#mates I have been doodling this on and off the entire night

[zeondraws]

Caz didn’t have time to think, he was covered in oil and had to get help, however he realises he wasn’t in his own body. Running to the bathroom he notices it’s Roper’s. He quickly makes his way up to Marine Control in utter panic.

"Argh...Where? There.."

He walks to his chair but falls down due to his vision distorting

"Shut up, please.. I'm checking"

Struggling to get up his chair he drags himself up, grabbing a cigarette

"....what, I... "

The readings on the panels are going crazy in front of him. He quickly realises how bad the situation is, trying to look around but his vision is extremely blurry. His stomach is starting to feel weird

"arghhh.. this is not good.. rrhhhhhggg. I'm gonna boke..."

Rennick bursts the door of the Control Room open, walking up to Roper. He's extremely confused what is up with the old man, he yells at him for answers.

"Do something you Ejit! Are ya ears no workin? I'M SPEAKIN TO YOU"

"SHUT IT, I CANNAE SEE ANYTHING"

Roper, being extremely irritated by Rennick, tries to snap back. But it gets harder with each breath he takes.

"Can. ye not... see the problem..? This. Thing-"

They argue back and forth, things get heated quickly. Rennick's ignorance doesn't stop, even after seeing his crew mutate on the deck.

"You gobshite shut it, do something before I kick ya USELSS ARSE into the ocean. Stap WHININ and concentrate!"

"YOU SHT IT....FF Ya LSI.TN TO MeE. WE..WLNT..BE..N TIS.. STU..ATN.."

It feels like his lungs are filling with blood, Roper can barely manage to speak at this point, his body starts to feel like he's on fire.

"What are ye on bout? Roper...? HEY, LOOK AT ME!"

The Installation Manager doesn't seem to notice what is happening, he walks closer to Roper who starts to cough up blood, grunting in agony.

"...Ro- Roper.. What is. Ey, look at me. What's goin on with yaa???"

He screams out in pain, grabbing his chest frantically, as if he's trying to remove something but is unable to. Roper can barely see Rennick at this point, who is starting to slowly back off but not leaving the room. It took a few seconds until Roper's torso explodes, the mass spreading around him, faces and arms start to form on his body.

He notices that Rennick was covered in blood. But he had so much adrenalin rushing through his body, that he couldn't utter a word at that moment. All he could hear was Rennick's voice taunting him inside his head.

Rennick tried to get the blood off his face, but decides to leave the room and heads over to the bathroom. Before heading over to his office again.

Moments later Caz‘s vision becomes blurry, before turning into black. Next time he opens his eyes, he finds himself surrounded by tall grass.

[iwillneverforgiveyousunghanbin]

taedros tresdros

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

part one: taedros taedros ☆ part two: taedros twodros wc: 2.2k reader: afab reader (pretty sure no specific gender mentioned but putting this disclaimer just in case!) warnings: smut 18+; MINORS DNI!!! -- specific warnings under the cut -- also some angst and some fluff :) summary: uh-oh... you fell for your best friend taerae. but was it all in vain after he's ghosted you the past two weeks? *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ITS DONEEE! you will notice i've went with "taedros tresdros" for the title. decided to keep all three parts with taedros as the first word lol. this is the finale for this little series and i really hope you like this ending i've made lol. i am so happy you've all enjoyed taedros taedros -- stay tuned for more works soon (hopefully) xx

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

warnings: 18+ explicit smut, fingering and oral (reader receiving), cumming in pants, eavesdropping/voyeurism by reader but it's only out of shock/anger, swearing, lots of innuendo in this one lmao... i think that's it!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

“so, the ring finger goes here?” you hear a feminine voice ask; ear pressed gently to taerae’s door to hear better. just a few moments ago, you’d been taking deep, steadying breaths as you walked through the entrance to your best friend’s dorm building on your way to finally confront him.

something that was so familiar now made your heart race with anxiety. 

but when you’d rounded the corner to taerae’s room, you were surprised to find the door shut almost all the way. usually taerae left his door wide open, even when he was playing the guitar or getting changed or sleeping. in fact, his dorm-mates told you one night when you were leaving that the only time taerae made an effort to close it was when you were over... you couldn’t hear any noise coming from his room, which made you all the more curious as to what was going on in there. 

walking up to his door, you’d seen it was propped open just a bit by one of taerae’s shoes. you couldn’t see through the gap in the door, but you’d heard quiet murmurings from inside and gently placed your ear to the door to listen closer. the sound of a girl’s voice had completely shocked you. especially considering what you’d come here to talk about with taerae.

“yeah, it might take a bit to find the sweet spot,” taerae answers with a chuckle; his answer causing your jaw to drop. fingers? sweet spots? what the fuck is going on in there!?

“mmm, thank you again for teaching me, taerae,” the voice responds. upon closer listening, you realize you know this voice. it belongs to your world history classmate, jinah-- the girl who sits behind you and doodles the entire period. she’s very nice-- pretty and athletic, too, but...

you didn’t really think taerae was her type.

you hadn’t spoken to taerae much in the last couple weeks. ever since you’d actually slept together... things had changed. it felt like your best friend was avoiding you. when you’d texted to ask about movie night the past two fridays, taerae had said he was busy with homework both times. normally taerae would meet you for lunch in the student union every other day in between his music theory class, but he hadn’t come by since then. he’d barely said two words to you at choir practice last night.

was this why? he’d decided he liked jinah instead? he couldn’t face you after... using you? 

taerae would never do that. not to you. probably not to anyone.

then again, you’d never talked about whether what was going on between you was exclusive or not. and what it meant to you; what he meant to you. had you completely misinterpreted this whole situation?

“and the middle finger...” jinah trails off and the mental picture you have unfortunately painted in your head of the scene taking place is enough to make you gag.

“that one’s gonna reach as far up as possible,” taerae explains. if you had known your best friend was offering masturbation classes out of his dorm room, you probably would’ve been more careful about where you were sitting on his bed.

“i don’t think i can reach that far,” jinah huffs with a frustrated sigh. “it kind of hurts.”

“relax,” taerae soothes. “it’ll feel better if you relax.”

your hand flies to your mouth to muffle the sound of the audible gasp that escapes you, but your elbow hitting the door blows your cover. you stand up quickly as taerae’s door swings open-- revealing you in the doorway to taerae and jinah.

... and revealing jinah sitting on taerae’s bed and holding a guitar (quite clumsily, if you may be so brazen) in her hands; taerae sitting next to her and seemingly offering some sort of instruction.

“you--...” you stutter, surprised and also incredibly relieved to find that the lessons taerae was giving were much more wholesome than you’d been forced to imagine for the past few minutes. “oh thank fuck holy shit.”

as the uncontrollable string of grateful curse words leaves your mouth, jinah clears her throat awkwardly and stands up; removing the guitar strap from around her neck and handing the instrument to its owner.

“sorry for interrupting,” you mumble, bottom lip finding its way between your teeth as taerae glares at you. 

“no, it’s okay! i have to finish an essay for tomorrow anyway,” jinah replies, picking up her bag and walking towards the door. you step to the side for her to get by, awkwardly smiling as she calls behind her, “thank you, taerae! see you next week!”

jinah retreats down the hallway, leaving just you and taerae alone in a tense silence.

“what are you doing here?” taerae asks, rather unceremoniously. “it’s a thursday night. you have tutoring on thursday nights. that's why we have movie night on fridays.”

you nod, still leaning against the doorframe. “my last appointment cancelled so i--... i wanted to come talk to you.”

“oh,” taerae replies with a nod. “okay.”

you frown. “okay?”

“yeah,” he says, looking down at his guitar in his hands; starting to strum it lightly. “okay.”

your eyebrows raise in shock as your best friend seemingly shrugs you off. you walk over to him and snatch the guitar from his hands by its neck.

“HEY!” he protests as you bring the instrument over to its stand and place it there annoyedly (but carefully; you’re not an asshole). “i was playing that.”

“what the fuck is the matter with you!?” you snap, turning back around to face him. “you’ve been avoiding me for two weeks!”

taerae visibly gulps; eyes falling to the floor. 

“and this is how you’re gonna act?” you scold, folding your arms across your chest. “after we...”

for some reason you’re unable to say it. taerae is silent-- seemingly holding his breath as he waits for you to continue. coward.

“i came here to talk to you about everything and--... and then i heard you through the door giving jinah a fucking guitar lesson,” you explain while rolling your eyes. “better than the lesson i thought you were giving her, but...”

taerae looks up at you now; brow furrowed as his head tilts to the side confusedly. “w--... what kind of a lesson did you think i was giving her?”

you blink back at him; unsure of whether to tell the truth or not. but taerae catches on before you can commit to a lie.

his jaw drops in shock. “you thought--... did you think--”

you look down at your feet: embarrassed, anxious, and just plain sad after the events of the last couple weeks. this mixture of emotions forms a lump in your throat that you are now hopelessly trying to suppress. “i’m really sorry for interrupting. and for listening a bit. i just don't know what happened. i thought we were--... i thought you felt the same way that i did, but... you just must be really upset with me and i don’t know what i did but i’m so sorry and i really miss you so i wanted to talk to you and i just was... i dunno, i thought--”

taerae cuts off your rambling by standing up and wrapping his arms around you tightly. against your neck, he soothes, “ssh, baby. it’s okay-- it’s all okay. i promise.”

“i like you,” you confess into taerae’s sweatshirt. “i’m sorry, i didn’t know this would happen. but i really like you, tae.”

"fuck-- i like you, too. of course i like you, too,” he says, pulling back to look at you. “and this is all my fault.”

you sniffle as you ask, “what did you do this time?”

“something really, really stupid,” he replies with a sad smile.

mirroring his expression, you quip, “what else is new?” 

“yeah, yeah,” he accepts with a laugh. cupping your cheek in his hand, he runs his thumb across the skin sweetly. “i thought i was the one who fucked up... by falling for you.”

“... oh,” is all you can manage to say.

“oh is right,” he says, leaning in and kissing your lips gently. “i honestly wasn’t sure what to do about it. i didn’t want to hurt you and i thought maybe just... avoiding you for a bit would make it easier for me to stop having feelings for you. but it didn’t. it just hurt you and me more-- and it was really immature. i’m so sorry.”

you wrap your arms around his neck, having forgiven your idiot of a best friend before he even apologized. “i missed you so much.”

“i missed you more,” taerae says, peppering your cheeks with kisses. you giggle; taerae grinning before attaching his lips to yours again.

“but, um,” you say quickly, pulling back to meet his gaze. “i’d love to put in a request for no more guitar lessons with the door closed, if the suggestion box is still open.”

“it is,” taerae says with a laugh. “suggestion accepted, approved and implemented.”

“and, uh, maybe they don’t have to take place on your bed,” you say, biting your bottom lip and hiding your face in his chest.

“i will have you know my conduct is strictly professional at all times,” taerae replies and you can hear the smirk in his voice. “but you’re completely right. not to mention, it was probably rude of me to let her sit on my bed... without telling her what it’s covered in.”

“TAERAE-YA!” you shout, hitting his chest as he pulls you toward his bed-- pushing you down gently onto the mattress and climbing between your legs with ease. “you do wash your sheets, don’t you?”

he just laughs.

“tae, that’s gross,” you reply, shaking your head as he cups your center over your jeans. your protesting starts to waiver as he applies more pressure to where you need him most. “you--... you really should--”

“enough, enough, baby-- of course i wash them,” he replies, hooking his fingers around the belt loops of your jeans and shimmying them along with your underwear down your legs before discarding them on the floor. then he smirks at you, adding, “but sometimes i do wonder what the point is when you’re just gonna get them dirty again.”

“fuck,” you whine as taerae admires you. he’s licking his lips like he hasn’t eaten in days-- and he hasn’t. you wonder how he’s survived this long without you.

“so,” he says, starting to circle your clit with two fingers. his rhythm isn’t steady though; it’s intoxicatingly teasing. “what did you think i was teaching in these ‘lessons’?”

you feel your face heat up again at the mention of your faux pas. “don’t make fun of me.”

“never, baby,” he says; a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. “i’m just curious what you think i’m enough of an expert in to be qualified to teach.”

“i--... oh my god,” you say, shaking your head with embarrassment. “i thought you were teaching her how to finger herself!"

“hmm, i guess i can understand the confusion,” taerae runs his fingers through your folds, gathering some of your slick and painting it across your stomach. “since playing guitar requires so much skill with your fingers.”

“shut up,” you reply, pouting at him.

“no, really,” he insists with a nod. as he pushes his middle finger into you gently, you gasp at the sensation. “like, to play a chord; each of your fingers needs to hold down the correct string and in the correct spot. like, to play a d chord for example.”

taerae strokes up into your walls with his middle finger, causing you to whimper. “see this middle finger needs to be on that ‘high e’ string. and then the ring finger...”

plunging another finger into you, your hand reaches to grab onto taerae to steady yourself. he smiles at you, pressing both fingers firmly against your walls now. “will sit nicely on that ‘b’ string right here.”

as he works his fingers against your walls lazily, you whine-- desperate for more friction and soon. your prayers are answered when taerae inserts a third finger, stretching you carefully until he’s able to push it all the way in.

“and finally, the index finger is going to go...” he laughs lightly before pushing his index finger into the spongy, firm spot in your walls that only he has ever been able to find. as you cry out in pleasure, taerae presses kisses to your thighs. “you might’ve guessed, but that one’s on the ‘g’ string. and listen to that beautiful sound it's making.”

“did you--... did you plan that g-spot joke?” you ask breathlessly in between pleading moans as taerae picks up the pace of his fingers. “you’re the--*hic!*... worst person i know.”

the little hiccup from pleasure that separates your insult sends taerae reeling. “fucking perfect, huh? every inch of you.”

“baby, please,” you beg, self-control low after two weeks without taerae. “wanna cum. please, wanna cum for you.”

taerae moans and, from the way he’s looking at you, you know he’s just as desperate as you are. he falls to his stomach now between your legs as he says, “was gonna try to... keep my mouth off of you. show you i really like you. you-- not just your pussy but...”

“fuck it,” you both say at the same time.

lips attaching to your clit, taerae wastes no time in pushing you closer to the edge as he laps, sucks, eats at you-- one leg of yours hooked over his back as he continues to work you with his left hand. 

“tae,” you whimper, hands in his hair as you grind your hips into his touch. “g’nna cum... please, gonna cum.”

taerae whines and, with the state you’re in, you don’t even notice how feverishly he’s grinding into the bed. he switches to sucking, lips tugging perfectly on your clit and it’s all over for you.

“fuck, i--... i--... m’cumming,” you moan, taerae’s name falling from your lips a few dozen times as you come down from your high. “oh my god.”

taerae is noticeably quiet; removing his fingers from inside of you, he laps at the juices that drip out of you with his eyes closed. you know he really likes you... but it’s very possible he likes your pussy just as much. you’re not complaining.

“tae,” you call sweetly, sitting up on your elbows. “baby? come here-- want you to fuck me.”

he opens his eyes, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he sits up a bit. “um... so, about that.”

his gaze trails down to the crotch of his jeans and you follow it to find a nice, big wet spot soaking through the denim. 

“are you serious!?” you whine in frustration; sighing as taerae smiles at you sheepishly.

“i’m sorry,” he apologizes with a cute little pout. “will you forgive me if i say it’s because you’re just too hot?”

you roll your eyes-- grinning at him. “i’ll consider it.”

“thank god, because i think i can probably make it up to you...” he says, sitting up and grabbing your jeans from the floor. “after some dinner.”

you laugh. “are you asking me out?”

“i totally am,” he answers with a smile.

“you’re sure you’re not too... full?” you joke, grabbing his hand in yours. “you did just eat.”

taerae shakes his head, smirking at you:

“trust me-- i’m never full when i’m with you.”

[13keithxpidge13]

NO HOLD ON abt your punkflower au.. imagine how hobie would feel about prowler miles,,, was the miles in his universe also prowler but more vigilante style?? like imagine it being exactly mirroring how uncle aaron died as prowler from the first movie <//3 or for a more added flavor neither knew each others identity under the mask and was protecting each other the whole time

i blame you for giving me sad infectious brainworms

Hobie was long from completely healing from Miles' death but, had gotten a better hang on his emotions when it came to talking or thinking about him for too long. So, when Miles from Earth 1610 showed up, he had hoped he hadn't come off as overly excited and clingy. He just-he looked /so much/ like his best friend/first love. Acted like him too. Wanted to help people no matter what and was almost a little shy when it came to new people. Hobie hated himself for it but he was growing attached to this new version of Miles and couldn't help but wish that the Miles in his world had been bitten instead of him. Maybe he'd still be alive.

Miles was a good guy back on Hobie's world too though. He had gone by the name "Prowler" and while the government had condemned him and labeled him a criminal against the dictatorship, Hobie saw him for what he was, a true genuine good person that would do whatever it took to help another person in the fucked up world they lived in. It was what made Hobie so attracted to him to begin with. They had similar goals and similar ways in how they handled things. He didn't have any super powers like Hobie but could hold his own. He designed all of his own gear and even sowed some of his own designs onto Hobie's vest, painting badass doodles on his guitars and shit. It was the only thing Hobie had left of him after he died.

He didn't exactly approve of Miles going out there without Hobie by his side but, he had never been one to stop his friend. But, Hobie was nothing if not selfish. Often, he'd be found right by Miles' side and their friends used to tease that they were attached to the hip. Hobie had only wished that were true because, if it were, he could've saved his best friend from being murdered.

He didn't see Miles get shot but, his spidey-senses had warned him only seconds before and by the time he had turned around, Miles was on the ground clutching his chest while the child he had saved was wailing beside him.

Hobie had never lunged for anything so fast and he was immediately at his best friends side, ripping off their masks as Miles wheezed and gasped for air.

"No," Hobie shook his head. "No, no, no. Miles, mate? Miles, love, come /on/-"

"Hobie," Miles croaked. "It's gonna-it's gonna be-"

"Shut up, shut /up/!" Hobie yelled, feeling tears well in his eyes. "Just-why did you do that? /Why/ didn't you let me handle those guys, why would you-?"

Miles laughed breathily. "Because," He whispered, voice fading. "Someone's...someone's gotta look out...for the little guy...right?"

Hobie's breath hitched and he sobbed.

"Miles-"

"Hobie," Miles interrupted and shakily raised a hand to his cheek, fingers bloody. "I'm gonna...take a nap."

"No," Hobie shook him. "Miles, no-"

"I love-" Miles coughed again. "I love...you..."

His hand fell and with it, Hobie's entire world had shattered.

Sometimes, other Spider-Men will ask why his laces are blue and he'll say he kicked the snot out of some bad nosed cops. But, in reality, he had went on a rampage that night and killed over eleven officer's at the scene of Miles' murder in a desperate attempt to avenge his first friend and the love of his life.

But, in the end, it did nothing to erase all the pain and grief he had suffered thereafter and nothing ever would.

[mylarena]

hey i was writing a whole post/drabble type thing abt it (as i do) but i havent worked on it in a bit.

anyways. soap who can cook very well but cannot bake, and ghost who can bake very well but cannot cook.

the scenario is soap trying to bake for his ma or something but he keeps burning it to hell and ghost, a neighbor in the apartment building, is sick and tired of all the fucking noise soap is making at 4 in the fucking morning. so one day when theres a particularly loud ruckus and theres a fucking smoke alarm going off, he decides that hes going to put a fucking end to it. so he gets up, stalks his way to soaps door, and knocks.

when soap opens the door smoke floods out and he looks bedraggled and covered in flour. ghost, unprepared for this particular scenario, just stares at him for a second.

"kin ah fuckin' help ye?"

"..."

"look, if ye don't have-"

and ghost just points behind him where something has visibly caught on fire in the kitchen.

"your kitchen is on fire."

"AH SHITE-"

and soap proceeds to rush to the kitchen. and ghost fidgets for a second but then the fire fucking flares and hes kicked into Fucking Fix This mode and very efficiently and quickly puts out the fire. he also takes the muffins out of the oven. theyre both charred and still liquid in the middle, which hes not entirely sure is physically possible.

soap thanks him but ghost just fucking. goes "stop being so fuckin loud."

and soap just

"im baking!"

"baking?"

"aye, the muffins!"

"those arent fucking muffins, mate. those arent even fucking edible."

and soap flips his shit and eventually it ends up with him saying 'you do better, then!' and ghost is like. i dont have to prove shit to you. which soap immediately takes as him being a coward about it.

after arguing for a bit, ghost leaves. and goes back home. and he reeks of smoke.

so he tries to wash the smell away, gets ready for work, and goes about his day. but he cant get that stupid fucking scot off his mind. and his dumb challenge. so he finally gives in and makes some fucking muffins and sets them on a plate im front of soaps door with a note that just has a little skull doodle on it or smth. and the next night theres another racket and ghost gets up and goes back to soaps place to find him in a similar situation to before except this time hes covered in batter.

ghost is like. what the FUCK are you even doing???

and soap says he was inspired to try making muffins again. he doesnt say it was because of ghosts bomb ass muffins and ghost doesnt realize it either but that's what it was.

this continues for a few more times until soap demands he teach him how to bake and ghost refuses.

but he gives in after soap actually fucking burns his arm pretty badly and he had to treat his arm.

ghost decides that soap is too fucking dangerous to be left alone to bake by himself. so he says he'll teach him but he Has to listen to all his instructions and cant fuck around.

soap agrees.

but soap is also a horrible student. he gets too distracted listening to ghosts voice instead of listening to what hes actually saying.

eventually after several sessions soap makes something edible. and hes fucking ecstatic. ghost is proud of him but he doesnt say that, just something about them not sending him to the ER. but soap can see it in his eyes and the slight crinkle by his eyes, knowing hes smiling at least a bit underneath that facemask he always wears.

at some point ghost wakes up and opens his door and sitting in front of it is the same plate he gave to soap, with homemade muffins sitting on it once again. the note on the page has a smiley face and a little soap bar doodled on it. ghost eats the muffins and theyre probably someone the best hes eaten- not for the taste, but for the fact that theyre made by johnny.

btw at some point soap finds out that ghost has been living on ramen and takeout for all of his life and that he cant fucking cook. so he starts teaching him how.

[pain-in-the-riri]

Twitfic I posted on Twitter last night :) Enjoy!

I'll probably write a follow-up later this week, might throw it on ao3 also

----

The first time Ed sees Stede walk by his construction site, Stede is wearing a too-tight button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows.

When Ed whistles at him, he expects Stede to follow Standard Catcall Procedure and keep walking his fine ass to his destination.

Instead, Stede meets his eyes and, face questioning and dopey smile plastered on his face, walks up to Ed and says, "Can I help you?"

Ed, is caught off guard, but not one to be easily flustered, leans into it. "You can tell me where you've been all my life."

"Oh, well. In Auckland mostly!" Stede says, then with a curt little wave says, "bit late, actually, can't stay to chat just now," and walks away.

Ed's not 100% sure what just happened, but he can't stop grinning for a few minutes afterwards.

The second time Ed sees Stede it's only a day later. Stede is wearing a tight black turtleneck and looks like a sexy brick. Ed is into it.

"Hey, Blondie!" Ed leans over a barricade, "Couldn't stay away from me?"

Stede swivels in place on his fancy wingtips. Ed hadn't noticed the dimples before and they're really doing something for him right now.

"Oh hello, uh," Stede appraises Ed for a second looking for appropriate nickname material, "Doodles."

Ed snorts, his eyes flick down to the tattoos on his arms then, amused, back up to Stede. "What did you bring me in exchange for distracting me from work two days in a row?"

"Oh, uh…" Stede pats down his pockets and produces a lollipop. "How's this?"

Ed takes the lollypop, unwraps it, and puts it in his mouth as seductively as he can possibly muster. "Perfect," he says and winks.

"Okie dokie!" Stede says, and walks away. Fuck!

Day three comes and goes Stedeless.

Day four, Stede looks stressed and Ed catches him just as he's about to storm past the boundaries of the construction site. He figures he'll lay it on real thick this time. "You look like you could use a glass of whiskey and a massage, mate."

"I could use a whole bottle," Stede grumbles, barely making eye contact, and stalks away.

Ed attributes today's failure to Stede's bad mood and tries not to let it get to him.

Three hours later, he's checking inventory when a blonde aura hovering in his peripheral vision catches his attention over his clipboard.

"'scuse me," Stede says, waving him over to the side walk.

Well well well, this could be interesting. Ed saunters over to the blonde as casually as possible. He clears his throat a little bit and flips through his clipboard casually. Can't look too eager. "Sup?"

"Sorry to interrupt," Stede says, crinkling a paper bag in his hands.

"I can squeeze five minutes in for you, Blondie," Ed says, "Or ten."

"I couldn't stop thinking about how rude I was earlier, so I brought you this."

"Oh," Ed says. Okay, he wasn't expecting that.

"I just had a bad day, I didn't mean to be short with you," Stede says and hands him the brown paper bag.

Ed peeks inside and it's full of madeleines from the bakery down the street.

"I hope those are okay!" Stede says.

"Yeah, 'course. They're great. Thanks." Ed says. "Didn't have to get me anything."

"I know, but I didn't want my bad day to turn into your bad day."

Ed's original plan of putting an end to their little dance over the past few days and asking the blonde if he just wanted to go make out behind the equipment shed now seems highly inappropriate so he keeps the idea to himself.

"Right," Stede says, when Ed doesn't quite respond beyond looking between Stede and the paper bag full of cookies in his hands. "See you tomorrow, then?"

"Yes, sure. Tomorrow," Ed says. There is a level of genuineness to this increasingly bizarre multi-day catcall that is making Ed feel a little bit scrambled up inside.

It's totally fine to develop a crush on someone you catcalled, Ed thinks, as he systematically devours the entire bag of madeleines in the span of 15 minutes.

He catches himself hoping Blondie's day got better after he left.

The next morning, Blondie shows up with two coffees in his hands, wearing a black graphic tee with the words "I Believe" printed on it, below a cartoon image of a UFO.

"Morning, Doodles!"

"Heya, Blondie," Ed says, not bothering to hide his excitement to see the weirdo popping up so early in the day.

"Not sure how you take your coffee so I put some milk and got you a pocket of sugar packets." Stede says, handing Ed one of the two coffees in his hands. He follows this up with a promised handful of sugar packets from his pocket.

"A pocketful is the exact amount I usually put in my coffee, that's perfect." Ed says, and grins when that elicits a laugh out of Blondie.

"Welp, I'll see you later!" Stede says, deposits as many sugar packets as will fit into Ed's free hand, and starts walking away.

"Well, how much later?"

"Oh," Stede says. "Well, tomorrow is Saturday so probably on Monday? If you're still here?"

"I am," Ed says, and pauses a second to weigh whether or not it's a good idea to push further. "What about, uh, tonight?"

"Tonight?"

"Yeah, you know. If you're free."

"You'll still be working tonight?!" Stede practically yelps. "Why is your work day so long!"

"No, no," Ed snorts a laugh, this guy's crazy. "No I mean AFTER the work day. If you wanted to maybe, I don't know, get drinks?"

"Ohhh," Stede says. "Well…wow. Drinks? With you?"

"I mean…yes?"

Ed is suddenly severely suspicious of his gaydar. He is questioning everything. Why did he even catcall anyone? He's a lot of things but he's never once thought of himself as someone that plays into stereotypes, especially ones as generic and boring as "catcalling construction worker".

"Do you mean like, with your friends?" Blondie asks.

Fuck!

"Uh, if you'd like?" Ed says, and does a cursory glance around the construction site. Ivan and Fang are on today, he could probably convince them to come. "Or if you want, maybe, just…us? Up to you. No pressure."

For a long quiet moment Ed is afraid Blondie's about to flee, but then he says: "Yeah, just us sounds lovely, actually."

"Oh, good. Great." Ed says. He feels a small wave of panic wash over him when he realizes just how disappointed he'd have been if Blondie would have said no.

"Here," Ed says, and fishes a slightly crinkled business card from his back pocket. He hopes it's not too grimy looking for this chronically pin-perfectly dressed guy before him. "That's my cell, so, uh, give me a text or a call? I'm off at 6."

"Wonderful!" Blondie says.

"Great. I'll see you later then," Ed glances at the name on his coffee cup. "Steve"

"Stede, actually."

"Sorry, Stede."

Stede chuckles. "What about you? What's your name?"

Ed holds out his coffee cup to Stede in invitation and Stede clinks his own paper cup against it.

"I'll tell you if you show up to our date later," Ed says, winks, and walks away without looking back.

He's pretty proud of that one, he thinks it was a rather suave exit.

[chickensarentcheap]

Esme at work, Part Two

@tragiclyhip @youflickedtooharddamnit @munstysmind @mrsmungus @secretaryunpaid @residentdormouse @themaradaniels @asirensrage @thesirenrealm @starryeyes2000 @ninjasawakenedmystar

“Hello?”

“Is this Meghan?”

She recognizes his voice. Billy. The barkeep from the pub.

“William,” she warmly greets, with the same flirtatious tone she'd used the night before when she'd dropped his full name for the first time. She'd noticed then how it seemed to get under his skin; in a good way. That little smile that tugged at his lips, the slight blush in her cheeks and the tips of her ears, the way his eyes seemed to soften and sparkle.

It had been one the easiest marks of her career. Most took a while to warm up to her. Taking weeks to even months to soften up their hardened and weathered exteriors. But he'd been eager; ready to let someone in. And what better someone than an established, attractive, and seemingly available woman? One that would do anything...or perhaps even anyone...to get ahead in the world.

“I hope I didn't catch you in a bad spot. I was wondering if you had a little time to spare.”

“For you?” she leans back in her chair, a barefoot planted against the cool glass of the sliding door. A far cry from the evening before when she'd played the part in her business slacks and curve hugging blouse. Clad now in one of her her husband's tattered and frayed t-shirts and pair of baggy grey track pants with the Emery surfboard company name and logo down one leg; small blotches of bleach dotting the fabric in several places. No make up and her hair messy. “For you I can make the time, William.”

A silent pause. And she smirks as she leans further back in the chair and places her second foot against the window, twirling a piece of hair around her index finger.

“I like that,” he says. “The way you call me that.”

“Well that is your name, isn't it?” she crosses one of her legs over the thigh of the other, bouncing her heel up and down against the glass. “You are William, are you not? That is what Billy is short for, I assume.”

“It is,” he confirms with a chuckle. “It's just that no one has called me that in a long time. Since my wife.”

“You're married?” she reaches over to snag the pen and spiral bound notebook off the table. It's full of random notes and doodles in various different colours of ink; her and Tyler both using it to hurriedly jot down names and numbers and any other bits and pieces of information, vital or not. It's old school and shouldn't be necessary with the computer recording everything off the SAT, but technology isn't always fool proof.

“I was. We're divorced. Bad break up. She was shagging a mate of mine.”

“Well that's unfortunate,” she hurriedly flips to a fresh page of paper and places the book on her thigh. “Hard to believe anyone would cheat on someone like you. If you forgive me for being so bold, but you aren't exactly lacking in the looks department. You're quite the head turner. In my humble opinion.”

“Well thank you,” he chuckles, and she can practically see the blush creeping into his cheeks and the tips of his ears. It's not entirely a lie; he is quite easy on the eyes. And a much younger and single Esme would have considered..albeit briefly...crossing that line between business and personal. “You're easy to look at yourself. Very easy to look at actually.”

“I take it this isn't a business call,” she muses.

“Not entirely. It's a little bit of both. Business and pleasure.”

She smirks. “And what kind of pleasure are we talking about? Because I don't usually get into that sort of thing with someone I barely know.”

“I was thinking dinner. And drinks. If you're free.”

“Well that depends.”

“On what?”

“If you tell me a little more about yourself. I can't jump into anything with a stranger. A young woman, alone in a foreign country, far from home. That wouldn't be smart would it? If I just blindly trusted you and took you up on the offer?”

“Well what is it you want to know?”

“Well I think dinner and drinks call for first and last names,” she says. “You know mine. So...”

“It's Flynn. My last name,”

“William Flynn,” she repeats, as she jots it down. “That has a very nice ring to it. How old are you William Flynn?”

'How old are you?” he counters.

“I asked first. And isn't it always ladies first?”

“I suppose,” he chuckles. “Twenty eight. And you.”

“Thirty,” she lies.

“I honestly thought much younger,” he admits, and she can't help but let it inflate her ego. And encourage her to continue with the little game. “You look good. For thirty. Very good, actually. Do you have children?”

“No,” that lie actually hurts to tell, and she tries to push the intense feeling of guilt to the back of her mind. “I'm too focused on my career right now. You?”

“A son. He's three. Collin. Lives with his mom. In Dublin.”

She continues to scribble things down. “That's sad,” she hopes it sounds sincere. “I hope you get to spend time with him. That's quite the trek down to Dublin.”

“Every second weekend. I'd like it to be more often but...” he sighs. “...it is what it is. So you're not married? But you still wear a ring?”

“I've had a hard time severing that last string. It's a bitter pill to swallow. When the man of your dreams picks his job over you. When your happily ever after doesn't exactly turn out that way. He wasn't happy. As a husband. We were much happier before. Before things got too serious.”

“Well pardon me for saying this, but he's a goddamn fool. He has to be to choose work over the likes of you. So have you thought about it? My offer? Dinner and drinks?”

“I'm intrigued,” she admits. “What's in this for me? Other than the handsome and charming company?”

“I have some information. About what you asked about last night. Michael McMann. About his wife and kids and whose involved and trying to stir up trouble. And I've got some names. Of other people you can contact. That are willing to talk. People that are higher up than I am. With real connections.”

“Higher up in...”

“The IRA.”

She grins victoriously and in big letters at the top of the page, right under the name William Flynn, prints those three initials. “You're involved with them? The IRA?”

“It's the family business. What I can tell you is that we're not involved in this. With the wife and kids. We hate the guy. He screwed us over. But we'd never do that. Especially to kids. Even we draw the line somewhere. But whoever is doing this has pissed off a lot of people. Tempers are running high. We want to find out who it is and do something about it.”

“Like a turf war?” she writes that down, accenting it with a big question mark.

“There's a lot of trouble brewing, that's for sure. We want nothing to do with this. The wife and the kids. And they're using us to draw attention away from themselves.”

“Any idea who it is?”

“No real proof. Just lots of rumours. I shouldn't be talking about all of this right now,” he gives a small chuckle. “What will we talk about dinner?”

“Oh I'm sure we can find things to talk about,” she assures him.

“Or things to do.”

“Now don't go putting all your eggs into one basket. I'm not that type girl.”

“I'm sorry, Meghan. I never meant anything by it. Forgive me for being too forward. I...”

“What time for dinner? Tonight is unfortunately not going to work for me. I have prior arrangements that can't be cancelled. But if you're free tomorrow, I can certainly clear my schedule.”

“Tomorrow would be wonderful. I know this is terribly bold of me, but I haven't been able to stop thinking about you. You've been on my mind constantly. Since you walked into the bar. You're very...intriguing. I can't quite get a read on you. There's something so different about you. Way different than any of the women from around here. A mystery, almost. There's so much I'd like to find out.”

“Well if you play your cards right, maybe I'll let you find those things out,” she responds.

“Tomorrow? Six thirty?”

“How about seven? It gives me longer to get ready.”

“Done,” he agrees. “Where do I pick you up?”

Shit, she hadn't even considered that this question would come up. It has been smooth sailing; much easier and seamless than so many initial encounters.

“Meghan?”

“You know, I'm not entirely comfortable with a stranger knowing where I'm staying. I'm a little paranoid about that sort of thing. You can never be too careful in this day and age. How about we meet somewhere? In public. I hate to be such a bother and a worry wart, but...”

“How about we meet her at the bar? We could go in the back room. It's private there. We can have dinner. A few drinks. See where the night takes us.”

She groans internally. “Sounds like a plan,” she chirps. “I'm very much looking forward to seeing you again. To chatting more. I'm flattered. That you thought of me.”

“I've been obsessed with you,” he admits.

“Well hopefully you hold onto some of that enthusiasm. I have to go. I have an online meeting with my editor in a few, so...”

“I'm very much looking forward to tomorrow,” he says. “And I'm flattered as well. That you'd agree to have dinner with me.”

“I'll see you tomorrow,” she promises. “Seven.”

“Seven,” he confirms, and then offers a soft, quiet goodbye before hanging up the phone.

[survivrs]

❝ . . . so you want to piss off your parents, date me to scare them, show them you're all grown up, if long hair and tattoos are what attract you, baby, then you're in luck. and i know it's just a phase, you're not in love with me. you wanna piss of your parents, baby. ❞

( DYLAN O'BRIEN + MALE + HE / HIM  )     🠒     18   by   anabor   is  something  that  resonates  with   FINLAY PAYNE.  the  late night radio host  at  glen ellen fm  is  glen  ellen's  very  own   DIRTBAG,   who  has  been  in  town  for  thirteen years  and  while  they  are  only  thirty one,    they  can  be  very   QUIXOTIC    but  if  their  friends  mentioned  them,    you'd  think  they  were  more  TEMPERMENTAL.   in  a  town  where  everyone  knows  everyone,    it's  hard  to  keep  a  secret,     but  i  think  the  killer  knows  that  [  REDACTED  ],     and  it's  bound  to  get  out  sometime  soon.

name:  finlay patrick payne.

nicknames:  finn.

preferred name:  finn.

age:  thirty one.

date of birth: june 1st, 1992.

starsign:  gemini.

faceclaim:  dylan o'brien.

hair colour:  bleached blonde.

eye colour:  green.

height: 6 foot, 0 inches.

occupation:  late night radio show host.

hometown:  phoenix, arizona.

children:  maybe. but he don't know. ( jokes. )

tattoos: too many to count, has an entire sleeve on this right arm, scattering of random doodles and pictures across the rest of his body and a large back piece dedicated to his grandmother.

piercings:  nose, septum ( that he keeps tucked away ) nipples and tongue.

signature scent:  artificial strawberries and fresh linen.

parents: rebekah payne, father unknown.

siblings: sebastian townsend ( half brother , 3. )

family relations: n/a.

* 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓.

finn doesn't like to talk about his childhood, hell the second he was able to, he fled arizona, just to escape the thoughts. a fatherless boy, with no father at all, with a mother who's next thought was on what could cure the pain. though she never had any pain, it was simply the cravings that seemed to plague her. raised in the nurturing hands of his grandmother, until she died when he was eighteen.

finn was a rough kid, nothing was ever easy, when his grandmother passed he did everything he could to make ends meet, though leaving all her belongings to him, he felt like he wasn't allowed to touch it, so he scraped by and eventually made it out of arizona, but as his money dwindled, he found himself in a shitty apartment in glen ellen and just sort of never left.

soon enough, which no job, the money his grandmother left him began to dwindle and he found himself landing a gig for the radio station, a once off just to make a buck or two, turned into a late night host gig. and he's just never really tried for more.

his years in glen ellen however have created somewhat of a reputation for him, known for sleeping with the wealthy widows and the single mothers, and of course a college footballers girl friend here and there, finn just doesn't seem to care.

* 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐒.

sexual partners / age + gender doesn't matter.

friends

work mates

dealers

party buddies

[harveybwabbit92]

Subway bosses scenarios soulmates

[Au: there are two different soulbonds in this au most of the populous have the if you write or doodle on yourself, then whatever you've written shows up on your soulmates skin, While the other 5% have the you get hurt then your mate will feel it and a bruise will appear on their body. Ingo has the writing one & Emmet has the shared pain one.]

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You weren't sure how this happen or how you got here, all you know is that you fell asleep on the bus ride to... to be honest nowhere, your family was so embarrassed by you being bondless they kicked you out... or you kicked yourself out, especially after one aunt was suggesting marrying you off to her creepy bondless co-worker! the guy was in his 60s and an alcoholic and they just expected you to go along with it? blurrgg!

 Anywho, you got the fuck out as soon as everyone was asleep, You had enough money to keep you float until you found a job and cheap apt/house, "I supposed this is my life now..." you mumbled dozing off, You were woken up abruptly by someone loudly clearing their throat and shaking you.

You jolted and looked around and were very confused to find yourself no longer on the bus, but were instead sitting on a train and two men with identical faces leering at you disapprovingly, Heh, very funny, You've been watching and playing too much Pokémon and now your dreaming about those two train nuts from that one episode... or did you first see them in the game??

Next thing you know you're were handcuffed to a bench and being lectured by the one in black about breaking rules and sneaking on the subway without paying, while his white clad doppelganger was saying something about calling officer Jenny, this all took place under five minutes. While you kept mentally screaming at yourself to wake up! 

When it became apparent that you weren't dreaming and that you were about to be arrested for trespassing both Ingo and Emmet had left you on a bench just slightly out of view. (only the top of your head could be seen), you looked looked over the frosted glass divider and saw Ingo and Emmet preoccupied clearing out the last of the late night passengers, and saw officer Jenny coming, you took this as your opportunity, taking a deep breaths you as you prepared yourself cos this was gonna hurt...a lot! 

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Emmet

Emmet and Ingo greeted officer Jenny and started telling her about the stowaway when Emmet froze his face contorted into a visage confusion, next thing he knew a turret of pain suddenly shot up his from his hand, he bellowed in agony as his brother and officer Jenny asked him what was wrong, Ingo and Jenny gasped as he took his glove and saw his thumb was turning a deep shade of purple like he'd broken it! 

"Emmet what happened?" Ingo asked taking his brother hand to examined it, trying to figure out how his younger brother could've hurt himself out of seemingly nowhere? Emmet scanned the entire lobby for something he could've hooked his hand on something, or someone who could've harmed him but there was nothing... Then officer Jenny asked-

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Ingo:

While they were talking Officer Jenny asked Ingo if he had accidentally cut himself in the scuffle? the elder twin looked at the police officer confused, there was no scuffle, what was she on about? "Ingo look at your arm!" Emmet gasped staring at his twins arm shocked, since it was hot their shift was over Ingo had taken his coat off. 

He looked down and saw red streak that looked like dried blood run down his arm, like he had wiped it off something, Ingo tried to clean the red mark off, but it was like a tattoo, further bewildering the Elder Trevithick twin, he wondered in Emmet hid a dye pack in his coat sleeves again? Emmet insisted he never touched his coat! Then officer jenny asked.

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

"I think something might be wrong with your soulmates, should I call it in?" [Twin of choice] looked at the police woman flummoxed "Impossible I don't hav..." [Twin of choice] voice trailed off as he slowly came to a sinking realization this phenomenon only started when they found you! 

Emmet and Ingo looked at each other stunned before rushing to where they had left you, only to be greeted by an empty pair of hand cuffs and and couple droplets of blood trailing away a few feet and it was obvious you escaped through another exit while they were busy with Officer Jenny, Now the subway brothers were upset for a whole different reason.

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

Meanwhile, You bit back tears as you tried to pop you thumb back into place, you winced as you managed to carefully manipulate the bone back into the joint. "Urg... Why does popping it back in hurt more then breaking It?" you sniffed as you made a makeshift splint out of an old nail buffer and hair ties, not the best DIY fix... but, What could you do? you had no Idea where the hospital was....if Nimbasa even had a hospital for humans, The games and anime were so centered around Pokémon, that they seem to forget that humans need medical aid too. 

That and how would you pay the doctors? You're pretty doubtful your money was any good here! You huffed walking down the street mumbling to yourself when you looked at your reflection in a shop window, and winced at your scruffy appearance.

The baggy eyes, clammy skin, punctured lip and the dried blood going down your chin and shirt. "Gawd, I look like a vampire!" you grumbled as you went to kick the ground and only noticed there was a Pokéball under your foot at the last second!  you watched the ball fly and hit something and sucked it in....

"Holy crap did I just catch Pokémon?" you raced over to where the ball landed and watched it move before blinking green. "Holy shit... I did catch a Pokémon!" you said astonished before picking up the ball and tossing it again to let whoever was in it out, you gasped as you were greeted a Sableye! the two of you stared at each other awkwardly before you waved. "Hi.." the purple goblin mimicked you "Eye..." Alright your first Pokémon!.. What now? just as that thought came to mind a police car rounded the corner you tensed up. 

Crap! Ingo and Emmet must really hate dimension hopping stowaways! you quickly ducked behind a dumpster as the police care drove by with a searchlight on, your Sableye looked at you curiously as you waited a few moments before coming out of hiding. "Sorry Bud, your probably confused let's get you up to speed." Sableye walked next to you as you explained your predicament to the bemused little goblin.

Cut a month later.

You by some miracle found a job the Pokémon daycare on route three after leaving Nimbasa city, the couple there found you and Sableye (whom you've nicknamed Chip.) wandering by and were worried as you looked very ill and ready to keel over at the slightest breeze, after feeding you and letting you use their shower.

They offered you a job, you excitedly accepted and soon they had you and Chip working as security guards for the egg Hatchery on nights, though on some when days when the daycare was short on volunteers you would help out with the preschooler class that visited once a week, to help them and the baby Pokémon socialize.

This would be your down fall (or so you thought at the time.) See it was one of the days where Daycare was short on volunteers and you and Chip were running around the playground playing freeze tag with the kids, when a random trainer was walking by and saw you standing in a T-pose, when they got a good look at your face they realized you were the 'missing woman" whose face was plastered all over Nimbasa! Ingo and Emmet have been driving the whole dang city nuts looking for you! They quickly snapped your picture and and posted it to Wythat! (Twitter parody, but uses Wynaut.)

Elesa liked and rebound the post. The subway bosses immediately responded, thanking the trainer and promising them a reward 15,000 Poké-bucks of course battling them without going through twenty people next time they decide challenge the subway.

Two hours later you were taking a nap before your night shift started. When you you woke up to Marta your bosses wife scolding someone, you hummed thinking Herb took his new teeth out to eat pudding cake again, and she caught him! He knows the baby Aipom are curious about his false teeth and will jump at any opportunity to nick them at a moments notice!

You looked at the clock next to your bed and saw it was ten minutes before your shift started and got up, "Sabe..." Chip whined having his personal heater move away from his body. "C'mon sleepyhead time to get up." Sableye grumbled and followed you out to the dark hall where the yelling was clearer. "...ould've seen the state poor Y/n was in! what kind of soulmate neglects their other half like that?!" Marta huffed You felt a chill go down your spin when you heard a familiar voice answered the old woman. 

Emmet: I always thought I was bondless!...But, I guess that's no excuse.

Ingo: I want to apologize to her, our first meeting I wasn't exactly... Kind.

You brows furrowed in confusion as you tried to process what was going on? [Twin of choice] was looking for his soulmate...And You were that soulmate... the more you thought about it the more nuts it sounded. This... had to be a trick! you were boundless there was no way, [Twin of choice] was just saying all this so you'll come out of hiding! Then have you arrested! 

You backed away. "Saby..." Chip yawned causing you to jump, in seconds the twins Marta and Herb all whipped their heads towards the dark hallway. "Was that Y/n's Sableye?" Herb said getting up. You mentally cursed scooped up Chip and ran out the back door and looked around for a place to hide, when something caught your eye.

Before you could react vines came shooting out from the shadows and wrapped around your body tightly, you winced as the vines thorns dug into your skin as you looked up saw two men holding some eggs, they were being lead by a smug looking woman all dressed in black commanding a Carnivine and Houndoom came walking out of the shadows. "Well, we broke in here expect a fight but, Stealing these egg will be a cake walk -" The thief kicked you in the ribs. "If security this much of a jo-" Suddenly a fire ball shot pass her and Carnivine was gone! followed by the sound of twigs snapping and a tree falling over, It took a moment for the thieves to realize what happen.

Their leader went pale stuttering as she looked over her shoulder to see a smoking trail leading into the wooded area behind the daycare, she saw her Carnivine knocked out against a tree, the would be thief quickly panicked tried to ordered her Houndoom to attack! but it was quickly subdued by a powerful charge beam.  

"Bu...W-who's there?"

*chuckles* [something rushes by... just out of view.]

"Stop laughing at me! *takes out another Pokéball* 

"You better just give up now, you're no match for us."

"I'll take you down come out!" the leader demanded the male thieves looked ready to piss themselves when they saw the Nimbasa subway masters step into view and holy shit, did they look pissed! "What the hell, I signed up for easy money! No one said anything about taking on Nimbasa's battle masters!" His buddy didn't need to be told twice to everyone's horror they tossed the eggs and ran! "Mifp urf wrykrc!" [Chip use Psychic!]/ Chandelure use psychic!" You and Ingo shouted, the two ghost types caught the eggs and gently set them in a wheelbarrow, which Herb quickly ran out of there!

while the leader tossed her Pokéball thinking she could still win, a it was Rhyperior, Emmet had managed to untie you. "Electross/Chip use water pulse!" You and Emmet shouted dousing the Rhyperior in water sending it to it's knees, Ingo finished it off with Klinklang using flash cannon, Being out of Pokémon the thief leader tried to sneak away by got stop by the police waiting for her.

The thieves were captured apparently their big plan was to steal some of the starter Pokémon eggs and sell them on the black market, they thought it would be easy since they only ever saw you patrolling around, and they weren't expect the impromptu back up!... That and they tripped the motion alarm, the police were already on the way to investigate! You frowned as you watched Emmet and Ingo chat with the cops probably explaining why they were all the way out here to begin with? 

You sighed expecting the cops to come for you next, What with the trespassing and evading arrest charges coming your way... Instead you were confused when you police left alone and [Twin of choice] made his way over to you.

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

Emmet:

Emmet had you in a tight hug, before reaching for the hand with the the thumb you intentionally dislocated to escape the handcuffs, He frowned as he felt a light sting through the bond when he gently flexed your digit to a certain angle, pretty much telling him you didn't set it back properly, He'll have a doctor check it out when they got back to Nimbasa, Emmet was going to apologize if it hurting you, before noticing the way you were looking at him, like you were expecting him to attack you or something?

"What's wrong?"  

What are you doing?"

"Checking if you crippled your hand?"

"No I mean Why are you doing this? aren't you here to arrest me?"

Emmet's smile twitch as he processed what you had just said to him, He didn't know if he should start laughing or crying at your question? He knew you were eavesdropping on the conversation with the daycare couple! and Surely you had to have noticed the effect you had on him when Carnivine thorns dug into you or when that woman kicked you. "Do I really need spell it it out?" Emmet said pulling his sleeve down to show you his arm, his skin marred with bruises that matched your own bruises. 

Needless to say you were floored you were so to used being bondless you were prepared to be living alone. "Why didn't you try and contact me?" you mumbled looking down at the ground, Emmet panicked and looked flustered. "W-well I-i was trying to! bu-but.." Emmet stammered as Ingo blurted out. "Emmet didn't want to hurt himself and have you feel it!" The older twin said bluntly the younger twin's face was cheri-red as muttered at his brother to be quiet, before telling you about how he reported you as missing person and had everyone in Nimbasa city looking for you. 

Needless to say you were in shock about this whole I have a soulmate thing, before asking. "So, what happens now?" Emmet's arms tightened around your waist. "What do you mean? Your coming home with me." he said like it was obvious, but you were hesitant, how could you just leave? especially after what happen tonight? You went to say this, however... 

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

Ingo:

Ingo reached out taking the hand with the thumb you had dislocated in his grasp; carefully flexing the digit he frowned hearing and feeling a slight clicking when he bent a certain angle you wince. "You didn't set it right, We’ll have a doctor check it over whe..." He noticed the nervous way you were looking at him, like a cornered Deerling that's been cornered by an hungry Ursaring, Ingo was going to asked why you were scared of him, but you already spoke up.

"What are you doing?" 

"Making sure you didn't permanently damage your hand?

"No, I mean what are you doing? didn't you come here to arrest me?"

"Are you...serious?" 

Ingo looked at baffled why would you think that? he knew you were listening in on the conversation with the daycare couple. "I'm not here to do anything of the sort." He affirmed but you were very doubtful, suddenly your hand felt ticklish, and saw Ingo with a marker drawing a small heart on your palm. You watched as astounded as the same heart appeared on his hand, needless to say you were shock for years you were prepared and ready to be alone forever. "Why didn't you try and contact me?" you mumbled looking down at the ground.

Ingo cheeks were red "I-I- tried to, I jus--I didn't." he stammered as he tried to explained himself, Emmet snorted and rolled his eyes. "This dope was so flustered to be bonded to a pretty girl, he couldn't even write a simple Hello on himself!" Ingo flicked his brother on the head and told him to go away, before telling you he reported you as a missing person with the Nimbasa police that's how he found you.

"So...what happens now?" You asked still reeling over the I have a soulmate thing, Ingo reached out and patted you on the head. "You're coming home with me now." He hummed like it was obvious, you on the other hand were reluctant to leave Herb and Marta especially after what happened tonight! and were going to say this to Ingo but...

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

Marta and Herb had already packed your stuff, saying it wasn't fair keeping you so far away from your soulmate seeing that you had a lot of catching up to do! But before you left, Marta had a sit down with [Twin of choice.]; warning him that he had better treat you right Or else she'll march straight into Nimbasa and take you back! [Twin of Choice] nodded at her nervously, not doubting the old woman's promise for a second! 

Herb surprised you with a Pokémon egg too, he said it was an Amaura from Kalos. "Figured Chip could use a friend." he said patting the gem eyed imp on the head, Chip cooed excitedly while the twins waited by their car, as you gave the couple one last hug and thanked them for everything before going to join your soulmate.

[hello-everyfandom]

“No, it’s over. She ended it.”

Warnings: Fighting, violence and underage drinking

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

Words: 4.6k

Summary: Heart break hurts.

Part One "I love you more than the sky and the ground but I can’t do this anymore."

(Here is part two to “I love you more than the sky and the ground but I can’t do this anymore” Writing this was painful. I did everything I could to convey as much emotion as I can and I apologize if it is a little bit too long, nevertheless, I hope you enjoy my heart break)

By the time the boys went up to their dorm, they expected to see Sirius sitting by his desk, a glass of firewhiskey in hand as he usually did when you and Sirius fought. However, as the creaked open the door, the room was dimly lit with the center fireplace and Sirius was nowhere near a bottle of alcohol. Instead, James peered over from the side of the room to see Sirius’ body underneath the covers, in a depressive sleep. He searched for you, hopeful to see your sleeping figure curled next to Sirius. But, you weren’t. Remus placed his bag gently on the floor and mouthed to James.

“Is she there?” 

James shook his head and scratched the back of his neck in confusion. The boys convened in the bathroom, shutting the door behind them so Sirius could not hear their whispers.

“What happened?” Peter asked.

“Must’ve been quite a nasty fight,” Remus shrugged, looking at the bathroom door worriedly.

“Do you think they...?” Peter trailed off as he remembered hearing the fighting all the way from the common room couches.

“Of course not,” James swatted his hand, “It’s Y/N and Padfoot, they bicker and fight all the time. ‘M sure everything’s alright.”

“They couldn’t have broken up,” Remus agreed, “We’d have seen something.”

James breathed deeply in thought. The three boys stood in complete confusion.

“Should one of us go check up on Y/N?” Peter asked, his fingers scratching his nose nervously.

“No, better not.” James answered, “Leave her be, I’m sure we’ll see her in the morning.” James uncrossed his arms and pulled his shirt over his head, “Go on then, Worm. You know you have detention tomorrow morning, best not be late or McGonagall will surely decimate you.”

Peter agreed silently and the boys did their nightly routine, missing Sirius’ bouncing voice. As the boys got settled into bed, Remus stood to put out the lights. A shuffle was heard in Sirius’ bed and the marauders froze. They paused silently, waiting, listening until they heard a small cry from under the covers. Remus looked sharply at the boys, shaking his head and signaling to leave Sirius be. As Remus turned off the lights, he shut Sirius’ curtains as to give him some needed privacy and all the boys went to sleep worried for their dear friend Padfoot. 

Light flickered through the curtains, blessing the dorm room with bright and glowing sunshine. Remus, Peter, and James all began to stir, waking up on their own time for breakfast. James sat up and fumbled clumsily for his glasses. The room became more clearer, brighter, as James yawned tiredly. He glanced at Remus, who was getting ready themselves and looked at Sirius’ bed. Something in his expected Sirius to still be fast asleep, a pillow over his head and snores slipping out of his mouth. However, he didn’t see Sirius asleep as he usually was. Instead, Sirius was sat on his bed. He appeared to be fully dressed, though his clothing was wrinkled as if he had just dug through the hamper to find something suitable for the day. His hair was wildly splayed and pushed back. And his head fell lowly, looking at something in his hands.

“You alright, mate?” James said slowly, standing next to his bed. His eyes focused on the object in his best friend’s hands, a silver chain with a ring attached. James felt himself go numb. Sirius hadn’t put on the chain. That was the first thing he did every morning, something he took quite a bit of pride in. Sirius looked up at James, his face was blank and pale. He clenched his jaw and shook his head slowly before looking back at the necklace in his hands.

Remus looked over at the two boys as James glanced back at him, his lips were in a thin line. “C’mon, Pad, shall we get a bit of breakfast then?” Sirius’ best friends watched as he slowly stood and dropped the necklace on the bed table. He grabbed his book bag, slung it over his shoulder, and followed the boys solemnly to the Great Hall. 

The entire way felt as if every second had been magically transformed into hours, and every step felt brutal as Sirius counted the tiles on the floor. He was oblivious to the concerned looks the marauders shared with each other until he sat down next to James at the breakfast table. Peter joined after his morning detention. He could feel the aching silence all the way from the hallway and as he sat next to Remus, he stared at his friend with such sympathy. There, the marauders sat and it was painfully silent besides the sound of the occasional munching on toast.

“Sirius,” Peter said softly and as sensitive as he could, “did something happen last night?”

Sirius didn’t reply and Peter reached for Remus to help. 

“Did you fight with Y/N?” Remus gripped his coffee cup in his hands.

“Yes,” Sirius said softly.

“And, did you two make up?” James continued, turning his body to look. Sirius barely touched any food, he played with a piece of toast, ripping it apart with his fingers.

“No,” Sirius replied. James looked around the Great Hall, wishing to see your body walking towards them. He even looked at the other House tables in hopes to see if you had decided to sit with your other friends. But, there was no trace of you.

“Well, mate. Don’t worry about it, she’ll be here soon and the two of you can make up and then snog in front of us. No worries.” James placed a joking tone to mask his immense worry.

“I don’t think so.” 

“It can’t have been that bad of a fight, yeah?” Peter assured Sirius.

Sirius looked up from his plate and said as quietly as he could, “We broke up.”

James nearly spat out his juice and with his mouth agape, “You what?!” 

“Don’t make me say it again,” Sirius begged, closing his eyes and resting his head on the rim of his glass.

“What happened, Padfoot?” Peter asked, “You can tell us, mate.” 

“I don’t want to talk about it.” 

“I’m sure if we just, or even you spoke to Y/N today, you could sort it all out.” Remus continued, feigning hopefulness.

“No, it’s over. She ended it.”

“Oh,” Peter said quietly. “But, I’m sure if the two of you just spoke-”

Sirius shot up and slammed his hand angrily on the table, “I said I don’t want to talk about it!” he yelled, a vein popping out of his neck. The three boys ignored the awkward looks they were getting from their fellow classmates and only looked at Sirius with sadness. It was completely unlike Sirius to lose his temper and raise his voice with the boys, he was usually so carefree and snarky. This was a side of Sirius they had never seen, a broken, saddened, and frustrated Sirius. Sirius quickly realized how loud he had shouted and pulled his hand away from the table as if it were lit by magma. He ran his hand through his hair and stammered,

“I... I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He said finally before turning swiftly and stalking out of the Great Hall, leaving his friends watching his back.

“What the hell happened between those two?” Remus asked with wide eyes.

“I... I’m not sure.” James pushed his glasses up his nose. 

“I’ve never seen Sirius so...” Peter trailed off, unable to find the words to describe Sirius’ current emotional state.

“I know.” Remus agreed. “What do we do, Prongs?”

James bit his lip anxiously, “I. I don’t know. I’m not sure...”

Breakfast continued in silence until the time bled into class periods. The boys trudged slowly to their first class, Charms, whispering in hushed voices of concern. As James opened the classroom door, he saw Sirius sitting there, his feet on his desk, and his head relaxed in his hands. He blinked rapidly, trying to refocus. It seemed that Sirius, or someone who looked like Sirius, was sitting, cooly at his desk, not caring about the world. It was a complete twist of what the boys had just seen in the Great Hall merely minutes ago. Perhaps he had swallowed stolen liquid luck for confidence, but Sirius turned his head and smiled brightly at the boys.

“Thought you boys would be late,” he said smugly, putting his feet on the ground and resting his forearms on the desk in front of him.

“Yeah... we just... had breakfast,” Remus said slowly, taking his seat behind Sirius.   

James looked cautiously at Sirius before asking, “everything... alright, Pad?”

“What?” Sirius’ eyebrows cocked up, “Yeah, everything is perfect.” Peter looked at Remus who shrugged cluelessly. Remus’ eyes barely caught yours as you came into the room and quickly took your seat beside Lily Evans. Remus glanced at Lily who shook her head at him and held your hand under the desk in comfort. As class started and the Professor droned on about his lecture, Sirius twirled his wand in his fingers whilst you doodled on your parchment, pretending to take notes. Remus watched as Lily whispered to you and saw your eyes close briefly before opening and nodding at her. He assumed Lily had asked if you were alright, and you, a gentle girl, nodded fakely. 

When the professor dismissed the class, each of the boys split up for their next period. Sirius ruffled Peter’s hair and wrapped his arm around his shoulder to guide him to potions while Remus had a study period and James had transfigurations with Lily. Remus sent the usually over cocky James a silent look, signaling him to speak to Evans about what had happened and James nodded in return.

“Evans!” James chased after Lily, reminding himself not to get lost in her beautiful eyes or smell the scent of her shampoo. Lily turned, sighed to herself, and slowed her pace to allow James Potter to catch up.

“I’m not in the mood for your aimless flirting, Potter,” Lily said as they walked side by side.

“Aimless? I don’t suppose true words of love are ‘aimless,’ Evans.” James grinned.

“I knew I shouldn’t have slowed down,” Lily grumbled, beginning to speed up her walking. 

“Hey! I’m sorry, wait.” James caught her elbow swiftly and stopped her in the corridor. “I’m sorry,” he said sincerely.

“What is it, Potter?” Lily looked up at tall James and asked.

“What, um,” James scratched the back of his neck again, “What happened between Y/N and Sirius?”

“You don’t know?” Lily searched the corridor for either you or Sirius, “They broke up.”

“Well, I know that,” James sighed, “But... why? What happened?”

“All I know is last night I came into the dorm and she was... rather inconsolable. I’m not sure she caught any sleep last night either. It’s...”

“Weird?” James finished for her. Lily nodded in confirmation.

“Quite. I’ve never seen Y/N is such array and I never would’ve thought they’d actually break up.” Lily sighed in sympathy for her best friend. “If you asked me earlier, I would’ve been sure they’d have had gotten married and had small, snarky children in the future.”

James laughed lightly.

“And, well.” Lily continued, “It was even more mortifying as Y/N was nearly in tears in class, your best friend seemed to not have a bother in the world.” Lily spat out the words ‘best friend’ making James flinch.

“It’s not like that,” James assured.

“Oh?” Lily glared, “To me, and although Y/N will never admit it, to her as well, we both saw Sirius’ rather senseless attitude. He didn’t even seem to care they had broken up.”

 “That’s not true,” James argued as he defended his friend, “earlier this morning he was quite upset, I’m not sure what happened by charms, though.”

“Upset? Really?” Lily asked condescendingly, “Well, whatever. Y/N is nearly heartbroken and Sirius? He barely seemed to have a heart at all.” 

James wanted to argue back, he wanted to scream and defend his friend till his dying breath. But, he couldn’t shake the image of Sirius twirling his wand, slicking his hair back with his fingers. It did seem rather senseless and emotionless for him to do that, so soon after the breakup. Instead, James walked silently next to Evans until they reached McGonagall’s class.

“You know what I think?” Sirius piped up loudly over the lunch table. He had returned to his normal, boisterous self, and placed a rather convincing smile on his face.

“What’s that?” Remus asked, chewing on some peas.

“I think we should have a party tonight.” Sirius grinned at his friends who looked back at him in shock.

James cleared his throat, pushing his glasses up, “Are you... sure you want to do that, Pad?”

“Of course I do! It’s Friday, we’re bored, we may as well have a raging party in the common room. ‘Sides, we got all the booze in the room anyways that needs to be drunk.”

“‘M not sure that’s quite the best idea,” Peter said after a while, choosing his words carefully, “after... you know,” he ticked his head to where you were sitting. Your head was focused on your plate as you listened to Lily and Marlene chat endlessly.

“After what?” Sirius asked, “After the breakup? Mates, I’m fine. I knew we were going to break up anyway, I’m fine.” 

“Still,” Peter chewed, “Is it... the best idea, right now?”

“Oh, you bellend. You’re just upset you lost at wizard staff and got so pissed you nearly threw up half of your stomach contents.” Sirius barked a laugh, “You’re with me, right Prongs?” he turned to his friend for support who looked like a deer caught in headlights.

“Well...” James bit his lip, “‘m not sure, Padfoot. You and Y/N just broke up-”

“Oh come on! You too? I told you, you pricks, look I’m fine!” Sirius groaned and yelled, “Well, say whatever, the party is happening and if I know my friends, which I like to hope I do, you’ll be there.” And with that, Sirius stood to spread the word for the party.

“This isn’t good.” Remus said in a hushed voice to the boys, “He’s gone mental.”

“Mental? I think he’s just rather upset,” Peter leaned into the circle. “Prongs, you’ve got to say something to him.”

James glanced up at Sirius who was bouncing around the tables to allow every one of the news of the raging party that night. “Maybe he’s in denial.”

“It doesn’t matter what he is,” Remus said sharply, “Look at Y/N, she’s clearly distraught at the sight of her boyfriend galloping off.”

“Ex-boyfriend,” Peter reminded making Remus shoot him a glare.

“Come on, James.” Remus nudged him, “You’ve got to do something.”

James scratched his chin and said uncomfortably, “I’m not sure I, or any of us, can say anything to make him change his mind. I think... I think he’s heartbroken.”

Remus and Peter hummed in agreement, “What do we do then?”

“I guess...” James trailed off, cursing at himself for letting Sirius block himself in, “I guess we go to the party and make sure he doesn’t make an arse of himself.”

The party was in full swing. Many students, of every house, joined in the spacious common room and were drinking as if they were all going to be killed in the morning. Each of the boys stood next to each other, holding a drink in their hands and watching Sirius’ every move. Sirius, nearly blacked out drunk, was chugging fire whiskey and wine as if it were his job. His booming laugh could be heard over the music and the chattering of students. Lily Evans made her way through the crowd, James could spot her red hair drifting down her shoulders and a look of pure annoyance on her face.

“A party, really?” she said angrily.

“I don’t know what to tell you,” James sighed.

“We couldn’t stop him even if we tried.” Peter backed James up. The four Gryffindor students looked back at the crowd who were cheering on Sirius as he threw back a bottle of whiskey.

“Amazing,” Lily said sarcastically, taking a place next to Remus. “So while Sirius is pissing himself drunk, Y/N was crying in the library.”

“She was crying?” Remus asked, dumbfounded.

“Of course she was!” Lily hissed before realizing her harsh tone. She mumbled a small apology to her friend who nodded in reply, “She’s... she’s. I’ve never seen her so sad.”

“We’ve never seen Sirius like this either,” Remus agreed. 

“Oh no,” Peter said before pointing at Sirius. Sirius had a girl, a Ravenclaw, in a corner, making teasing eyes as they flirted with each other. The girl reached up and fixed Sirius’ collar, placing her hand on his chest before wrapping her fingers around something. A chain. Sirius had put the necklace back on, perhaps as a sign of mourning, and there she was, clinging onto it as some flirtatious gesture. Sirius, in his alcohol-induced state, didn’t notice and continued to lean closer to the girl, motioning for her to kiss him.

“We need to stop him!” Lily cried, “I just saw Y/N in the corridor, she’s coming back to the dorm to sleep!” Before James could race across the common room and pull his drunkard friend away, the marauders and Lily stared horror as your figure came through the door. You looked around at the party with such sorrowful eyes, sighing to yourself. Each and every one of them thanked the stars as you saw Lily and pushed your way through the swinging crowd. Lily reached forward and gripped your arms.

“Who decided to have a party?” you asked quietly. The boys, each who loved you with all their soul, tried to make a barrier to protect your eyes from the ghastly sight of your ex-boyfriend snogging another girl barely twenty-four hours after your break up.  

“Not sure, darling,” James said, putting a comforting hand on your back, gently pushing you away, “Maybe one of the Prewitt twins.”

“How about we go upstairs? We can find Marlene and have a cup of tea instead of being around these unruly teenagers.” Lily smiled gently, hoping, begging that you wouldn’t turn around. You nodded and began to walk towards the stairs before looking at the boys, counting their heads.

“James... Remus, where’s Sirius?” you asked, your voice nearly breaking at his name,

“Uh,” Remus stuttered, “I’m not sure, maybe off uh, in the Black Lake or something, you know how he is.” he chuckled nervously.

“Peter?” you looked at the small boy who fumbled with the sleeves of his sweater.

“What’s going on?” you asked suspiciously.

“What? Nothing’s going on. What’s going on is you’re missing that good old cuppa Evans is offering you, if it were up to me I’d already be up there in my pajamas, ready to be tucked in by her!” James said as quickly as he could, looking at the boys nervously.

“Is something the matter? Did he get hurt?” you asked fast, worry seeping into your brow. Before anyone could stop you, before anyone could race you upstairs, you turned around and nearly fell to your feet. There, the boy you were in love with, was passionately snogging another girl. A girl who wasn’t you. You felt your heart drop and bile rise to your throat as you saw the chain clutched in her fingers and Sirius’ hands cupping her cheeks the way he used to do with you.

“Oh.” you choked out, tears already forming in your eyes.

“Y/N...” Remus cautiously said, putting his arm around you.

“Did... did you all know?” you looked at your friends who slowly nodded with self-hatred. They were so angry with themselves, angry with the situation, angry with letting you down and seeing the hurt drip onto your cheeks as you began to cry. You wiped the tears with your palm as your breath became ragged. 

“I’m sorry.” James pulled you in for a tight hug. Lily’s hand found yours and Remus left his hand on the small of your back. James could feel the tears seep into his sweater and your hiccups as you cried. He held his friend closely and felt fury for his other. You pulled away, wiping your tears again. You looked down at your shoes as Lily said.

“Do you want to go upstairs? We can leave right now,” your friend said comfortingly, rubbing your arms. You couldn’t find yourself. Every word, every phrase you had learned since you were a child left your vocabulary as you were left nothing but silent. You heard the hushed whispers of your friends who were all worried about your emotional state. You couldn’t stop yourself. You painfully looked up again, looking through the heads and shoulders of your classmates to make eye contact with Sirius. His eyes met your teary ones. He looked from your distraught face down to the girl in front of him who was fiddling with the necklace and the ring you had given him for your anniversary. Suddenly, Sirius felt sick. He tasted the lip gloss of the girl had just kissed. He tasted the fire whiskey on his breath. He tasted the disgust he felt for himself. He looked back at you, your eyes not leaving his. 

“No.” He whispered to himself. No. No. What had he done? What the fuck did he do? He untangled himself from the girl who gasped in confusion. He watched you desperately as Lily tried to guide you up the stairs. He pushed and prodded and reached out for you with his hand stretched. He was so close to touching you, so close to feeling your breath when he felt a hand placed firmly on his chest.

“Let her go.” James said as seriously as he could, pushing his best friend away.

“Prongs, let me go! I have to, I have to talk to her.” Sirius fought against James’ grip. “Let me fucking go! Let me go see my girlfriend, you fuckers!” Sirius yelled in fury.

“Sirius.” James finally said firmly, “Leave her alone. You’ve done enough damage.”

Sirius looked to Remus who also shook his head and then to Peter who looked up at him through eyelashes. He thrashed until your body disappeared from his sight, his mouth agape in agony. He turned to his friends infuriated and said with rage, “What the hell?”

“Sirius, calm down,” Remus said gently, grabbing on his arm.

“No! Fuck you! Fuck you guys! That’s my girlfriend!” Sirius’ words were slightly slurred and he only saw red at that moment.

“No. Not anymore,” Peter crossed his arms, feeling quite angry himself. “And you need to leave her alone now.” Sirius turned with such vigor and seething anger that he raised his shaking fist to punch Peter square in the face. James’ eyes widened as he quickly pulled Sirius away. Remus caught Peter and looked him over and Peter held his face in his hands. Remus quickly asked if he was alright and then stood to face Sirius with a fuming look.

“Peter...” Sirius said, guilt flooding his veins, “I’m... I’m sorry, mate. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what the hell is happening to me.”

“I’d like to know too!” James yelled, “Who the fuck are you? This isn’t you, Sirius! This emotionless, bastard of a man in front of me is not my best mate, so who the hell are you?” 

“I’m sorry!”

“No, you’re not!” James argued, “You need to pull yourself together, man. You’re fucking tearing yourself apart!” 

“I’m fine!” Sirius begged, holding his head in his hands.

“This isn’t fine.” Remus shook his head, “James is right, this isn’t you.”

“I’m sorry!” Sirius cried, wiping his face with anguish. He looked at his friends who stared at him in such disappointment and anger. He couldn’t take it. Sirius was so angry at himself, angry at the world. He was so frustrated that he wanted to scream. Without another word, Sirius Black left the common room into the dark night.

It was past two in the morning when Sirius returned. The party had ended a while ago and Remus had Peter sat on his bed with an ice pack on his eye. Peter sighed and put the pack on his lap before saying, 

“Maybe we were too hard on him.”

“Too hard on him?” Remus asked angrily before pushing Peter’s hand to place the ice on his eye again, “I think we were too easy on him.”

“I don’t know, did you see his face? He’s... not himself.” Peter mumbled.

“Yes, but it’s not an excuse to act like a complete dick head.” 

The door creaked open as Sirius stumbled in. He shut the door and stared at his best friends. James was leaning against the bedpost, fiddling with his golden snitch, Remus was stood beside Peter who had a split lip and a black eye.

“You’re back.” James stood up taller to face him.

“Yeah.” 

“Where did you go?” Remus questioned,

“I took a walk.” It was quiet before someone spoke.

“What happened out there, man?” James started, “you were out of control, you were pissed drunk, and... you punched Peter.”

“I know.” 

“Is that all you can say?”

“I know I fucked up. I’m sorry.” Sirius turned to Peter, “I’m so sorry, Wormtail.”

Peter stood and dropped the ice pack on his bed. He looked at Sirius with sincerity, “It’s alright, Padfoot, just a bruise is all.”

“Sirius, you have to tell us what’s happening. It’s... extremely hard to see you like this.” Remus crossed his arms.

“I know.”

“Pad, you know you can tell us anything. You know that right?” James furrowed his eyebrows in concern.

“I know.” Sirius paused to glance up from his shoes and into the peering sight of his friends. “I just.”

“What is it, Sirius?” James whispered.

“I’m...” he was lost. He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t talk. He couldn’t feel anything but the swallowing pain of heartbreak. “I’m. I just. I’m.” He couldn’t. Sirius let out a sob, his shoulders wracking and he felt his ribs clatter against his heart. Salty tears dripped down Sirius’ face as he wept in mourning for his lost love. He expected his friends to hate him, he expected you to hate him. But, instead of the cold shoulder, James reached out for his brother and pulled him into his arms. James hugged him tightly, putting his hand on the back of Sirius’ head. Sirius slinked into his arms and cried further into his shoulder.

“I fucked up.”

James stiffened, gripping him for dear life, “I know.”

“I don’t know what to do.”

“I know. It’s okay.”

Sirius pushed James away softly and frantically wiped his tears, “It’s not okay! I lost her. I fucked up. I’m a fuck up. I lost her. I love her.” James quickly pulled him into another hug, “I love her, James. I love her so much.”

“It’s okay. It’ll be okay.”

“James, I love her.”

“I know.”

As Sirius felt his breath leave his lungs, his brother held him closer, hoping with every inch in his body that the hurt you and Sirius felt would disappear in the morning. And there, the marauders watched, all mourning in mutual sadness. The boys looked at each other and nodded, silently agreeing that they would do anything and everything to piece the love you shared back together. 

[thetransguard-archive]

couldnt find the promt posts but: joenicky monster/supernatural au? i absolutely adore ur writing btw💕

you cannot hand me the word supernatural and not expect me to think of buzzfeed unsolved RGEHFBRWFHKJL im sorry this turned into a ghost hunter’s au i just don’t know how to write vampires or werewolves or whatever else constitutes supernatural

nicky does not believe in ghosts.

so why is he standing in front of a long-abandoned house, carrying several hundred dollars worth of largely useless equipment, wearing a shirt emblazoned with a big cartoon ghost? he tells himself it’s a favour being returned. his room mate, lykon, is endlessly more enthusiastic then he is, mumbling to himself as he fiddles with the camera that was paid with money that probably should’ve gone to rent.

“don’t look so worried nicky,” lykon says, as they step inside the threshold. his best friend flashes him a wide grin which is immediately contradicted by the alarming creak of the floorboard under his foot. “we’ve got holy water and everything else. we’ll just check to see if there are any ghoulies in here, they can’t hurt us.”

“you know i think this is a load of horseshit. i’m more worried about the house collapsing on our heads.”

“don’t be dramatic, dude. it’s in perfectly good shape.”

as they start setting up lights, laying out their sleeping bags for preparation of sleeping the night in this place, nicky is forced to admit there’s a sort of melancholy beauty to the place. it would have been a very nice house, once, not too ostentatious like the other houses they’ve “investigated”, with high ceilings and large windows, and stunning art covering the walls. landscapes, bowls of fruit, studies of fire and light and the night sky. but not a single person. nicky notices the same sprawling signature on all of the art, and steps closer to see if he can make out a name-

“nicky! let’s start recording.”

lykon begins unrolling the backstory of this house and the ghost allegedly haunting it, and nicky interjects throughout, punctuating the otherwise dead serious narrative with bursts of skepticism and humour, the way they’ve always done. lykon’s little ghost hunting channel is small now but getting bigger every day, and nicky can’t say he doesn’t enjoy it, verbally sparring with his best friend. lykon’s a believer and nicky isn’t, and while they’ll argue fiercely on camera they agree in pretty much every way off screen. apparently this house used to be home to an artist who’d been slowly making his way up in the art world before being murdered mysteriously. with no convictions, the story went that people were compelled to stay away from the house, wouldn’t be able to write without doodling, and smell fresh paint. also the standard doors opening and closing on their own, lights turning on and off, footsteps and the like. nicky was not exactly enthused to spend a night on the dusty floor, but hey. it beat sitting on the couch watching reruns of the same bland reality tv shows.

nicky’s halfway through a longwinded joke when lykon jolts like he’s been zapped, hand gripping nicky’s forearm, eyes darting around in sudden fear.

“what? dude, let go.” he elbows lykon in the ribs gently to get his attention back. “hello? what happened.”

“swear i heard a laugh, from upstairs, maybe,” he replies, face furrowed in concentration. he flashes a smile at the camera. “alright, i think we got all the background done. lets investigate.”

predictably, they find nothing. well, nothing of worth to nicky, but lykon insists that the room that used to be the studio feels colder then the rest of the house, they hear noises from inside the room once they leave it, and the spirit box spits up a few noises that lykon insists are words. a pretty standard investigation, then. they pack up their stuff and tuck in for the night. lykon spends half of it jumping at every little noise, but eventually drifts off as the exhaustion of the drive here finally gets to him. nicky turns over in his sleeping bag, hoping to salvage at least a few hours of rest from the night, but-

is that paint?

nicky breathes in as hard as he can, and it’s unmistakeable, that scent of chemicals that reminds him very vividly of the disaster that was year seven art class. he sits up, rubs his eyes. lykon doesn’t stir and nicky sniffs again. it’s still clear and strong, and now that his ear isnt pressed against the pillow, he can hear faint clattering, like the lid of a paint tin being wedged off. it’s coming from upstairs, where the artist’s studio would be, if he had to guess.

oh, fuck. 

there’s a perfectly rational explanation for this, he reasons to himself, even as he crawls out of the sleeping bag to cram on some shoes and get a torch and a camera. he should probably wake up lykon, but something inside him is telling him, wait, to just see for himself first. maybe we disturbed the paint when we were in there earlier. an old house like this, it’s probably just settling. hell, there’s probably raccoons in the roof, or something. ghosts aren’t real.

the studio is... not how they had left it. it had been such a sad space, everything covered up in white sheets, shelves of paints covered in dust. now, the room is strangely warm, like the summer sun had spent a few hours streaming in through windows that were now uncovered, the night visible through dusty panes of glasses. there is an easel set up, with an empty, clean canvas about the size of a dinner table on it. and on the floor, a thin, fine paintbrush rocks back and forth, like it had just been dropped.

this was entirely too much weirdness for nicky’s brain to handle, but he wasn’t giving up on his hard line stance on ghosts just yet. strangely enough, he doesn’t really feel afraid at all. 

“if this is a prank,” he says, deliberately loud in the empty room, as he bends to pick up the paintbrush. the tip of it is still wet, and the paint looks black on his fingertips. “if this is a joke, lykon, i swear-”

hi, nicky.

the words appear abruptly on the canvas, a rushed hand like whoever’s writing isn’t sure if they can keep it going. nicky almost drops the paintbrush he’s holding, but steps closer. the paint is still wet on the canvas, and it’s the same dark shade as the stuff on the brush. he shines his torch at it. it’s a very dark blue, not a black like he’d first assumed, the colour of a twilight sea.

“what the fuck,” he mumbles to himself, touching the canvas. it’s just fabric on wood. what the fuck.

did i scare you? i didn’t want to do that. 

"i’m not scared,” he says, feeling oddly giddy. “this is a very strange dream.”

i promise it’s not a dream. tah-dah! ghosts are real. i am one of them.

as whoever it is writes, they doodle around their letters with incredible skill, little birds and flowers and suns circling their words. it’s strangely endearing. the paint smell gets stronger and nicky finds that he does not mind.

“what’s your name?” he asks, remembering that he is technically a ghost investigator and he should probably be doing some investigation. his phone is left forgotten in his pocket, though. he doesn’t know if he should be recording this or not.

joe, joseph, but it’s yusuf, really. the art world of my time was not quite ready for a name like mine, but i suppose it doesn’t matter anymore.

“you’re the artist, then.”

who else would i be? as far as i can tell i am the first, last and only death of this house.

“you were murdered.”

yes, but can we not talk about that? it wasn’t a pleasant experience.

the last full stop of yusuf’s sentence is darker then normal, like he’s pressed harder. nicky touches a finger to the canvas.

“i’m sorry. i won’t bring it up again.”

thank you.

nicky takes a step back, the room is lightening around him. he hadn’t realised it earlier, but the windows of this room all face east, which is why he supposes yusuf chose it to be his studio. on some level, a part of him is wondering why he isn’t screaming and running to get lykon right now. he really isn’t afraid, though. yusuf hasn’t meant him any harm.

“why did you choose to talk to me? we were up here earlier.”

it’s harder when more alive people are in my room. you take up so much energy. the handwriting pauses, like yusuf is considering. and most people are so afraid. i’ve tried talking to others before, but they get so scared. you didn’t seem frightened at all.

“that’s because i didn’t believe in any of this stuff.” nicky presses a finger to yusuf’s words, just to check. his finger comes away dark blue. “part of me still think i’m dreaming, though.”

well, you can’t see reflections in dreams, i’ve heard. there’s a mirror behind you.

nicky turns to see a sheet drop off a large standing mirror in an ornate frame, and sure enough, he can see his face, a pale shape in the darkness of the room. he steps closer, and skids a finger over the glass, leaving a smear of paint behind. not a dream, then.

he feels a gust of air, warm, behind him and he turns. nothing but the canvas. when he turns back, that’s when he sees him.

he’s about the same height and build of nicky, standing just behind him and to the side. handsome, a full beard and a rueful smile and curls, and eyes that are the kindest nicky has ever seen. and the most startling thing- he is opaque. his head and shoulders are more or less solid, but his torso peters out into nothing at all.

“ghosts are real,” he says, to the spectre in the mirror, dumbfounded, and yusuf’s half-smile widens to a proper grin. he does a little wave in the mirror and something in nicky’s chest swells. he smiles back.

“your friend downstairs is waking up.” a breath, barely a whisper in his ear. and sure enough, noises from below. he can almost hear the sound of his name.

“i won’t tell him about you, if you don’t want me to,” he says, and yusuf shrugs, flickering.

“i don’t mind, but i'd rather you not. the more people come in here, the harder it is to... exist.” 

nicky can hear footsteps on the stairs now, and he blurts out, quickly, before this bizarre moment is over, before he is thrust back into the mundane of his normal life. “we’re leaving now. can i come back, sometime?” and the thing is, he really wants to, wants to know this strange, sad ghost with messy handwriting and beautiful art, and kind, kind eyes. he has so many questions. what’s it like, being a ghost? are you lonely in this house? and, why do you not have any paintings of people? yusuf meets his eyes in the mirror and smiles again.

“i’d like that.”

“nicky!” the door opens and nicky blinks, his hands dropping to his sides. lykon sweeps his gaze around the room looks at him with a raised eyebrow. the canvas, nicky is stunned to realise, is now as clean and blank as when he’d walked in.

“c’mon man, you know we’re not allowed to mess with this stuff.” lykon steps forwards and plucks the paintbrush out of his hand, the tip still wet with paint, and sets it on the easel. “you said it yourself, nothing in here now. we’ve gotta get going.”

“sì, of course. i was just... looking around. it’s a beautiful room.”

his room mate just gives him a look. “uh okay. whatever, man. let’s go.”

before nicky leaves, he picks the paintbrush back up again, tucks it into his pocket. says to the empty room, slowly filling with light and colour from the rising sun, “i’ll be back, yusuf, i promise.”

the faint ghost of laughter as he walks out feels, somehow, right.

[petri808]

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33-Epilogue

As the star witnesses in Touka Shiromajyo’s murder trial, both Natsu and Lucy weren’t allowed to sit through the trial. It was fine with them, considering just the idea of testifying was becoming more than Lucy could handle. She’d made a lot of progress with Natsu and the therapists help, but facing the woman who tried to kill her... in the flesh? Knowing Touka, she’ll be staring them down from the defense table with some stupid smug grin. It made Lucy’s skin crawl just thinking about it. Frankly, it wasn’t fair that they were having to go through this in the first place because the prosecutor offered Touka a deal. If she was remorseful and plead guilty to attempted murder and stalking, they would recommend only an in-house psychiatric treatment at a hospital versus jail time. But she’d refused the deal. As far as Touka was concerned this was all Natsu and Lucy’s fault for driving her to commit the act.

The defense really had very little they could do to argue against the facts of the case. Gajeel and his team did an excellent job tracing all the events of stalking from the beginning, so their best chances were to show Touka was completely mentally unstable, suffering from a disorder that made her incapable of knowing right from wrong or gain sympathy by attacking Natsu and Lucy’s roles. It wouldn’t get her off completely, but it might mitigate or shave time off her sentence.

The prosecution began by carefully laying out the timeline of events. In a stalking case that spanned years, this would be crucial as they moved through all the evidence to show when and the possible why’s that would establish Touka’s motives for kidnapping Lucy. It showed the buildup, the prosecutor pointed out, like an old coal train that slowly moved forward inch by inch, picking up momentum until it had reached its top speed, and unless someone pulled the breaks, there was no stopping it now. In order to provide a visual for the jury, they created a long board with all the points plotted out to use during the duration of their case. They kept it facing the jurors the entire time, a strategy to keep them focused on it.

In keeping with the strategy, witnesses and evidence were also presented in chronological order starting with Natsu, Gray, and a few other former students of Meguro Nihon. Both Natsu and Gray both testified that they didn’t remember or even interacted with Touka. The others were there as former club mates of the woman who testified they remembered her making comments about Natsu back then, but they also testified that they never saw or heard of him interacting with Touka.

“So, is it your testimony miss Fumiko that as far as you remember, there was never any interactions between the two?”

“Yes. Back then Touka and I were good friends, well at least I thought we were. I know she had a crush on him,” the woman blushed, “so did I, but Natsu was out of our league. Neither of us ever tried to approach him.”

“Thank you, miss Fumiko.”

The defense attorney then stood up to cross-examine the woman. “Miss Fumiko. How do you know that Ms. Shiromajyo never tried to talk to Mr. Dragneel? Isn’t it possible that she may have done so when you weren’t around?”

“Maybe... but I’m pretty sure Touka would have said something, if not before, after of what the outcome was. And I never saw her distraught about him.”

“Judge,” the defense objected. “Move to strike miss Fumiko’s testimony. It’s impossible for her to know the operation of another’s mind.”

“Objection!” The prosecutor fired back! “Miss Fumiko is just stating an observation.”

“Sustained,” the judge sided with the prosecution.

Undeterred the defense attorney pressed on. “Alright then, miss Fumiko. Did you ever observe Ms. Shiromajyo behave in any manner that concerned you?”

“I don’t understand...”

“Did Ms. Shiromajyo do anything that appeared as if she was obsessed with Mr. Dragneel?”

“No.”

“No further questions.”

The prosecutor stood back up. “Redirect your honor, I’d like to clarify what this witness understood ‘obsessed’ to mean.”

“Go ahead,” the judge granted.

“Miss Fumiko, how often would Ms. Shiromajyo talk about Mr. Dragneel?”

“Oh, daily! She kept a journal and would write things in it about what he did, what he wore, clippings from the school newspaper if he was in it, stuff like that. Sometimes we’d both talk about it, especially when he did something really cool.”

“I see. So, you actually saw the contents of the journal?”

“Yes. I remember it had a pink cover, and there were doodles and hearts with their names in it.”

“Daily chronicles, could that have been seen as obsessive miss Fumiko?”

“Objection!” The defense attorney decried.

But before the judge could respond, the prosecutor waived his hand with a smirk. “That’s okay. I’m done with this witness.”

“You’re free to leave Miss Fumiko,” the judge instructed the witness.

For the first three days of the trial, witness and evidence covered the time leading up to the Main event. Lisanna and Bixlow testified about their experience with Touka, along with two other college students who had a class with Natsu and had been approached by the woman. The manager and an employee of the movie theater testified about the assault incident in their establishment. The person Touka had tried to pay to kill Lisanna testified about that event. The doctor that performed the plastic surgeries was brought in to cover all the work she’d had done to transform herself, and other witnesses were brought in to testify about behaviors they’d witnessed showing her growing obsession. As the lead investigator, Gajeel testified about the police evidence, the methods they used to obtain what, how, etc. The defense attorney did his best to undermine Gajeel’s credibility due to his personal relationship to Lucy’s best friend. But the burly detective had been ready for it and proved to be undeniably unshakable in that regard. Nothing the man did through the investigation could be deemed biased.

Finally on day four, it was Lucy’s turn to testify. As they waited her turn in a soundproof side room, Natsu did his best to keep her calm. “Remember the affirmations,” he held her hands in his, staring up as he kneeled in front of her. “If you need a moment to breathe or you need a moment to calm down, signal the prosecutor.”

Lucy nodded. “Okay.”

“I’ll be sitting in the gallery with Levy during your testimony because the judge is allowing it. Just look at me, keep your eyes on me the whole time. Don’t look at Touka.”

“Natsu— I-I can’t do this...”

“Yes, you can, you can do this. Just remember what we talked about. She can’t hurt you anymore, so don’t give her any more power to.”

Tears pooled in Lucy’s eyes. “I’m scared, Natsu.”

He leaned up, cradled her face in his palms, and kissed Lucy’s forehead. “It’s okay to be scared, but you’re stronger then you know. We survived because you’re strong, Luce, remember that.”

“O-Okay.”

A woman from the prosecutor’s office walked Lucy to the stand while Natsu and Levy went and sat in the gallery. It was a win for them that the judges allowed there to be a psychiatrist present as well during her testimony, just in case a panic attack was triggered. The defense of course had fought the motion, citing the inflammatory appearance to the jury, but the judge overruled them. Lucy did her best not to look in the direction of the defense and kept her eyes glued on Natsu as a grounding point.

It wasn’t always easy. Her body was visibly shaking the entire time along with tears trickling down her face through the hardest portions. They’d warned Lucy that her time on the stand could take at least two days, more if the defense’s cross-examinations stretched out. She prayed they wouldn’t. Lucy knew they would try to trip her up but hoped they wouldn’t push it too far because as the victim, badgering would actually be counter effective for the defense. That first day the prosecutor took her through the beginning, how she’d met Natsu, when Touka entered the picture, the day at the cafe. Having to bare her life like this to the public was humiliating even if some of it wasn’t a big deal. Like meeting Natsu, their whole story about meeting on the train, was it really relevant? According to the prosecution, it was meant to establish that Natsu was a single male when they met, and not as the defense asserted, in a relationship with Touka.

Lucy took the jurors through the weeks and months, how at first Touka seemed harmless, including the conversations she’d had with the woman as she tried to convince Lucy not to date Natsu. She was forced to explain what caused her to reject Touka’s beliefs in deciding to date Natsu, how hearing about the woman through the eyes of others like Gray changed her mind. Next, they covered the escalating behaviors, being followed and approached by Touka everywhere they went. Lucy spoke of her growing fears, and the creepy feeling of being watched along with corroborating dated photo evidence from her phone of pictures she’d taken of Touka during some of the following incidents. By the end of the first day of testimony, they managed to reach the movie theater incident without many objections by the defense attorney. Lucy didn’t know if that meant he planned to leave her alone or was simply waiting to reserve his cross for later. The unknown left her even more anxious and that night, Lucy struggled to get a decent night’s sleep.

“I hate her even more,” Lucy snapped. “Why couldn’t she just take the damn deal so we could all move on?!”

Natsu pulled his girlfriend close. “I don’t think we’ll ever know the answer to that. All we can do, is our best to move forward.”

“I know...” Lucy sighed.

“Look on the bright side.”

“There’s a bright side?!”

Natsu chuckled. Lucy might be angry at the moment, but it was better she was letting it out instead of holding her emotions in. “You did really great on the stand today.” He kissed her lips. “I’m very proud of you Luce.”

That made Lucy blush, and her anger fade a little. “Thanks. But the hardest part will be tomorrow.”

“And you’ll do fine tomorrow too, just do what you did today. Stick to the truth, ignore the defense side, and just stare at your handsome boyfriend.”

“Pfft,” Lucy snorted a laugh, but he was right, and his humor was a pleasant medicine to take in. “You’re such a weirdo. But thank you. I don’t think I could do this without you.”

“Forever, right?” Natsu kissed her again. “Imma stick by you no matter what.” He smiled and cuddled her against him, “now go to sleep.”

And she did try her best to get enough sleep. Lucy even took extra melatonin to assist, but she still ended up waking up in a cold sweat from a nightmare. Even though the prosecutor had gone over her testimony more than once in preparation, the idea of reliving the kidnapping left a sinking feeling in her stomach when faced against the defendant. Whereas day one she’d done well to avoid it, Lucy made the mistake of looking at Touka as soon as she’d sat down on the witness stand. Strangely, instead of fear, seeing the smug look on the woman’s face made her angry instead. So, Lucy steeled back her resolve to get this whole damn nightmare over with.

[trulycertain]

fic writer interview

Tagged by @skogrr Thank you very much! It's a while since I've done one of these, and I've missed them.

Name: Tru/"Oi you" Fandoms (that I write for): Dragon Age, mostly. Still the fandom of my heart. Mass Effect, Deus Ex... uh, accidentally GreedFall? I don't know how or when that happened. Two-shot: Hmm... The actual last two-shot I wrote was Terms & Conditions, a very silly Dorian/Inquisitor modern AU where Gal is the guy Dorian hires to stop his late father's house falling apart. Recently? I suspect that's going to be Driftwood, which can stand on its own as a sort of weird post-canon first-meeting AU, but is trying to tempt me to continue it. (Vasco ends up going looking for Tír Fradí, which has disappeared - and finds it. He also finds De Sardet as a highly avoidant tree god of the island, post-Bad Ending, who transformed against her will. And he ends up falling in love with her anyway.) Weird tree gods! Pining by literal pine! An eventual happy ending! More grumpy commentary by Vasco!

Most popular multi-chapter: Either An Unquenchable Flame or Distraction, probably - both juggernaut pairings, the former close to the game's release and the latter with some fancy forbidden romance, so not so surprising. But surprisingly, Prague, 10:42 PM has done really well, considering it's for a small fandom (Deus Ex) and a rarepair age/rank-difference pairing that I thought would be a one-off experiment? I get it, guys. I like sad repressed stoics too.

Actual worst part of writing: Editing - which can be fun, but that "over and over" stage when you're about to post, especially in a longfic if you fear you've lost the spirit of the thing and the character voices and you can't see the wood for the trees. And when I have to remove a whole scene which Jenga-unbalances the fic, and then I have to redux from the top. Basically, most things to do with pacing. How you choose your titles: I like double-meanings and one word titles. If that fails: quote from a song. If that fails: quote from poetry, but very rarely. Do you outline: Only a little. A bulletpointed list of events or noted-down major lines of dialogue, that's usually it.

Ideas I probably won’t get around to but wouldn’t it be nice: Uh... oh god. I blame so many people for some of these.

Post-Destroy ending where John is attempting to build a shed on Rannoch because that's the kind of thing retired people do, right? and Tali is far better at it than him, and it's just... disgusting fluff.

Actually, just reduxing the early John/Tali stuff with a bit more nuance and a stronger style.

Eva and Kaidan, and their mutually wary first meeting. ("Wow, that's a lot of pomade." "Wow, that's a lot of death-glare.")

AU where Gal and Dorian never met in DAI, and after everything went down, Gal tried to fade into the shadows and leave. He ended up working in Tevinter as an occasional informant/odd-jobs guy the way he was pre-Inquisition. He ends up being a gardener for a bitter, wry magister who seems to hate the entire Magisterium, has recently lost his father to political scheming and murder, and wants to take down the entirety of the remaining Venatori with one staff and maybe his teeth if he has to (hi, Dorian). But first, Dorian's going to drink his own body weight in whiskey and be a recluse for a while and start thinking about time magic again. Gal is trying to keep his head down and should definitely not be falling in love with said magister. Who's someday going to end up at one of the more southerly ports, come across a statue of the great Inquisitor, and go, Oh.

Stuff on Jensen's PT and rebuilding himself post-augs. More of Proprioception, basically.

Mer-AU where Marie De Sardet is still a diplomat attempting to make new connections, just not a human one, and it's a disaster. An awkward disaster. Highlights include her being framed as the beast trying to drown their best captain; her attempting to wobble about on brand-new legs and Vasco's coat while everyone assumes the dear captain has had a few too many; her asking Vasco if his "fascinating markings" glow; them getting into a duel, and her (fondly) getting punted off the side of the ship going "Woo-hoo." OK, I wrote a bit of that, but only a 1k doodle I'll probably never return to.

Non-Naut court AU where Marie gets promised to Bastien D'Arcy, because he's a bit of a layabout but he's also rich, popular at court, and amenable to bribe - [cough] suggestion, and the D'Arcys have prominent trading links with the Alliance. Instead she falls for his far less of a social butterfly, tired, worried-numbers-guy brother Léandre, who's pretty damn uncomfortable around Nauts because he's well aware he nearly got sold to them and he is not the favourite.

Straight-up role-reversal AU (another thing where I've put down 1k that I'll probably never return to), where Marie's Naut name is Paz, and she's a fed-up second-mate who's tired of noble idiots and feels a little strange and conflicted about her mark (and has context for it, because they make frequent crossings to Tír Fradí). Also a little more jaded, without the love of her mother, and not nearly as much of a tryhard as Vasco in canon; she ended up here because she had nowhere else to go and the Nauts were like "Ooh, free kid," and she's well aware. She gets stuck escorting the D'Arcy brothers to Tír Fradí for their new venture and is not looking forward to it. Except one of them is intensely bright and wry and keeps asking questions about the ship and noticing shit he is definitely not meant to notice, and they keep ending up in strange conversations, even if he seems really, really wary and uncomfortable about Nauts.

Some vague stuff about Vasco's thoughts on Jonas and that whole side quest, considering he's also a sea-given and implies sea-given take some shit in the Nauts, and also how damn difficult it must be watching a sea-given's parents endeavour to get their kid back when he knows full well his didn't do that for him.

Actually, just more Vasco POV in general, even though he's damn hard to nail down. I've written much pining for him from Marie's perspective, and I'd like to try things from the opposite. This guy's idea of wooing someone perfectly normally is to panic and then recite Baroque poetry. You know he's sappy as hell in the privacy of his own head, even if he's trying not to be.

Jean and Síora having the "I'm a sad healer who just lost my mother and I'm trying so hard not to crumble under the weight of assisting the leader" mutual talk way too late at night around the campfire and maybe him crying on her shoulder a little, with mutual kindness and the beginnings of attraction, and her finally getting past his jokey-smug facade to understand him.

More stuff about Jean's past in general, and how he wanted to be a doctor before he was dragged away from it by looking after Constantin and being nobility.

Síora and Eseld and the ways they changed over the years; something like an exploration of grief and growing her own will and the ways they very differently view the renaigse. Also maybe more about the en ol menawi magic, if I can worldbuild well enough?

I'd also love to do a GreedFall soulmark AU - it's generally not my kind of trope, I'm not into biological determinism type tropes - just because names and aliases and assumed identities are such a mess in GreedFall and it's a repeated plot point. That said, I feel like it's been done so beautifully in this fandom before that I wouldn't have much to add.

Callouts @ me: So. Many. Commas. So much over-explaining everything. If they get out of the car, your readers do not need a five-page manual of "and then he undid his seatbelt and leaned over to grasp the door handle, and then pulled it, and then stepped a foot out before he almost thought better of it - but no, he was going to get out of this car. The other foot joined the first, and he nearly banged his head on the doorframe."

Best writing traits: People say I have a head for finding small-but-important moments. I'm also told I write likeable protags. People have more than once said my writing makes them feel safe or makes them smile, and I really couldn't ask for more than that. I'll take those.

Spicy tangential opinion: I don't think I have any, really? Oh god, that makes me sound so very boring. Oh! Um. There should be more tree body horror in fandom. And body horror in general. *thumbsup*

No pressure tagging: @artemis-crimson, @eridanidreams,@rainypixel, @aphreal42.

[raendown]

Pairing: KakashiSakuraGenma Word count: 3156 Soulmate au: The one where the first time your soulmate touches your skin it leaves a permanent mark

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header! 

Chapter 222

He met Kakashi first. Well, that was kind of obvious. Genma met the last of the once proud Hatake line when they were both in the academy, not technically age mates although they attended all of the same classes. Back then Kakashi hadn’t covered so much of his body at all times but he’d still carried with him the sort of air that made others stay away, the air of one who stood above the rest even if he was good enough not to rub that in any of their faces. Genma watched Kakashi from afar because he was talented and interesting but never made much of an effort to actually get to know him. They ran in different groups of friends and there only ever seemed to be two or three people Kakashi deigned to give his attention to. No point in trying to make friends with someone who didn’t want any. 

It wasn’t until they were both nearing the end of their teenage years and Kakashi had been broken in so many ways it hurt just to look at him that Genma realized they had never touched before. He realized only because, well, because they touched. For the very first time. And when he pulled his hand away from where he’d clapped it down on to Kakashi’s shoulder with a great deal of frustrated exasperation the imprint of his hand stayed behind. Some of it, at least.

“Just leave it be, Genma,” Kakashi was saying. “I’m paying my respects. The dead don’t care about rain so I don’t see why I should. Look, if you’re worried about me being late for the mission I’ll catch up, okay?”

“Kakashi…”

“Go on ahead without me.”

“No, shut up for a damn second!” Blinking several times in rapid succession did nothing to clear the mark from his view. Half a handprint. He’d never studied his own fingerprints very closely but he knew that mark hadn’t been there a second ago so it couldn’t really be anyone else’s. What he did know for sure was that he definitely had a whole hand on that arm the last time he’d checked. 

Kakashi only had one eyebrow visible at the best of times and when he turned away from the monument it was lifted in question, his uncovered eye dark with the shadows he’d been carrying with him since Obito’s death. 

“Alright, I’ll shut up then,” he said. Amazingly his words came out with just the slightest undertone of humor rather than insult. If Genma’s brain weren’t currently exploding he might have appreciated that a bit more. 

“Look at your shoulder. And don’t you dare try to run!”

So Kakashi looked. By some miracle he didn’t even try to flee, although that might have had something to do with the way his knees wavered and folded underneath him. When he lifted a hand to trace the shape of one on his shoulder his cheeks danced through several different colors that Genma wished he knew how to properly interpret. Trying to figure out what was going on in this guy’s brain had always been more guessing game than exact science. 

“Half?” Kakashi whispered eventually. “What...does that mean?” 

“Oh no you don’t, I know exactly where your head is going, don’t even try to say you must be broken or unwanted or any of that! We’re just...probably waiting on another, you know?” Genma licked his lips nervously, passing the senbon in his mouth from side to side. 

“Another!?” 

“Well yeah. You know, like how Raidou’s got two mums and a dad? Or how Shizune’s got two mums and two dads? We just got to find our other one probably.” 

Kakashi chewed that over for several minutes. While he thought Genma did his best to be subtle about inching closer. He’d been excited about finding his soulmate since he was old enough to know what they were but he knew there were less and less people like him every generation, shinobi more and more frequently taught from a young age not to look forward to something that could end up being used against them. Some people even hoped they never found their match to avoid the chance of testing their own loyalties. Privately Genma had always questioned any loyalty that didn’t leave room for questions. 

Slowly the minutes passed as his shuffling took him closer and closer. They really were supposed to be leaving on a mission, were supposed to have left almost a half hour ago, but it wasn’t like the man they were being sent after would die any different if they arrived at night rather than midafternoon. Well, their pay might be cut some if they didn’t make it look quite like the accident they were contracted for but that wasn’t the end of the world. This was more important. If he used his best puppy eyes the Sandaime might not even punish them. 

Eventually Kakashi lifted his head and took a deep breath, startling to see that Genma was so much closer but very tellingly not protesting. When he spoke every word carried the faintest tremble. 

“I get...two?” he murmured. “Two people who want me?”

“Oh is that- that’s what you were thinking about? God damn it, Hatake!” With a roll of his eyes Genma flopped down on to the ground and threw both arms around Kakashi’s shoulders, more than aware that he was risking a knife between the ribs but also more than willing to take that chance. “We’re your soulmates. We wouldn’t be matched if we weren’t what you needed, you know? I want you, let's be clear on that, and I’m sure they’ll want you too.” 

“Not dumb. I’m a genius.” 

When their eyes met Genma was cheered to see that spark of humor had returned. His first soulmate had a lot of issues but that was fine, they could work on those together. They’d be fine until the day they could finally be whole. 

It took a while. Quite a few years. More than a decade, actually, but Genma would be happy to tell anyone that neither of them had really minded the wait all that much. They had each other through it all and despite the idiot’s protests they spent most of them working Kakashi through the worst of his abandonment issues until he could be called something at least adjacent to mentally stable. In that time they both did their rounds in ANBU and left the organization to seek healthier ways to serve their village. Where Genma chose to fall back in to the regular mission roster Kakashi found himself roped in to taking on a team of genin, something neither of them thought was a really good idea but neither could see a way to get around. 

The kids were, collectively, almost as messed up as their sensei had been. Out of the three the most normal was a little pink bubblegum girl named Sakura who spent most of her time swooning over the last of the Uchiha line. Kakashi did what he could to avoid contact with them just as he did for most people, a habit that Genma found entirely exasperating. 

“How are we meant to fill out the rest of our marks if you won’t touch people?” he’d asked once. 

“Maa,” Kakashi had waved him off. “They can touch you.” 

Genma had rolled his eyes and very carefully not traced the colors filling half of his right palm. 

Leaving the village periodically had been a part of life since he first graduated the academy but knowing that he was leaving Kakashi behind, trapped inside those massive walls until he felt that his new team might be able to survive the world beyond them, that was new. Mostly it was a new amusement. Genma made sure to bring home as many tales of the outside world as he could, playing them up for all the amusement he could squeeze out of watching Kakashi rock between wistful and jealous. Neither of them had ever really known what to do with kids until three of them were unceremoniously dumped in Kakashi’s lap so Genma didn’t feel much guilt over not coming to see the little rugrats. He knew all he needed to know about them from the horror stories his partner told him. 

Or at least he thought he did until the years began to turn and slowly the rest of the village started talking about them. It figured that Kakashi would stumble his way in to accidentally raising some of the most important kids of their generation. If the last of the Uchiha wasn’t notable enough then he had the son of the Yondaime Hokage and if that still wasn’t notable there was always the bubblegum girl who picked herself up off the ground and apprenticed herself to the Godaime, smiling deceptively at anyone who pleased her only to punch straight through the sternum of the ones who didn’t. Genma, when he finally met her face to face, decided that they could definitely be friends after she gained a few more years. 

He didn’t realize exactly what such an errant and mindless thought would become. 

Keeping his distance from Kakashi’s kids became a lot harder once they stopped actually being kids, growing steadily in to adulthood until one day he met his partner at one of the dingy bars they both shamelessly adored only to find that Kakashi wasn’t alone, slightly harried looking where he sat in the middle of four other bodies all smiling and trading jokes about his new haircut. Genma was already laughing a little to see Naruto poking at the spikes now several inches shorter and neater than they had been earlier in the day. 

“It’s certainly an interesting look, senpai,” Cat was telling him - or Yamato, Genma remembered he was supposed to call him now. 

“Maa, it’s an accidental look,” Kakashi admitted. Genma slid in to the seat next to him with a little wave to everyone else, barely reacting when Kakashi swooned dramatically in to his shoulder. “One of the ninken knocked in to me when I was trimming and I took a massive chunk off the left side. It was either leave it like that or make everything match.”

“Well I think it looks nice,” Sakura offered. Oddly enough she even seemed to mean it. 

Kakashi nodded gratefully in her direction only to wilt when he spotted the notepad that Sai had whipped out, already doodling an outline of the new haircut. Apparently the reminder of his own reflection was not a welcome one. 

“So cruel,” he moaned. “All of my loved ones are so cruel to me!”

“I’m sure we’d all be a lot nicer with more alcohol in us.” Well aware that he wasn’t being at all subtle, Genma could only offer a beaming smile when his partner leaned away to glare at him. 

“Extra cruel.”

“Does that mean you’re not paying for my beer?” 

Kakashi harrumphed his way out of his seat and stomped away towards the bar, gumbling under his breath about joint accounts and shared finances. With most of the table laughing along with him it was only too easy for Genma to ignore Sakura’s narrowed eyes. They’d crossed paths several times during her apprenticeship to Lady Tsunade, a source of much amusement for him whenever he pulled guard duty, but he’d never really had a chance to get to know her more than that so he could probably be forgiven for not knowing what that particular look on her face meant. Or what doom it spelled for those that might ignore it. 

When Sakura got up to walk after her old sensei Genma figured she was only going for another drink. Maybe popping off to the bathroom. He would have thought she was going to powder her nose if he had ever seen her wearing more than mascara but even the village civilians knew that the Yamanaka girl was the one obsessed with painting her face. If he had to guess he’d probably say Sakura’s version of dressing up had a lot to do with picking an outfit that best showed off her admittedly impressive biceps. 

Not, of course, that he was disparaging such choices. He’d always been attracted to competence more so than a painted face. 

It took several minutes for Kakashi and Sakura to make their way back across the bar but when they did they were both wearing faces like they’d seen the meaning of life itself and lived to talk about it. Genma was out of his seat and reaching for Kakashi in an instant, baffled when the man only stood there and blinked at him.

“Genma-san can we talk to you outside?” Sakura asked in a strained voice.

“Sure. Yeah. Did you…break him?”

“I think I might have,” she breathed. Then she turned and walked towards the back entrance with jerky steps. 

Without bothering to answer any of the questions from those left behind Genma took his partner’s hand and dragged them both after the pink hair bobbing away from them. Sakura’s compact little body was built much better than either of theirs for weaving her way through the crowd, enough so that by the time they stumbled out in to the back alley Genma was a little worried she might have had time to disappear on them. Thankfully she hadn’t. He did, however, note that her eyes were just as wide as Kakashi’s and both of them looked rather like they would have loved to flee if only they could figure out which direction to go in. 

“Alright, who’s going to tell me what’s going on?” he said. Kakashi gurgled a little. 

“I, ah, okay so...please don’t be upset.” The leather of Sakura’s gloves creaked in protest as she wrung the poor things between her bare hands with perhaps a little too much violence. 

“No promises. Go on then.”

The look she gave him was utterly devoid of humor but luckily for his bones she chose not to punish him for trying to lighten the mood. After a few more times wringing her gloves she allowed them to drop to the ground, taking one very deep breath before turning both hands to reveal her palms. One of them was half colored in. 

“Look I know he’s your- I know that you two- I didn’t mean to! Genma-san I’ve never seen anything like this! I was just trying to get his attention so I put a hand on his shoulder and I guess I’ve just never touched him skin to skin before and-”

“Woah, calm down, calm down. Don’t start hyperventilating. It’s...you left a...a soulmark?”

All the breath in his lungs whooshed out of him with some indeterminate noise when both Sakura and Kakashi nodded in the affirmative. It felt like suddenly there was no more oxygen left. Distantly Genma could tell that his legs were trembling but he couldn’t be bothered to care about that at the moment, not when everything he’d been waiting so long for was coming true right in front of his eyes. 

He didn’t realize how long he stared for until Sakura cleared her throat and he peeked up to see that she looked even closer to flight. Only then did the rest of her words finally sink in and he understood why she didn’t look happier about such an auspicious discovery. 

“You idiot!” Kakashi flinched when Genma reached over to smack him on the back of the head. “How many years have you known this girl and you never told her we’ve got another soulmate!?” 

“A- a what?” Sakura breathed. 

“We- oh sweet chakra farts just give me your hand, here.”

Impatient to seal them all together, Genma didn’t wait for permission to reach over and clasp Sakura’s hand in the one of his own that looked very much like hers, colored in on one half where he’d first touched Kakashi in the same place she had. All it took was a brief press of skin and then he was pulling away to turn his hand over. They still matched, of course, only now they both sported palms entirely covered with the beautiful mix of colors that made up their soulmarks, each half ever so slightly unique to show that they were both bonded to a third. No doubt Kakashi’s mark looked identical and for the space of a single moment Genma thought to pity his first partner that he didn’t have the same ability to just sit and stare at his own mark. 

The moment passed quickly. Kakashi was a sappy guy under the front he put up for others but he wasn’t quite that sentimental. Which was good. Sometimes Genma needed a little help tossing out his old ripped clothing because those shirts had been with him through so many missions they almost felt like friends. 

“Oh.” The breathy whisper of Sakura’s voice brought him back from whatever tangents his brain had been trying to distract him with. “I...both of you!?” 

“Maa, sorry about that,” Kakashi offered sheepishly. 

“Don’t be- you- and you- and you think I need you to say sorry?” 

“I’ve been chipping away at those self esteem issues for years, trust me. Might be nice to have some help with that.” Genma chuckled to cover his nerves. “Seriously though, you don’t mind do you? We’re both maybe a bit old for you but we’ve been keeping a spot on the couch warm for whenever we found you. If you need some time to think about it that’s okay. Just, ah, just know that, um…”

He was cut off from having to finish that thought by deceptively slim arms throwing themselves around his neck. Genma closed his eyes and reveled in the instant familiarity until Kakashi very shyly pressed himself in from behind and then that was it. They were complete. It would have been impossible to find words to describe the difference but it was there and Genma was just as happy to feel it instead of talking about it. After all this time they had found her, the missing piece in the beautiful puzzle of their bond. 

“Who needs time?” Sakura mumbled against his neck. “I’ve got so much to catch up on.”

“Later,” Kakashi insisted very quietly.

It wasn’t hard to guess his meaning. Genma smiled when he felt one of Sakura’s arms tighten around him even as the other let go to reach for Kakashi, all three woven together exactly as they were always meant to be. This, he decided, was one of the better things the universe had created. He might give fate a hard time for all the shit it had thrown at them over the years but it had always been clear to him that this right here, the three of them together, this would always be worth it. 

[lupinlongbottom]

Burning Bridges pt. 6 

Neville Longbottom x Reader

Summary: With the wedding behind them, (Y/N) wants to get back into the swing of teaching. However, there’s a little hiccup in the plan... one that’s been echoing throughout the halls of Hogwarts.  

Word Count: 5.8k

Warnings: a few swears

A/N: hold on to yer hats and glasses, cause this here’s the wildest ride from start to finish! I’m joking, but it’s a bit all over the place, for “plot reasons” yeah okay pick a lane chump

Part 1 ... Part 2 … Part 3 … Part 4 … Part 5 ... Part 7

__

The morning started off normal, as normal as a bleak and gloomy Monday at Hogwarts could be. Classes were starting to get back into the swing of their studies, finally getting over the feeling of the hiatus of the break two weeks prior. Friends had been reunited, students began to learn in their favorite classes and many just enjoyed being back at school.

“Good afternoon, class,” (Y/N) said, welcoming her sixth year class with a warm smile. The class was fairly small, only teaching a handful of students, about fifteen. “I assume you all had a wonderful weekend?”

The class responded in a mumbled mess, answers ranging from ‘sure, yeah’ to ‘not exactly’. Answers (Y/N) was used to, but not entirely immune to.

“Right, I hope it was a good one,” (Y/N) nodded, turning herself back to her blackboard. Scribbled in a tight font was Polyjuice Potion, a crude drawing of a cauldron underneath. She was really never good at doodling.

“How was your weekend, Professor?” a student asked as (Y/N) dotted information down on the blackboard. 

“My weekend was uneventful as always,” (Y/N) hummed, turning back around, meeting her gaze with the student who had asked. Maria Hamilton, Ravenclaw. “Continued on my batch of Felix Felicis as I have been for the last four months, hopefully I can get a nice vial out of it for class soon enough,” she smiled, hopefully.

“Really? You didn’t do anything else exciting?” Maria asked again, the tone in her voice raising slightly.

“I mean, I suppose I attended a friend’s wedding—”

“Harry Potter’s wedding, right? It was all over The Daily Prophet yesterday!” a Slytherin added, her unruly curls falling into her face. 

“Yes, that friend,” (Y/N) nodded, fighting back a smirk. Any time the famed wizard was mentioned in her class, the students couldn’t get over the fact of their professor’s friendship with the superstar. “And you really shouldn’t be reading that hogwash often, Ms. Deetz, full of slander and twisted words, it is.”

“So you haven’t seen the Sunday edition, then I take it?” Jane Deetz asked, her attention quickly turning to her friends sitting down next to her. “I mean, since you don’t read it?”

“I never said I don’t read it,” (Y/N) said, crossing her arms, growing only the slightest bit annoyed at her student’s pestering. “Does this pertain to our lecture? Polyjuice is an important potion most witches and wizards should know how to brew.”

“No, not lecture,” Maria shook her head, pulling out her copy  of the Prophet. “But, you, I suppose,” she pushed the copy across the table, allowing (Y/N) to see the flashing title across the top. Practically Perfect Potters, underneath was a photo of Ginny and Harry, looking as happy as clams. The newspaper must’ve bought the photo from a guest at the wedding, no way did Harry allow the Prophet into their ceremony, much less their reception.

“Pertains to me?” (Y/N) laughed, picking up the paper. “This article seems to be about the happy couple, as it should be I suppose.”

“Flip the page! They have other photos from the wedding,” Jane said, twirling her finger. “You’re in one, at least!”

Surely enough, on the other side were a handful of photos from the reception, many of the famous guests that had attended. Sprinkled throughout were canids of her friends, Luna dancing alone on the dance floor, Seamus and Dean wearing their ties around their heads, an adorable canid of (Y/N) laughing with Harry and Ginny, nothing out of the ordinary of the night.

There it was. She saw it. A grainy, yet still moving photo of the courtyard at the reception hall. Two figures were standing close, the woman’s arms around the mans neck, holding each other gently. It wasn’t close enough to make out the faces of the couple, but it wasn’t hard to realize that the woman in the photograph was wearing the same dress as the one with Harry and Ginny. (Y/N)’s dress. The caption was small and tight underneath the photo; A rendezvous of secret lovers.

“I’m sure Harry and Ginny are having a field day with the Prophet about these photos,” (Y/N) squeaked, trying to hold back her shock. “They didn’t allow press into the reception for a reason. Someone must’ve been sneaking photos throughout the night and sold them off.”

“You didn’t see it, did you?” Maria asked. “The one of the couple?”

“Harry and Ginny? Yes, they look beautiful—”

“The other couple, Professor,” Jane said pointedly. “It’s been the talk of the school since it arrived yesterday. Is it…?”

“Oh,” (Y/N) took another look. Was it obvious that it was her? Of course, anyone with working eyes could see it. Could anyone tell who the man was from this photo? (Y/N)’s eyes scanned the other photos, none featured Neville, fortunately. The only ones who would recognize him would be the attendees of the wedding. “Well, that looks like an invasion of privacy,” (Y/N) said, folding the paper back up.

“But it’s you, right Professor? I mean she’s wearing the same dress as you—”  

“I don’t want to add to the gossip,” (Y/N) said, holding her hand up. “Take the information for what you will.” 

“Who are you snogging?” a quiet Gryffindor boy piped up, instantly feeling ashamed of asking.

“5 points from Gryffindor for that one, Mr. Traska,” (Y/N) said sternly. She hated taking points from students, felt it was only necessary to do so to prove a point. “I will remind you, class, that my personal life is just that, personal. I don’t try to delve into your love lives, do I?”

“So that is you, right?” Maria asked excitedly. “You can’t hate us for being curious, you said at the beginning of the year the more curious the student, the better the potioneer, right?”

“I did-I said that, yes,” (Y/N) stumbled. “But you’re wise enough to know that it was pertaining to your studies, not your professor’s snogging.”

“So you admit it,” Jane spoke up, only partially. The entire class erupted with chatter, mumbling small words to one another.

“Class,” (Y/N) said, trying to reel her students back in. “Class,” she repeated once more, a bit louder than before. Very little change. Hesitating for just one moment, (Y/N) crossed her arms, hoping her silence was louder than her words. Didn’t work.

“We’re sorry, Professor (L/N),” Maria began, noting the stony look on her teacher’s face. The other students began to pipe down. “We thought that you knew…”

“And I thought that you knew better than to address it to the entire class, Ms. Hamilton,” (Y/N) turned to the Slytherin beside her, confiscating the newspaper. “Ms. Deetz, I expected more of the two of you. Detention, both of you, cauldron scrubbing this evening.”

The two girls hung their head, faces red with shame. “Yes, Professor,” Jane spoke up, her voice squeaky.

“Before we continue with the lesson, it’s clear that you lot won’t pay attention until I bring this matter to a close,” (Y/N) spoke up. “Yes, that’s me in the photo. No, I won’t share who the other person is. I respect your enthusiasm to get to know me and learn more about my life, I do, but please keep it to questions like ‘do you have a pet?’ or ‘what’s your favorite color?’, alright?”

A Gryffindor boy raised his hand, getting a nod from (Y/N). “Do you have a pet? A-and what’s your favorite color?” he asked, almost sheepishly.

“Good questions, Mr. Traska,” (Y/N) smiled. “I have an owl named Edgar, he’s my best mate, I’m sure you’ve seen him around. My favorite color is (Y/F/C), reminds me of home,” the students eased up, smiles returning to their faces. “Any last questions?”

“Do you have a boyfriend?” Jane asked, almost unashamed. “Felt like I should ask, seeing as I already have detention.”

“Cheeky,” (Y/N) clicked, laughing lightly. “But, no—well, not really, I guess. Not yet, anyway,” she smiled to herself. “I hope that changes soon,” the hurried murmurs of the class started again, making (Y/N)’s smile grow ever so slightly. “Now, back to our lesson. Polyjuice Potion…”

__

The gossip of the castle was hard to ignore, now that (Y/N) knew of the source. It seemed that every pair of eyes was aimed at her figure as she navigated the halls. She could’ve been wearing nothing at all and still had the gossip remain the same. Did Neville know about this? She hardly thought that he still read The Daily Prophet, either, considering their shared distaste for the sad excuse of journalism. What wasn’t hard to ignore, was the feeling of the floor beneath her backside as she slid onto the floor.

“(Y/N), I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you turn the corner,” Lance said, offering his hand. 

“No, I should’ve been paying better attention,” (Y/N) shook her head, pulling herself up off the ground. “Sorry that I haven’t had the chance to talk to you, Lance, but—”

“That’s alright,” he shrugged, shoving his hands into his front pockets. “I figured you had better things to do than to entertain me,” his face twisted into a grin. “The Prophet seemed to tell me that was exactly the case.”

“It was a sudden thing,” (Y/N) started, aware of the students slowing their pace, almost to eavesdrop. “I didn’t mean for it to happen the way that it did, hardly meant for anyone to be taking photos of it.”

“But you meant for it to happen, right?” Lance asked, waiting for an answer. (Y/N) nodded lightly, ashamed to look him in the eye. “I see. Were you going to break it off with me after the wedding?” Another nod. He laughed. “I should’ve seen this coming, truthfully, I was ignorant to even think that a pure-blood like you could’ve ever courted a muggle-born anyway.”

(Y/N)’s head shot up like a rocket, startled by his words. “What’s that supposed to mean? I’ve never once said—”

“Didn’t have to, everyone knows about your blood-status, the (L/N) name isn’t exactly known for much else, is it? Wallace (L/N), famed Death Eater, your father?”

“That’s a low blow, Lance and you know it,” (Y/N) said, feeling the anger bubble in her chest. “I’m nothing like my father, I’ve worked my entire life to be everything he wasn’t, for good reason, too.”

“Please,” Lance scoffed. “You may believe that, truly I believe that you do, but the need for blood purity is practically in your genes. I should’ve known better,” he sighed, almost looking beside himself. “Should’ve known you could’ve never given me a true chance.”

“Your blood-status has nothing to do with it Lance,” (Y/N) said, now noticing the straggling students around them. “Can we please move this to a private setting? Students are watching—”  

“So you can break my heart in private? Crush it to smithereens?” Lance’s hand flew to his chest dramatically. “No, I can take it like a man, right here, right now. In front of our students.”

“No,” (Y/N) said, crossing her arms. “This is childish and unprofessional,” she turned around, planning to head back to her chambers to cool down, perhaps enjoy a small snack. “When you want to have an adult conversation, send an owl.”

“It’s because he’s a pure-blood, isn’t it?”

(Y/N) stopped walking.

“I knew it,” Lance laughed. “Why else could you possibly be interested in such a bloke like him? Surely it’s not for his looks, right?” His laughter echoed in the halls. “He’s pathetic, (Y/N), the fact that you are clinging to him because of his blood-status is lowly, but perhaps expected—”

“Professor Knight, I’d stop talking if you knew what was best for you,” (Y/N) warned, almost turning around. She knew he didn’t deserve the right to see her angry, knowing full well he was looking for a rise.

“Best for me?” Lance laughed again. “No, Minty,” the former nickname rolled off his tongue like acid. “You haven’t got the first idea what’s best for me.”

“You’re right, I don’t,” (Y/N) smiled sweetly, turning back around. “Much like you for I,” she said, almost poetically. “If you think that my blood-status could possibly determine who my suitors could be, you’re sorely mistaken. Coming from the Muggle Studies Professor, you seem rather close-minded about that, do you not?”

“It’s been a practice for years, (Y/N), surely you know that much? You yourself told me of the arrangement your father had for you growing up.”

“One that never came to fruition, thank Godric,” (Y/N) sighed. “My mother found it to be barbaric, breaking it off before I even stepped foot at Hogwarts. My father really didn’t have much to say about it, considering the circumstances,” (Y/N) glanced at her watch, noting the time. “Now, Professor, if you don’t mind, I have to go and check on my cauldrons. Wouldn’t want one to overflow, would we?”

“Perhaps not, that wouldn’t be wise,” he shrugged, turning back around. “Let me know whenever that gardener bores you, it’ll come quickly enough.”

(Y/N) stood still for only a moment, feeling the gaze of straggling students. She gave them a pointed look. “Don’t you all have classes to attend?” As if on cue, the bell signal chimed out, leaving the students to frantically run to their intended destination. “That could’ve gone better,” she mumbled, her feet leading her automatically to her chambers.  

She stopped at the glittering stained-glass mosaic in the hall, the one of the phoenix. The wings flicked every so often, an enchanting sight to see. (Y/N) tried to focus her eyes on the tips of the feathers, watching the sunlight shine through the edges, trying to calm her running mind.

“It’s breathtaking, no?” A voice behind her spoke out. It was small, calming, warm. She knew it anywhere.

“I love staring at it,” (Y/N) hummed, turning her neck to see the Herbologist standing next to her. “Reminds me of Dumbledore, a bit. I reckon he’s the one who put it in.”

“Yeah,” Neville nodded, eyes transfixed on the swirling oranges and yellows of the window. “Done with classes for the day?” (Y/N) nodded. “Me too. Monday’s are the shortest of lectures but they feel like they drag on forever, right?” (Y/N) nodded again, giving no verbal response. “Hey, are you alright?”

“You don’t think I’m like my father, right?” She asked, turning to face Neville. Tears were glistening in the edges of her eyes, almost threatening to fall. “I mean, not literally, you never knew him,” she laughed, almost pathetically. “Godric I never even knew him.”

“What do you mean?” 

“Do you think I’m just a pathetic pure-blood?”

“Pathetic? You?” Neville shook his head. “I wouldn’t put those two words together, no.”

“Then what?” (Y/N) shrugged. “Some elitist who cares about blood-status?” 

“Of course not,” Neville reassured her. “You’re no Malfoy, that’s for sure. You don’t let your blood define you, (Y/N), you never have,” he shrugged, looking at her more closely. “If you did, you surely wouldn’t be working here. You’d be out and married to a pure-blooded suitor, getting waited on hand and foot,” he laughed at the thought. “It’s terribly unlike you at all.”

“You’re a pure-blood.”

“...and?”

“Wasn’t your Gran or anyone on you about your status ever?”

“No,” he sighed. “Gran never made a big fuss about it. Was more focused on me becoming more like my father rather than trying to set me up with other pure-blooded girls,” he cracked a smile. “I doubt I would’ve been anyone’s first choice in that, though.”

“Oh shove it,” (Y/N) finally smiled, feeling the tightness of her cheeks disappear. “Any girl would be lucky to marry you,” her smile faded a bit, realizing her words. A rather bold statement. “I-I mean, I know that I would, at least. Choose you, I mean.”

“T-thanks,” Neville nodded quickly, trying to ignore the red creeping up his face. Merlin was he taken by this girl. “E-even if I wasn’t a pure-blood?”

“Are you proposing to me, Longbottom?” (Y/N) said, pressing a hand to her chest dramatically. “And here I thought we weren’t rushing into anything…”

“We’re not!” He sputtered, waving his hands frantically. “We’re not, honest,” he repeated, as if to prove a point. “I-I’m sorry if it was out of line—” 

“No,” (Y/N) shook her head. “You’re alright, I was just pushing your buttons,” (Y/N) turned to look at Neville, pushing his arm slightly. “Just like normal.”

“Yeah,” Neville nodded, swallowing thickly. “Just like normal.”

The two stood in silence, eyes still glued to the glittering mosaic in front of them. The wings of the bird flapped every so often, breathing life into the art.

“You don’t happen to still read The Daily Prophet, do you?” (Y/N) asked, holding her breath. 

“So you heard about it too. I was hoping you didn’t,” Neville admitted, pulling a copy out of his back pocket. “I found it on ground in the courtyard and saw Harry’s face, it grabbed my attention,” he shrugged, thumbing through the paper.

“I’ve been the talk of the school, with my mystery suitor,” (Y/N) teased, poking Neville again. “Gave two of my students got a detention over it, they brought it up to the entire class—”

“Maria and Jane?” Neville asked, almost knowing. (Y/N) nodded. “Wonderful students, but terrible gossips they are, they try to chat quietly during class but fail miserably,” he chuckled quietly. “Still, the entire class? That’s rough, I’m sorry…”

“S’not your fault,” (Y/N) shrugged, brushing the matter off. “It’s one of my smaller classes, but no doubt the entire school is talking about me and my ‘mystery suitor’,” (Y/N) winked, poking Neville in the upper arm.

“D-do you reckon they know it’s me?”

“No,” (Y/N) shook her head. “The only people that would know would who it is were the people who attended the wedding,” she sighed, pressing her fingertips to her forehead. “Including McGonagall. She’ll be pleased, I’m sure.”

“Does Lance know?”

“Yeah,” (Y/N) hummed, her mood falling. “He knows. I wanted to talk to him, privately, about it all. I didn’t even imagine that someone was taking photos, let alone found their way out to where we were!”

“You broke it off with him?” Neville asked, his voice unsure. 

“Of course I did,” (Y/N) said, staring at Neville like he had grown a second head. “I’ve told you that I wanted to do it before the wedding, but then we… well…”

“R-right,” Neville shook his head. “I remember.”

“He… didn’t take it well,” (Y/N) sighed, wringing her wrist. “Argued with me in front of some students, not many, but enough to cause a little scene…”

“That’s horrid,” Neville said, shaking his head.

“Said some nasty things about—well, it doesn’t matter what about, I suppose,” (Y/N) shrugged lightly. “Just nasty.”

“He’s the one,” Neville said plainly, now staring directly at (Y/N). “The one that got in your head, about the pure-blood thing, right?” (Y/N) didn’t answer, only to look down at her shoes. “Blimey, he blamed it on your status, didn’t he? (Y/N)?” He gently placed a hand on her shoulder, his warm fingers taping lightly against her robe. 

“Something like that,” (Y/N) nodded. “Yeah.”

“He’s an idiot,” Neville said, tone unwavering. The look in (Y/N)’s eyes was one Neville wasn’t familiar with, almost a flicker of disappointment, maybe in herself? “Tell you what,” he removed his hand from her shoulder. “Do you have plans this evening?”

“I have to oversee detention,” (Y/N) said, shaking her head a bit. “But otherwise, no. Why do you ask?”

“You need a bit of cheering up,” Neville said, placing his hands on his hips. “Come over after detention,” his face twisted into a toothy grin, stretching to his ears. “I’ll cook you something, or we can just have tea, y’know, chat.”

“This sounds an awful lot like a date,” (Y/N) smirked, cocking an eyebrow. “Are you asking me on a date, Neville Longbottom?”

“I suppose I am,” he laughed, almost beside himself. “Yeah.”

“Should I wear something fancy?” She said, hands pulling at the edges of her robes. “A dress, maybe?” 

“I-if you feel inclined, sure,” Neville nodded. “Though it’s just me…”

“All the more reason, then,” (Y/N) said, pushing his shoulder lightly, playfully giving it a pat. “The detention shouldn’t take too long, I keep my cauldrons sparkling normally, Jane and Maria will get it done quickly.”

“Great,” Neville nodded again, swallowing thickly. “I’ll see you later tonight, then?”

“It’s a date,” (Y/N) winked, walking back to her chambers with a spring in her step, practically floating across the floor.

“Merlin,” Neville mumbled, clutching his chest, eyes glued to the back of (Y/N)’s robes. “I can’t believe I just did that.”

__

Neville paced across the floor of his living room. It was small, only large enough for a couch, a coffee table and the fireplace. (Y/N)’s place was bigger, he recalled, bringing back memories of frequent tea breaks and chats. Neville decided he liked the smaller space, it gave it a homey feel, plants surrounding every nook and cranny that he could find.

A quick rap was heard at his door, causing Neville to throw himself into a slight panic. A few short breaths, he bucked up the courage to go and answer it. Upon opening the door, there (Y/N) stood, dressed in a silver gown, length touching just below her knees, the glow of the fabric radiating off the candlelight of his chambers.

“Wow…” was all Neville could make out, feeling his face grow hot to the touch. “You look… just… wow.”

“You think?” (Y/N) said, glancing down at her dress, gripping the sides of the skirt lightly, bellowing it out. “It’s the same dress that I wore to—”

“Slughorn’s Christmas party, yeah,” Neville nodded, recalling the dress. Even then, he thought she looked ethereal, unreal to the human eye. “I remember,” he glanced at the neckline of the dress, touching the bottom of (Y/N)’s collarbone. “You got the lamb sauce out,” he lifted his finger, drawing a circle near the hem.

“I did,” (Y/N) nodded, pulling at the fabric. “It took a few charms and tries, but I managed,” she giggled, recalling the young Gryffindor spilling his plate onto her dress. “I’m still glad you did that, though, even on accident. Managed to get us to leave that dreadful party early,” (Y/N) hummed, rocking onto her toes.

“I’m still sorry,” Neville sighed, rubbing his neck. He had apologized a billion and a half times about the whole incident in the moment, only feeling worse about it after the fact. “I’m glad you were able to clean the dress, though. It looks nice.”

“Thank you,” (Y/N) said bashfully, now feeling a heat trace the bridge of her nose. “Can I…?” she motioned her hand into the doorway, Neville pushing himself to the side.

“Oh! Of course!” He jumped over, allowing (Y/N) to enter.

The living area that (Y/N) was used to was completely transformed, the couch was pushed against the wall, what looked to be a spare bedsheet covered the floor along with various cushions and pillows. The fireplace was roaring, looking to be freshly stoked, candles floating gently through the air of the chamber along with the sweet scent of pumpkins. 

“Oh…” (Y/N) stood just inside of the door, eyes floating from candle to candle, watching them almost collide. “Nev…”

“D-do you like it?” Neville asked, feeling smaller than a pygmy puff.

“I love it,” (Y/N) nodded softly, unsure of what else to say. “You did all of this… for me?”

“Yeah,” Neville said, ushering (Y/N) over to the impromptu picnic. They both settled onto the blanket, feeling the flickers of the fire warming their legs. “I mean, you only have a first date with the girl you’ve been mad for—for years—only once, right?”

“I suppose,” (Y/N) smiled, feeling the familiar prickling of tears in the corners of her eyes. “You really didn’t have to go all out though…”

“It’s nothing,” Neville shrugged, handing (Y/N) a glass filled with a sparkling red drink, the bubbles turning blue as they popped to the top. “I got that from Madam Rosmerta today, she said it’d pair well with the pumpkin pasties.”

“You got pumpkin pasties?” (Y/N)’s eyes lit up, a spark of wonder jolting through her very self. They had been her very favorite snack every year on the journey to school, always making sure to bring enough spending money for a few extras to save for later. 

“No,” Neville said, shaking his head. He reached over to a trunk—his old one from school, (Y/N) noted—and pulled out a plate of sloppily-made pasties. “I made some, well, tried to anyway…”

“They look wonderful!” (Y/N) said, excitedly. She hesitantly reached out for one, waiting for a small nod from Neville. Feeling the flaking crust under her fingertips brought her back to the train, back to chatting idly with her mates, wondering what adventures and lessons they’d encounter that school year. “They smell the same, too!”

“I hope they taste as you remember, I begged the shopkeep down at Honeydukes for a recipe. He was awfully nice at saying no, but gave me a few tips,” Neville admitted, watching carefully as (Y/N) took her first bite. “Well?”

“They’re delicious, Neville,” (Y/N) said, taking another large bite. They had tasted similar to the ones she’d grown used to, the warmth and cinnamon overwhelming her senses. “You went all the way to Honeydukes to ask for the recipe?”

“I was already in Hogsmeade,” Neville said, fidgeting with his socks, fingers playing with the purple material. “Had to get the wine from Madam Rosmerta… figured I’d stop in, try my luck.”

“Don’t they sell the pumpkin pasties there?” (Y/N) asked, taking another bite.  

“Ah… well…” Neville’s face grew red, far quicker than (Y/N) was used to seeing. “T-they do, but I wanted to—uhm—make them myself…”

(Y/N) leaned over, placing a soft peck to Neville’s cheek. “It was awfully sweet of you, going out of your way to do that—this, all of it,” (Y/N) said, gesturing to the scene set before her. “It’s rather romantic.”

“I-I was going for that,” Neville gulped. “Romantic, I mean. You really looked like you could use some cheering up earlier, so I wanted to try hard at it, make you smile.”

“You’ve succeeded,” (Y/N) smiled, taking a sip of the bubbling wine. “Madam Rosmerta was right, this does go well with the pasties. Tastes a bit like honeysuckle,” she took another sip. “Thank you, Neville. I really needed something like this, to get my mind off of everything.”

“What Lance said to you wasn’t right,” Neville said, strongly. “You’re not just some pure-blooded blockhead. If anything, he’s the blockhead for saying those things. I reckon he was trying to overcompensate for something—”

“I’m sure he was,” (Y/N) smiled, noting how Neville’s few freckles danced under the firelight. “He’s so full of himself, I can’t believe I ever thought I fancied him.”

“I didn’t help, I’m sure,” Neville said, going back to his socks. “I mean, I was the one to tell you to go for it.”

“We were dumb,” (Y/N) laughed. “I mean, we did have quite a bit of blockage, emotionally, I suppose.”

“The wedding helped.”

“The wedding helped, indeed,” (Y/N) nodded. “It all feels unreal, sitting here with you now.”

“I know,” Neville smiled, now taking a sip of the wine. (Y/N) was right, it did taste like honeysuckle, a bit. “If you told me that five years ago, I’d probably faint—blimey, I’m close to fainting right about now.”

“I get it, feels like a dream, really, actually sitting here with you. On a date,” (Y/N) smiled. “So… what do people normally talk about on dates?”

“I suppose the normal things,” Neville hummed, tapping his fingers on his knee. “Passions, hobbies, family…”

“I guess I’m not very good at this,” (Y/N) said, smiling lightly. “Because we already know all those things about each other.”

“I guess we do,” Neville chuckled.

“Well, I suppose we could try sharing something we’ve never shared with one another?”

“I don’t think there’s anything about me that you don’t already know,” Neville shrugged, sipping his wine again, reaching the end of his glass.

“I reckon I could come up with something,” (Y/N) mumbled, rocking back and forth lightly. “You know how I had an arranged, pure-blooded, courtship set up? By my dad?” Neville nodded, recalling bits and pieces of the story. “I never—blimey this is hard to say out loud—I never told anyone who it was with.”

“You said that it was broken off before you got to school, right? Your mum called it off,” Neville said, trying to remember. “I guess I never really put much thought at to who was on the other end…”

“I can’t even bring myself to say it,” (Y/N) said, throwing her head in her hands. “You’re going to vomit.”

“It wasn’t… no!” Neville’s eyes widened in shock, nearly tipping over the open bottle to his left. “Not—you’re joking, right? Please tell me it’s not—”

“Malfoy,” (Y/N) nodded, face hiding beneath her fingers. “Yeah.”

“I could’ve gone my entire life without that knowledge,” Neville said, face drawing blank. “I mean, just the thought—you and Malfoy—(Y/N) Malfoy, sounds ridiculous!” 

“Alright,” (Y/N) laughed, patting Neville’s arm. “Obviously I was never a fan of the arrangement. My father and Mr. Malfoy made the deal when I was born, they were close friends, colleagues of the Dark Lord,” she recalled, shuddering a bit. “The crossing of our bloodlines would’ve been something ‘extraordinary’ in the pure-blood community, something the Malfoy’s made abundantly clear.”

“I just—wow. Consider me speechless.”

“Enough about my tragic backstory, full of woe and triumph,” (Y/N) laughed, trying to dissolve the tension. “What about you? Got any boggarts in your closet, Longbottom?”

“Not any that can top… that,” Neville admitted, trying to regain his composure. “I suppose there might be one or two things, though…”

“Spill,” (Y/N) chided. “Come on, I shared mine, time to share yours.”

“Do you remember, when we were both in the Hospital Wing after the fight at the Ministry?”

“Can’t hardly forget,” (Y/N) said, pressing her hand to ribcage gently, wincing at the thought. “Still have the scars to prove it, too.”

While Neville had sustained a broken nose, (Y/N) had gotten a few swift kicks to the side, leaving her with a few broken ribs and enough bruising to last a lifetime. The couple resided the next night in the Hospital Wing, recovering.

“That night, when you were sleeping, you were talking—”

“You’ve told me that,” (Y/N) laughed. “I know I say ridiculous things in my sleep, you’ve said that I was going ‘on and on about pumpkin pasties’, very believable of me.”

“Yeah, you were,” Neville chuckled. “But, you also said… something else…”

“Neville, I thought this was a secret about you, not me—”

“I’m getting to it, promise,” Neville said, taking a deep breath. “You were mumbling a bit of things like ‘stop’ and ‘no’, I figured you were having a nightmare. But then, you said, ‘don’t touch him, don’t hurt him’,” a beat of silence. “Then, you said my name. You said it in such a way, so… broken a-and hurt. I reached over to touch you, to make sure you were okay and when I did… you smiled, just a bit, went back to talking about pasties,” Neville’s lips turned upward, his eyes softening. “It was then, I think, yeah. When I knew I loved you.”

“I—wow,” (Y/N) said, her face shining with the brilliance of roses. “That’s… got me beat, for sure.”

“Sorry,” Neville chuckled. “You wanted to hear a secret, it was either that or admit to cheating off you in Potions class.”

“That,” (Y/N) snorted. “That’s hardly a secret, Nev. I let you cheat off me.”

“Still rings true,” Neville said, glancing up at (Y/N), her features highlighted by the firelight. He’d always thought she was beautiful, in any sort of setting and place, but in this moment, the way the warm glow of the fire echoed off her skin just made Neville’s heart soar.

Without thinking, he pressed his lips to (Y/N)’s softly, catching her by surprise. His face was scrunched, ever so slightly, almost preparing for a blow. She settled into the kiss, placing her hand on his jaw.  

“Oh,” Neville said, pulling away, just a bit, hands in his lap. “I-I’m sorry, I should’ve asked—”

“Why?” (Y/N) said, pressing a kiss to his nose. “You don’t need to ask permission to kiss me,” she pressed another kiss to his lips, this one softer than the last.

“Feels wrong,” Neville hummed between pecks. “Considering that we’re—”

“Not dating?”

Neville nodded quickly. 

“Well, we should change that,” (Y/N) looked into Neville’s green eyes, golden flecks illuminated by the soft light before them. “Yeah?”

“You think? I thought that we weren’t going to rush into anything,” Neville repeated, emphasizing on his words. “Take it slow?”

“Fuck what we said,” she said pointedly, Neville wincing at her use of words. “Obviously we care a great deal about one another, hell, we can’t even have a normal first date because of how much we already knew one another. Surely we already care for one another in that way, why should it matter?”

“I guess you’re right,” Neville chuckled. “It does seem a bit weird that we’re not… official, when you put it like that.”

“It does, doesn’t it? Besides, people are going to find out about the photo anyway, might as well go all in, right?” (Y/N) giggled, noting the way Neville’s eyes scrunched shut in laughter. “Guess it was inevitable, huh?”

“Guess so,” Neville smiled, his hand resting atop of (Y/N)’s, the warmth between the touch was as warm as the firelight around them. 

“Well?” (Y/N) pointed an eyebrow upward, turning back to the Gryffindor beside her. “Aren’t you going to kiss your girlfriend again? Or is she going to have to do it for you?”

Neville didn’t need to be asked twice.

__

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[svtntntn]

breaking news

superhero!au x co-workers!au

inspo: superman and lois lane, the flash, supergirl, superheroes:)

a/n: this is the epitome of ‘why can’t I write shorter fics’ and ‘I take so long to write’

——

"Another day saved by Helios, the golden man with a plan! The city can rest easy knowing that Helios has put away yet another villainous creature threatening the safety of our blooming metropolis. And now, we bring you today's weather forecast!"

You glare at the wide-set monitor in the center of the office, the banner at the bottom proudly presenting the name 'HELIOS' in bold letters, the newscaster's smile beaming through the pixelated screen. "Soonyoung, can you change the channel? It's literally running the same news everyday."

"It might be the same news, but it's a different story everyday, (y/n). It's Helios! The golden man with a plan, the golden savior of our city, the man with the golden smile! Fighting crime every week, thwarting their plan and keeping the city safe as always."

"Tell me something I don't know Soonyoung," you roll your eyes at his blockbuster summary of the week by week.

"You're just like this because you're one of the few people who don't think Helios is handsome, don't you?" Soonyoung pouts. "And you of all people! You're the one always assigned the Helios stories, you get paid to stare at him and write about him." Soonyoung gumbles as you walk with him over to the conference room, "Maybe I'll take the lead on one today."

"Go ahead, be my guest." You supportively nod to him, thanking him for opening the door for you. The writer's room begins to fill with all of your office mates either standing or taking a seat around the oval table centered in the room, the chair at the very top of the table remaining open for your editor in chief.

Soonyoung nudges your arm as he sits next to you, grinning at Seokmin sitting across from you, "Hey Seokmin, you want the Helio story? (y/n) said it's up for grabs."

You peek up at him from your notepad, noticing the way he greets everyone incoming with his charming eye smile, his head bobbing to all the staff walking in before he tuning into you and Soonyoung. Just him sitting there in a simple button-up with his staff lanyard makes your heart flutter and swoon over your long-time crush.

"You don't want Helios?" He raises his eyebrows in concern as you immediately shake your head. "You're tired of him already? Helios' isn't your speed anymore?"

"I never said that," you defend yourself, "you know I don't assign the stories here."

"Well good thing I do." Your editor-in-chief strides in and the room falls into a hush as she seats herself at the high end of the table, commanding all the attention with a single look. "Morning everyone," Lee Sunmi's smile reaches all corners of the room as she opens her agenda and runs by department by department.

"So for this week's headlines… Seokmin and Soonyoung, you two are covering the downtown dance festival this weekend. Seulgi, the children's center's re-opening on Wednesday. Seungkwan, any major idol or entertainment news. (y/n), you're on Helios this week, and... Joohyun, look at any political changes or campaigns on the rise, election season is coming up and I heard there's new blood in the race." Sunmi directs her attention to other writers in the room as Soonyoung pouts at you. You merely shrug and write out the superhero's name on the top of your pad and underline it with a sigh.

Another week with the golden man with a plan.

You look up from your notepad and catch Seokmin's gaze, who immediately shifts his eyes to his paper when he realizes you caught him. You stifle a giggle and doodle his name on the margins with your pen, circling his name over and over again.

~

"Helios this, Helios that. I'm about to go insane thinking about him." Your head is in your hands as you're buried under the paperwork of your research, your eyes bleary from staring at word after word after word.

"Thinking about who?" Seungkwan asks with a cunning smirk, popping up by the wall of your office, "Is he who I think it is?"

"Who else do you think?" You deadpan to him, gesturing to your screen and showing the numerous open tabs about the city's one and only golden hero along with the papers on your desk. "I'm at loss of what else I'm supposed to write about. I'm assigned to him every week and I feel like I've covered every inch of Helios."

"Not every inch," Seungkwan winks at you.

You gasp and chuck your pen at him, "We are not a gossip column, Boo Seungkwan!"

"Hey, you're the only one I can get flustered about Helios, might as well have fun with it." He pulls up a desk chair next to you and looks over your notes. "What are you stuck on?"

You explain how looking back on all the Helios nonsense, you don't want to repeat yourself and mimic past articles and tabloids about the famed hero, so you've been combing through all the pieces you've ever written for something original to pen this week.

Seungkwan doesn't tear his eyes away from your work as he calls out loudly in the office, "Seokmin! Lee Seokmin!" The lack of actual office walls separating your desks call for a lack of privacy on the floor, meaning that everyone can definitely hear Seungkwan's voice reverberate throughout the halls.

"Seungkwan, what are you doing?" You try to hush him as fast as you can, everyone's eyes now on you and him.

"What is it Seungkwan?" Seokmin hustles over without breaking a sweat, surprised to see you with him. "Oh, hi (y/n)."

Your co-worker slowly rises from the chair and keeps intently studying your papers, "Mind helping (y/n) for a minute, I think she's stuck on Helios… I would help her but I wouldn't even know where to start. Wait, see… look at this article right there," Seungkwan pushes Seokmin into the desk chair and smiles at the scene before him, "Good luck you two."

"Well, that wasn't subtle at all." You note out loud, ignoring the way your heart speeds up in Seokmin's presence. "So, want to help me?"

"Of course," he starts perusing through the same articles from before, reading over them and switching between your past works.

"Why not write about his armor or the extent of his strength?" Seokmin writes on your notepad, "Helios’ armor is composed of an otherworldly material that not only retains the same strength and opacity as regular metal sheets used in bulletproof vests, but is blended with breathable material and alloy to make it tailored to him specifically and his abilities. They're able to withstand the heat and cold as well as the earthly materials around us, and the everyday wear and tear." Seokmin rattles off, fondly smiling as you stare at him in awe.

"How do you know all that?"

Seokmin's pen falls out of his hand and as he bends down to pick it up, his head hits the underside of your desk, "F-from reports online! People make tons of theories and reports about Helios and I think someone who was rescued by him actually asked him and found out."

"I'll have to look into it, thanks Seokmin." You grin, starting a fresh document to begin your research.

"So, (y/n)..."

You can hear the wondering tone in his voice, but you don't look over from the computer screen. "Yes, Seokmin?" you say expectantly.

"Do you have any plans for tomorrow night?"

You're too busy proofreading your work to notice Seokmin nervously wringing his hands over and over, too focused to see him look up at Soonyoung and Seungkwan flashing him a thumbs up from across the pen. "Tomorrow night? Just planning to stay home, proofread and edit, eat leftover takeout, nothing special."

"Oh, well… would you want to get dinner with me? I'm sure I probably don't beat out the idea of leftover takeout, but I can try." He innocently beams at you. 

"Okay, I wanna see you try." You muse with a flirtatious smile. Glancing at your watch, you note the time remaining till you're able to clock out of the office. "How about I meet you at 8?"

"Meet me at the diner on Fourth and West?"

The light atmosphere of the diner off Fourth and West brings a smile to your face, the casual restaurant known for its famed burgers and fries and milkshake combo making your mouth water.

Add in Lee Seokmin sitting across from you and it's a complete dream come true. "It's a date."

~

text message from seokmin

I'm about 10 mins away! See you soon!

Breaking News: Fire breaks out at Kim Technologies Headquarters in Downtown, please proceed with caution and evacuate Fourth Street

text message from sunmi (must answer at all times!!)

(y/n), find out what's going on!

Helios could be there!

text message from seokmin

Hey (y/n), sorry! I can't make it to dinner, Soonyoung needs me to get his car, it's stranded downtown and it's an emergency

Could we reschedule?

I'm sorry:(

~

The hands on the clock read half past ten as you wave goodnight to Joohyun and Seulgi, their figures disappearing out of the office as you lazily drop your head down in your hands. Your computer screen was opened to a draft of your newest story and yet it only had the main headline and your name at the top.

You blindly reach for your coffee mug and find it empty, your mind slowly throbbing from the lack of motivation and caffeine. You poke your head above your pen and see the entire office empty as well, stretching your limbs and groaning in pain loudly before yawning. You take your coffee cup and weave your way through the offices to the break room, stopping by a particular desk that's been empty the entire day and just so happened to belong to someone who may or may not have stood you up.

A tired sigh falls from your lips and you enter the break room in a huff, aggressively brewing a fresh pot of coffee. You're too into your thoughts as you pour yourself a fresh cup, when a loud knock erupting on the door and in surprise, you miss your mug and the brew spills over your hand and skirt, "Oh shi—"

"(y/n)! Oh, your hand!" Seokmin rushes over to you and takes the coffee pot from your hands, replacing it back into the brewer and taking a handful of paper towels for you. "Did I scare you? I didn't mean to, I just meant to surprise you, I thought you knew someone was here? What are you even doing here so late—wait, is your hand okay? Are you okay?"

The flurry of questions directed at you makes you chuckle when you notice his frantic smile trying to help you, "yes I'm okay. What are you doing here? Seungkwan told me you were sick."

"Oh, did he?" He coughs and clears his throat. "Yeah, my throat's been kinda sore… but Soonyoung had car issues again and he said he left his laptop here so I'm here to work on our piece from the dance festival." His hand rests over yours comfortingly as the heat and the pain subsides from your burned hand. "I'm sorry about our date. I didn't mean to cancel last minute, Soonyoung needed me to help him and—"

"It's fine…" You mumble quietly, trying to hide your disappointment. "I had to chase after Helios and the fire downtown, so it's okay… really."

There's a chill that travels from your fingertips and up your arm but it's gone the minute Seokmin removes his hand from yours, "Is your hand feeling any better?"

You cradle your hand and nod, "I can't say much for my clothes, though." The coffee is already seeping into your clothes as it stains the gray and white skirt and button-up you're wearing.

"I have some extra clothes at my desk if you want to borrow them? Unless you're planning to go home?"

The mind drifts to the unfinished draft on your computer, "Could I borrow? I'll wash them and return them to you tomorrow." You ramble, "I need to stay here to finish my draft for Sunmi, Helios' heroics just don't stop once I'm off the clock."

You notice a guilty look in Seokmin's eyes, but it's gone in a flash.

"Mind if I joined you? Writing, I mean. Sunmi's expecting a rough cut of it tomorrow too." Seokmin starts leaving the break room and you follow after him to his pen, where he pulls out a pair of gray sweats and an extra white button-up. "What? I'd give you my extra pants, but you'd have no belt for it."

"No it's perfect, thank you. I'll be right back." As you lock the restroom door, you take a moment and stare at your reflection in the mirror, looking at your flushed appearance and feeling the goosebumps along your arms.

Why did Seokmin have extra clothes at the office? It's not like he needed new clothes everyday to write.

But it was handy to have around, you thought to yourself as you buttoned his shirt together. The white button-up held the scent of fresh laundry and yet there was a hint of men's cologne lingering on, Seokmin's natural musk clinging on and making you blush at the idea of wearing his clothes.

You head back to your desk and find Seokmin already typing away at his laptop, staring up at the ceiling and attempting to find the right words to say. You circle around him and shove your ruined clothes into your purse, bringing yourself closer to your computer monitor, "Thank you again."

"No problem." He beams at you, "you look good in my clothes." There's a pause and you can't help but smile bashfully. "I-I mean.... uh, you just look good in everything, in general."

~

"Another late night, (y/n)?" Seungkwan asks as you cross your legs in your desk chair.

"Yeah, I need to write about Helios' newest adventure in not only single handedly halting the production of the city's new bullet train but causing its collapse as well." You sigh, remembering the amount of destruction and commotion at the press announcement of a sprinter train weaved around the existing city buildings designed to be faster than any functioning taxi or bus.

The reason behind Helios' good natured destruction was pure considering the existence of a series of bombs hidden in the tracks by a rogue ex-employee and yet where was Helios helping in the aftermath?

Sure, he managed to evacuate the area and save the city mayor and his family and the flock of reporters and news media covering the event, including yourself.

But in the concrete and debris and construction material askew everywhere in his wake, where was he?

"Helios' probably fighting off other bad guys or something. You know, dealing with them and the police or government or whoever." Soonyoung answers for you, standing behind Seungkwan with a shrug. "He has his own life as well."

Goddamn it, thinking out loud.

"It wouldn't hurt to help out the people he protects every once in a while, you know. Manual labor doesn't seem so difficult for a man of his strength." You scoff at his lack of consideration for others as Soonyoung and Seungkwan shake their heads. "We give him all this press and spotlight in the news and yet he doesn't want to get his hands dirty helping the public? Okay, sure yeah he saves the day, but c'mon."

"If you were a superhero, wouldn't saving the day take a lot out of you?" Soonyoung volleys back, his smile turning into a smirk when he notices a familiar face in the office, "Seokmin! Come over here! If you were Helios, wouldn't saving the day tire you out? You'd have to recharge your energy or battery or whatever you are—if you were Helios?"

Seokmin humors his best friends with a dubious chuckle, "Sure yeah, if I was Helios, I'd be too tired to do anything if I was busy saving the day." He notices your sour face at your response and looks at his best friends, "... but not too tired to be helping innocent people with my reckless actions? Right?"

"If you saw the destruction that Helios left in his wake, you'd understand." You mutter under your breath, knowing very well you and Joohyun were the only journalists from your paper to witness the catastrophe firsthand. "Being a hero doesn't just end with saving the day and locking up the villain. It’s dealing with the aftermath of it all—the good, the bad, the ugly."

"Right… well, hopefully you can tell Helios that, (y/n)." Soonyoung jokingly claps a hand on Seokmin's shoulder as he grins. "Good night, you two!"

You wave a good night to Seungkwan and Soonyoung as Seokmin rubs the back of his neck. "You're staying in another night?"

You hum a 'yes' as once again present the massive amount of papers and reports you have to transcribe for your article as he frowns at you. "I'll join you again, let me get my computer."

Seokmin sits by you once again as you both crank out drafts of your assignments, occasionally asking each other how your sentences sound and for words to use rather than the everyday, common tenses and verbiage. You hear your stomach growl and call for a lunch break between you two, the clocks almost hitting midnight as you take out your lunch bag.

He copies your actions with his own bag, taking out an array of containers within his small lunchbox. "What are you eating?" He hums in curiosity, leaning closer to you for a look at your food as your face immediately blushes at how close he gets.

You pull your container closer to your chest as you raise an eyebrow, "My food? Why do you wanna know?"

"In case I want to trade with you." He quips with a boyish smile.

You can't help but laugh at his innocence, "Are we in grade school? You wanna trade snacks with me?"

"Oh come on, (y/n). Live a little," he reaches over for a piece of your chicken but you hold your container out of reach from him, making him stretch over your body to fight over it. A surprised shriek escapes your lips as you shut one eye and hold your container as high as you can without it tipping out of the tray, actively trying to hold off Seokmin with your elbow.

You grin at your tactics as Seokmin's head comes close to your own, the smell of his hair filling your senses with fresh mint and the faint smell of concrete and debris. You falter for a moment as you stretch above, your mind traveling back to the scene of the ruined construction site from earlier that day but Seokmin simply reaches up and skewers a piece off your container and into his mouth, "mhmm, delicious!"

You come to your senses and shake out the coincidence as he mocks you, "Hey! If you take one of mine, then I have a right to yours," you quickly steal a bite of his food and consume it with a wink, playing up how good it is to him. "Mhmm, so good."

"You wanna switch?" Seokmin offers, holding up his plate to you. You reach for it but he pulls it further away from you with a smirk. "I'm kidding, here."

He switches your containers and takes a couple bites from your food as you do the same, both in content silence. The office is quiet save for the sounds outside the skyscraper, the honks of taxis and cars ringing from the ground and the changing of stop lights softly painting the office walls in different hues.

You're too caught up in daydreaming out the window when you realize Seokmin's been calling your name, "(y/n)?"

"Huh, yes?"

Your eyes lock on him and he lets out an apprehensive smile, "I want to take you out, like on a real date outside of the office. Properly, I mean."

"We were going to do that." You point out to him, taking a bite of his meal—technically, your plate—with a purse of your lips. Seokmin sulks in agreement and you decide to let up, "You actually promise to show up this time?"

"Hey, you told me too it was fine since you were chasing after Helios."

"Technically, you cancelled on me first." You wave off playfully, nudging your shoulder with his with a coy smile. "So yes or no on a redo date?"

"Hey I asked you first!" He cries out begrudgingly, "and you already know my answer."

~

text message from joohyun

good luck on your date today!

Breaking News: Bank Robbery commencing Downtown, please avoid First and West Avenue.

text message from sunmi (must answer at all times!!)

(y/n), get down to First and West

see what's happening

Breaking News: HELIOS intervening at Downtown Bank Robbery! Avoid First and West Ave for your safety!

text message from seungkwan

DID YOU HEAR THE NEWS?

I'm down by the barricade by First, come down here!

Breaking News: HELIOS rescues endangered hostages, safely apprehends the robbers, takes them into police custody

Breaking News: HELIOS promising to help restore Seoul City Bank, Seoul City's Train Transit and more! More news and information tonight at 9PM

~

"Isn't that the type of news you like to hear? Helios promising to help restore what's ruined in the city?" Joohyun notes, the broadcast of the golden hero streaming over and over again on the overhead monitors. The flash of the cameras ricochet off his shimmering armor and the mask that protects his identity, making him shine even more as the humble golden boy of the city.

"I'm surprised to see him taking such initiative, but it doesn't impress me. It's what he should have been doing in the first place." You snort, a sharp edge cutting through your voice as Joohyun studies you carefully.

She knew you were stressed following your private meeting with Sunmi and when you were stressed about work, it showed in your quiet demeanor—a clear 'don't talk to me' sign etched on your forehead after an evil glare.

But keeping your head down in busy work you could be passing to the interns?

Definitely not about work.

"So how did your date go?" You hesitate before carefully switching tasks and keeping your head lowered over your paper.

"It never happened, again." You mumble, marking your draft with your red pen.  

"What? What do you mean it never happened?" Joohyun nearly spits out her tea and coughs when some of it catches in her throat.

"Seokmin never showed up," you uneasily shrug, picking up your papers and walking to the intern's conference room, passing your papers off to one of the many bored interns sitting about.

Joohyun eagerly trails after you with her eyebrows furrowed together, "What? What do you mean? Never showed up? How long were you waiting for?" You shake your head as you pass by Seulgi's pen and she turns around at the sight of you and Joohyun.

Seulgi pipes in, "Waiting for what?"

"(y/n) had a lunch date with Seokmin again yesterday, but he stood her up again." Joohyun sullenly quips to her as you speed walk faster away from prying ears and eyes. "(y/n)!"  

"It doesn't matter how long I was waiting for." Joohyun gives you a pointed look that lasts for the longest minute till you cave in. "Fine… an hour… or two?" you pick at your nails nervously as Joohyun gasps in shock. "It's okay, I got a good meal out of it."

"Alone! You ate at a nice restaurant by yourself! Did he even send you a text he wasn't going to make it or anything?" You shake your head again as she sets her mug on your desk before scanning the floor, "I'm going to go talk to him, why would he stand you up? And for a second time? Who does he think he is?"

"It's fine, Joohyun!" You pull her arm to get her to back down, checking if Seokmin or Soonyoung or Seungkwan heard any of your conversation. "I can handle it, I'll talk to him. I'll talk to him and make it clear I won't continue to go through any of this."

You stand your ground and she accepts your statement, stalking off to her desk with a proud smile as you sigh and relax your solid form the moment you're out of her view. To say confrontation was your strong suit was an understatement, and the fact you were meant to confront Seokmin of all people made you want to avoid the situation as much as possible.

Speak of the devil, you groan as you notice him walk in from the elevators, his chivalrous demeanor making your heart swoon and his golden smile making you melt in despair, nearly overlooking that fact he was late to work. You quickly duck behind the walls of your cubicle before he can notice you but you can already hear footsteps approaching your desk.

"Um, hey (y/n)." He gently knocks on the wall of your office, meekly clearing his throat, "do you have a moment? I wanted to talk to you about—"

"I actually have to help the interns with something right now, but let's talk later, yeah? See you!" The lie is believable had you not just gone to the intern's office moments ago, but you excuse yourself anyways, not wanting to break your heart and Seokmin's at the same time.

~

"Sunmi, I'm at the building right now and there is no one here. The tip's probably some kind of teenager looking for a quick buck, a claim to fame for his social media." You roam the empty building and you can't help the chills that crawl up your arms. The wind howls through the unfinished architecture, the unfamiliar sounds making you look over your shoulder every other second.

The deserted hub for the halted bullet train was the perfect place to stage something—a drug hand-off, shady business deals, gang shoot-outs, rival matches—anything and everything goes here and that thought wouldn't leave your mind.

Especially considering the catastrophe that just happened that shut down construction there indefinitely? It was bound to be crawling with bad seeds lurking in the shadows.

She insists, "No (y/n), I know who gave us the tip, it's reliable. Trust me."

Trusting Sunmi was easy, but trusting the person who tipped off Sunmi? Never.

"Who told you?" You ask, "Wouldn't they tell the police about this if it involves drug trafficking? Or the local police if this was gang violence? Or wait—does this have to do with Helios?" You hear hesitation on the phone. "Sunmi, why didn't you tell me?"

"(y/n), it doesn't concern you. You know any and all tips are anonymous."

"Yes it does if it's about Helios!" You yell into the mouth of your phone, getting frustrated about being kept in the dark. "Sunmi, you could at least give me a hint, please. They could help me with—hello?"

Your pleading goes on deaf ears as Sunmi hangs up on you and you squint through the darkness with the careful use of your phone light. Voices whisper and shout just around the empty shells of the bullet trains, the cars stationed at Gate 1 of the supposed transit.

You position yourself behind a stack of abandoned construction equipment as you hear someone run out of the train's car, this footsteps heavy against the rocky earth as they shout into a radio. When the coast is clear, you rise from your hiding spot and quickly make your way to the inside of the car, finding a large machine beeping in the center of the car.

The timer on the machine counts down as you realize what exactly the machine is, dialing the number for the police on your phone, "Hello? I'm at the Seoul City Train Station—yes the abandoned one! There's a bomb counting down in one of the train cars, what should I—oh, um—there's ten minutes counting on this."

"Y-you're right, I will leave the premises as fast as I can." You calmly hang up the phone and back out of the train car, briskly running to where you entered but finding it completely blocked. "What the…?"

You begin shouting as loud as you can, sprinting all over the building for some way to get out of the station, but the only open section you can see are the unfinished train tracks leading outside of the hub and into the city—or into part of the city.

You start running down the tracks but it gets more and more narrow as you go along, your feet nearly slipping on the raised platform built high in the air. The metal rods end and you frantically look behind you, waiting for the building to erupt into flames, into something—when you lose your footing.

You can feel the wind rush past you and your heart drops, your eyes closing on instinct and bracing for whatever's to come till you hear a voice,"(y/n)!"

You brace for the impact of meeting the solid ground, but there's nothing.

No hard surface against your back, no painful slam into the concrete. You open your eyes slowly and find you're hovering in mid-air, your body flying above the ground and in the hold of a man in golden armor.

His eyes are covered by a matching golden mask and he breathes a sigh of relief, "Oh thank God, you're—"

Chills run up your neck and you cut him off as fear sets into your system, the feeling of floating mid-air making you extremely scared. You start scrambling to hold on to any part of the superhero for purchase, "Oh my god! Put me down! P-put me down!" You wrap your arms around his neck and shut your eyes again, the feeling of descending down to the ground fluttering about you.

You're pushing yourself off of the hero and onto the solid ground the moment he lands on the rooftop of the building, your hands pressing into solid, firm muscle as well. "O-ow! You're safe, you're safe, I promise!"

All the blood rushes to your face as you realize who the very person who saved you is, "Y-you're Helios." You stare at him in shock as he winces from your punches.

"Yes, that's me." He stands up straighter than before and clears his throat, his voice becoming deeper, "I'm Helios."

"What—how did you?" Your mind is spinning as you point back to the train station's main hub, "You knew I was there?"

"Of course, I always have a feeling when someone is in danger." Helios bravely nods, "especially beautiful women like yourself." You snort once you hear the compliment, a laugh bubbling up from your stomach before you suppress your laughter, "What's your name?"

"I'm (y/n)," you can't explain it, but you feel shy when he asks for your name, goosebumps arising when he repeats your name for the first time.

"Wait, aren't you that reporter from the Chronicles? You write about me, don't you?" He tilts his head and the moonlight reflects off his eye mask, specs of gold and white twinkling alongside his dark eyes.

"I-I do, actually yes. You know who I am?"

He shrugs, "It's only right to remember the name of the person writing about me in the paper—good or bad, I remember every name."

"Oh, well. Is it good or bad? Or both?"

Helios smiles, "Good, of course. You're a skilled writer, and you should believe that." He notices a leaf in your windblown hair and picks it out for you, "So what were you doing down at the Train Station? I can't imagine you're the one blowing it up."

"I was following a lead on something, but I think I found it—or him."

"You shouldn't be risking your life just to see me, that's pretty reckless of you."

You almost laugh in his face, "Oh don't kid yourself, I was at the original press conference of the train station that you evacuated and subsequently ruined and my boss heard something might have been going on there, so I went and investigated it myself. Finding you was just a bonus."

A little white lie didn't hurt in the presence of the almighty hero of the city, even if his strong sense of justice was equal to his handsomeness.

"This might be too much to ask, but can I see you again?"

He turns his back on you, levitating off the rooftop. "I don't do interviews, sorry."

Your eyes narrow at his back, running to the end of the rooftop, "But you're willing to get in front of the press to declare you're fixing the city? Restoring what's broken in the wake of your destruction?" He continues higher and higher till you shout at him, "Why? Why go through all that trouble of restoring everything when you could just do nothing!"

Helios stops and appears in front of you in the blink of an eye, his face obscenely close to yours, "Someone told me that being a hero doesn't stop with just defeating the bad guy, it's about dealing with the aftermath—the good, the bad, and the ugly of it all. And if it includes getting on the good side of beautiful reporters like yourself, it's not so bad after all."

He winks at you and off he goes into the night, his armor shimmering in the dense, yellow moonlight as you stare at him going farther and farther.

"Who are you exactly?"

~

"Of all people! I thought meeting an actual superhero in person would change your perspective about them." Seokmin notes to you as he helps carry archived prints onto the dusty desk at the end of the hall. "I mean, Helios actually saved you—and you still think he's the bad guy?"

"Okay, fine. He's not a bad guy, but a chance encounter with him doesn't change anything," you mutter as you filter through the archived prints in the building's basement with a groan. You'd be doing this task with anyone but Seokmin but given your obvious avoidance of him and Joohyun making sure Seulgi, Soonyoung and Seungkwan did not volunteer to help you downstairs in the archives, here you were.

Stuck with him, aka your crush—or your not-crush considering he did stand you up multiple times despite showing clear interest in you.

If he really was your not-crush, then why was your heart beating so fast around him still?

"But ever since the whole 'getting saved by Helios' happened, there's one thing that I can't stop thinking about."

"What? Is it the fact that you met him in person? That he likes your articles? That he's as handsome as everyone says?" Seokmin chuckles, fast forwarding through the news station's footage of Helios' past fights.

You look up from the prints and smack Seokmin's shoulder, "Stop right there! That frame right there." The video pauses and once again Helios' face is covered, the camera's focus blurred by his arm rising to protect himself from a villain's punch. "Nevermind—and no."

"So he is handsome?"

"Yes—no wait, can we put that aside for a moment? Right before Helios saved me, right when the station blew up, I heard someone shout my name before Helios saved me." You start carefully. "No one else was in the building or around but me… I mean, I was on the phone with Sunmi but she hung up on me before Helios even was there."

"Maybe it was Helios who said your name." Seokmin hypothesizes, his shoulders rising in curiosity.

"But if it was him, how did he know my name? I only told him my name after he saved me, not before." You breathe out, the cacophony of the news broadcasts drowning out your thinking. "I mean, I don't think I know who he is… but talking to him… it felt like I knew him, like I've talked to him before."

"As crazy as that sounds," you shake your head, hearing yourself already sounding crazy.

"It's not." Seokmin turns to you, a twinkle in his eyes as his eyes lock on yours. You swear in the moment his eyes dart down to your lips and back up but he clears his throat, "I-I mean, having covered him for so long, maybe it feels like he's an old friend."

You nod and continue looking through the prints, trying to find the original articles of when Helios first came about.

"You know, I can't help but think why does Sunmi want me to cover the Helios stories all the time?" You wonder, "I don't even like covering him, even if it gets me a front page column."

"Because," Seokmin starts off with certainty, "she knows you're the best writer here and she wants someone doing Helios justice on the press."

"I am not the best writer here," you deny earnestly, running a hand through your hair tiredly. You sit on the desk next to him and rewind the footage to play back the scene of Helios' fight, watching the way he moves with ease around the villain.

"Yeah you are," he volleys back, taking the controller out of your hand and pausing it. "You write honestly, you write the facts without being too dry, you write with emotion without over exaggerating it all." Seokmin hesitates, "you know the gravity of your words and you're not careless about it."

You wordlessly nod, unsure how to respond to such a compliment as you throw your hands up, "If I'm so great, then why can't my brain work right now?"

"You just need a break from staring at the screen." He sets the remote aside and takes your hand in his, "Come with me."

Seokmin leads you through the rows of the archived material, entering a hallway leading to the personal archives organized by every journalist ever employed under the Chronicles. He stops in front of his personal cabinet, tugging it open and meticulously threading through his past works till he pulls a stack of papers from the very back, all brought together with a heavy duty clip.

"Do you remember the entertainment scandal that broke last year but was swept under the rugs by the heads of those companies? Involving women and those nightclubs?"

"Of course, I remember. Sunmi assigned that whole expose to me."

"Well, I wanted to work on it as well, but she told me no." He holds out the stack to you, "So instead I wrote this whole piece on it anyways."

"You wrote this?"

"Oh yeah," Seokmin nods as you peruse the unpublished first draft, "I was going to submit it to Sunmi but since she assigned the expose piece to you, there wasn't much I could do." You remember the headline articles you penned that week, the week where you literally went four days with no sleep to finish the damn thing. "But I didn't let that stop me from writing, I didn't let that get to my head that she chose you over me, so I saved it all and rewrote this whole thing at the start of this year and I'm happy with my progress."

He pulls out another set of papers, thicker than the previous one and cleaner with only several red marks marring the pages. "Looking back, I think I would have butchered that piece if Sunmi gave me the opportunity to write it instead of you. Everything happens for a reason, and it's brought us here." He gestures all around you, "I mean, not to the dark basements of the archives, but to where you shine doing what you love, what you're good at."

"You shouldn't doubt what you write because it's going to be good regardless of what you think. You're amazing, (y/n). Don't doubt that."

Your eyes travel all over the papers and back to him, his eyes locked on yours as you stand speechless before him, "Seokmin, I—"

You decide to take the plunge and cross the empty space to stand directly in front of Seokmin, tugging him by the collar and pressing your lips to his. Disbelief sets into him, his eyes going wide but slowly closing and melting into you as his hands wrap around you.

You're the first to pull away from the kiss, your eyes still closed and heart racing a thousand beats per minute as you realize what you just did. "I-I—uh, I don't know what came over me."

"(y/n)..."

He's about to pull you in for another kiss, and you can't help but feel a familiar chill in his arms as your hands rest on his chest, his heartbeat racing in under your palms till the ringer of someone's phone goes off—interrupting the bubble between you too.

Seokmin's hands immediately go to his phone and he grits his teeth, "I'm sorry (y/n), but I need to go."

The dire tone in his voice makes you worry, "What? What's wrong? Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, uh. It's… something." He taps out a quick text before rushing out of the room, leaving you in a flustered mess. "I have it under control, I just have to leave right now. I'm sorry."

Without another word, Seokmin's gone in the blink of an eye and your hand balls into a fist at the situation in front of you. The ringer of your phone goes off this time and it's another text from Sunmi.

text message from sunmi (must answer at all times!!)

(y/n), there's a villain loose from the Seoul City Jail and witnesses say he's looking for Helios

Keep your distance and get the story

He's by the Seoul City River

You glare at your phone, "Why are you literally ruining everything?"

~

"Sunmi, can I talk to you for a moment?" You knock on the panel of her door and she naturally waves you into her office, placing down the newspaper and shifting her complete attention to you.

"Yes?"

You take in a deep breath before asking your question, "Why am I always assigned Helios?" Your voice is rushed and hurried which makes Sunmi make you repeat it again before she raises an eyebrow.

"That's what… you came to talk about?" She deadpans sternly.

"I know there's plenty of people who can write about Helios and yet, every week you assign him to me. As much I thank you for the opportunity to cover him, I don't believe I'm the best person for the job. At all." You nervously twist the papers in your hands behind your back. "If Seokmin is all-knowing of Helios and his every move—why doesn't he cover Helios?"

"Because you’re the better writer," Sunmi answers for you, her gaze shifting to her glowing tablet. "Seokmin’s good, but you’re better."

"That’s complete BS," you argue back, slapping down printed papers with Seokmin's name at the bottom. "I’ve read Seokmin’s work, it’s frontpage quality! I read his reworked piece on last year's entertainment scandal, the big one involving those idols and those nightclubs? He didn't want to submit it to you but it's good! His writing shouldn’t be page two or three or five—he deserves the front page, he deserves the Helios stories."

"It doesn't concern you, (y/n)."

"Yes it does, considering I'm the one who's following Helios every month, every week, every day!" You yell back, contempt in your voice.

Your boss stands up and purses her lips, "I’ve already offered it to him—countless times," Sunmi reveals off-handedly, "and everytime I try to give him the story, he declines and passes it to you."

You're completely caught off-guard as you try to process what she just said, "H-he what?"

"And when I tried to assign him Helios for the—I don't know—millionth time, he threatened to stop the tips about Helios and to quit and work for the Metro. I can't have one of my top ranking writers work for the Metro." She shakes her head as she stalks over to you, leaning against the corner of her desk.

You try to piece the story together slowly, "What, why would he do that? Why pass it to me of all people?"

"He never told me." She muddles her tea in her hands before setting it back down. "I thought he was doing it to get into your good graces, because word around the office is that you and him are…?" Sunmi singles out her two index fingers and puts them side by side, hinting as to if you and Seokmin are a couple.

"O-oh no no no!" You shake your head, "Him and I—nope, we're not a thing, I mean… He asked me out a couple of times, but he's stood me up those times—but we stay late at the offices from time to time and eat together and—"

"(y/n), I adore you, but you need to take a major hint." Sunmi chuckles, rolling her eyes at the young love in front of her. "You two aren't the only ones to stay behind working hours."

Your mouth is gaping at the situation in front of you, your hands getting unnecessarily clammy and sweaty. "Fraternization in terms of workplace relationships in the office is not frowned upon if you two do decide to pursue that, just please keep it professional during business hours." She sits back at her desk and gives you a small smile. "If you don't have any other questions, you're free to go."

You enter the main floor and walk over to your desk, throwing Seokmin's article on the counter and releasing a tired sigh up into the air. Your hands go to your hips as you watch the widescreen television monitor run the story of Helios saving the day, spotlighting his built figure in the sky.

You glare at him, "Why are you always making everything so confusing?"

~

Your morning could not be going any better. Nearly everything and everything was going wrong or malfunctioning on you and with the entire office stressed about the Metro opening up their new headquarters across the plaza, everyone was running around like headless chickens.

And to make things even worse, the one person you wanted to talk to was out of the office the entire day, citing emergency after emergency to Sunmi and clearly avoiding your texts and calls.

If anything, you're more confused now than ever and the only person who seems to be making any sense is the one person you're writing about twenty-four/seven: Helios.

His plan to transform the city for the better had you following him around all day, watching him help the youth and the elderly as well as aid the construction workers in rebuilding the train station and other buildings he damaged during his past fights. Women, men and children alike were all enamored by kindness and were incredibly flustered over his perfectly white smile and charming manners.

You sit at your desk watching the footage from Helios' foray into the city's park, helping grow patches of trees and flowers by flying through the air and spreading them through the park.

"How long have you been watching that footage?" Joohyun chimes in from above you, her head perched on her hands on the top of the office walls. "Watch out Seokmin, I think Helios has taken your heart now."

"Oh shut up." You groan, pausing the clip. "He has not taken my heart, just… seeing him actually keep his word to make the city better has made me see him in a whole new light. That's it."

"A man of his word," she wistfully remarks, "I wonder where they come from."

"Not from here." You mutter under breath as you notice Seokmin walking your way. You minimize Helios' video and pull up your draft for this week, pretending to type a sentence or two till you hear a certain someone clear his throat.

"Hi Joohyun, (y/n)." He greets you both with a smile before turning to you, "Would you have a moment, (y/n)? To talk?"

You silently nod and march over to the break room in front of Seokmin, asking the interns tiredly sitting about to give you two the room as you chew on your bottom lip. You take in Seokmin's entire demeanor, noticing the way he looks unusually fatigued, like he had been up all day and night with no sleep, how he yawns as if it was past midnight and not eight in the morning. 

"(y/n), I—"

The minute the door shuts, you run your hands through your hair frustratedly, "So now you want to talk?"

"Seokmin, what is there to talk about? I don't understand you, you're helping me with my research and flirting with me and acting all interested in me one day and then you're standing me up on our dates with flimsy excuses, and I'm tired of it! If you just want to be friends, then I understand. You don't have to keep leading me on and playing with my feelings like this."

"And another thing… why?"

He genuinely looks confused and you elaborate on your initial question. "Why pass Helios to me? All the opportunities to write about him—you said it yourself that your writing has grown since you first came to the Chronicles and yet you tell Sunmi to give Helios to me every time."

Seokmin bites his lips nervously, "Don't pretend, I know it's you who tips off Sunmi about Helios in the first place, too. I know she's tried giving you this assignment week after week and you keep saying no."

You can't help the tears that start to well up in your eyes as he stands there in tense silence, "On top of that, you know way more about Helios than I do, so why skip out on this big opportunity? You could even find out who he is or whatnot!"

"And you better not give me some excuse that I write better than you because that's not true."

The air is heated and quiet between you too as you stare at him, trying to figure out what Seokmin's playing at, but he doesn't attempt to open his mouth at all. His eyes are cast down, obviously avoiding your gaze.

Seokmin looks guilty but you can't quite figure out why, "I-I can't tell you, (y/n). You have to trust me when I say that it's better if you don't know."

You remark sadly, "How can I even trust you if you don't even keep your word?"  

Seokmin opens his mouth as if to say something but nothing comes out, prompting you to start walking out of the break room, "(y/n), please. You have to believe me."

"I don't know what to believe anymore with you."

~

Days pass since your confrontation with Seokmin and since then, it's been quieter to say the least. You notice that he doesn't sit across from you during morning meetings, preferring to come in last and stand in the back next to Seungkwan. He keeps his eyes cast down around you, only briefly making eye contact with you before directing his attention elsewhere or excusing himself from the situation.

You've tried to not let it affect you but knowing you're somewhat the cause of the entire situation starts a pang of guilt in your chest.

"(y/n)! Are you leaving the office anytime soon?" Seungkwan knocks on the wall of your pen, rocking on the balls of his feet as he waits for your answer.

"No, I'm staying behind again." You focus on your laptop screen again, wiping the tired fog out of your eyes. "Should Helios' good deeds go unnoticed by the Chronicles, I don't think I'll hear the end of it from Sunmi, so I'm staying behind to categorize them for the article… are you done for the night?"

"Mhmm, Seokmin and I finished our piece on the Kim Technologies' charity gala earlier today so I'm heading out early." Seungkwan yawns tiredly as you nod in acknowledgement, a lost look in your eyes that he instantly recognizes. "But what about Seokmin you ask?" Your co-worker smirks but blinks any trace of deviance away. "He might still be around tonight, but why? You're finally going to talk to him after nearly a week of avoiding him?"

"He's the one avoiding me." You angrily mutter, your face feeling hot at the true accusation. "He can talk to me when he wants to reveal his dirty little secret."

You notice Soonyoung's eyes go wide and he gulps timidly, coming closer to your desk, "(y/n)... do you know… about Seokmin?"

"Do I know what about Seokmin?" You carefully repeat, watching his features contort in awareness of what you just repeated. "He's hiding something, isn't he?"

"No no no! Nothing, it's nothing! I thought you knew that Seokmin… uh, that his… birthday is coming up! And we're planning a party for him!"

"Wasn't his birthday in February? It's almost September." You reason, looking at the paper calendar on your desk and flipping through to months before.

"Oh would you look at the time!" Seungkwan glances at the imaginary clock on his wrist and starts rushing towards the elevator doors. "Good night, (y/n)!"

You shake your head in dismay as you watch him exit the building, turning back to your reports throughout the week of Helios' grandiose gestures to restore the city. The clips posted by innocent bystanders all over the city becomes a blackhole of you watching nothing but videos of the handsome hero soaring through the air and helping those in need. The next video that plays is new to you, the title reading 'WHO IS HELIOS? AN IN-DEPTH ANALYSIS!' in bold, black writing and a cutout photo of Helios grinning as the preview clip.

The video launches into a full scale investigation of who or what Helios' real identity could be, seeing as he physically appeared human—flesh and all—but retained superhuman powers and abilities. Sketchy videos with the quality of a cell phone were interlaced into the short film's evidence, zooming in on the superhero's face during battles and measuring his height and build in comparison to the people and buildings around him.

A deeper analysis appeared in the form of your posted articles from the Chronicle and from other tabloids that reported Helios-centric 'discoveries' and 'theories,' the creator mentioning how Helios' true identity must have been employed within media or the press as they've never explicitly covered who he could be under the mask as well as keeping a tight lid on information on the inside.

You found yourself glued to the analysis, playing along into the madness and thinking of who the culprit could be.

It had to be someone with access to people and places all over the city and working for the press, or under a major newspaper corporation, did just that. Not only did that help with getting around, but the media was always guaranteed a spot at major public events that common villains did target.

And there were few men who did fit Helios' proposed height and build in the industry, but did they fit his moral compass of good over evil? Did they have his boyish charm and strong sense of justice as much as Helios did? Did they change their point of view and own up to their mistakes in light of noticing their own faults? Did they match his bright smile and heavenly voice? Did they give you chills everytime he held you in his arms? Did they live selflessly and humbly in the spotlight despite the number of critics and bashers—as you were before—examining his every move and choice?

There was only one person to come to mind that fit your description perfectly: Lee Seok—

You're woken from your daydreaming as your phone rings loudly, a slew of incoming texts from the one and only Lee Sunmi.

text from sunmi (must answer at all times!!)

(y/n), this is an emergency

I need you to go to the rooftop of our building ASAP

No questions asked

You quickly rise from your desk and shove on your jacket, rushing through the empty offices to the elevator doors, nearly jamming the button to the rooftop stuck as time shifts forward a minute.

The stairs to the roof are slippery from the lack of use, save for the occasional times you know Sunmi goes to be picked up from her personal helicopter, which is rare in itself. There's a brisk wind that surrounds you, your breath evident in the cold temperatures as you reach for your phone to text Sunmi.

text to sunmi (must answer at all times!!)

I'm on the rooftop, what is it?

text from sunmi (must answer at all times!!)

No questions asked, remember?

Stay there and do not leave

You shove your phone back into your pocket and start walking around the rooftop, goosebumps creeping on your skin through your jacket as you notice a faint figure standing by the ledge of the rooftop.

The closer you get, the more the figure looks more familiar to you, your lips pursing together when you realize who it is, you turn on your heel to walk away but you remember Sunmi's instructions.

"Seokmin? What are you doing here on the roof? I thought you left hours ago."

You can see he's somewhat nervous as he sits on the edge of the building, pulling out a bouquet of flowers for you when you step close to him, "(y/n)—I-I, uh, there's something important I need to tell you, and I don't know exactly how to tell you. But you shouldn't hear it from me."

"What are you talking about?" You look at him confusedly. "What's going on now?"

"I'll be right back." Seokmin stands up and casually falls off the edge of the building and you scream, immediately rushing to the ledge and peering down below but the darkness doesn't give you much to see. A gust of wind shoots by in front of you and you pull your eyes away, shielding your vision with your hands till the wind settles. Again, there's nothing on the side of the building as you look left and right until you hear a cough behind you.

And there he is.

Lee Seokmin casually defying gravity before your very eyes as he lands on the tarmac with a soft step. "Surprise?"

"What the—Lee Seokmin! I hate you!" You smack his arm repeatedly in shock with the flowers he gave you minutes before, the flowers' petals falling to the floor in waves. "You're not allowed to scare me like that!"

"Sorry! I didn't think it through!"

You groan again and shake your head, "So that was you telling me you’re Helios? By falling off the roof of a skyscraper and giving me a heart attack?"

Seokmin winces from how bad it sounds when said aloud and instantly agrees, "Ok ok, it could have been explained better."

"Oh you think?" You hit him again with the bouquet and now when you look at it, the flowers are in shambles, desolate-looking with half-full petals. You sit down on the inner ledge of the rooftop as you pout at him.

He looks incredibly remorseful, "(y/n), I'm sorry. I-I should have explained it to you better and I know you're in shock from finding out—"

"In shock from finding out?" You shout in disbelief. "I already figured out you were Helios!" Seokmin sputters out incoherent babble as you grin madly, "all the clues were right in front of me: working with the press and always having the inside scoop, having extra clothes in the office, your knowledge and tips to Sunmi about Helios, your hair smelling like the aftermath of construction site, leaving when Helios is needed—even if it's all in bad timing. It's always been you."

"You're not shocked? Or mad?"

"I mean, I won't lie… I was mad at you before, but now I understand why you do what you choose to do. I can't be mad at someone choosing to save hundreds of people over spending dinner with me. I get it, I'm a bit of handful," you chuckle humorously to lighten the mood. You bite your lip, "I'm sorry for what I said before—about Helios, to Helios, to you. I can't imagine the chaotic double life you must live in order to keep your job as a boring city journalist and a superhero protecting all that is good."

"Hey," Seokmin nudges your arm as he plops down next to you, pollen and flower stains streaking his white shirt. "Being a city journalist isn't boring. It's the highlight of my day."

You scoff at the sentiment, "What? Typing and editing reports and interviews verbatim really do it for you?"

"No, but seeing you does." He winks, but he becomes flustered when he realizes the tail end of your sentence, "I mean—you make my day! Seeing you is the highlight of my day! God, this was way easier behind my mask."

"Don't worry, Helios. You still got it." You stand up with the bewildered bouquet of flowers in your arms, offering Seokmin your hand, "But you could make it up to me with dinner? I have a bountiful amount of food packed in my lunch bag."

His warm hand in yours sends a jolt of lightning up your arm, his smile making you melt on the inside, "I would love to—"

Suddenly, a phone chimes and rings with one text after the other, Seokmin's phone constantly vibrating with messages.

text message from soonyoung, seungkwan (group chat)

SEOKMIN! there's a break-in at the seoul city museum! cameras and wires were tripped 2 minutes ago [soonyoung]

the robbers look to be professional, carrying all sorts of gear and disabling the systems [soonyoung]

are you done making up with (y/n)?? I know you asked sunmi to help you talk to her, but she still seemed pretty mad at you when I left the office [seungkwan]

did you get her flowers like I told you so LOL [soonyoung]

yes he got her flowers, he chose the first bouquet HA [seungkwan]

I liked the second one better:(( [soonyoung]

HELLO SEOKMIN?? THE BREAK-IN [soonyoung]

Seokmin shakes his head and shoves his phone back into his pocket, his lips pulling into a regretful frown, "Uh, duty calls?"

"Fine, go." You nod in understanding, basically shooing him off the tarmac, "Be safe."

"Always." He kisses the back of your hand before running off the roof and diving into the night, shooting up from the shallows in his gold armor and threading his way around the city like a shooting star.

You hug yourself for warmth as you inhale the brisk city air, not a single shred of doubt in your system that he would return safely, knowing that full well that Seokmin was a man of his word, forever and always.

.

[coffeecomicsgalore]

Heated Encounters

Ao3

<<Prev || Next>>

Chapter 16

Marinette stood in front of her locker and stared at the closed door. She didn’t want to open it and see the pictures of her and Adrien tacked to the inside of the metal, afraid that if she took one peak, she would start to bawl her eyes out again.  

She already spent the first fifteen minutes upon entering the school by locking herself in a bathroom stall and shedding as many tears as she could; her little kwami comforting her quietly beside her. Only when Alya came in and found her hiding was she able to come out; yet, here she was refusing to open the door and open up the wounds again.

“Girl. You need to hurry up and get your books. We’re going to be late.”

“I- I can’t.” She whimpered; her eyes shiny and red.

Alya pinched the bridge of her nose and let out a sigh. “Open the door and I’ll get them for you. What do you have first?”

Marinette looked at her before reluctantly unlocking the door and turning away. “Literature.”

“Okay. Do you need anything besides that?”

“French History and that blue notebook.”

Alya grabbed the items and placed them in her hands, shutting the door and wrapping her arm around her shoulders to lead them up to homeroom.

“Are you going to be okay in literature? You share that class with him, right?”

Marinette sniffed against the back of her hand. “Yeah. And we sit together too.”

“Can you switch seats with someone today?”

“No.” Marinette mumbled. She knew deep down inside that it wasn’t the thought of sitting next to him that bothered her, it was the idea of switching seats. She couldn’t deny that moving her spot would only break her further. “Besides, Mr. Lovell wouldn’t allow it.”

“Listen. It will be okay. It’s not like you have to do a class project with him or anything.”

Marinette scoffed. “Knowing my luck? That’s probably what’s going to happen.”

“And if it does, then it’s the perfect opportunity to talk to him. You said it yourself you wanted to fix this, and you’d promise you’d fix it. Take the opportunity and talk to him! Start small.”

Marinette looked at her friend and let out a sigh. “I’ll try.”

The homeroom door came into view and the terrified coil started to form in her belly. Alya guided her into the classroom and Marinette hastily made her way to her seat, never once lifting her eyesight off the floor as she made her way up the steps to her row.  

Normally, she would have walked around Adrien’s spot as they continued their conversations; the class secretly cooing over their interactions. Instead, the bluenette held onto her books as if they were made of glass and stepped into her seat from Alya’s side of the room, then sliding in and burying her face into her arms.  

Adrien noticeably tensed the moment she walked in, but his head quickly bowed down and refused to turn towards her to see what she would do. The moment he heard her sit down, he plopped his head down onto the table with a loud thud, not bothering using his arms as a cushion during its fall. Nino reached over and patted Adrien’s shoulders, asking if he needed to run to the nurse for ice to avoid bruising his already ashen face.  

Alya looked between the two mates as the plan slowly etched within her mind. One quick scan of the room only confirmed that the entire class had waited for Marinette’s arrival with bated breath, most likely in hopes that the two would have made up at one point over the last three days. The class broke into hushed mumbles over the lack of interactions between the two, but the moment Adrien dropped his head in defeat was when the room was brought to silence.  

Homeroom passed in a blur. Alya waited until Nino and Adrien left the room before she nudged Marinette up and walked out of the room. They walked in silence, a thankful reprieve to the constant buzz of words her brain was trying to digest in order for her plan to work. The moment they reached Marinette’s class, Alya turned and noticed her friend’s hesitation and Alya tried to reassure her with a forced smile.  

She placed one hand on Marinette’s shoulder and gave her a comforting squeeze before she said her goodbyes and made her way to her own class. Marinette stared at the doorway, contemplating whether it would be wise to skip class or suck it up and walk in. She tried to enter the classroom by taking two steps towards the open door, but her anxiety made her dwell longer than she intended. She took in one large stretch of air as she closed her eyes and slowly let out the held breath between her pursed lips. She opened her eyes and licked her lips, finally psyching herself up enough to just walk into the class. The moment she did, her eyes automatically honed in on the tall blonde at their assigned table and noticed that Adrien had already arrived and settled in. She paused, her heart hammering against her chest as she carefully eyed his hunched form. She didn’t get a chance to really look at him the moment he arrived earlier that morning, and his disheveled state only proved how awful he must be feeling. He was wearing a large black hooded sweatshirt over a pair of washed out jeans. His normally tamed hair was a ragged mess while the blonde locks poked out from under the hood. His face was buried in the confines of his crossed arms, but Marinette could see the paleness of his skin. The purple, bruised bags under his puffy, yet dull, green eyes peeked just above his arms, just enough for her to notice the lack of sleep he must had endured.

Marinette could feel her heart cracking at the sight. Was seeing him in a calmed state through his window the night before just a fluke? Did she assume the worst before she even had a chance to ask? She wouldn’t dare think that this boy faked the hurt he was feeling. She could see that the normally vibrant ball of sunshine looked like the light literally left his body, and those presumptuous thoughts made the wracking guilt that was stewing inside her almost suffocating.

“Miss Dupain-Cheng,” the professor sang out as he leaned against the desk, “whenever you are ready to sit down; please, be my guest.” He ended with a gesture to her seat.

Marinette blushed crimson as the class let out a fit of giggles. She ran to her seat and removed the books from her bag as Mr. Lovell began the class. She tried her best not to look at Adrien, mostly due to the fear of her breaking down in tears over his ragged state. She could feel Tikki’s presence as she nudged her paw through the purse, but Marinette’s fleeting thoughts overpowered any calm the god tried to relay.

She knew that trying to take one look at him would be a big mistake. She tried her hardest to avoid the temptation, even going as far as internally screaming at herself to not take the chance. But her heart spoke loudly over her thoughts, enticing her eyes to steal one glance. Just one and she would be fine. Her heart tried to reason with her brain, and her brain was failing to reason with her heart on the matter. But then she did it. Using the excuse of placing her bag down beside her foot, she lifted her gaze as she turned her face towards the board, and her heart sank again at his disheveled form.  

Curse you heart, her brain yelled at the beating muscle as it pounded its blood through her body. She couldn’t believe that it was beating as normal as if her entire frame of mind didn’t just shatter into a million pieces. Yet, here she was, holding it together enough to make it through the class, hoping against all odds that it will just go smoothly until it ended.

She tried to listen to the professor, tried to focus on the lesson that he had planned to give. Unfortunately, her hands decided that doodling tears and shriveled up flowers was a better use of her time.  

Adrien tried to do the same, keeping his eyes onto the teacher instead of turning to the love of his life and pleading for her forgiveness. He then began to doodle in the margins, trying to work his way through the mess of his mind. The anxious coil turned his stomach as he tried to not let her closeness affect his troubling heart. He longed to touch her, to hold her hand under the table. He wanted to sneak glances at her form as she wrote in her notebook, enjoy the subtle movements as she stuck her tongue out as she was deep in thought. He wanted to pretend that they were passing notes in class like they normally did before his rut began. But here he was, focusing on the sadness that was seeping from his heart and trying to hold off the tears that threatened to fall from his eyes.

“Shakespeare not only was a revolutionary as he created these meticulous works of art with the comfort of his quill and candlelight, but he also donned the exquisite handling of heated arguments through satire.” Mr. Lovell drawled out as the class watched him articulate his lesson plan.

Finally, Adrien glanced to the side. It was subtle at first; just his eyes darting to her hunched form. He looked back towards the front, but his mind’s eye already memorized her features. The thing that dawned on him the most was that she looked just as uncomfortable as he felt. She also wore a sweatshirt and a pair of shorts and her hair was messed up in a tangled bun.

The last time she looked this terrible was when he had won her a fish at the carnival and it died three days later. And that was only because she had given him a name and bought an awesome looking fish tank and supplies before it died five hours later...

And even though she looked terrible, she was still absolutely beautiful in every way.

Curiously, he glanced over at her again, this time focusing on her facial features. Her blue eyes were dull, but her orbs were red and puffy and glazed with a shimmery gloss. He could tell that she had been crying and he wanted so badly to just wrap his arms around her and hold her tightly, but he knew he couldn’t.

Marinette could feel Adrien’s gaze on her, but she hoped that it was short lived and he was back to facing the teacher and taking notes. She didn’t want to risk a glance at him and see if he was still eyeing her, so she continued to look at the board. She let out a nearly silent sigh, yet she could sense Adrien stiffening at the sound. She tensed as she could picture what his mind was going through, how he could possibly feel her distress and the act of not helping her was going against all instincts in comforting her as his mate. The very reaction twisted the ever-increasing guilt in her belly and making her sick.

She needed to talk to him. No. No. She so desperately yearned to talk to him. She wanted to tell him she was sorry for putting him in this state. To apologize for her arrogance instead of communicating her thoughts to him. The want overpowered the need and collided within itself to make her anxious to just pull him away and forget this entire week and start over. The fears of losing her mate crashed over her all over again as the thoughts of never speaking to him about it came into play, and all she wanted was for this day to be over so she could pull him away and beg for forgiveness. Maybe she could faint and cause Adrien to pick her up and take them away and maybe she could talk to him about this whole mess-

“Alright class. Today we are going to work through some of that satire in groups.”

-and maybe it just wasn’t the right time. All she had to do was to get through this class and focus on the rest of the day, and maybe come up with a plan to finally talk to him once and for all.

Her thoughts drifted again once the teacher announced the partner groups and all she could do was mutter under her breath when her name was called.

Meanwhile, Adrien pursed his lips as he contemplated his next step in apologizing to Marinette. He needed to get her alone so they could talk, and he went over his apology in his head over a hundred times. He wanted to make sure it was perfect, to make sure that everything he was saying was sincere and magical, yet soft enough that she could feel the love pouring from his words. But watching her facial expressions as the teacher continued his lecture mesmerized him, allowing him to forget for one moment the heartbreak he was enduring.  

He noticed that her lips were chapped, but a part of her bottom lip was trapped between her teeth. That gesture alone was doing wonders to his heart and the whirlwind of imagery sprouting in the guttural hell of his brain were enjoying themselves too.

“Mr. Agreste.” Mr. Lovell called out rather loudly. Adrien quickly turned his head and straightened his back. He realized that he had turned his body towards Marinette, and Marinette’s eyes were darting back and forth between the table and him. Sheepishly, Adrien rubbed the back of his neck and hunched over in embarrassment.

Mr. Lovell sighed as he removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes with his thumb and index finger. “Do you need me to repeat your partner for the class assignment and presentation?”

“Partners?”

“Ms. Dupain-Cheng. Please discuss the syllabus with your partner when you meet. He seems to need a bit of assistance with understanding the assignment.”

“Yes, sir.”

Adrien groaned and bashed his head against the table once the realization of who he was to spend his afternoon study sessions with washed over him.  

-------

“Nino. I’m telling you. If it worked for us. It will work for them.”

“We cannot just lock them in a closet, Alya. That’s just terrible!”

“Why not? Locking her in a room got them into this mess, and Ladybug locking us into a cage together got us into our mess. I think it’ll work!”

“So you’re saying our relationship is a mess?” Nino added with a smirk. Alya gave him a light smack to his arm.

“Nino! You know the only mess our relationship has is the mess we leave on our beds.”

Nino’s eyebrows waggled at her words. “Then maybe you can show me how much of a mess you’re talking about tonight. Maybe after a little dinner, and definitely after a lot of dessert...”

Alya purred at his words as she wrapped her arms around his neck and brought him down to her lips, teasing the soft muscles with her loving embrace. He responded in kind, chasing her tongue with his own. Abruptly, she pulled away, tapping her finger against his nose.

“As much as I would like to continue this little make out session, we need to talk about Adrien and Marinette and how to help them get over this hurdle.”

Nino narrowed his eyes at the sudden postponement of their little make out session. “Right. By locking them in a closet...”  

“Think about it, babe. We were forced to talk to each other for HOURS, yet it opened us up to so much! Why not do the same for them? Plus, Marinette sent me an SOS when she left Literature. Those two buffoons are partnered up together for a project. From what she said, Adrien zoned out as he was staring at her and Marinette tried her damndest to ignore him. I wouldn’t be surprised if Mr. Lovell did it to get them together because those two are awkward as hell.”

“You aren’t kidding, Als. Adrien’s already awkward enough with how sheltered he is. Throw in a broken heart and what was probably a misunderstanding, and you get a mangled, tall, ball of sunshine that looks like hell.”  

Alya hummed in agreement and waited until Nino thought over her idea. Having them being locked in a closet wouldn’t be a terribly bad idea. They just had to come up with the best way to trick them. So, what was the best way to do it?

A devious smile tugged at his lips. “Hey, babe? When’s the last time the kissing closet has been used?”

“Oh, I don’t know!” She could see the gears turning in Nino’s head. The feigning tone in her voice reassured him that she was already liking the plan. “I think the cobwebs have taken over. Maybe we can fix that.”

“I think I know who could fix it instead.”

-----

“Dude. Seriously. You just need to relax. You’ll get the chance to talk to her and then things will get back to normal. Maybe even court her before she matures!”

“Yeah, and maybe Hawkmoth will give Ladybug and Chat Noir his miraculous so we can stop dealing with akumas every other day.”

Nino choked on his drink. “Oh stop. You have loads of chances before Hawkmoth hands over his miraculous on a silver platter.”

Adrien rolled his eyes as he sat on the bench. He was waiting for study period to end before he had to move on to the next class. Studying in the quiet library was starting to overwhelm him and the duo decided that spending some time in the courtyard would be a better use of their time.

“...telling you, it’s the perfect ending for our senior year.”

Nino smiled as he heard his girlfriend walking into the courtyard. He looked over to Adrien to see if he noticed the voice, but the blonde had shut his eyes and was basking in the sunlight. Nino hastily looked over his form and discovered that Adrien had stretched out his legs so he could lean against the backrest at a comfortable angle. This was the perfect opportunity to put their plan into action.

“Dude. You should just- woah!”  

Thud.

Crash.

Nino walked in front of Adrien and tripped over his foot, bringing him and his glass bottle of juice crashing to the ground. Adrien shot up as soon as he felt Nino hit his ankles, but he was not quick enough to grab his arm and stop him from his collision to the ground. The glass flew towards the center of the courtyard, the bottle shattering into an array of sized crystals mixed with the red liquid splatter.

“Nino! Are you okay?” Adrien sputtered out as he reached his hand towards his friend to help him to his feet. He took a moment to look him over to make sure he wasn’t seriously hurt.

“Dude. I’m okay. I’m alright. Just didn’t see your feet there.”

“I’m sorry, man.”

Nino checked his hands and brushed the dirt off his pants, smiling to assure him it wasn’t a big deal. “My fault, dude. Your ankle okay?”

“Yeah, that’s no big deal-”

“Babe!” Alya cried out running to him. Marinette ran closely behind her. “Are you okay? That was a pretty mean fall.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m good.” He looked over to the glass. “I should probably clean this up.”

“I’ll grab the broom and mop.” Adrien offered.

Alya watched as Adrien made his way towards the closet and then looked down over Nino’s outstretched hand.

“Marinette? Could you grab a paper towel? I found a nasty cut on Nino’s hand. We should cover it before we walk to the nurse.”

“Y-yeah, I’ll get it.”

Marinette made her way to the closet and hesitated before walking into the small room. Adrien had just grabbed the broom and dustpan as Marinette tried to walk in to grab the towel. He tried to move to the side to make room for her as he looked for a bucket, but Marinette decided to wait for him to walk out instead.

Quickly, Alya ran to the closet and shoved Marinette into it, closing the door and locking it from the outside. Nino ran over and high fived his girlfriend, then the two mates laughed as they heard the frantic fists pounding against the wood door.

“Sorry, can’t hear you!” Alya called out to them. “The sounds of you making up are kind of loud. Once you quiet down, I’ll let you out.”

Adrien looked over to Marinette as she pressed her finger to her lips. She gestured at him to keep quiet, hoping that not speaking was the way to let them out.

“I’m not letting you out that easy.” Marinette’s thoughts were figured out and she pouted in response. “You have twenty minutes until the next class. I’ll be back. And just so you know, we switched the locks earlier. You can’t get out without a key and I have that key. So, either make up or you’ll stay in there until the end of the day.”

“Come on, Alya!” Marinette squawked as she smacked the door. “Let us out.”

When the trapped duo was met with silence, Marinette let out a defeated sigh. The dark closet was not helping the awkward tension between them, but the faint, ragged breathing troubled her.

“Adrien?” She called out to him carefully.

“Ma- Mari?” Adrien started to breathe a little harder and slightly faster.

Marinette started to panic at what was happening. She tried to hide it and focused on remaining calm. Adrien needed her to be calm right now.  

“Adrien?” She reached out to him and caught his shoulder. She could feel him trembling underneath her fingertips. “Adrien. I’m right here. Do you feel my hand?”

Adrien’s breaths started to become shallower and Marinette knew he would pass out from the lack of air if she didn’t do anything soon. He didn’t do well in enclosed spaces; it was the one thing he hated about himself. Years of being stuck in a mansion with no freedom in sight does something to your mental health. Marinette knew this, but none of his friends did. There was no reason for them to know until now. She’ll pull her friends away later and scold them for it – with love, not anger – and hope to kwami’s that this would be the last time it would happen.

“Adrien. Listen to my voice. Okay?” She brought her hand up to his cheek and she could feel him shake, but his nod ensured her that he was still listening. “I’m going to look for the light, okay? That will help with the claustrophobia.” Another nod. “I’m going to place your hand on my shoulder so you know I’m still here.” One more nod and Marinette helped Adrien bring his hand up to her shoulder.

Marinette started to search for the light source against the walls near the door jam. When she couldn’t immediately find it, she grabbed her phone and clicked on the flashlight feature, looking for the switch with ease. When the closet lit up, Marinette turned around and saw Adrien’s drooping form. His head was bowed towards the ground with his hand still on Marinette’s shoulder. He tried to take in slow breaths as his eyes adjusted to the light.

“Adrien.” Marinette whispered as she slowly walked towards him. It didn’t take much to reach him, but she did it carefully as to not scare him. She placed her hands on his cheeks and rubbed soothing circles to them with the pads of her thumbs, helping him ground him from the darkness he was creeping into.

“Adrien. I’m right here. It’s okay. I’m not going anywhere. Are you okay?”

Adrien huffed out a dry laugh, finally seeing the light around him again. “Can’t go anywhere- did you- forget?” He managed to say between breaths.

“Yeah. But I made you laugh. That’s important.”

Adrien tried to smile in between his rapid heartbeat and calming breaths and tried to focus on the pheromones that Marinette was emitting. She didn’t know it, but her scent was calming him down and the sweet vanilla was seeping into his body like an elixir coating his tastebuds.

He grabbed her hands and held them tightly in his, squeezing his sincerity in them.

“I’m- sorry.” He breathed out, chancing a glance through his lashes.

Marinette froze and looked up at him, confused as to why he was apologizing. “Don’t you apologize for something you can’t control. They put us in here-”

“No. No.” He interrupted and shook his head. “I’m sorry for- being an asshole- to you.”

Wait- “Adrien, what? You’re not an asshole. If anything, I’m the asshole. Look at us! I caused this.”

Adrien finally caught his breath and looked up at her. His eyes were slightly wet and his expression was pained. “No, I was. You had every right to get mad at me for what I did. I locked you into a classroom during an attack. I wanted to protect you but I didn’t think about the consequences if something else were to happen. That was such a stupid, selfish, and reckless thing of me to do to you.”

Marinette pursed her lips into a tight line. She took one more step forward and placed a hand to his cheek. “I was the asshole, Adrien. I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that. You didn’t deserve it. You deserved an explanation, as did I, but you scared me and you didn’t come back until well after the battle was done. I was so scared something bad happened to you.” The tears started to fall as the thought of losing him started to crash against her mind again. “I just found you, like truly found you. I don’t want to lose you before I’m able to spend my life with you.” She clenched her eyes to stop the rush of tears. “You don’t have a miraculous, Adrien. You can’t save the world.”

Adrien nodded at her words and tried to swallow the lump that formed in his throat. He was unsure of what he could say to that without spilling his secret. She didn’t know he had one, and couldn’t know, at least not yet, and until then, he decided to just nod at her words.

“I don’t want to lose you either, Marinette. I promise that next time, I’ll hide with you or bring you to a safe place that you can easily escape from if you needed to. Like...” he paused, thinking of an easy place that he could escape to transform and where she would remain safe, “...oh, like the bathroom! Safe, small, and easily accessible.”

Marinette let out a small giggle, but then peered up at his gaze. “I think the bathroom works. As long as you hide in the bathroom, too.”

“Deal. But I’ll hide in the boy's bathroom instead. I don’t think the girls need to see a boy hanging around in there.”

“Yeah, probably a good idea unless you want me to dress you up and put makeup on your face.”

Adrien screwed his face up in disgust. “No thanks. I do enough of that at my job.”

The two of them shared a chuckle before the awkward silence took over. Adrien was still holding onto her hands, and the soft feeling of her skin was filling him up with warmth. But when he looked back into her eyes, he could see that Marinette wanted to recoil back into herself. It was one of those quirky things she did when something was on her mind. Adrien let out an anxious breath and knew this would be the perfect time to break the ice and talk to her.

“Hey. Since we both feel like assholes and our feeling are out there in the open waiting to be told what to do, why don’t... we start over?” He shrugged as he waited for her response.

Marinette tilted her head. “What do you mean start over?”

Adrien smirked and took out his hand. She looked at it curiously before cautiously grabbing his hand and slowly shaking it.

“Hi. My name is Adrien Agreste, and I’m an asshole alpha who is in love with this super sweet, super amazing girl with raven hair, sparkling blue eyes, and freckle-speckled skin. And because he’s in love with this girl, he acts stupid and foolish to protect her that he forgets that she has feelings too.”

Marinette smiled and caught on to what he meant. “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Agreste. Mademoiselle Marinette Dupain-Cheng here and I’m the girl who apparently has captured this asshole alpha’s heart. She’s hopelessly in love with him over his smile and protective state and she hopes he can forgive her for her outburst. If he does, then she will forgive him for his eagerness in trying anything to protect his mate.”

Adrien perked up at her words. “You’re in love with me?”

“Hopelessly in love with you since the day we first met. I’ve always just had a knack for hiding it.”

“Well, I’m so hopelessly in love with you that I don’t think I would ever want to hurt you. Ever again. Never ever. Did I mention never? Because this week was horrible.”

Marinette hummed in response before whispering enough to be only heard by him. “Then don’t.”

Her tone enticed him to lift his palm and cup her cheek, pressing his thumb against her cheekbone to swipe away any of the residual tears that had fallen against her pale skin. He brought his nose down to lightly brush against hers, while the wistful tension between them filled them with hope of happier moments that were bound to come.

Adrien smiled against her lips. “Well this asshole would like to take this girl out on a date. Do you happen to know how he can achieve that? Seems like the odds are against him at the moment.”

“Really? Because I think I know a way.”

Marinette smiled as she leaned in closer, their noses nuzzling as her lips teased against his. Their breaths mingled in the space between them as their eyes fluttered closed. Soon, the small space dwindled into nothing as their lips danced together in simple symphony.  

The soft lips continued their ministrations as the warmth seeped through their touch. It was slow and careful. There was no rush, no need to catch up on missed days, and no desire to take everything now that they would eventually give to each other in the future. They only wanted to focus on the now, on the love and protection and hope that this first kiss could bring. Slowly, they pulled apart and Adrien leaned his forehead against hers, stealing a quick peck against her temple as she wrapped her arms around his waist.

Adrien leaned back to gaze into her eyes. “I love you, my beautiful soulmate.”

Marinette gazed into his and smiled. “I love you too, my fierce alpha.”