightness of the moon to creep through the square window which only made you more awake.

You slowly made your way across to the window seat in the room, grabbing a blanket on your way there, hoping that maybe a new location might help you sleep better. But before you settled down, you noticed a figure sitting out on the lower decking of the cabin, the moonlight illuminating the tufts of his hair. You couldn't even see his face but you just knew he looks even more beautiful in the light of the moon at night compared to the dizzying brightness of the sun during the day.

Javier Peña had come to be a close family friend over the last 5 years, making your time from a nineteen year old to a twenty-four year old just that little bit more difficult—as if boys your age weren't confusing enough, this much, much older man who had now entered your life was making you feel so much more flustered. The more times he visited your house, the more you decided that boys your age just weren't for you anymore and that older men, specifically Javi, were exactly your type.

You didn't know much about him, only knowing he used to work in the government, or something like that—he was quite secretive with his past. You didn't really spend that much time talking to him anyway so it's not like you knew. Besides, if you had spoken to him for longer than five minutes, you're sure you would've zoned out and just stared at him the whole time.

The more you stared down at Javi sitting on the lower deck, the more you realised that this crush was more than just a crush—you were one hundred percent, head-over-heels, in love with him. Grabbing the pillow at the end of the window seat, you pressed it against your face, swiftly lying back down.

Now you definitely weren't going to get any sleep whatsoever.

You decided to sit back up and look down at the deck again, with some part of you hoping that he had actually decided to go back to his own bedroom—that way you could forget about him for one night and get some sleep at least.

But as you lifted your head to look out the window, Javi turned his head and caught your eye. He looked at you for a second before turning back to look out onto the beach in front of him. Without hesitation, you left your bedroom and headed out to the decking, but stopped just short of the love seat that Javi was sat upon. He smiled softly at you, almost like he was expecting you.

"Couldn't sleep either huh?" He spoke, his voice as calming as the waves on the shoreline. You didn't say anything, just walked over to him slowly before sitting down. The two of you sat in silence for a moment, before he spoke again, his thick and smooth voice dripping over you like melted chocolate.

"You can talk to me you know, it actually helps to make you tired more." You daren't look at him, you can't look at him. Not when he's sat dangerously close to you in only a pair of short swimming trunks and you clad in only your underwear, a crop top and cotton shorts. But then you felt his warm hand place itself upon your thigh, his smooth sun kissed skin melting into yours. You turned your head to face his and right there slap-bang across his lips was that god-awful, goofy grin that made you fall in love with him in the first place.

"Sorry, I'm not much of a talker.." Javi knew you were lying, you didn't hide it very well. He's seen you talk for hours on the phone to your best friend, to then see your mother complaining she needs the phone to make an important phone call. He's seen you talk excitedly about your day spent at the local mall with your friends. He knows you can talk, he's just not sure why you can't talk to him.

"Bullshit."

Dammit.

"Maybe I just don't want to talk right now, okay?" Javi just chuckled and shook his head at your response, his goofy grin replaced by an almost smug smile. Lying wasn't going to get you anywhere with him but there was no way in hell you were ever going to confess to him why you get nervous around him. He'd most likely just laugh it off and embarrass you about it forever—which is the last thing you want right now.

"Then why did you come down here? You could've just stayed in your room by yourself with nobody to talk to.." Shit. You had to come up with some excuse as to why you, instead of staying in your room, you joined the man you've basically been falling in love with for the past five years, at two in the morning. You hadn't even noticed Javier's hand was still placed upon your thigh and catching sight of it made you swallow thickly—which caught Javier's attention. He retracted his hand and sat it upon his own thigh, watching you exhale softly.

"Love's a complicated piece of shit, don't you think? You know, one minute you think you're in love, turns out they're just, a friend—and not even a close one at that.." Why the HELL is he talking about love?! What the fuck! You just nodded slowly, to which he copied you and continued talking quietly.

"I guess it's just hard to find the one, if that kind of stuff even exists. You know, soulmates and all that. Half of me doesn't believe it but then there's the other half thinking there is one perfect person out there for everyone. What do you think?" He glanced over at you, waiting for a response but you couldn't even think of an answer. Did you believe in soulmates? You definitely believe in love because whatever feelings you have for Javi are definitely not just friendly or platonic.

"Maybe?" Javi chuckled to himself, lifting his head to stare out across the horizon. He thinks you're a goddamn child, too young to even think about love, let alone know what it is or how to feel it. You so desperately wanted to scream at him how you felt, scream at him how you've loved him for the past five years and you definitely fucking know what love is.

"You've never been in love before have you?" Fuck. Fuck! FUCK! Keeping a straight face right now was practically impossible. You pinched your eyes together tightly, feeling a small tear roll down your face—as if this situation couldn't get any worse. Javi looked back at you for a second, but it was a second too long as he noticed the tear falling down your face. He managed to wipe it away before you did, his thumb feeling scorching hot against your skin.

"I guess I was wrong.." He drifted off, pulling his hand back down to his lap and looking away into the distance again. You could cut the tension between you two with a goddamn butter knife right now. Javi sighed, placing his hands on his thighs and standing up. You glanced up at him and he smiled back down at you, his goofy grin only making you feel more upset.

"I think I'm gonna call it a night." Javi put his hands in his pockets, motioning his head towards the cabin. You just nodded at him, praying and praying that he would just leave you alone and let you stay by yourself for a while. Every day since you met him, you never wanted to leave his side but now all you wanted to do was hope he never looked at you again—you don't think you could bear it anymore.

"Come on, I'll walk you back inside."

"I don't want to right now, thanks."

"It's too cold now, come on."

"Javi, please.. I just want to be by myself."

"Not out here."

"Please!" That was your breaking point. You dropped your head in your hands and just sobbed. Javi immediately rushed to your side, letting you just sob into his arm, gripping onto it so he wouldn't leave—even though that's exactly what you want him to do right now. You felt his hand brush through your hair, slowly softening your sobs and bringing you back to reality.

"You alright?" Javi spoke softly, making you lift your head from it's resting position to look up at him. He had a warm smile on his face, but his eyes were full of worry. You wiped your tears away and sat back up, realising you still had a grip of his arm and immediately retracted your arm back.

"Sorry, I just.. it's stupid, you don't need to worry about me, I'm fine." Javi chuckled again and you noticed he only did this when he could tell you were lying about something, or had something to hide. He glanced away and then back at you, as if waiting for you to tell him something more.

"I promise, whatever it is, it's not stupid. I care about you, you know I do.." I love you, that's what it is. Javi, I fucking love you. You could feel Javi shift slightly away from you, his face frozen in fear. You could see his Adam's apple bob in his throat, his tongue coming out to quickly wet his now dry lips.

"This.. this isn't right. I can't.." Javier's words made you realise that in that moment, your little love confession wasn't just words in your head. The words you've been screaming at him in your head for the past five years have just fallen right out of your mouth.

"Javi.. please don't take it the wrong way—"

"Well what's the right way to take it?"

"I don't know but, please—"

"Is that why you wouldn't talk to me earlier?"

You sighed, placing your forehead on his shoulder, nodding against his skin. He brought his hand up to your cheek, smoothing your skin with his thumb ever so softly. You didn't move your head to look up at him this time, instead just relished in the feeling of his skin on yours. Javi leant his head towards yours, placing a small kiss to the top of your head, making you gasp softly.

"It's okay, you know. You're allowed to have these feelings. You can't really help who you like and who you don't, but you just have to know that nothing can ever happen between us.." You nodded again, this time lifting your head to face him. Despite your face burned red from blushing and the dry tear stains on your skin, Javi still smiled at you.

"But, what if we.. didn't tell anyone.." Javi chuckled again, the sound of it starting to feel patronising now. He just looked into your eyes, his thumb dangerously close to the corner of your mouth now. With each passing second, his thumb kept moving towards your lips. What the hell was he doing?!!

"Well then, tell me.. what would you do? What would you want to do, if we didn't tell a single soul about this.." His voice was a soft whisper now and his hand had now moved down to your neck, with his thumb softly moving along your jawline. Your words got stuck in your throat and all you could do was just look at him, hoping he would answer his own question.

"You want to know what I would do?" Somehow his head had moved forward since he last spoke, his cheek now pressed to yours and his lips right next to your ear. You dropped your head, resting it on his shoulder again, revelling in the amount of contact he's giving you right now. You've yearned for this for so long and it's almost giving you whiplash from how much he's touching you and where he's touching you.

"I would kiss you, everywhere. I would kiss you a thousand times over just to see you smile." Your hand reached up to grab his wrist, holding him in place. His spare hand moved slightly to place itself upon your thigh, making you almost whimper slightly against his skin. You fucking hated how much he could just make you feel like putty around him—like if he asked you to do absolutely anything right now, you would say yes just for him.

"Can you?" This time you pulled your face away from Javier's, looking at him achingly. Your eyes were practically begging him to kiss you, wanting and hoping he would comply and give you what you so badly want.

"Can I what?"

"Kiss me.. please.."

"Mi amor.."

"Please.."

It was like the whole world just stopped when you felt Javier's lips on your cheek. It felt so good but you needed more. He let his cheek rest against yours after he kissed you, not wanting you to be anywhere but close to him. You craved more of him and couldn't bear the thought of him not kissing you at all.

"Not there.. please.."

"I can't.."

"You said you wanted to.. please.."

Javi sighed, pulling his face away from yours, looking you right in the eyes. You knew he wanted this and wasn't just saying all those things earlier to make you feel better about yourself—you could tell from his eyes and the way they kept darting to look at your own eyes to your slightly open mouth. His grip on your thigh softened slightly, only for his hand to smooth itself along your leg, occasionally even moving it down between your legs but only for a second. The temperature had dropped slightly from before but with every little hand movement from Javi, you felt your own body temperature rise up, his touch burning you up like a fever.

It felt like time was going by even more slowly than usual. Javier's lips were now painfully close to yours and yet he still hadn't kissed you yet. Your mouth still hung slightly open and your eyes fluttered closed, just waiting for him to finally move in on you. He looked at you for a second, taking all of you in—your hand still holding onto his wrist, your glorious tanned leg to which his hand was grazing upon and eventually back to your deliciously, soft lips.

Javier's lips hit you like a freight train, your brain frazzled from the way he's just kissing you like there's no tomorrow. He tasted like wine, and god you loved the taste of it on his lips. You felt his hand move on your thigh again, squeezing the flesh on the inside of your leg which made you gasp softly against his lips. Instinctively, you slowly opened your legs, moving your left leg to drape over his own legs. This only made the grip he had on your leg tighter, his fingers kneading at your skin.

A soft whimper left your lips as you felt Javi pull himself away from you, feeling his soft breath against your skin. You couldn't tell if he wanted more or not, his hand still touching you softly on your thigh. He slowly dipped his forehead to rest against yours, his breathing slowing down.

"Can you do that again?"

"Another time.."

"Javi.."

"Just, let's go back inside.."