#none of these are particularly good but i needed to rid my brain of the visions

[n3arell-art]

more edith and charles doodles ♡

[isamiral-soulwolf]

Madrigalcest Week Day 5: Jealousy

Another one that was pre-written, so it doesn’t have my Forbidden brain worms. Enjoy!

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

Jealousy, Isabela had long ago learned, wasn’t a rational thing.

This wasn’t a particularly shocking revelation for her; by design, nothing about jealousy was supposed to make sense so far as she could tell. Whether it was jealousy over a relationship, over someone else’s valuables, or even over the fact that one wasn’t in the spot they wanted to be–jealousy made no sense. It simply was, and Isabela had felt it enough times in her life to accept it. She’d been jealous of many things, once upon a time; jealous of Mirabel’s giftless status, of her freedom, of the fact that she was one of the youngest and had fewer responsibilities placed on her shoulders.

(Most of Isabela’s jealousies centered around Mirabel. It was something Isabela had made a point of not thinking about too deeply, because she wasn’t sure she wanted to see what was at the end of that road. Still, it persisted, but she was very good at this point at ignoring herself.)

Jealousy wasn’t a rational thing, but it didn’t stop the occasional flash of it as Isabela had recently found a new target: being jealous of herself.

It was a funny thing, because if you had asked Isabela she had no desire to go back to the young woman she’d been before Casita’s collapse. The woman she’d been then, that version of Isabela, hadn’t been her; she had been a mask, a carefully crafted image to please Abuela and the townspeople. She was glad now to be rid of her, to get down in the dirt with different kinds of plants while she built a garden in their new home.

She’d be lying if she tried to say she sometimes missed the praise, a little bit. None of it had been genuine in the end, but Isabela could admit that she was occasionally vain, and if she’d taken pride in anything during that time of her life it was her appearance. She had worked hard to be perceived as beautiful, and while many of the compliments had lost their warmth and drive over the years, she’d appreciated the reminder that what she did was working.

Oh, Isabela knew realistically nothing about her had changed physically. She was still the same beautiful woman she’d been for the last few years of her life after reaching puberty. And how she was now–well, it wasn’t a quick transition by any means, but she was trying. Trying to be louder, trying to wear different colors and talk about different plants. And for the most part, everyone in the village was supportive of that.

Almost everyone.

The ones who weren’t… well, they were smart enough to keep it quiet, mostly out of a very real fear that if any of them said a word about it Abuela would drive them out of the valley because the poor woman was quite possibly at her limit of what she could tolerate being heaped on her family. But the quiet told Isabela all she needed to know.

It was a strange sensation, being jealous of herself. She supposed it all tickled that part of her brain that still wanted to be perfect, still wanted to be good enough for… someone. She didn’t know who.

(This was a lie.)

It was fine. Jealousy or not, Isabela was happier than she’d been in a long time; she could live with the fact that some people no longer found the new her particularly attractive, even if it twinged somewhere deep inside. She’d spent so long jealous of Mirabel, it was almost fitting now that it had come full circle and she was occasionally jealous of herself.

“Isa? Hey, Earth to Isa, you still with me?”

Isabela blinked, jolted out of her thoughts at the sound of Mirabel’s voice; she shook herself and turned to her, absently brushing her hands against her dress. “Yes, sorry,” she said. “I zoned out for a second there.”

“Everything okay? I was asking if you wanted to take a break, we’ve been working all morning.”

“We probably should.” It was a laugh, as Isabela suddenly became aware of the sweat on her face and the dirt on her hands, under her nails. She’d tied her hair up early on to keep herself cool, but it had clearly stopped helping at some point. “I lost track of time.”

Mirabel grinned, carefully setting down the small cactus she’d been moving. “It’s okay. I can agree on needing a break though, we did…” She looked around the slowly blooming garden, giggling. “A lot, actually.”

“We did. Thank you for helping, Mira.”

“Any time.”

Isabela absently ran a hand through her hair as she caught her breath, not caring much for the dirt or how it loosened some strands to fall into her face. “Let’s head back to the others for now. We can get some water and eat, I’m starving—“

“You look really beautiful like this.”

The words left Mirabel’s mouth in a rush, and when Isabela looked to her, startled, she somehow managed to turn even redder than she already was from the sun. “Sorry, I’m sorry, I just—um, you are? I didn’t mean to blurt it out like that.”

Isabela blinked at her, processing those words. “I’m sweaty and covered in dirt, Mirabel.”

“Yeah—you are, but still, you know, it’s… you look happy, and that’s really…” Mirabel trailed off before she cleared her throat, giving herself a hard shake. “Forget it, that was stupid. Are we going back?”

Isabela nodded, finding she couldn’t form words at the moment as Mirabel’s statement rattled through her head. The last time Mirabel had called her beautiful, it had been an insult.

Maybe it was stupid, the way Mirabel’s words had settled in her heart and warmed her in a way the sun couldn’t. But as Isabela fell in step with her sister for the trek back to their family, it occurred to her this was one thing her true self had over her past self—a genuine affectionate compliment from Mirabel.

Suddenly, she didn’t feel nearly as jealous of her old self anymore.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Not So Serious

Prompt: ayoooo I’m like-obsessed with your writing style omg if your requests are open I’d love to see some good good logince hurt/comfort where Roman has a crush on Logan and gets this idea that he’s not serious enough for Logan to like him at all so Roman completely changes himself only for Logan to wonder where the man he’s in love with went.

Thanks for the prompt, babe!

Read on Ao3

Pairings: logince, as on the tin

Warnings: roman’s a little bit of a self-doubting and self-depricating boi but other than that none! we are happy now!

Word Count:  5340

Roman knows he’s the least important of the Light Sides. Or at the very least, the one that Thomas listens to the least.

 That’s okay.

 It’s not, not really, but that doesn’t matter.

What does matter is that most of it can be chalked up to the fact that he’s the least serious Side. He’s the dreamer, the fanatic, the one whose head is permanently in the clouds. He sings, he dances, he acts, he plays. And that’s his job! He’s Creativity, for Shakespeare’s sake, and if he’s not, well, what good is he?

 Well, he’s not much good when he is Creativity, but that’s beside the point.

 But Thomas needs him to be serious. Patton, for all his lightheartedness, knows how to be serious when the time calls for it. And behind all those jokes and smiles and corny lines that make all of them want to cringe a little, he’s talking about, arguably, the most serious thing there is. What’s right and what’s wrong. No matter how you slice it, that’s serious. And he’s Thomas’s heart! How can you not take that seriously?

 Then there’s Virgil, who Roman considers a Light Side. Virgil demands to be taken seriously. Not verbally, but come on, he’s Anxiety. Mental stuff is no joke, and they’ve had enough close calls to know that for sure. Virgil’s a snarky bastard, but he rarely says something he doesn’t actually mean. He keeps them safe when none of the others know what to do and honestly? That’s serious stuff. Virgil’s got enough on his plate.

 Then there’s Logan.

  Logan.

 Roman could go on for days about Logan. He won’t, but he could.

 Logan is Logic. Perhaps more than anything else, Thomas needs Logic. And Logan. Logan is always present, whether he’s there physically or not, and his voice is always going to be heard in the conversation sooner or later. He breaks down the biggest problems Roman’s ever seen until they’re manageable chunks, so much so that it’s ridiculous that they were ever big in the first place. He talks them through everything, slowly and surely. He makes everything look easy.

 And that’s all the more impressive because Roman knows it’s not.

 It’s not easy to do what Logan does. It’s not easy for Logan to always make himself heard. It’s not easy to carry the single brain cell in any given conversation.

 But he does and it’s wonderful.

 Logan is serious. His job is serious. That doesn’t mean he’s serious all the time, no, Roman’s seen him snap a quip faster than anything with a smirk on his face, and their bond over Crofter’s is legendary. And he knows the gleam that means Logan is immensely satisfied with whatever insult he’s come up with to shut Roman down. Even through the hurt of a new bruise forming on Thomas’s ego, he has to smile because it’s so satisfying to watch someone just be very good at something.

 He’s also incredible at calming them all down. He’s so sweet and kind and gentle in all the right ways and you will never convince Roman that Logan knows nothing about emotions. Come on, he’s the most intelligent Side, that extends to emotional intelligence too. The amount of times he’s been able to rip them out of some horrible spiral with just a simple touch or a word is too high for Roman to count. And he never asks for anything, he just does it. Because he’s good like that.

 Roman would be an utter, utter fool if he didn’t take Logan seriously. He doesn’t dare underestimate him, never again, not after that rap battle. He doesn’t try to speak over him, not once everyone’s actually paying attention and Logan’s clearly trying to say something. He listens, he tries, he takes him seriously.

 But sometimes Logan needs to not be serious! He can see when the strain gets a little too much and he needs to cut someone down to size.

 Well, here’s Roman!

 And yes, it’s worth it. It’s always worth it. Logan smiles and it’s like the sun comes out. Yes, that’s a cliché but we all know clichés are cliché for a reason. Logan smiles, the sun comes out, and Roman wants to bathe in it. Wants to sit and listen to Logan talk about anything just so he’ll keep smiling, keep talking, keep being Logan. Logan is serious, but serious isn’t always Logan.

 Isn’t always.

 Most of the time, though…

 Most of the time, it looks like Logan is thrilled to not have to stand next to Roman.

 Most of the time, it seems like every time Roman opens his mouth, Logan’s trying not to roll his eyes or is just listening out of politeness. And every time he pitches an idea, it seems like Logan’s getting just as much enjoyment out of leaving the meetings as he does when he doesn’t find anything wrong with it.

 Most of the time, that 0.5% hangs in the air between them like a moat.

 Roman doesn’t want that. Roman doesn’t want Logan to view him as a diametrically opposed foe, he doesn’t want to be Logan’s other side of the coin, he doesn’t want Logan to think he’s only worth 0.5% of a day.

 But 0.5% is all he gets if he stays Roman.

 It’s not big changes, nothing that would compromise Thomas, but they’re noticeable. At least he hopes so.

 He stops singing out loud in the common areas and instead has a headphone in when he wants to listen to something. He reads in the chair—sitting properly, not with his limbs haphazardly thrown about like he’s a newly made life form with no idea how muscles work—and keeps his comments to himself, written down in a notebook or in his head. He asks politely if Logan wants to come on a walk through the Imagination and conjures up something simple. A forest path, or a garden, or a small town road. None of the fantastical woods, magic castles, or treacherous mountains that he’s so fond of, because those are daydreams.

 He’s quieter outside of videos. Sure, he’s still as obnoxious as ever when the cameras are on, but they tend to exaggerate themselves when they’re being filmed anyway. So it won’t be too much of a surprise when he’s not like that when the cameras are off. He doesn’t speak as much—well, he doesn’t monologue as much. He speaks when spoken to, he’s as courteous as he knows how to be, and he tries to be serious. Even if his job is anything but.

 He could tell you it’s exhausting what he does for the videos and he’d rather not do it when he doesn’t have to.

 He could tell you it’s because it would be better for Thomas if they all got along well. 

 He could tell you it’s because he wants a healthier and more productive working relationship with Logan.

 He could tell you all of these things.

 Whether or not you believe him is up to you.

 …because Roman might be the actor, but he’s never been a particularly good liar. And deep down—not that deep down—we all know why he wants to be more serious, don’t we?

 Logan doesn’t like fantasy. Logan doesn’t like excessive noise. Logan doesn’t like someone who can’t be serious.

 Logan is kind and perfect and wonderful and smart and so many things.

 And above all, Logan is serious.

 Roman can work with that.

———————————————————————

“Hey, Specs! Do you have time to brainstorm?”

 “It will have to be quick, Roman, I’ve not much time to spare.”

 “Oh. That’s alright, then, we can do it later.”

 “Are you certain?”

 “Of course! I know how important your schedule is for you, please, don’t worry about it.”

 “Ah. I see. Well, thank you, Roman.”

 They never do end up having that brainstorm. Not alone.

 “Logan?”

 “Yes, Roman?”

 “Would it be alright if I played music? I’ll keep it low.”

 “…we can try, though I usually prefer working in silence.”

 “Oh, in that case, I’ll just go—“

 “Let’s try?”

 “If you’re sure.”

 Roman ends up getting his headphones after a few minutes.

 “Roman?”

 “Yes, my d—Logan?”

 “…were you going to say something else?”

 “No, no, I got lost in my head again, I thought you were…someone else.”

 “It may be worth practicing getting out of your head, Roman.”

 “I know.”

 He never quite manages, but he’s trying.

 “Ro—oh.”

 “Logan? Is something wrong?”

 “You’ve changed your room. Your…your paintings, your drawings, they’re…where did you put them?”

 “Oh, I got rid of them.”

 “Got rid of them?”

 “Yes. Surely you know how difficult it can be to work in a crowded space?”

 “…yes, I suppose I do.”

 Logan doesn’t comment on the fact that Roman’s room isn’t quite so red anymore either.

 “Roman?”

 “Yes?”

 “This idea, it seems…quite…realistic.”

 “Is that not the point, Sp—Logan?”

 “Well, yes, I suppose so.”

 “Besides, from a practical standpoint, we’re operating with a limited budget here. The scope of the videos has to be adjusted accordingly.”

 “Yes, I suppose you’re correct.”

 Logan doesn’t mention that it doesn’t necessarily feel like Roman’s idea.

 “Roman?”

 “Yes?”

 “Care to comment?”

 “Oh, no, I’m perfectly content.”

 “Are you certain?”

 “Of course.”

 Logan doesn’t ask again.

———————————————————————

Logan is really confused.

 Something’s wrong with Roman, that much is obvious, but he can’t figure out what. Roman’s been quiet lately, outside of the videos, but even in the videos, he’s been different. He’s not talking as much anymore, not going on his incredibly passionate rants that one can feel if they just listen hard enough. He’s not risen to the bait for weeks now, preferring instead to…talk. Or listen. His room is suspiciously absent of his paintings and drawings that make Logan want to sit and stare and lose track of time.

 And he’s stopped singing.

 That’s a definite indicator that something’s wrong.

 But he can’t figure out what.

 None of them are fighting; Patton and Virgil have noticed that something is different, certainly, but they don’t know—they can’t figure out exactly what. They would have told him if they had a disagreement with Roman, but they haven’t.

 Thomas isn’t being affected by it. In fact, he hasn’t noticed that anything’s wrong.

 And on the surface, Roman seems fine, but Logan knows better.

 He stops in front of his whiteboard, staring hard at the pieces of information he has written down.

  Roman is no longer singing or playing music out loud outside of his room.

Roman is changing the ideas that he brings to the brainstorming sessions. He claims they are meant to be more ‘practical’ and easier to budget.

Roman does not insist that we spend time with him anymore.

Roman is quiet and no longer engages in ‘banter’ exchanges with me.

Roman no longer brings me to the elaborate places in the Imagination.

Roman no longer gives me nicknames.

 Has…has Logan done something to Roman?

 He doesn’t think he has. He hasn’t—he hasn’t shot down any ideas lately, and certainly none so much as to trigger such a drastic change. There have been no arguments. There have been no big changes for Thomas.

 He finds himself twisting the cap of the marker back and forth as he focuses on the period at the end of the last sentence written. Perhaps…perhaps Roman is simply going through a rough patch? Occasionally the prince will lapse into a ‘grayer’ state, for lack of a better term, where he exhibits fewer of his energetic tendencies, but none have gone on for such a duration. Additionally, his behavior in videos has not altered as significantly as would indicate this as the cause.

  Perhaps I should try to talk to him about it.

 Logan nods sharply to himself and turns, walking out of his room toward Roman’s. The red door looms there, slightly ajar. Frowning, Logan raps on it gently with his knuckles.

 “Roman? May I come in?”

 No response.

 “Roman?” Logan eases the door open. “Roman?”

 No sign of Roman. The bathroom door isn’t locked, his laptop isn’t open, his phone is nowhere to be seen. Perhaps Roman simply forgot to close his door all the way. Logan shuts it carefully and turns to head downstairs.

 “Virgil? Patton?”

 Virgil glances up from his phone. “What’s up, L?”

 Ignoring the little flutter in his chest at the first nickname he’s been called in a while, Logan adjusts his glasses and glances around. “Have you seen Roman?”

 Virgil shakes his head. “Pat? Have you?”

 “I think he said he was going into the Imagination but he’d be back for dinner?”

 Logan nods. “Thank you both.”

 “Logan?”

 “Yes?”

 “Can you, uh—“ Patton wrings his hands for a moment— “can you ask him what’s wrong for us?”

 “Princey’s been off for a while, we wanna know why but he won’t tell us.”

 Logan blinks. “Considering I was on my way to ask him the same thing, I take it he’s been as…hesitant to share any information with you as he has with me?”

 Their nods make something twist in his chest.

 “If he’s gonna tell anyone,” Virgil mutters as he turns to go, “it’ll be you.”

 Logan pauses. “Excuse me?”

 Virgil shrugs. “You’re his favorite, L. He thinks the sun shines outta your face.”

 Despite himself, Logan feels heat rush to his cheeks. “I’m quite sure you’re confusing me for Patton, Virgil.”

 “Oh, no, Princey’s got it bad f—“

 “Virgil!”

 “Oh come on,” Virgil groans, his head lolling on the couch as he turns to look at Patton, “you’ve noticed it too.”

 “But that’s not our secret to tell!”

 “Shit. Yeah, you’re right. Oops.”

 “Wait, wait,” Logan stammers, quickly trying to get a grasp of the situation, “you—Roman what?”

 Virgil shakes his head. “Nope. Sorry, Logan. I already fucked up. You’re gonna have to ask him. And hey, you were on your way to do just that!”

 Logan narrows his eyes but Virgil shrugs, undaunted. He turns and pointedly does not run up the stairs.

 The door to the Imagination is ajar. He takes a deep breath and pushes it open, expecting to meet some fantastical landscape, a village, or a castle, perhaps.

 He doesn’t expect to wander into what looks like the grand foyer of some Victorian mansion.

 The door shuts behind him with a thud that echoes gently around the room. His shoes aren’t particularly loud but his steps make resounding clicks as he walks through the halls. The walls are elegantly crafted, with artful splashes of color here and there. He comes to a grand staircase and has to swallow heavily at the richness of the wood under his fingers as he climbs slowly, slowly up.

 There’s something here, he decides, that’s not been here for a while. Not since he started accompanying Roman more often. He remembers the first time, where he’d wearily said he didn’t have the patience for an adventure and had been pleasantly surprised by Roman’s offer of a simple walk. Each walk after that had been lovely, truly, but it was always painfully obvious that it was in the Imagination.

 Now, though? Now the walls seem to curve about Logan as he walks, like petals of a flower curve about its center. The house seems to hold him, cradle him almost as he walks slowly through it. He can almost feel a gentle hand at the base of his spine, between his shoulder blades, under his chin. It takes no effort to keep walking, to discover more and more of this truly beautiful house, to look and look and look without fear of his eyes hurting or his head growing weary.

 It feels like Roman, he realizes with a giddy bubble in his chest, this is Roman’s work. Roman is here.

 That realization gives him enough courage to call out.

 “Roman? Roman, are you here?”

 “Logan?”

 “Roman!” He turns around, trying to trace the echoes to their source. “Where are you?”

 “I’m in the library, keep walking toward the back of the hall.”

 Logan’s steps beat out an eager pace as he begins to hurry towards Roman’s voice. He meets a wide set of mahogany doors and pushes them open, looking for—

 “Oh,” he murmurs as the doors swing wide, “oh, this is…magnificent.”

 If he were—well, if he were Roman, he’d compare this to the library the Beast gifts Belle. The shelves tower over his head, two full floors of books stretching out almost as far as he can see. As he looks closer, he realizes this is a theatre, with the seats replaced with shelves. At the back of the library stands the stage, converted into a seating area with as many plush couches and overstuffed armchairs as one could ever want. Curtains drape themselves across a vast window, golden sunlight streaming inside. And on the window seat, standing as the doors fly open, is Roman.

 “Roman, my goodness—“

 “Whoa, easy, Logan,” Roman chuckles, catching Logan carefully by the elbows as he rushes through the library, “you’ll knock yourself over at this rate.”

 “This is magnificent,” Logan manages, still looking around in awe—goodness, there are some books here that he’s only seen in passing— “how—how did you do this?”

 “I’ve always had it,” Roman says, guiding him to sit on the window seat and crouching in front of him, “it’s my library.”

 “This—this is yours?”

 Half of Roman’s mouth tugs up into that crooked smile. “Yeah, Logan. This is mine. You didn’t think I just let my books lie around, did you?”

 “But you—you—you’ve never shown this to me. To anyone.”

 The smile falters. “Well, no.”

 Logan takes a moment to actually look at Roman. Roman quirks his eyebrow as he notices the questioning gaze. His costume is a little less pristine than normal. There’s something slightly different about his expression. And his sword is nowhere to be seen.

 “May I—can I ask why not?”

 Roman smiles ruefully, glancing over Logan’s shoulder before dropping his gaze to the ground.

 “When I need to think,” he says after a moment, “or just…sit for a little, I come here.”

 He rests his hand on the seat next to Logan.

 “I sit right here, and I think. I look outside into the garden. I watch the clouds. Or I stare at the shelves, and think about the books.”

 He gestures behind him.

 “Sometimes I’ll see people bustling through them, or characters diving in between pages.” The smile becomes a touch more wistful. “Or I’ll hear water rushing, or wind howling.”

 He looks back. Logan’s mouth drops open at the openness of Roman’s expression.

 “But mostly,” he finishes in a near whisper, “I just sit. And think. Because I can.”

 “…this is your space,” Logan mumbles as he puts it together, “that’s…that’s why you haven’t shown anyone.”

 Roman nods.

 Logan should apologize. He should apologize and leave. He should never have expected that this would be alright.

 But the thought of leaving this library, this house, Roman feels…so, so heavy.

 “It’s alright, Logan,” Roman says patiently, sitting on the floor, “what did you need? Am I late for dinner?”

 He shakes himself, sternly reminding his brain that he’s being rude now. “No, no, nothing of the sort, I simply needed to find you.”

 Roman spreads his arms wide. “Well, you found me. Congratulations.”

 It’s so close to the banter Logan misses that he finds himself smiling. “Thank you. Shall I assume to claim my prize now, then?”

 “Mm, and what prize would that be?”

 Roman blinks up at him expectantly when he doesn’t answer right away. There are several questions on the tip of his tongue and they war with each other.

  What’s wrong?

Are you alright?

  Did something happen?

  The others and I have noticed changes in your behavior, could you explain them?

  Did I do something wrong?

  Can I stay here?

  What did Virgil almost tell me?

 “I’ve lost something,” Logan blurts instead, swallowing the lump in his throat when Roman blinks again, startled, “and I need you to help me find it.”

 “Oh. Well, that should be easy enough. Where did you last see it?”

 “Wait!”

 Logan catches a startled Roman by his sleeve as he’s in the middle of getting up. He sits back down slowly, still staring at Logan.

 “I don’t know where I lost it,” he says, because it’s the truth. Even for all his immaculate time-keeping, he can’t pinpoint the moment he lost Roman.

 “That does make it more difficult,” Roman muses, tapping his fingers on his chin, “well, can you tell me what it is? Maybe I’ve seen it.”

  I’m sure you have.

 Logan takes a deep breath.

 “I didn’t realize it was gone, at first,” he begins, “only that it—something changed. It was quieter. Rooms felt less…I believe ‘alive’ is the only word I can use to adequately describe it.”

 Roman catches on to the fact he’s speaking about something abstract quickly. Though, of course he did, he’s very intelligent. He sits up a little straighter and takes Logan’s hand in both of his. That in itself is enough to make Logan swallow again.

 “It was more difficult to continue working,” he says after a moment, looking at the ground, “because I didn’t know what was missing. I didn’t know whether the fault lay with myself or with Thomas or how to go about fixing it. I couldn’t think of anything.”

 Roman makes a noise of sympathy, squeezing Logan’s hand.

 “Of course, once I realized it was missing, I did all I could to find it.” He adjusts his glasses. “I gathered all the information I could to see what had gone wrong.”

 “And,” Roman prompts gently, “what did you find?”

 “It’s not in my room. It’s not in the kitchen. It’s not in the Imagination, or at least it wasn’t when I was there.”

 Logan closes his eyes.

 “It doesn’t make me fight back a smile every time I see it, because I am only concerned. It doesn’t make me look forward to seeing it, because it doesn’t seem to be happy to see me. It doesn’t make me want to say how important it is to me, because it doesn’t—“

 “…doesn’t what, Logan?”

 “…it doesn’t even give me a nickname anymore.”

 Roman freezes.

 Logan opens his eyes and looks at Roman, seeing his face turn pale.

 “I’ve lost the one I love,” he confesses, “and I don’t know where he’s gone.”

———————————————————————

Roman’s heart stops.

 Logan—Logan—L—

 Logan loves him?

 Logan loves him?

 “Please,” Logan says in that soft, soft voice that makes Roman want to combust, “can you help me find him?”

 “Wait, wait, Logan, you—you what?”

 Logan shifts forward, cupping Roman’s hand. “Where did you go, Roman? Something happened, you left.”

 “N-no, Logan, I didn’t go anywhere.”

 “You did,” he corrects, “you…you’ve been different. You’ve been quieter, you haven’t taken me on any adventures—“

 “I’ve taken you into the Imagination!”

 “—and you stopped singing,” Logan finishes. Roman’s chest throbs with the way Logan’s voice cracks on the last word. “You left, Roman, where did you go?”

 “I—I was trying to—to—“ Roman swallows heavily. “Wait, you love me?”

 Logan blinks, tilting his head. “Of course, yes, I love you, Roman.”

 Roman’s face flares. “You can’t—you can’t just say that, Logan.”

 “Why not?”

 “I’ll believe you. I’ll—“ the urge to bury his face in his hands burns but he can’t, can’t pull away from Logan—“I’ll believe you.”

 Logan hums. “And why shouldn’t you believe me?”

 An incredulous laugh forces its way out of his throat. “Because you can’t love me.”

 He slams his eyes shut as Logan starts to move away. He’s ruined it. He’s ruined so much of his hard work. He’s destroyed it. He’s hurt Logan. How could he?

 “And why can’t I love you, Roman?”

 He laughs again, though this one might be technically considered a sob. “Because I’m loud! I’m obnoxious, I want to spend all my time daydreaming, I’m so out of touch with the real world, I never want to be serious, I’m—I’m—“

 “Passionate,” Logan interrupts quietly, something still cupping his hand, “optimistic. Hardworking.”

 Roman huffs. “That’s not special.”

 “Intelligent.”

 Now he does laugh. “Not compared to you.”

 Logan’s stifled noise is enough to make him open his eyes. He frowns up at Logan. He looks…heartbroken.

 “Roman,” he murmurs, “do you honestly believe that?”

 He squirms uncomfortably on the floor. “…it’s not like it isn’t obvious. El principe es estupido.”

 “It’s far from obvious, Roman,” Logan insists, “why do you think I enjoy our verbal sparring so much?”

 “You what?”

 “I respect and admire your intelligence. You’re—well, not to insult the others when they’re not here to defend themselves, but you’re the only one who really keeps up with me.” Logan smiles at him. He smiles at him. “And you’re kind, Roman. Relentlessly so, sometimes.”

 Roman can only gape at him.

 “Don’t think I haven’t noticed everything you do,” Logan chides gently, “I do notice. And I am so thankful for it. But this…” He gives Roman’s hand another squeeze. “This I don’t understand. Where did you go, Roman?”

 “I—I…” Roman swallows. “I thought I was doing it for you.”

 “For me?”

 “Y-you like serious things! You don’t want to be seen as a joke and I’ve never seen you as a joke, Logan, you have to believe me, and I thought that—that I—“

 “Roman—“

 “I make fun of the things I love, Logan!” Roman’s throat almost aches from the strain of saying it out loud. “And you—you don’t like it when we’re not serious and I’m not serious so I—I thought if I—if—if—“

 “You changed so I would…love you?”

 Roman shakes his head shamefully. “So you would tolerate me.”

 “Oh, little star—“

 Roman lets out an oof as Logan tugs him forward, his knees hitting the ground roughly as he pulls Roman into a hug. He’s warm, he’s so warm and so Logan…the frames of his glasses are cool against the side of Roman’s face, the knot of his tie pressing into the hollow of his chest. And he’s being so sweet, so tender as he holds Roman on the floor of the library.

 Roman clutches him back. It’s been agony, not being able to touch him, not even the barest brush of shoulders or knocking their elbows together. But now Logan is here and he can have this.

 “I don’t want serious,” he hears Logan murmur, “not from you. Alright, sometimes, yes, I want you to listen but never to be that serious. You’re—you’re you, Roman. That’s what I want.”

 Oh.

  Oh.

 He laughs as the tears start to fall onto Logan’s collar. “You found me, Logan.”

 Logan just gives him a squeeze. “I did, little star.”

 Oh, Roman was not prepared for that. Instead, he can hear Logan chuckle as he tenses for a moment.

 “No?”

 “Yes,” Roman blurts out quickly, fumbling with his clumsy tongue, “yes. So much yes.”

 “Yes, it is then, little star.”

 He hums contentedly, burying his nose in the crook of Logan’s neck. “You found me,” he whispers, rocking them back and forth, “and I found you.”

 “Yes, little star, you found me.” Logan pulls back to cup his face, a comforting noise escaping him at the evidence of drying tears. “And now…please, don’t leave me?”

 “Never, Logan,” he swears, “never again.”

 He gets to see that wonderful soft glow on Logan’s face for a moment longer before that gleam—oh, that wonderful gleam—comes back as he arches an eyebrow.

 “No? Then why am I still ‘Logan?’”

 Oh. So that’s how this is going to go, hmm? Roman lets a little more darkness slip into his smirk than he normally would. It only grows wider as Logan looks a little surprised.

“My dearest darling nerd,” he purrs, “if you wanted me to lavish you with pet names, you know you need only ask.”

 “That is not what I meant,” Logan says firmly, undone a little by the blush now fanning his cheeks.

 Roman chuckles. “Oh, what’s wrong, my sweet little pi, is this not what you wanted?”

 “R-Roman!”

 “Goodness, Logan, your face is so warm.” Roman’s arms come up to hug him as he buries his face in his neck. “What, you can dish it out but you can’t take it?”

 “You’re one to talk,” comes the slightly muffled reply, “you were blushing from my pet name too.”

 “Ah, yes, how could I forget? ‘Little star,’ well…” Roman cups the back of Logan’s neck and brings that darling face back out to smile at. “If I’m the star, then you must be the whole galaxy.”

 Logan tries to frown. Bless him, he tries, but he’s so flustered that it turns into this adorable pout as he leans back to get up.

 “Oh, no, no, no,” Roman chuckles, wrapping his arms and legs tightly around him, “you stay right here in my lap.”

 “Roman!”

 “What?” He tilts his head. “Can you think of anywhere better to be than right here, in my lap…with me?”

 He can’t help the note of vulnerability that slips in at the end. Maybe Logan doesn’t want this, maybe he is too much, maybe he just ruined it…

 “No,” Logan murmurs after a moment, “I guess I can’t.”

 And really, it is marvelous, there on the floor, golden sunlight streaming over them, in the library, surrounded by the quiet shelves and safe hallways of the house.

———————————————————————

“I have to ask,” Roman says, giving Logan a little shake after a moment, “how did you…?”

 “Find out?”

 “Mm.”

 “Well…” Logan toys with Roman’s collar. “I was coming to ask you about it anyway, but Virgil—“

 “Virgil?” Roman raises an eyebrow. “He said something now, did he?”

 Logan squints at him. “…why do I have a feeling there’s more to this than you’re telling me?”

 Roman shrugs. “It doesn’t really matter, not really.”

 “Now that I don’t believe for an instant.”

 “It got me my Logan,” Roman says softly, leaning forward to rub their noses together, “didn’t it?”

 “…well yes, I suppose it did.”

 Roman hums contentedly, cuddling into Logan like a lazy cat, sprawled out in the sunlight to nuzzle its kitten. A…surprisingly sweet image. The Imagination—Roman’s Imagination must be affecting him.

 There are worse fates.

 “But I can’t imagine,” he says after a moment, “that a prince such as yourself can allow such a slight?”

 The grin on Roman’s face is priceless.

 “Virgil,” Roman sings as they fling open the door to the rest of the Mindscape, and goodness Logan can’t tell you how much he’s missed that voice— “I have a question for you!”

 Logan hears muffled cursing coming from the living room.

 “What’s up, Princey?”

 “Well our dearest Specs here just told me something very interesting—“ he winks at Logan— “and I would love to hear your side of the story.”

 “Oh, uh, really? Well, that’s cool. On an unrelated note, I’m gonna be in my room for the foreseeable future.”

 “Hmmm…not if I get there before you!”

 “Shit!”

 “My darling,” Roman says softly, pressing a kiss to the back of Logan’s hand, “will you excuse me one moment, please?”

 And what is Logan supposed to do but agree? Roman is back.

 “I’ll be with you shortly.”

 Roman tears off down the hallway after Virgil, their shouts filling the Mindscape once more.

General Taglist:@frxgprince @potereregina @reddstardust @gattonero17 @iamhereforthegayshit @thefingergunsgirl @awkwardandanxiousfander @creative-lampd-liberties @djpurple3 @winterswrandomness  @sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes  @iminyourfandom  @bullet-tothefeels  @full-of-roman-angst-trash  @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind @demoniccheese83  @pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious  @firefinch-ember  @fandomssaremysoul  @im-an-anxious-wreck  @crazy-multifandomfangirl  @punk-academian-witch  @enby-ralsei  @unicornssunflowersandstuff  @wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite  @princedarkandstormv  @your-local-fookin-deadmeme  @angels-and-dreams  @averykedavra  @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb  @cricketanne  @aularei @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws @cecil-but-gayer  @i-am-overly-complicated  @annytheseal  @alias290  @tranquil-space-ninja  @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance @whyiask @theaceofcrows @emilythezeldafan @frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires @cyanide-violence @oonagh2 @xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx @rabbitsartcorner

[mushroompoisoning]

Post about the relationship and history between c!Wallace and Marri of the Otterverse

because I can't get them out of my head and i need to write this down

warning for child abuse and human experimentation

okay so in another post i made that was a letter from Marri to c!felix, i mentioned the two grew up in the same cellblock.

they were in the same hospital for the same reason: they met the weird requirements for some strange -now discontinued- experiment.

this experiment resulted in both of them getting a disease from an experimental vaccine. every kid on the facility got this disease, and not many survived.

this vaccine was meant to kickstart mutations in the kids that could be useful to human survival. every kid in the facility started out human.

instead the vaccine caused a disease that mutated the kids in wild -often negative- ways.

the disease has a list of symptoms somewhere im too lazy to grab, but one of the things it did was kill the brain.

c!wallace got the disease and was deemed "useless" so he was incinerated.

marri continued living in the facility until c!wallace emerged from the vat of lava he was thrown into and caused a riot resulting in the hospital burning down and many kids escaping.

c!wallace and marri didn't cross paths for many years after that.

the two met again when c!wallace was running from the IDG ( inter dimensional guard ). marri had been following around the division in hopes to find the people he was after.

to explain marri's actions a bit: everyone who escaped the facility still carried the disease dormantly. it doesnt effect them anymore but it cam still spread to anyone with the right requirements to host it. this could kill the person or give them the ability to kill other people or do nothing.

marri had been on a quest for many years: kill everyone who escaped that hospital, and then himself. he wanted to eradicate the disease for good and get rid of all of their "kind".

he attempted to kill c!wallace in the name of "helping the IDG", but c!wallace got away.

over the years, marri hunted down other escapees and killed them successfully, but he could never finish off c!wallace.

the times c!wallace did die, he would reappear not too long after. marri began to get frustrated, and c!wallace caught onto what he was trying to do.

the two entered a game of cat and mouse thats lasted over a decade. only 4 hospital escapees remain, and all of them are in The Union ( the settlement in otterverse s3 )

if you're curious those four people are: c!wallace, marri, carmin aloys and the mystery kid

( also: all hospital escap can be identified by their bright yellow eyes that have a slight glow to them )

marri and c!wallace hate each other. c!wallace believes the hospital escapees earned their freedom, marri believes none of them would have lived and that theyre trying to play a game with death by simply living.

marri particularly hates how c!wallace seems to think he's immortal because he can reform after being killed.

the two frequently fought in the past, running into each other almost every other week. sometimes they would discard whatever weapons they had just to beat the hell out of each other personally.

their hate went past whatever their morals/beliefs were and almost just became their own fucked up coping method. c!wallace had a history in fist fighting as stress relief, and marri tended to use a punching bag when he was upset.

c!wallace was well aware marri was tracking him, and started setting up encounters on purpose just so he could fight someone who could actually hurt him badly

this only seemed to anger marri more. he even killed c!wallace once or twice out of rage, knowing he would come back to life anyway.

when c!wallace met leon k. the two didnt see each other for a long while. marri befriended leon online and got close to him in hopes of finally catching c!wallace

in season 2, marri first appears to c!felix as a seemingly chill guy looking for his friend in an unfamiliar city. he speaks to c!felix and c!otter and isn't seen again after.

he is gonna show up in s3 at some point though (: where ever c!wallace is, marri is bound to show up at some point

its like 1am and i have no idea if i covered everything so i might add more if i remember tmr!

tldr: marri and c!wallace fucking hate each other and have been playing cat and mouse for like 15+ years

[emperor-palpaminty]

Killing Time

Because nothing can kill a relationship like lies.

A modern AU where crosshair is a hitman and you're his loyal girlfriend who happens to be in the bodyguard business, but neither one of you know the other's careers

Warnings: swearing, mentions of death, making oit and allusions to smut, also this is in no way accurate to real life and it's just dramatic, please don't hurt me lol

children you have full permission to run away and not come here, in fact please run away

Very few things phased you. The only things that brought you to your precipice of agitation was burning pasta, your phone charger not working, and showing up to your shift only to realize someone had been killing all your clients.

Who said keeping people alive was easy? No one, that was who, and if anyone said it they were wrong or had no experience working with others whatsoever. Making sure others lived to see their next day was deadly business, for the people that were trying to live, at least.

“Charles!” You barked, feet hitting the floor of the bull pen. “What the hell happened?” You slammed your files on your desk, face warm, head just about collapsing with pressure. Your fingers pressed to your temples, hoping that they would grip it, hold it together. “Burke was alive when I left last night.”

“Doesn't matter now." Your coworker dropped his sandwich onto his desk. "Burke is fucking dead now. As dead as a doorknob." He swallowed his bite. "Luckily, you weren't on shift when it happened, so you aren't gonna catch any fire for it."

"Shit, Charles, a man is dead." You collapsed in your chair, a gentle "oomph" escaping your mouth. Your lips pressed together in agitation and you moaned to yourself. "This is the third one in two months. Sure, I'll get a couple cold bodies, but-"

"But this is a lot." Charles sunk into his own chair, grabbing for his sandwich again.

You stared at him, disbelief coating your gaze. "One is a lot, Charles," You snarled, grabbing at the folder on your desk. "Any leads?"

"Oh, yeah. But they're all at Burke's mansion." Charles tossed the crust of his lunch into the trash can. "I can drive ya."

"No, I'll take my car," You grumbled. You swiped the keys from your desk and stood, stalking back towards the elevator, anger eating away at you.

If one more of your clients- YOUR own clients- got killed, you would have to start pulling full shifts again.

___

Your shoes, practical, did little more than tap against the marble floor as you ducked under the Police tape. You skimmed the scene, frowning, eyes gracing past a particularly nasty chunk of gore on the wall. "Shot from above," You mumbled, glancing at the shattered window.

The mansion was huge. You'd been coming here for nearly a year now to keep an eye on Burke, and it still shocked you when you saw the absolute volume of the home. How much house would one man need, exactly?

In your years as a bodyguard you'd watched out for a lot of people- spoiled celebrities, prideful and arrogant politicians, and a particularly interesting Chef who had an unusual desire to cook everything with some kind of caffeine in it. That was probably your favorite client.

"Excuse me, miss," a voice broke the mumble in the next room, probably of detectives or cops sweeping the house for evidence. "You shouldn't-"

"I was Burke's bodyguard." You tugged your badge out or your pocket, allowing the interrupting police officer to take it and examine it. “You can verify with my assistant, Charles. Make sure you tell him he’s my assistant and not the other way around, though, he can be a dick.”

The cop hesitated, then gave a slight nod. “Well, we’re still cleaning up the scene.” His hands offered your badge back, and you slid it into your back pocket, satisfaction deflating. “You can come by later after it’s clean. Ballistics is running comparisons right now.” He paused and glanced at the shattered window. “Looks like the shot came from the garage. It’s the only side with no motion sensors or alarms.” The cop’s brows raised in interest. “Know why?”

“No.” You said, calmly, turning towards the front door. “I assume I can go there?” You heard no objection as you stepped outside, tugging your sunglasses back on over your eyes. The sun was unforgiving and you gave an involuntary hiss as the bright rays hit your eyes just right to temporarily give your vision black spots. You blinked strongly and hurried towards the garage. 

In truth, Burke had alarms everywhere except the garage because he had so many people and cars coming and going. For any new technology the billionaire was releasing, the man had drugs and other forms of entertainment coming in and out, and it was all stuff that would probably bring him down. That nondisclosure form was still somewhere in the house in some obscure filing cabinet and you really, really, really didn’t feel like having a lawsuit lurking over your shoulders. Life was too good- well, everything outside of people you were being paid to keep alive was good. 

Death really killed the whole “survival” business.

You clamored your way to the roof of the garage, noting the ladder was the same one that the gardener used around the several acres Burke owned. The police had to have put it here- the gardener only came in the mornings.

So who the hell climbed up here without a ladder? Most people didn’t want to put in the effort to scale this freehand or wedge between the wall of the garage and the fence to shimmy up. That someone had to be either very determined to kill Burke, for personal motive or financial motive.

You brushed off you pants and glanced around, looking down at the surface of the roof. Nothing- not even a bullet casing- had been left behind. You frowned and raked a hand through your hair, skimming your scalp as you examined the roof, walking to the edge closest to the window.

You stared in, at the shattered glass, pondering. Burke was heading to bed when he'd been shot, you assumed, so the assassian would have had to know his routine. Your mind ran through possibilities again, but you could come up with none that were motivated personally enough or fit enough to climb without much assistance. You trailed along the surface, frowning, unable to find anything, but paused at a smudge of black paint, small, on the corner of the roof.

____

You turned your car down the street, exhaling softly as you pulled into your driveway.

99. That was what the marks said. Very subtle, meant nothing, unless it was a birth year or graduating class. The cops had come back, irritated, snapped a couple of pictures, and told you off about your wild theories of a fiscally motivated assassian. Apparently, you watched too many scret agent movies, or something like that.

You opened the door of the car and climbed out, frustration making you slam it shut. You inhaled the scent of the yard- clean, fresh cut, and perhaps it could help soothe your anger before you went inside.

After fumbling on your Keychain, you unlocked the door and hurried in, locking it behind you. "Cross?"

A savory aroma wafted from the kitchen, and your mouth watered. Your toes found their way out of your shoes and you hurried to the kitchen, pausing briefly at the doorway.

Cross's lanky figure was leaning over the skillet, stirring something, pale hands moving in expertise across the stove top. "Darling, you're late." He drawled.

You sighed, fully entering the kitchen. "Yeah. Sorry." You leaned up and wrapped your arms around his waist, face pressing against his back. You sighed. The day felt a little less bad now- filled with him. "Work kept me."

"How was work?"

You grunted. "A killer. An absolute killer." The irony was not lost on you, but it was lost to your boyfriend. He thought you were an editor for some book publishing company, because cover was the most important thing. You were one of those people trying to stay alive, after all.

Lies hurt, but it was one of the necessary ones. A little lie.

"Yikes." His hands drew plates to himself. "Mine wasn't much better. Got a few new clients, a few new cases." He sighed. "The Baliff forgot to submit evidence."

You mumbled against his shirt. "Law school really paid off, huh?"

"I'll say." He turned around, adjusting your arms, slowly taking your chin and leaning down to peck you. You always melted at his kisses, knees weak and brain numb, and he seemed to know it every time. You hummed, running your hands up his chest, the irritation for the day pooling to your midsection as your fingers gripped his shirt, your lips pulling in on his.

Cross tugged away gently, and you whined, fingers stubbornly clasped. "Wow, really frustrated today."

"Yes," You mumbled.

His lips pressed towards one of their corners in a half smile, and he picked your head. "Go shower. Then we can eat and I'll take care of you."

You hummed, fingers reluctantly releasing him, and you hurried away to the bathroom. You paused at the dresser, rummaging through, grabbing an especially large t-shirt and hipster underwear. Comfort was more important at the moment.

You climbed into the shower, turning the water to as hot as you could and scrubbing yourself off, humming in pleasure as the day came off you and went down the drain. The floral scent of the soap remained, the purple bad working diligently to rid you of your grime and frustration. Lavender really is a natural relaxant. You sighed and leaned back briefly on the tile, feeling every muscle in you ease at the same time.

After toweling off and getting dressed, your padded to the kitchen where Cross was pouring a your favorite wine. You sighed happily, accepting the glass as he skimmed your fresh-showered body. "Thanks."

"Of course." Cross picked up his own glass, taking a sip, eyes still diligently stripping you on their own. You shivered slightly, setting down your glass and looking up at him. "Dinner's ready," He mumbled, leaning in, pressing a hand to the counter of either side of you, leaving your back to the counter. "But I would much rather start with dessert."

You drew in a breath as he pressed his lips to your neck, drawing out a sigh with his teeth. You wrapped your arms around his neck, humming in agreement, and he scooped you up. Your groaned as he drew your legs around his lips, shifting, the agitating heat pooling back between your legs. "That's a good idea." You mumbled, whimpering as he bucked his hips slightly. "I just showered, though."

"Then we can take another one," He hissed, lips covering yours. "You're so damn intoxicating."

You mumbled something against his lips, unable to get a coherent response out as he dropped you on the bed. You bounced briefly, giggling, and he yanked off his shirt and joined you, climbing over you and hovering. "Come here, sweetheart," His finger traced over your shirt between your breasts, running down to the hem. "Let's end the day on a good note."

You whimpered, neck straining as you leaned up for his kiss, and you felt Cross snarl against you, tugging your surrendered form up closer to him. Your body relaxed again, neck loosening and head back against the pillow as he tugged your own shirt up, eyes gleaming with a primal eagerness that made you swoon, ready to work out the agitation for the day you both had.

[ibijau]

Futures Past pt13 / on AO3

Nie Huaisang is visited again by his future self, which goes even less pleasantly than before

Nie Huaisang did not enjoy in the least being dragged out of bed in the middle of the night, a hand firmly pressed over his mouth to keep him quiet and avoid waking the other Nie disciples.

His future self really needed to find a better way to visit him. They had to decide on a schedule of some sort, Nie Huaisang ranted when they were outside, hidden away near the cabin he currently inhabited. Or a signal. Or something other than the absolute terror of a stranger taking him out of his bed in the dark.

“Couldn’t you at least have told me when you were planning on coming back?” Nie Huaisang complained, to which his future self shrugged.

“I was supposed to, but I forgot,” the older man muttered from being his fan. “Not that I would have kept to the schedule anyway. I had to know how your time in Yunping City went, so I… pushed hard to come here as early as I could. I probably won’t be able to return again until late fall, or even the bew year.”

He did look tired, and had a slight trembling in his hands, Nie Huaisang noted. Though that could just have been excitement rather than a sign something was wrong with him.

“It went well in Yunping City, I think,” Nie Huaisang announced. “I don’t think that Meng Yao will be going to Lanling Jin now, not if he has even a little bit of brain, and…”

“He’s more stupid than you’d expect,” his older self snapped. “I take it he’s still alive then?”

Nie Huaisang hunched his shoulders and looked down at his feet. 

“It’s not like I could actually have killed him! And anyway, he’s nice. Well, I thought he was nice…” The older Nie Huaisang scoffed. “And Lan gongzi thought it too…” Another scoff, and when Nie Huaisang risked a glance, he was met with an expression of disgust. “And Jiang gongzi too had a good opinion of him!”

“You saw Jiang Cheng?” his older self asked, lowering his fan while something shifted in his voice. “How was he? Was Wei Wuxian there too?”

He sounded almost eager to get news, as if he cared about these people.

He sounded almost human.

“I don’t think that other one was there,” Nie Huaisang said, trying to remember. He'd been so nervous about that Meng Yao business, he hadn't paid attention to anything else. “And Jiang gongzi mostly seemed interested in chatting with Lan gongzi. They were getting along just fine. I think they’re writing to each other now? I think Lan gongzi mentioned that the other day.”

Whatever softness had briefly taken over his older self melted in a second, replaced by something dark.

“That’s new,” he said, closing his fan with a flourish before tapping it against his hand. “I knew they would have met briefly in Yunping City, but to my knowledge they didn’t speak at all. We’ll have to be careful. I don’t like the idea of Jiang Cheng siding with that idiot." He sighed. “We’ll see what comes of it in the future. For now, tell me what you’ve done with Meng Yao, since you’re apparently too much of a coward to properly get rid of the man who killed da-ge.”

Nie Huaisang felt breathless at that casual mention of Meng Yao’s true role in his brother’s future death. His older self had said that Meng Yao was involved, that he needed to be dealt with, but Nie Huaisang hadn’t thought…

How could someone like Meng Yao ever kill his brother? Even if he worked day and night, even if he tried as hard as he could, Meng Yao would take years and years to catch up to even a normal cultivator’s level. He would never compare to Nie Mingjue who everyone agreed was a cultivation genius, a force of nature. In a direct confrontation, Meng Yao could never win.

It would have been something more insidious then, Nie Huaisang thought. Poison, or backstabbing, or some other under-handed thing. And since Lan Xichen had appeared so instantly fond of that Meng Yao, since his future self hated him too, maybe he’d accidentally given him the means of coming close to Nie Mingjue. That would certainly explain why that older Nie Huaisang despised both men so intensely.

A little shaken by that theory, Nie Huaisang started recounting what had happened in Yunping City. Or at least, he explained most of it. He was so embarrassed about failing to find the right brothel that he didn’t speak about that, meaning he also didn’t say anything about meeting Lan Xichen in the red district, and that complete breakdown the poor boy had.  And while he proudly explained that Meng Yao was now part of Yunmeng Jiang where he appeared to be doing very well according to letters Lan Xichen had received, Nie Huaisang didn’t mention that to obtain that result he’d insulted a sect leader and gotten harshly punished for it. He didn’t think his older self would show much sympathy for his suffering.

Really, talking to that man was like talking to Nie Mingjue when he asked about his brother’s cultivation progress. Except at least Nie Mingjue was only like that some of the time, when the elders had pestered him about Nie Huaisang’s lack of talent for anything one time too many. His older self felt as if he was this way all the time.

“I suppose Yunmeng will have to do,” the older Nie Huaisang sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “The Jiangs certainly aren’t going to give him a recommendation to join Lanling Jin. Anything is better than Lanling or Qinghe at this point.”

Nie Huaisang pinched his lips, quite glad he hadn’t mentioned his initial plan of bringing Meng Yao to Qinghe. It had been a stupid plan, he now realised. But he hadn’t known that Meng Yao would be his brother’s actual murderer, and his future self hadn’t said anything, and…

“Now that Meng Yao is dealt with, let’s talk about what you have to do next,” the older Nie Huaisang said.

“About… about S-Su She?” Nie Huaisang quickly asked, trying to sound as indifferent as he could.

His older self opened his fan with an elegant gesture that Nie Huaisang was starting to hate, and shook his head with a cruel smirk.

“No. I’ve given this some thought,” the older man explained, fanning himself slowly. “I’ve reached the conclusion that I don’t care much whether Jin Zixun and him kill each other. Good riddance, neither of them are worth even the dirt used to bury them. These two are just…”

“He’s my friend,” Nie Huaisang squeaked. By which he meant Su She of course, but also…

Jin Zixun and him had exchanged a few glances here and there during particularly boring lessons, and they’d chatted a little when they’d been punished again together, this time over a failed assignment. Jin Zixun wasn’t a friend, but he might have become an acquaintance, and that was probably more than anyone could say about Jin Zixun.

His older self closed his fan with a sharp gesture and glared at him.

“He’s not.”

“But he is!” Nie Huaisang insisted. “I met Su-xiong a while ago, and he’s real nice, and we get along fine, and he even…”

“A man like Su She doesn’t have friends. He’s only using you to get something. What did he make you promise? Support? Help? Money?”

“He’s not like that!” Nie Huaisang cried out, letting his voice rise higher than was truly wise at such an hour of the night.

But he couldn’t let Su She be insulted that way. Maybe it was different where his future self came from, maybe Su She and him hadn’t met over there, but they had met here, and they were true friends.

Su She had amply apologised about not coming to see Nie Huaisang that whole week he’d been punished for his fight with Jin Zixun. He had cited his own punishment, as well as Lan Xichen enrolling him in his book-copying scheme. Both were valid reasons, but Su She still appeared very sorry that he’d let Nie Huaisang deal with that on his own, and shared some candies with him as a way of apology.

Su She was the best friend Nie Huaisang had ever had in his life, and he refused to hear anyone insult him, even himself.

“Su She is no friend of yours,” his older self claimed. “Stop whatever acquaintance you have with him right away. Da-ge wouldn’t approve, anyway.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re at the point of my life where I’m a little idiot who cannot do anything right. If you’re making a decision, it’s always going to be the wrong one, and it will anger Da-ge. So drop Su She immediately.”

"Da-ge isn't like that," Nie Huaisang grumbled. 

"I've known him longer than you," his future self retorted. "I know what he thinks of me." 

Which might have been true, but it still felt wrong. Nie Huaisang and his brother had their disagreements, of course. Many of them, in fact. They argued over just about anything, but rarely seriously, or about anything really important, and they always made up quickly. Sure, some people misunderstood their relationship and thought they didn't get along. Some had even tried to take advantage of that perceived rift between them, but both brothers knew where they stood. 

Nie Huaisang knew his brother would like Su She when he met him. In fact, Nie Mingjue had already promised he could invite his new friend to come to the Unclean Realm, provided he passed his exams.

Maybe it had been too long since his future self had last seen Nie Mingjue, if he could only remember their few disputes and none of the affection. 

"The only person you're supposed to pay attention this year to is Lan Xichen," his older self reminded him. "So how are things going on that front? I swear if there's still no progress…" 

"No, there is!" Nie Huaisang said, raising his hands in a defensive gesture. "A lot of progress! We spend at least a shichen together every week lately, sometimes more!" 

"That's a very precise amount," his older self noted. "How do you know it is that much?" 

"Well, see, he gives me music lessons. He says I'm quite good at it actually," Nie Huaisang added with pride.

That pride was met with a dark, angry look. Or perhaps not angry as such, Nie Huaisang thought after a moment. Maybe envious instead. Considering the opinion his future self had of Lan Xichen, it was impossible he'd ever been given those lessons, or surely he wouldn't have hated Lan Xichen so much. And since they were the same person, or at least had been the same person before his future self grew up into an asshole, then they had to have the same tastes, the same aspirations.

"What instrument ?" 

"The guqin, of course. You know, I always figured it'd be really hard, but I'm liking it a lot, and it's really fun to practice a little every day, and Lan Xichen is a really nice teacher, and he's actually fun, and…" 

"He's not," his future self cut him. "And while I'm glad you're finally remembering the part you have to play in our plan, I don't want you to get distracted. Music isn't your goal. Neither is it to actually befriend Lan Xichen. You only need to make him think you're his friend, getting attached as well would be a mistake."

"But…" 

"In fact," his older self continued, slowly fanning himself, "it would be best if you gave up already on the idea of having friends. It's not for the likes of us. If you were a little more charismatic and likeable perhaps… but in the end, none of the 'friends' I made at your age were there for me when I needed them. I had to trick them into helping when the time came to avenge da-ge, or they would have let his murderers live free."

"Well maybe if you weren't such a prick they'd still be yours friends," Nie Huaisang muttered, which earned him a slap. 

It didn't immediately register that he'd been hit. He just stood there, staring at his older self, vaguely aware of a noise too loud in the quiet night of the Cloud Recesses, and a rising sensation of heat on his cheek. 

"I can't believe nobody has ever done that, with how annoying I am," his future self remarked, shaking his hand as if the blow had hurt him too. "Now listen to me. You are not likeable. You are not charismatic. You're not even particularly clever most of the time. Why would anyone want to be friends with you? At best they're tolerating you because it's impossible to just reject the heir of a great sect, but make no mistake, your only quality is Nie Mingjue. In terms of popularity, you rank about as high as someone like Jin Zixun. Do you understand what it means?"

Nie Huaisang failed to contain a few tears as he brought one hand to his smarting cheek. It felt hot to the touch, and he'd have to expend some spiritual energy into it, or else there might be a mark in the morning that would be difficult to explain. 

As for his older self's question, Nie Huaisang shook his head the way he felt might be expected of him.

"It means you have to treat people the way they treat you," his older self said. "Keep your heart closed, and use them for what they're worth. Especially Lan Xichen. Get him to trust you, but don't make the mistake of trusting him back. He is a rather poor friend to those who make that mistake."

Gritting his teeth, Nie Huaisang obediently nodded, fearful of being hit again. 

But it didn't sound right. He refused to believe that people were as bad as his future self said. Surely Su She at least was better than that. Nie Huaisang could doubt anyone in the world, but not Su She, so he was absolutely not going to dump his friend just because some old creep with trust issues told him to. Not even if the old creep was himself.

As for Lan Xichen… not so long ago, Nie Huaisang might have accepted that unkind assessment of his brother’s friend. But now that they hung out together more frequently, he thought Lan Xichen wasn’t so bad. Their music lessons really were nice. Lan Xichen was patient and encouraging, something few teachers in Nie Huaisang’s life had ever been. He didn’t mind when Nie Huaisang got too tired to focus, or when he struggled with something that should have been easy. He also didn’t take Nie Huaisang’s moments of easy success as proof that he was faking whenever he struggled, and for this alone Lan Xichen had Nie Huaisang’s gratitude.

Not only that, but Lan Xichen had proven that he wasn’t as stiff and boring as Nie Huaisang used to think. He’d listened about the problems that Su She had, hadn’t he? And not just listened, but he’d done something about it, and he was still doing something about it, and not only for Su She’s sake either. 

Su She had told Nie Huaisang that any inner clan disciple who bothered an outer disciple was in serious trouble these days if Lan Xichen heard about it… or worse still, if Lan Wangji got involved. He was a stickler for rules that one. Once his brother had casually mentioned to him that some people were breaking Lan principles behind the teachers’ back, Lan Wangji hunted them down and made sure those people regretted it.

All because Nie Huaisang had told Lan Xichen that he didn’t like how people treated his friend.

How could Nie Huaisang not have started liking him a little after that?

“Speaking of making friends,” his future self said, “you remember you need to fail your classes this year, right? We have big plans for next year.”

Nie Huaisang nodded again, with more sincerity this time. Failing his exams would not be difficult. At all. In fact, he was quite good at failing. Lan Qiren could have testified that when it came to failing, he’d never had a student as great as Nie Huaisang.

“Good, excellent. Now, I don’t have much time left here today but… I have a task for you when the classes end.”

“Another thing?” Nie Huaisang lamented. “That wasn’t the deal!”

“It is for da-ge’s good,” his future self snapped, and once again Nie Huaisang wondered if he really loved his brother enough to bother with all this.

He did love Nie Mingjue, no doubt. But he still wondered.

“In fact, it’s for the good of the whole cultivation world,” his future self continued. “This might be the most selfless thing you’re ever going to do, so don’t mess it up. When the classes end, you’re not going home. You’re going to the city of Kuizhou…”

“Really? Oh, that’d be neat. I’ve always wanted to see…”

“You’re not going there to sightsee and think about poetry,” his older self cut him. “You’re going there to find a young criminal by the name of Xue Yang and ensure he never gets to create trouble for the cultivation world. You’ve disappointed me with Meng Yao, but I think you should manage to do the right thing with Xue Yang. He’s only ten or eleven, and you have a sabre, surely it can’t be too hard to dispose of him.”

“You don’t mean…”

The older man closed his fan, his face devoid of emotion. “I would think my meaning is clear enough, but I’m not letting you mess this up as you’ve done with Meng Yao. Xue Yang must die. He grows into too much of a menace as an adult. Even if we're going to make sure his particular skills never become needed by any sect, letting him live is just too risky. He’s devious enough to come up with demonic cultivation all on his own if given the chance to grow up, and he certainly doesn’t have any ideals of justice to help him keep it under control. Kill him before he harms anyone.”

"I'm not a killer!" Nie Huaisang shouted, too loud, far too loud, but he didn’t care, horrified by the very idea of what he his future self was demanding. He felt sorry when fighting fierce corpses and tended to cry at exorcisms, how could he ever… and to a living person, to a child.

And yet his future self rolled his eyes as if his horror were but another minor annoyance to deal with, and started fanning himself again.

"You'll learn fast. Just find a cat, snap its neck, and you'll see how easy it is. After two or three you stop feeling sorry for them, and people aren't so different from cats."

“I don’t think da-ge would want that,” Nie Huaisang protested in a trembling voice. “I don’t think he’d like that at all. It’s just… it’s a kid! Good people don’t kill kids! Even a lot of bad people don’t kill kids!”

“Be quiet, or we’ll be found by whichever Lan disciple is patrolling tonight!”

Good, Nie Huaisang thought. If they were found he’d be punished, sure, but more importantly he’d be forced to tell someone about everything his older self had told him, from the war that was coming, to Nie Mingjue’s death, to killing children. But of course Nie Huaisang couldn’t be so lucky, and no one appeared to have heard him.

“You’re really too naive,” his older self said. “Everyone kills children, they just don’t speak about it and pretend they’re righteous. Even da-ge is no better. I only realised that after the war with the Wens, but it’ll be good for you to grow out of your illusions earlier than that. Besides, you don’t have to tell da-ge that you’ve killed that boy. Keeping secrets is your only real skill, use it.”

“Da-ge isn’t like that,” Nie Huaisang hissed, and felt he’d started crying again.

His brother wasn’t a murderer. He was a good person, he wouldn’t harm anyone who didn’t deserve it… but he might make an exception when it came to the Wens, who nobody in Qinghe Nie really counted as people anymore. 

They were just a disease upon the cultivation world, pests that needed to be eliminated. Nie Huaisang, who had always agreed to that, had never really paused before to think that Qishan Wen also counted a number of children, of elders, of servants, of people who really had nothing to do with his father’s death and maybe didn’t even realise there had ever been such a person in the world.

“Da-ge is only human,” his older self said. “And all humans are ready to kill to get what they want. Da-ge wanted to avenge our father. You want to protect da-ge. It’s not so different. If it helps, Xue Yang really deserves to die, so don’t bother feeling sorry for him. He would kill you for candies, given half a chance.”

“I’m not like that,” Nie Huaisang sobbed.

“Not yet perhaps,” his older self conceded in a softer voice. “But you’ll get there anyway. The world is cruel. We must be worse than it is, if we are to survive, if da-ge is to survive.”

The man raised a hand toward Nie Huaisang's head, wanting perhaps to comfort him by ruffling his hair. It was what Nie Mingjue would have done. But Nie Huaisang flinched, fearing to be struck again, and his older self's hand dropped at his side.

“So remember well,” his older self ordered, his tone dry once more. “An orphan boy named Xue Yang, who lives in Kuizhou. He’s a petty criminal for now, he hasn’t yet switched from theft to violent crimes I think, but it’ll come soon. He would be tall for his age I believe. He has a missing little finger on his left hand, and when he smiles his canines are very prominent. He is a monster, and he cannot be allowed to live. Do you understand?”

Through heavy tears Nie Huaisang nodded. That seemed to satisfy his older self who vanished. 

Nie Huaisang understood indeed, but he didn’t agree and was certain he never would.

[thatfanficstuff]

Asshole - Elijah Mikaelson

Pairing: Elijah x Reader

Warnings: Bullying, Assholes, Flangst

A/N: I’m gonna let y’all in on a little secret. When I can’t/don’t write for a long time, I find it incredibly hard to start writing regularly again. Part of me feels like I am incapable and the rest fears I am. Anyway, this took much longer than it should have. I hope you enjoy!

***

You sat at a table at the back of the Grill enjoying your own company and a well-aged Scotch. Well, as aged as it got at the Mystic Grill. You were supposed to have been spending your evening with Klaus and Kol but they’d opted out to take care of some business. Kol had sounded so sincere in his disappointment you couldn’t be mad at them.

After some indecision, you came to the Grill on your own. It had been a long week and you’d been looking forward to getting out of the house. You’d already eaten dinner and decided to have a couple of drinks before you walked home. Or maybe more than a couple since you were already on number three.

Your gaze jerked up from the glass in your hand when someone slid into the chair across from you. Seeing Damon, you started to smile before remembering he was no longer your friend. And as much as you didn’t want to let that bother you, it stung. The two of you had been near inseparable until you saved Kol from the mechanizations of the Scooby gang.

You’d chosen your side. It didn’t matter that killing Kol would have ended the lives of who knows how many vampires. Apparently slaughtering innocent people was only bad when the Mikaelsons did it. None of your friends would even attempt to see it your way. They’d cast you out and the Originals had taken you in. You tried not to be bitter about it. You even succeeded most of the time. Until moments like this anyway.

You clenched your teeth together and willed the tears that threatened to fill your eyes to fuck off. “Is there something you needed, Damon?”

Damon clicked his tongue before giving you a little smirk. “So testy. Can’t I just say hi to an old friend?”

“You can do whatever you want, but let’s not pretend that these aren’t the first words you’ve said to me in months. Whatever we are, we’re not friends. Not anymore.” And god you wished that didn’t hurt as much as it did.

He made a show of looking around the room. “I just noticed that you were alone. Not a Mikaelson in sight. Thought I’d check to see if you’ve finally come to your senses?”

You swallowed what was left of your drink in answer. Anything else you said would only lead to a repeat of the same argument you’d had a hundred times.

He tapped his fingers on the table. “I’ll take that as a no.” After a moment of silence, he pursed his lips and leaned forward. “Or perhaps they’ve learned that your loyalty is a fickle thing and they’ve kicked you out of their little family.”

“Fuck you, Damon.” You wished you hadn’t finished your drink so you could throw it in his face. “I wasn’t the disloyal one. All of you turned your back on me because I saved someone’s life.”

“Not just someone. Kol fucking Mikaelson. You knew it was a betrayal before you even did it. How were we supposed to overlook that? To ever trust you again?”

“Honestly, I thought you’d all lost your ever-loving minds. Why would any of you think it was okay to not only kill Kol but everyone that would go with him?”

“It was to save Elena.” Damon all but hissed the words.

“No. It was to make her human again. Big difference.” You leaned back with a frown and signaled for another drink. “You know, for someone that claims to love a vampire, she certainly has a deep-seated hatred for them.”

Damon’s gaze moved over you as though he were looking for something. It wasn’t until your drink was delivered that he spoke again. “They don’t care about you, you know. They never did. Getting you on their side just another way to get under our skin.”

You sipped at your drink as you looked him over. If he only knew the number of times you had convinced Klaus not to kill one of them. The number of times you’d redirected the hybrid’s rage or Kol’s anger. Then again, maybe he wouldn’t care at all. “I’m not a tool, Damon. I’d know if they were using me.”

His ever-present smirk faded as his eyes turned cold. “Would you? You believed everything I told you readily enough. Of course, you were so lonely you would have believed most anything, wouldn’t you? Anything to have a friend. Somewhere to go where you weren’t alone.”

You clenched your teeth tightly and refused to meet his gaze as he threw confessions made over late night glasses of Scotch back at you. “Were you never my friend then?” You hated yourself for asking the question. Even more for the way your voice broke as you did.

He tilted his head. “Oh sweetheart, why would I have been?”

And with that, he was gone. So nice of him to stop by. You downed what was left of your drink and signaled for another.

By the time you determined no amount of alcohol was going to erase Damon’s words from your brain, you were well and truly drunk. When the waitress came by to check on you, you ordered a glass of water and pulled out your phone.

You tapped your finger against the back of it as you thought. Going home to your empty house meant wallowing in self-pity until you passed out and then probably doing the same thing when you woke. Kol or Klaus were always your first call at moments like this, but you had no idea what kind of business they had to do and didn’t want to interrupt if it was something important. The last thing you needed was for them to be angry with you as well. Rebekah was out of town.

That left Elijah. You weren’t as close to him as the others through no fault of his. No, he’d gone out of his way to make you feel welcome, to extend the hand of friendship. But you were painfully shy when he was around. If there was one thing in life that could be counted on, it was the fact that you would be incredibly awkward around anyone you felt the slightest interest in. Poor Elijah probably thought you hated him. Klaus however thought the way you clammed up in his brother’s presence was hilarious.

Maybe that was the only reason they kept you around. Because you entertained them. At this point, did it really matter? Even if they didn’t need you, you needed them. Without the Mikaelsons you would be completely, utterly alone. Maybe you should start thinking about moving on. You could just start over somewhere else. Preferably somewhere with no supernatural drama. That would be fantastic.

After giving it another moment’s thought, you pressed the screen and called Elijah.

He answered on the second ring. “Y/N. Lovely to hear from you. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Tears flooded your eyes at the warmth in his voice and a lump formed in your throat. “I’m sorry to bother you, Elijah. I just…” You trailed off and sucked in a deep breath to keep from crying.

“Is everything all right?”

You cleared your throat. “Not really, no. Could you come pick me up at the Grill?”

“Of course.”

You hung up and slid your phone back into your pocket. After pushing yourself to your feet, you stood still for a moment to get your bearings. When you glanced toward the bar to signal for your check, your gaze met Damon’s. He smirked as he ran his eyes over you and saluted you with his glass, clearly knowing he was the reason for your current state. Deciding to wait for Elijah outside, you tossed enough money on the table to take care of your ticket and a generous tip.

The cool air bit at your skin as you stepped outside. You moved to the end of the building and leaned against the wall. You tilted your head back to lean against the brick. Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath of the crisp air to sober yourself up a bit and drive back the tears.

“It’s not safe for you to be out here by yourself, Y/N. You never know who might wander by.” Damon’s voice cut through you but you maintained your position.

“Why are you doing this?” Relief flooded you when your voice didn’t break. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. “Just leave me alone.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

The only response that came to mind was telling him to fuck off so you kept your mouth shut and ignored him. Or you tried to at any rate.

A firm hand grabbed your chin and tilted your head down. The pressure he applied was enough to send a jolt of pain through your jaw. Your eyes shot open at the violation. “Don’t ignore me.”

You jerked your head to the side and he released you. “Don’t touch me.” At least the anger chased away the tears.

He placed his hands on either side of your head and leaned in until barely a breath separated you. You pushed against him though it did no good. You knew it wouldn’t but you couldn’t just stand there and let him do whatever he wanted. “Get away from me, Damon.”

“Why should I? You like vampires, don’t you, Y/N?”

Your eyes darted up to meet his and you realized that your comments about Elena had bothered him just as much as his words hurt you. Good. Asshole. “I like some vampires. I’m not particularly fond of you at the moment.”

He snarled and shoved himself off the wall putting some much needed space between the two of you. “You think you’re better than me? You’re nothing. Less than nothing. The only attention you received from me was pity.” Every word he threw at you struck like a physical blow. And the smile that crossed his face told you he was very much aware of it. But he wasn’t finished yet. “I pitied you, took you in and you repaid me by siding with the Mikaelsons. God only knows what they’re still keeping you around for but when they finish with you—after they’ve taken whatever it is they want from you—don’t come crying to us. Frankly, I’m glad to be rid of you. We all are.”

Hot tears began to leak down your cheeks and you wanted nothing more than to escape. Before you could run away or even think of another response, Damon was slammed face first into the wall beside you. You jumped away in response, relaxing when you saw it was Elijah holding him there. He had Damon’s arm twisted behind his back and kept him pressed to the wall with a hand between his shoulder blades.

“Get off me,” Damon demanded as he struggled to free himself.

Elijah ignored him, placing all of his attention on you. “Are you all right?”

You swallowed past the lump in your throat. “I’m not injured if that’s what you mean. He was just being an asshole.”

He hummed as he arched a brow. “Yes, well, it is Damon.”

The corner of your mouth kicked up and you wiped the tears from your cheeks. Elijah stepped back, pulling Damon away from the wall in the process though he still didn’t release him. “In the future, it would be wise for you to leave Y/N alone. The next time we have this conversation won’t end as pleasantly for you.” Only then did he let him go and Damon was gone in the blink of an eye.

Elijah placed his hand on your back to direct you to his car parked a short distance away. It wasn’t until he’d started to drive that either of you said anything.

“Would you mind just driving around for a while? If it’s not too much of a bother I mean.”

The silence stretched but you resisted the urge to look at him. Fresh tears were running down your cheeks and you preferred to keep that to yourself for the time being.

“Of course, it’s not a bother,” he finally responded, his voice quiet, concerned. “Whatever you need.”

Some time later you wiped the tears from your cheeks and turned to watch Elijah drive. His face was drawn and he had a firm grip on the steering wheel. He glanced your direction and smiled when he met your gaze. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You shrugged a shoulder. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Certainly.”

“Why do you keep me around?”

“What?” He couldn’t have sounded more surprised if he tried.

You turned your attention back to the view from your window. “Not you specifically. All of you. I mean, you don’t owe me anything if that’s what you think. Or maybe you just feel bad for me because everyone else is mad at me. You don’t have to. I’d do okay on my own.”

Elijah didn’t respond right away and you figured he was trying to think of a way to gently break the truth. Just as you were about to tell him it wasn’t necessary, the car slid to a smooth stop. You glanced around to see nothing but trees and you hadn’t been paying attention to the direction Elijah drove from town. You had no idea where you were.

“Look at me, Y/N.”

You turned in your seat so you faced him as much as possible. His dark gaze ran over you and if you didn’t know better, you’d swear you saw sorrow in his eyes. After a moment, he cleared his throat. “What exactly happened tonight?”

You glanced away as your hands twisted together in your lap. “Nothing. I told you he was just being an asshole.”

“Why don’t you try expanding on that a bit, sweetheart. I’m afraid I’m not buying it at the moment.”

You stayed silent as you figured out how to phrase everything so it would make sense.

“Y/N—” Elijah started and you held up a hand to cut him off.

“The thing about your best friend deciding they hate you is that they take everything they know about you and use it to hurt you. And god, Damon’s a pro at it. He hits the mark every time.”

“What do you mean every time? Has this happened before?” The irritation in Elijah’s voice made you smile.

“Not for a while. Right after the whole Kol thing, it happened almost daily. I figured he was done being an ass to me. Guess I was wrong.”

“Why did you not say anything?”

You shrugged again. “It didn’t seem important at the time. I just quit going anywhere I might run into him or the others unless one of you was with me. I figured it had been long enough I’d be safe to have dinner and a couple of drinks without a bodyguard.”

His hand reached out to cover yours where they still twisted together in your lap. Your face heated immediately but you didn’t pull away. “Y/N, if it was bad enough to keep you from living your life the way you wished, it was very important. I can’t believe none of us were aware of this.”

You shook your head, not wanting to argue the point. “It was just pokes. Snide comments, dirty looks. Tonight though…He said he was never my friend. That he pitied me and took me in and I betrayed them. He said there was no reason for anyone to ever be my friend.” Your voice trailed off at the end until it was barely audible. And once again you found yourself unable to look the vampire in the eyes.

He hummed in acknowledgement and released his hold on your hands. Seconds later he was out of the car and opening your door. He offered you a hand to help you out and you took it with no hesitation. He led you toward the front of the car before lifting you and placing you on the hood. You looked up at him with wide eyes as he stepped forward, placing himself between your knees.

One hand settled on your waist while the other hooked around the side of your neck, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw. You swallowed past the lump in your throat as he stared down at you with a serious expression. “Listen to me, Y/N. The Mikaelsons pity no one. We are a thousand years old. We have long ceased wasting our time on those that we deem unworthy. Damon is simply pissed that he never wormed his way into your bed before you proved yourself to be monumentally out of his league.”

The corner of your mouth kicked up a bit at that though you weren’t sure you believed him. There was one part of what Damon said that still bothered you. “He said once you all get what you want from me, you’ll toss me away and I’ll be alone again.”

His hold tightened enough to let you know he was upset but not enough to hurt. His jaw set and he took several breaths before responding. “The only thing my siblings desire from you is your companionship, Y/N.”

There was a brief flash of hurt that he hadn’t included himself in the statement. The look in his eyes had you pressing for more. “And you? What do you desire from me, Elijah?”

The press of his lips against yours was an answer you could never have anticipated. His hands pulled you forward and you slid off the hood to erase the space between your bodies. The hand on your neck shifted to bury his fingers in your hair while his other arm wrapped around your waist. Your hands gripped the lapels on his jacket as you tried to pull him closer.

Finally, the two of you separated and your chest heaved as you sucked in much needed air. “That was…unexpected,” you breathed.

“Unexpected but not unwelcome I hope.” A smile flirted with his lips as his dark gaze studied you.

You shook your head and he kissed you again before resting his forehead against yours. “I’m sorry Damon hurt you, Y/N. I won’t allow it to happen again.”

“How can he possibly hurt me when I have you to protect me?”

His low chuckle rolled through you as you leaned up to kiss him again. As his hands gripped your waist you couldn’t help but be a little bit grateful that Damon was such an asshole.

[jessiebanethedragon]

White Sands Warm the Cold Sea

Star Wars, The Bad Batch Pirate!au (Hunter x Reader

Summary: the reader, betrothed to a disgusting Coruscanti Lord flees her home world and lands herself in a plethora of trouble, a ship of clones, and one pirate captain whose cold exterior needs much more than the tropical seaside sun.

Warnings: Swearing, takes place in time periods where women have dowery's and suchlike. The readers dad and bothered are asses.

chapter one

Chapter two: The Stowaway

It is a disgusting day on Coruscant. Hot, humid and you can’t help but feel something sinister in the air. You feel hollow, and it is only partly due to the tightness of your dress. The yellow and green material wraps around you in layers. Your face is blank but your mind is racing, if you cannot convince your father to call off the marriage, how else can you put a stop to this?

Very few people talk about the war, and so how Lord Nython made his fortune is a mystery to you. What you have gathered from whispers of those in your household it was through a lengthy siege that devastated republic and seperatist forces alike.

“And the weather today is perfect for sailing, I bet those ships at the docks will be itching to set off.” Your handmaiden Seil says to you, and you frown, since when did she have an interest in the docks. But she continues playing with your hair.

“I'll get you the most expensive jewelry in the house,” She says with a smile you’ve grown up with. Perhaps carer was a more accurate term, considering she seemed to be the only person in the world that wanted the best for you. She returns with a pouch of all kinds of gold, silver and gems.

“There is a way to the docks, it is so lovely for a stroll. Away from the busy streets and such like.” You frown at her obsession with an area crawling with pirates.

“Seil what in the name-” You start saying, turning around to slip your flats on. And you stop, in her hands are your boots, made for riding as you had done so many times before.

“I thought these would be fitting, as they are your favourite.” She’s talking about all the times you told her how much you love how sturdy they feel around your feet. And how when you would run the fields, how powerful they made your legs feel.

And then it clicks. The docks, the boots. The tears in her eyes. While you were planning on an escape from this marriage, Seil had been planning an escape from every marriage your father would force on you. She ties the boots tightly, and places a hand on your cheek as you both take shaking breaths to compose yourselves.

And with your father still passed out in bed, and the sun barely rising, you slip into the streets and into the areas less traveled, sprinting off towards the ocean.

The docks are infused with the smell of fish, and the workers barely turn a glance your way as you shift through the swarms of people. You come to a halt at a clearing in the crowd, and your brain catches up with itself. What are you going to do now? With no money, skills, or plan, you begin to second guess yourself. You have time to make it back to the household with no one being the wiser. But you remember meeting Lord Nython for the first time.

His hand latched to yours like a monster squid to its prey, you notice that unlike some men he doesn’t ask ‘may I’ before touching you, and you briefly wonder what about you invites his hand onto your own. But your fake smile remains plastered on as he looks you up and down like a farmer regards the sale of livestock.

Your gut had told you then that all he could bring you was bad news, confirmed by rumors and stories of his wartime expeditions, and when he told you about the war, and the pathetic Grand Army of the Republic he spared no detail in his murder of an entire army.

Of course it's not the same as killing someone like you or me, those kaminoans are devils, and those freaks are just the same. Like hunting the same dumb peigion over and over again. We surely must have downed hundreds of them that day, but they are rats you see, you have to kill every last one in order to rid yourself of the infestation.

Education had not taught you about the Kamino Clones, but experience had, every sepratist man who held power despised them. ‘Scum of the earth’ your father had said when you asked about them. Telling you they had their emotions removed, and blindly followed orders given by the highest bidder. And when the G.A.R had fallen, they scuttled into exile.

And now you stand on the docks of Coruscant, two paths in front of you. Surely if you left Nyhon would send someone after you, he never seemed to back away from a fight, and given his reputation for always getting what he wanted, you doubted he’d take to your absence kindly. So that left you with leaving the only home you’d ever known, and given that you cannot sail, nor pay for passage, stowing away was your only option.

You briefly wonder about the procedure of stowing away, does one pick a certain ship or choose at random?

“Can I help you miss?” A Togruta man asks you, only his blue face visible from underneath his hood and cloak, but the markings give him away, as well as the point in the fabric over his head.

“I...I…” you pause to gather yourself. “I’m fine, thank you.” and you quickly turn away from him, walking down the docks at a purposeful pace. There are so many ships all looking to either load or unload supplies, but none of them seem to be leaving shortly. You need escape now, and not later. The longer you dwell the more the bad feeling in your stomach grows. You must lose yourself again because before you know it a man is rushing past you and shouting

“Sorry miss!” as he goes, you catch the clanking of metal and a glimpse of eyeglasses as he disappears up the ramp of a large dark oak ship, the name Havoc Marauder painted in red at the back.

Perhaps you have found your escape after all.

You very quickly decide the ocean is terrifying. After having snuck up the ramp and into the depths of the ship, you found yourself in your current spot. Huddled behind stacks of crates sitting on the wooden floor and being violently rocked around as the water crashes into the side from all sides. More than once you’ve had to close your eyes in panic when something particularly bad happens, but you refuse to appear weak - even if you’re the only person to witness it.

And the footsteps, even though the men seldom come below decks but you can hear them step ferociously above you. They sound like an army and considering you didn’t get a good look at any of them, you had no idea how many people you were hiding from. They’re loud, and kept busy by the Sea, you have no idea where you’re headed, but as long as it’s far, far away from Coruscant you couldn’t care less. And there are no windows here, so you have no idea how long you’ve been traveling for.

Footsteps start to make their way to the set of stairs leading down into your hiding spot, the small nook of the ship that resides in the belly of the beast. The steps you hear aren't as heavy as others, but they seem to keep most of their weight on their toes, you never quite hear their heel make contact against the wood. And you press yourself tighter to the wall, a tall frame passes you by, lean and with ashen hair the man halls a crate away from the other end of the room, and turns to leave. Your panicked eyes can do nothing but stare back at him through the gaps in the boxes, and they watch him squint for a moment, before he turns and heads back up the stairs. Crate in hand, and your heart in your chest. He cannot have seen you, if he had, why turn away? Panic consumes you.

☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ �� ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠

“Sarge,” Crosshair says, thumping the crate of bread and dried meat down in front of him. Hunter simply raises an eyebrow at his vod, and it confirms Crosshair's hypothesis. The captain is in one of his moods again, when shaking off the nightmares is impossible and the hate inside him grows and simmers at fantastical measures.

“There’s a woman on board.” He tells him, casually popping a pick into his mouth. And watching as Tech’s and Wrecker’s heads snap up.

“A woman?” Tech asks with judgement. Crosshair rolls his eyes.

“Yes a woman, you know, the things that look almost like you except for their b-”

“I know what a woman is!” Tech cuts him off before things get graphic. His brother never having the politeness nor the decency to hold his tongue.

“There’s a woman aboard the Murader?” Wrecker tries to confirm, and underneath his wide captains hat, Hunter’s eyes darken.

“Listen very carefully.” He growls, the midday sun shining its way onto an unforgiving face. “If there is a stowaway. I do not care if you have to drag her to me with her intestines hanging out. Get. Her. Off. My. Ship.”

“But…” Wrecker starts, taken aback by the aggressive imagery.

“But what?” Hunter snaps, standing up and seeming small compared to his brother, but nonetheless intimidating. “I want her found and I want her off my kriffing ship.” He demands one last time before stalking back to the captains quarters.

Below deck you hear the slamming of a heavy wooden door, the sound makes your skin jump crawl with dread. Something has gone very wrong indeed, and it is not long before you see boots standing at the top of the steps down into the hold where you thought you were hidden. It is difficult to tell how many, two for certain, the change in foot size tells you that much. None of them talk, making it even harder for you to mask your panicked breaths. But just as one foot begins to descend the stairs, a voice from afar distracts it.

“Ship off the starboard bow!” it’s enough to get the men turning away from your concealment, and towards the voice.

“What does she fly?” Another voice shouts, much closer to you.

“Looks Weequay to me!” comes the response, which causes someone else to grumble something about eyesight and crowsnest. Frankly it’s all gibberish to you, starboard could be another hyper-ocean speedway let alone a part of the ship, and while you are sure you’ve heard the term Weequay before, you can’t place where or in what context you heard it. Laughter breaks you from your thoughts.

“That’ll be Hondo’s ship then!” A loud shout settles in your bones. Not one in anger but perhaps more so simple loudness. And whoever or whatever a Hondo is, it is enough to carry the shoes away from you and rush to another, more pressing task. Which makes you think you just may owe this Hondo your life.

Taglist: @the-mandalorian-clone-lover @peacefulwizardfox @rex-meshla @s1st37 @and-claudia @kamino-mermaid @thelambandthewolffe @starwarsmeninhelmets

@bronvin @myeternalsin @sweetsunflowerkisses

comment to be added!

[obeyme-kaidii-writes]

Change

Mammon x gn!MC

Words - 4346

Content Warnings - angst, lots of fluff, happy endings, pre-relationship stuff (Mammon does call you ‘babe’ but I consider that a GN endearment)

Prompt/Inspiration - none

Summary -  You over hear Mammon talking to some demons at RAD, and both of you are forced to confront your feelings.

AO3

Classes had just finished at RAD, and you were heading towards the main gates to meet up with Satan so you could walk home together. Normally Mammon would escort you, but you had planned on staying after today to work on an assignment and told him not to wait for you. It worked out, however, that you had been able to finish your work during a free period in the library, so you got to leave early.

As you walked along, a familiar voice found its way to your ears and you broke out into a wide smile. Mammon was still at RAD and hadn’t left yet! Maybe he’d be able to join you on the way home? There was so much you had wanted to talk to him about, and you looked forward to this time together after every school day.

When you had first arrived here in the Devildom, your mere presence seemed to annoy him and he took advantage of every opportunity to dump you with his brothers and make himself scarce. But things had changed. Though he never said it, you were almost certain he was in love with you. His brothers would tease him about it regularly and it always left him so flustered and embarrassed.

And the truth was, you loved him too. Unconditionally. You knew how hard he tried to do the right thing, even if his plans often ended in disaster. And you admired how he was always looking out for his brothers, and didn’t even look for any acknowledgement - in fact, he preferred it that way. They didn’t know it was him who bought Levi’s new games when he had missed the preorder window, or that he had arranged for an entire truck load of Beel’s favorite pudding to be delivered after he had eaten the last cup that Beel had been saving. He had his reputation to maintain after all. And being thoughtful and considerate was not the look he was going for.

Mammon never failed to make you smile either. And while he was the biggest scaredy cat you had ever met (how was it even possible for demons to be scared of ghosts?), he always showed up to protect you when it mattered. Yeah, it stung sometimes when he’d intentionally keep his distance from you to avoid the teasing of his brothers, but you knew whenever you were alone with him that he treasured you more than anything.

These thoughts in mind, you quickened your pace and headed towards the sound of his voice.

“Hey Mammon, are you coming out with us tonight? That new club opened up.”

“Nah, ‘got babysittin’ duty tonight courtesy of Lucifer.”

“Babysitting duty? You’re still following that pathetic human around?”

You stopped dead in your tracks, rooted to the spot. The laughter of the other demons echoed in the now empty halls. You knew you should move. You needed to leave. This was not a conversation you should be listening to. And every fiber of your being said you should get out of there before you regret it. But still, you couldn’t get your feet to move.

“Ya know how it is. They’re so fragile. It’s not like I wanna be stuck with ‘em. But I can’t exactly let ‘em die either.”

“MC?”

You gave a small yelp as you spun around to find Satan behind you. It seemed you had taken too long to meet up with him so he had gone looking for you out of concern for your safety. You stared at him for a moment struggling to even process what he was doing there. But your brain was stuck on a loop of Mammon’s voice saying, “It's not like I wanna be stuck with ‘em,” on repeat over and over again.

“Um yeah, fine. See ya,” you numbly replied to Satan before you took off running. You just had to get back to your room. And now. Fast. You could feel your cheeks heating up and the pressure building behind your eyes. Just a little further, you thought, as you pushed yourself to run even harder than you knew you were capable of. Just a little further.

————

Satan stood there stunned. He had no idea why the hell you had taken off like that, nor had he understood your bizarre response when he had greeted you. Had he done something? He couldn’t think of anything since he hadn’t spoken to you since he saw you in the library earlier that afternoon.

That was when Mammon stuck his head out from around the corner. He could have sworn he heard your voice, but you were nowhere to be found. Weird. You had told him that he shouldn’t wait for you, but he had decided to anyway. The highlight of his day was walking home with you from school, so he wasn’t about to miss out on that just because you had to stay late. He had decided not to tell you, because he didn’t want to admit that out loud, but he had worked out the perfect cover story to explain why he would show up *just* as you were leaving RAD.

“Mammon.”

He jumped with a start before noticing Satan just on the other side of the corner.

“Holy crap. Why ya gotta sneak up on me like that?!”

“What. Did. You. Do.” Satan replied, emphasizing every word. He didn’t know what Mammon had said or done, but there was no way his presence and your sudden absence were unrelated. He couldn’t be sure, but he knew his brother well enough to know he had doubtless said something he shouldn’t have.

“Do?! I have no idea whattya talkin’ about! Honest! I was just hangin’ out with some friends. I swear!”

“Then why did MC take off running?”

“They WHAT?!”

Mammon’s face blanched. Oh no. Oh no no no no no. There was no way you had overheard him right? Nah, you couldn’t have. He would have known you were there. You would have said hi at least. You always said hi. Yeah Satan had to be mistaken. That couldn’t possibly be why you had left.

But try as he might to convince himself he wasn’t to blame - Mammon knew. Beyond a shadow of a doubt, he knew. That sinking feeling in his stomach was proof enough for him.

“Fix it,” said Satan, narrowing his eyes at Mammon, “Fix it or I tell Lucifer.” And with that he walked off to find you to make sure you had gotten home safely, despite his idiot of a brother. Why you enjoyed Mammon’s company was beyond him. But he knew how happy the scumbag made you, for better or worse, and that was the only reason he wasn’t giving Mammon a public thrashing right now. He at least had to give him a chance to talk to you, for your sake.

————

You weren’t sure how long you had been asleep when you heard a knock at your door. You weren’t in any condition to talk to anyone right now, so you hoped if you just laid there quietly for long enough they’d assume you were still asleep and leave.

But this wasn’t just anyone knocking at your door. It was Mammon. The most persistent demon in the entire Devildom, that also lacked that crucial ability to read a room and know when to leave well enough alone.

“HEY! MC! I know you’re in there. I gotta talk to ya. Open up.”

You let out a heavy sigh, and rose from your bed to go open the door. You knew better than most that there was no getting rid of Mammon at this point. He had decided to talk to you, so talk to you was what he was going to do, and you knew he was likely to break down the door itself if you made him wait too long.

So, without a word, you let him inside.

Before you had even had time to sit down on the edge of your bed, he had launched into a long winded, frantic explanation and apology. He had been joking. He didn’t mean it. You know how he is. He gets nervous.

“Mammon. It’s ok.”

He stopped mid sentence and took a good look at you. You certainly did not look ok. Your eyes were red. There were still dried tears staining your cheeks. Your hair was a disaster. There was no way you were ok, not while you looked like that.

Feeling a bit self conscious, you ran your fingers through your hair to hopefully at least get the tangles out, and flatten the lumps. It was probably a useless gesture, but you still had to try if you wanted Mammon to stop staring at you any time soon.

“You don’t look ok.”

Of course, trust Mammon to state the obvious. You couldn’t help but laugh a little. This was one of the things you had loved about him after all. It was part of his charm.

“Um thanks? I guess? I just meant you didn’t have to worry about me anymore. It’s ok. I got it.”

“Whattya talkin’ about?! What do you get?? You haven’ even listened ta me yet!”

You gave Mammon a small smile. He was trying so hard to figure this out and talk to you. You just had to appreciate that. You knew how difficult it was for him to articulate things sometimes, and talking about his feelings with you was particularly challenging for him.

“Look, I was being foolish. I got caught up in my own thoughts and began to expect things I shouldn’t, and I put pressure on you that you didn’t need. But I’ve cleared my head now and found a new perspective so you don’t have to worry. Honest. I’ll get Beel to start walking with me. It’ll be fine.”

Mammon was stunned. He had no idea what you were carrying on about. You expected things? You pressured him? When have you ever done that? The only thing you ever expected of him was for him to be himself, and he naturally just wanted to be the best version of himself he could for you. He wanted to make you proud of him. The fact that you never pressured him to change was one of the things he loved about you too. You accepted him and all his flaws, and you were always there to help him out of a tight spot or encourage him when he was feeling out of sorts.

And he loved you so much it hurt. Even though he knew he could never tell you, and knew you would never return his feelings, he still wanted to spend every second he could with you and make you smile so much you’d never forget him.

You sighed again. You could tell Mammon wasn’t understanding what you were saying. You had tried to avoid saying it directly because your emotions were still raw, but it looked like you had no choice but to rip off the bandaid and just get it all out there. Otherwise who knew how long it would take for him to understand?

“I love you, Mammon.”

Well, that was not what he was expecting.

“I love you very much. More than I thought possible. But I realize that I was projecting my feelings onto you and reading into things more than I should. Even though I had no reason to believe you felt the same, I still convinced myself you did. And I treated you like we were more than just friends. I shouldn’t have done that and put pressure on you. So, I’m sorry.”

You had been staring at your hands while you spoke, so you didn’t see when Mammon’s face flushed scarlet or when a few tears leaked out from the corners of his eyes. You also didn’t notice that he was about to wrap you up in the tightest, bone crushing hug of your life.

“I love you too,” he whispered, “so so much.”

By now you were laying flat on your back on your bed after being tackled by Mammon, practically immobilized as he buried his face into your neck and confessed his love to you. With what limited motion you had, you managed to wrap one of your arms around his back, rubbing it gently as he cried tears of happiness.

Now it was your turn to be at a loss for words. He loved you? You had realized when you had overheard him talking to his school friends that he was just being his usual awkward self. That wasn’t really what had upset you, not on its own at least. It wasn’t the first time he had said similar things to cover up his own embarrassment and you had gotten used to speaking “Mammon.”

No, what had gotten to you was the fact that you were forced to face the idea that you were nothing more than a friend to him. That was all you’d ever be. You’d finish up what remained of your year here, then you’d get sent back to the human realm, and he’d carry on with his life until he was introduced to a new exchange student whom he’d have to look after.

You weren’t his partner. He was never going to walk hand in hand with you through the halls of RAD, proudly showing you off to any demon that looked his way. That was all just a fantasy you had cooked up in your head due to your own loneliness and desire for love.

But now he was telling you that he loved you, and your brain was struggling to catch up with your heart, which had already started to run wild. All that work you had done convincing yourself to be more logical and not jump to conclusions was quickly unraveling. He loves you. He really loves you.

You wanted to give him a better hug, so you tried to wiggle your other arm free that was currently pinned to your side underneath him. But his grip on you only tightened, afraid you were about to push him away or take back what you said.

“Mammon, babe, can you at least let me hug you?”, you asked with a smirk as you tried to turn your head to face him, wiggling your arm again and hoping he’d get the message.

“Oh!”

He jumped back slightly, afraid he had been hurting you, which only made you laugh. With your arm now free you adjusted your position, returning his hug with one of your own, holding him as tightly and closely as possible. You leaned your head against his, giving him a small kiss by his ear, and repeated what you had said earlier - “I love you.”

Mammon pulled back a bit, trying to get a better view of your face. Now that he was calmer, he really wanted to get a good look at you. He wanted to be sure he wasn’t dreaming and that he wasn’t hallucinating. He needed to see you speak and hear those words as they left your lips.

“Say it again.”

“I love you.”

And with that, he proceeded to give you the best kiss you had ever had in your life.

————

Mammon was playing with your hair as you slept curled up by his side, your head resting on his chest. Your legs were tangled together with his, and he loved how close he was able to hold you now.

Part of his mind was still convinced this was all some sort of weird fever dream. Nothing this good ever happened to him. Maybe he’d score big at a casino sometime, but that paled in comparison to being able to hold you in his arms now. You really were all his. He didn’t have to share you with anyone, and if he didn’t like how another demon looked at you, well, he would just have to kiss you right in front of them to show them who you belonged to.

That thought made him chuckle. Who you belonged to? Pfft. You didn’t belong to anyone. If anything, he belonged to you. He had since the first day you met, though it took him a long time to admit it. But look at him now. He finally got to tell you how he felt, and he didn’t have to hide it from you anymore.

“What are you thinking about?”

Mammon’s hand stilled, “Sorry, did I wake ya?”

“No, I’ve been awake for awhile now. Just enjoying the peace and quiet I guess.” You gave him a squeeze with the arm that was around his chest. This was definitely a good way to wake up, and you hoped you’d be able to spend many more moments like this together with him.

“Well, I should probably head back to my room. It’ll be time for breakfast soon and the last thing I need is Lucifer’s naggin’ first thing in the morning.”

You whined and buried your face into his chest. You weren’t ready for him to leave yet.

Seeing you like that made Mammon impossibly happy. How could you be so cute? It shouldn’t be allowed. You shouldn’t be able to make him feel this loved just by clinging to him either.

You whined again, realizing that he was right. And as much as you wanted for this moment to continue and to never have to leave this bed again, there were still some questions that had to be answered before he left, and you realized you couldn’t avoid them any longer.

“So umm...about yesterday…”

“Yeah? What about it?”

“Do you...umm…What do you intend to tell your friends?”

“My friends? Tell ‘em about what?”

“Me.”

Oh. Right. He forgot about that. Or more like he tried to forget. It had been sitting at the back of his mind since he woke up and realized he needed to go to school today. He had seriously considered just running off with you and trying to convince you that today was the perfect day for a trip, just to avoid having to deal with it.

Nothing had really been resolved yesterday. He knew that. After he kissed you, the two of you had just crawled into bed together to cuddle with some random movie playing in the background. The idea had been to watch the movie together, but all y’all had ended up doing was giggling and kissing and being generally silly, until you fell asleep in each other’s arms.

“Mammon?”

His silence was making you nervous, so you propped yourself up to get a better look at him. It was too dark to make out any details of his expression, but you could tell that he was lost in thought and not really looking at you.

“Mammon?”, you called his name again, and this time he responded by giving you a gentle squeeze with the arm that had settled around your shoulder.

“Do we really need to tell them anythin’? I mean, it’s not like they are really my friends ya know? Just some demons I hang around with at RAD.”

You may have been a bit drowsy earlier, but now you were wide awake. You sat up so your legs were hanging over the edge of the bed, with your back to Mammon. You were so foolish. So incredibly foolish. Why oh why did you not stick to your guns and push him away when you had the chance yesterday? How could you be so stupid as to actually confess to him? Hadn’t you been trying to create some distance?

It didn’t matter how deeply you loved each other. That wouldn’t change the fact that Mammon cared a great deal about how he was perceived by others. It didn’t matter if those people (or demons) would never see him again. He could tell you all day about how little those not-really-friends of his meant to him, but when it came down to it he still cared about what they thought and feared their rejection.

And you knew this about him. For all his passion and kindness and sincerity - he was only ever like that around you, when you were alone. And that wasn’t going to change anytime soon, and it wasn’t fair of you to expect him to change for you either.

“Babe? Ya alright?”

Mammon was sitting up now too, and had wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, placing one leg on either side of you so that you were essentially sitting in his lap. He kissed the back of your neck, and gave you a moment to reply.

He knew what was coming though. You knew him better than anyone. And he was painfully aware of this glaring personality flaw of his that was getting in the way of your relationship ever going forward.

You would never ask him to change, that wasn’t the sort of person you were. But you also realized that there wasn’t a future for you and Mammon, a future of any kind, if you couldn’t live your life openly and had to try to hide, minimize, or even flat out deny your relationship a good deal of the time. Or worse, listen to him deny he even cared.

Mammon rested his forehead against the back of your shoulder. I guess that’s it, he thought to himself. He had true happiness within his sight, and then messed it up like he always messed up everything. What he wouldn’t give to be able to change this about himself. Or for him to be anyone else, really. Someone that wasn’t a total waste of space that could actually make you happy and give you everything you deserved.

There wasn’t anything else to say at this point, so Mammon planted one last kiss to the back of your head, breathing in your scent and trying to commit it to memory, before slipping out of bed and finally returning to his room.

————

Today had sucked. Really and truly sucked. The morning had started off with so much promise, but that was all over before breakfast had even begun.

Despite the fact that you and Mammon had finally made your feelings known to each other, both of you realized that being in an actual relationship would be impossible. You just wanted different things, and these weren’t things that he was able to give you.

You heaved a sigh and rested your forehead on your desk. Why couldn’t today be over already? Or maybe the floor could just swallow you up? That could work too, you thought.

The ear splitting screech of static jarred you out of your thoughts. Your hands flew to your ears as you sat bolt upright, looking around the room for the source of this hellish noise.

“Hey hey, is this thing on? It’s on right?”

“Yes it’s on you idiot! Everyone can hear you!”

Mammon…? And...Levi…? The screech of the speakers had finally stopped, and instead the sound of their bickering filled the halls. What on earth could these two possibly be doing? Why was Levi even at RAD in the first place? He was heading to his room to work on his online classes when you left this morning.

“Oi! Listen up! Consider this an official RAD announcement from The Great Mammon!”

You could hear Levi groan in the background as Mammon carried on with the theatrics. You still hadn’t figured out what they were up to, but you knew it wasn’t “Lucifer approved” that’s for sure.

“MC, I hope ya listen’ ‘cause I’m only goin’ ta say this once!”

All the eyes in your classroom were now focused on you, and you blushed furiously under the scrutiny. What the everloving hell did Mammon think he was doing? Didn’t you say all you needed to say this morning? What could he possibly want at this point?

“I love ya. Ya hear that? The Great Mammon loves ya.”

————

You weren’t even sure at what point you had stood up or left your classroom, but you were now tearing through the halls trying to find the source of the magically amplified speaker that filled every square inch of the RAD campus with the sounds of Mammon’s love confession.

It wasn’t like they had a traditional speaker system hooked up to a switchboard. If they did, you would have just made a beeline for that. But now you had to find where Mammon and Levi had decided to hide to keep Lucifer from finding them long enough for Mammon to complete his speech.

You didn’t have to search for long though, because you soon heard the sound of Lucifer’s voice echoing through the halls as well. He had found Mammon, and was putting an end to this. With Lucifer on the scene though, you knew that meant your odds of finding Mammon had shot up exponentially. He’d probably haul the pair of mischievous demons to the student council room, so you started running in that direction as fast as your legs could carry you.

As you rounded one final corner, you skidded to a halt, watching Lucifer dragging Mammon along, while Mammon tried to convince his brother to go easy on him.

“Mammon!” you yelled.

He and Lucifer both turned to face you, equally shocked to see you there at the end of the hall, panting heavily as you tried to catch your breath. Soon you were running again, tears streaming down your face as you were overcome with emotion at finally having found him. As if you had done this hundreds of times before, Mammon opened his arms to you and you all but leapt into them, wrapping your arms around his neck and squeezing him as tight as you possibly could.

“I love you,” you choked out in between ragged breaths and sobs, “so much.”

“I know. I love ya too. You don’t hafta worry. No more hidin’. Now everyone knows I belong to you and that you’re mine.”

[pride-moth]

You only get what you grieve [Stolitz Week Day 5 Hurt/Comfort]

Ao3 Link

Event Info Link

Stolas has been drifting in and out of consciousness in his tight restraints for hours by the time Blitz, Millie, Moxxie and Loona break down the door to his holding cell. It’s a big, empty room, all metal and a single cupboard. Stolas is tied to a chair, has been for days, no food, no water in his reach. To get it, he would depend on Stella’s mercy and she has shown him none.

It takes him a moment to force his eyes open, and attempt to feel his own limbs when they all pour into the room. He can’t, the ropes around his body have cut off all sensation in them. He can faintly remember them hurting when he was first put in them, but all the pain has long been replaced by unbearable numbness.

Blitz rushes towards him to hold his face between his hands. “Millie! Give me your knife!” he yells and cuts Stolas free the moment he receives the knife.

Stolas’ arms fall to his sides uselessly. “Blitzy?” he says weakly, his voice barely more than a rasp.

“Sir, I think he’s dehydrated,” Moxxie remarks.

“Then get some water, Moxx!” Blitz yells, making Moxxie scurry into the back of the room, stands in front of Stolas again and takes his face back between his hands. “Stolas? Hey, it’s… It’s okay, we’re here now, you’ll be okay.”

“Stella?” Stolas asks, it’s all he can get out.

“She… She’s dead. We… Took care of that. It was… I was… Sorry, there was no other way.”

Stolas doesn’t say anything, but is overcome with a hefty cough.

Moxxie comes running back with a large bottle of water. Blitz yanks it from his hands and holds it carefully to Stolas’ beak. “Slowly,” he says softly, perhaps more softly than Stolas has ever heard him speak.

He drinks, trying to slow himself down, but he hasn’t had a drop of liquid in three days and his body is aching for it with every fiber. His arms start to itch again, so that’s a good sign as well at least. He stops drinking for a moment to whisper “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it, I wouldn’t just let you die in this hole.” There’s a rumbling above them. Blitz looks up in obvious concern. “Can you get up?”

“I don’t know, I barely feel my limbs.”

The steps above them grow faster. “Loona, you’re strong, can you throw him over your shoulder when we get in a hurry?”

She shrugs. “I guess. Either way, we should probably get running.”

“I thought…?”

“Yeah, we got rid of Stella, but unfortunately Striker still has a bit more of a personal problem with us,” Millie explains while she gestures for Blitz to give her her knife back.

As if on cue, Striker appears in the doorframe, already bleeding from his shoulder, but his eyes hungry for a fight. “You killed my source of income, you destroyed my job and you’re even trying to save this pompous asshole?”

“I’d rather have a pompous asshole than a deranged one!”

“Hand him out to me, I’m sure there are enough overlords and royals in Hell who would be more than willing to pay a good bounty for him. And I would even be generous and give you all 10%. As a peace offer.”

“Fuck you and your peace,” Blitz says, draws his gun and takes a single shot.

The bang echoes throughout the small room and leaves Stolas’ ears ringing. A stinging pain takes over that makes it hard for him to look up and focus. But when he manages to lift his head again, he sees Striker on the ground, struggling to hold onto this bleeding leg.

“Let’s get out of here,” Blitz sighs and motions for everyone to follow him as he jumps over Striker and leaves him behind on the ground.

“Sir?” Moxxie says as though to raise an objection.

“Shut it, Moxx. Loona, take Stolas. Now.” Blitz doesn’t even look back at them.

Loona throws Stolas over her shoulder with surprising ease and carries him outside.

They make their way through the abandoned warehouse building in uneasy silence, only the sound of steps on metal between them.

When they make it outside, the light almost burns Stolas’ eyes. “Let’s go to the office,” Blitz offers.

“But Via…” Stolas says weakly, still hanging over Loona’s shoulder, suddenly overcome with fear for his precious baby.

“She’s there, we got her out of the palace first thing before we went on our little rescue mission. Took one of your butlers, too, so someone can look after her.”

“Oh thank the stars.”

“No, thank me maybe, but you can save that for later.” Blitz fishes his phone out of his pocket and stuffs it back in, frustration all over his face. “Moxxie, would you call an ambulance?”

“What?”

“An ambulance. Weee-oh, weee-oh. Takes people to the hospital, do you even have a brain up there?!”

“Sir, I know what an ambulance is, but why?”

“Well, Striker is bleeding out in there, for one.”

“Don’t you want him dead?”

Blitz laughs. “Are you insane? He’s the only motherfucker in Hell to put up a real fight, do you really think I want to deprive myself of that fun?”

Moxxie sighs, shakes his head, but calls the ambulance without further discussion.

Loona sits Stolas down on the couch of their waiting room. Stolas thanks her and feels sleep gnawing at him more intensely than ever before.

It takes not even two seconds before Octavia storms in and throws her arms around him, “Oh my God, Dad! You’re safe!”

Stolas weakly lifts his arms, thankful to feel them again at all, and wraps them around her. “Of course, Via. I would never leave you alone.”

“I assume Mom didn’t make it?”

Stolas’ looks around helplessly, unsure of how to respond.

“She was on the way to fully execute your dad, so we didn’t really have a choice,” Blitz says, as a matter of fact, but he doesn’t seem particularly happy about it. “I… I’m sorry.”

Octavia nods. A thousand emotions run through her big eyes in a matter of seconds. Grief, relief, anger. “I… I’m glad you’re safe, Dad. I just… I need a moment.” She lets go of him and gets up. She leaves the room.

“Via-” Stolas tries to get up but his legs don’t quite allow him to yet.

“Leave her,” Loona says, “Her mom might have been a bitch, but she was still her mom and it’s hard to lose that. I’ll check on her later.”

Stolas wants to protest, run after his daughter, but simply gives her a sad nod. He’s not running anywhere yet.

“How are you feeling?” Blitz asks as Millie enters the room with some hot chocolate for everyone.

Stolas can only shrug. “Like shit, mostly. I can sort of feel my body again, at least. But, I just… I can’t form a clear thought, it’s all so… foggy. I… I can’t even think of how I feel about Stella being dead. It doesn’t feel real. Nothing feels real.”

Blitz nods and hands him one of the hot chocolate cups. “That’s okay, take your time.”

“You’re being extremely nice to me,” Stolas remarks.

“Stolas, I’m coming off a 72 hour rescue mission and I’m mostly just glad you’re alive. I don’t exactly have energy left over for snarky sarcasm, okay. Being as charmingly abrasive as I am takes work.” Blitz plops down on the couch next to him with a shaky laugh. Stolas leans against him.

“Thank you. I don’t think I would still be alive without you.”

“I would never let you die,” Blitz whispers.

Across the room Millie is gesturing at Moxxie and they excuse themselves from the room moments later.

“Where are they going?”

Blitz sighs. “Ugh, they want to give us the room. As if I’m gonna drop a whole confession speech on you when you barely function.”

Stolas stops. “Confession?”

“Oh crap.” Blitz blushes. “I… Don’t worry about it today, okay? Worry about your daughter and the very awkward funeral you’re about to attend soon. Just… Just let me help you put yourself back together.”

Stolas stays silent.

“Let’s start by massaging your shoulders, those must be killing you. Sorry, maybe not the best time to make jokes about murder. Uhm, anyway.” Blitz puts his mug down, gets off the couch to walk behind Stolas. He starts carefully massaging Stolas’s shoulders.

It feels good, it takes some of the edge off, it brings warmth back into Stolas’ body. It makes everything feel a little less horrible. It makes everything horrible he has experienced in the past few days feel a little farther away. He doesn’t want Blitz to ever stop touching him. He wants to feel these hands on him for as long as he lives. It should be some earth-shattering revelation, but it simply feels like the culmination of everything they’ve been through. “I love you,” he whispers, without thinking.

Blitz stops massaging him for a moment. “You should call a therapist.”

“Because I love you?”

“No, because you’ve just spent three days tied up in a storage unit without food or drink and your wife had to be murdered to get you out of there. You might need some help processing that.”

“Were you even listening to me?” Stolas asks, a little heartbroken.

“I was, Stolas. And I love you, too, you big idiot, but I’m not going to talk about this with you now. Not before we’ve slept for 24 hours. Not before things aren’t somewhat okay with your daughter. I don’t… I’m not going to take advantage of you like that.”

“It’s not-”

“Please, Stolas. Let me just… Be there for you for now. Platonically.”

Stolas swallows but then he nods and that’s all that’s said about it for the evening. It’s enough, though, for now, that Blitz brings him hot chocolate and massages him and helps him talk to Via and helps him get up and walk again. And Blitz is right, he has other concerns for now. The horror of the moment is over, but there’s so much work ahead.

[devinescribe]

Hatter Troubles

This is basically a chapter where your dad is Hatter himself, finding out about the relationship, or that they like you or something.

Arisu

You two thought it would be best if he didn't know. You loved your father, but the way he had been acting recently, about the games and the cards in total, made you two keep quiet.

You couldn't sleep. After your dad saying he was going to play in all the games coming forth starting tomorrow, your mind wouldn't stop playing through every worst case scenario. The thoughts running through your head made you stay up, staring up at the ceiling. 'Want Arisu...' you thought. He'd always made you feel better when you were sad or after a particularly hard game. So, you decided to go visit Arisu. Sure, it was the middle of the night, but who cares? Hopefully not him. And if you knew him, he was probably up. But there was a small chance he wasn't. You hoped he was up, so you wouldn't feel bad about waking him.

You got out of your bed quietly heading to your door. You opened it softly, looking out into the hall cautiously, hoping there was no militals walking around on their patrols. Especially Aguni. You could tell Niragi or Last Boss any lie, and they'd be easily tricked. Well, Niragi was a bit harder to trick, but he usually didn't care, and would mind his own business. You tread quietly to Arisu's room, knocking on the door once you got there.

You heard shuffling from behind the door, and saw the doorknob twist. The door opened, and there was a sleepy Arisu standing in front of you. He yawned, rubbing his eyes tiredly, giving you a tired smile when he saw it was you. "Hello?" He greeted, although it sounded more like a question than anything. "Hi... I'm sorry for waking you up... can I come in?" You asked, feeling bad you woke him up. "Yeah, come on in. And it's no problem. If you woke me up, it must be serious," he said, stepping aside for you to be able to come into his room. "No one saw you, right?" He asked, yawning as you stepped into the room. You shook your head, and he closed the door.

      He lead you over to his bed, sitting down. He asked you to do the same, but you rejected his offer, feeling a bit to anxious to sit down. "What's wrong?" He asked, sensing your nervousness. "It might be stupid, but when dad said about him joining all the games starting tomorrow... it's just made me uneasy. I can't sleep," you explained, pacing on the floor. He nodded, and grabbed your hands, bringing you into him. You fell onto his lap with a short shriek. "Risu! Stop, you can't do that!" You laughed, lightly pushing his shoulder. "Oh yes I can," he smiled back.

He smiled down at you on his lap, before sighing. "You know... when Chota hurt his leg, I was so worried. So... as a way to get over the fear and anxiety, I talked to them about it. I think... If you talk to your dad about how you feel, it could make you feel better," Arisu advised, rubbing your shoulders. He was just trying to make you feel better about the situation, sharing his personal experience, hoping it would help you. He gave you a kiss to your forehead. "Mmm... you're the best boyfriend ever," you muttered into his neck. "Well, it's my duty as the best boyfriend to take care of the bestest, most amazing girlfriend in the world," he laughed, as he begun to tickle you. You screamed, laughing and trying to get him to get away from his attack. "A-arisu!" You squealed, trying to get him to stop. The once quiet hotel room was filled with laughter, and screams.

You two had started chasing eachother around the room, you trying to escape his attack, and him trying to tickle you. You had fallen on the bed, tripping over something on the floor. In an attempt to save yourself, you had grabbed Arisu's shirt. So that's how you ended up in the position you were in now. You were under Arisu, your arms above your head, and to stop from crushing you,  he held himself up on his forearms, caging you in. "Woah, I was not expecting to walk into that," a voice said from the entrance of the room. You froze, turning your head slowly to the door. "H-hi dad," you stuttered as Arisu got off you. Arisu stayed quiet,  and looked down, waving awkwardly. "I- I promise we weren't doing anything. I tripped and he fell a-and we got like... that..." you explained, a blush on your face. "Ok... I mean, it's none of my business what you two do," Hatter stated after clearing his throat awkwardly. You let out a quiet sigh of relief. "I don't mind you being with him, just be careful," Hatter said. "Thank you," you said, walking over and hugging your dad. "Now, get to your room. It's late, and I might let you be with him, but sleeping in the same room is a no for now," your dad said, giving you a soft smile. "Ok... Bye Arisu! Thank you for your advice. Goodnight dad," you said as you walked out the door.

"If I break her heart I'll throw myself off the roof, don't worry."

"I... was not expecting that, but ok. Deal."

"But on that note, I would never hurt her. I promise I'll always protect her."

"You keep that promise for me, ok kid?"

Niragi

(Reader has a noise sensitivity for sudden loud noises for this specific one)

Hatter had honestly never paid attention to you two. He assumed you would never be into a guy like Niragi, so what did he do? Ignored it.

It had been just another boring meeting, talking about the games, theories, how many had died. All normal things at the meeting. Except when a topic that had everyone going back and forth came up. Niragi, seemingly having enough of everyone being so indecisive on something he viewed so easy, stood from his chair, slamming his hands onto the table. You jumped in your seat, closing your eyes tightly. You grabbed onto the edge of the table tightly, your knuckles turning white. He noticed, but kept on with his business.

At the end of said meeting, he found you out in the hall. 'I've got nothing to lose by talking to her. Well.. except maybe my head, but besides the point. Let's see where this goes.' He thought, hoisting his riffle onto his shoulder as he walked over to you. You noticed him, and smiled to yourself. "Hello Niragi - San," you greeted, turning to face him. His brain froze, but he shook his head, ridding from the rather nasty thoughts he was having. "Hey there," he said. Your eyes looked him over, focusing on the gun. "You got safety on that thing?" You asked, nodding over to his gun. He shook his head. "Why would I? No rules," he reminded. "I prefer archery to guns, but anyways, was there something you needed Niragi?" You asked, holding your hands behind your back. "Uh, yeah. Why did you jump in the meeting? Don't lie saying you didn't, because I saw," he asked, looking at you. His eyes seemed to study every detail of your body. "Oh.. you saw that? I'm sensitive to sudden loud noises," you explained. He made an 'oh' sound, nodding awkwardly. "Well... good luck at the games tonight!" You chirped, patting the top of his head. He stared in shock, watching you walk away. "Did she just?" He muttered to himself, "I think she did."

"Hatter, I can take care of her," he responded to the man in front of him. "I don't trust you with my daughter. She's special to me, I don't trust you won't kill her, so no," Hatter said, a smile on his face, though the subject was making him rather annoyed. "Listen, I wouldn't hurt her. Besides Aguni, I'm one if not the most powerful of the militals," Niragi stated. "Then I'll just send her with Aguni, I'm glad we had this talk!" Hatter deflected, wanting Niragi to give up. But, he underestimated how stubborn Niragi was. "Then you'll have no one to go with you in your games. I can and will protect her. Send her with me tonight. Her visa expired soon," Niragi almost begged, but he didn't. He had some self respect as to not beg, especially over a girl. Maybe back in the old world he would, but now? No way. Hatter thought for a moment, taking into account how out of character it was for Niragi to act this way. "Fine. But if she comes back with so much as a scratch, you will feel what it's like to be at the receiving end of your gun," Hatter threatened. Niragi left the room after, and shuddered. He was not really scared of anything, but an angry overprotective father had now been added to the list.

There were many situations where your noise sensitivity was bad. Case 1 being the horns that sounded before the games. Case 2 being guns. And case 3 being yelling. So that's why you stood shutting your eyes tightly, holding your hands over your ears. "N-niragi, stop too loud..." you whispered besides him, hoping he heard you. He heard you, and stopped, looking to you. You were shaking your leg, eyes screwed shut, and hands over your ears. "I'll deal with you later," Niragi spat at the guy in front of you two as he led you off to a desolate corner. "You ok?" He asked. "I didn't think you cared, but yes, I'm ok," you responded, still twiddling your fingers. "I don't care. But your dad does," he said. Obviously he cared. "Oh... um... thank you for that. He was getting a bit... touchy," you thanked. Truth was, Niragi has been watching the guy ever since he went up to talk to you. Niragi was a great liar, as much as people thought he was a moron with a gun. Once he saw the guy touching you, and your face of obvious discomfort, he decided to step in.

"Learn how to defend yourself against people like that," he stated, going to leave. "People like you, you mean?" You said, stopping him in his tracks. The way you had said it without fear or hesitation made him turn back to you. "People like me?" He questioned. He tried to hide his smirk. It was interesting to say the least. You were just acting like a scared little mouse. What happened to her? "People like you. People who think hiding their weaknesses makes them less weak. People who bully the weak, because they've been the weak. People who hate the weak, only because it reminds them of what they were. So when I say people like you, I mean people who have finally snapped. They're tired of getting pushed around, so they use their newfound power to push others around,'' you stated. You kept eye contact with him the whole time, watching for a reaction. He had none. 'How boring...' you thought before you sighed, walking away. Suddenly, he grabbed your wrist, pushing you into the wall. He trapped you, having his arms on either side of your head. "You don't know anything about 'people like me' but I know a lot about you. Especially your weakness," he whispered. You stared back, unsurprised by his actions. "People like you are so predictable," you both said at the same time. "Predict what I'll do next then," you said. "You'll hit me, try to run away, and I'll chase you," he guessed. "Wrong," you whispered, grabbing the collar of his shirt, pulling him to you. "So wrong, it's funny," you whispered, your lips centimeters away from his. He ran his tongue over his teeth. "You piss me off. Switching in between the shy, sweet one to the independent, badass, tease," he said. You giggled, letting him go. You started walking off, leaving with the words, "See you tonight at the game!" He stared off at where you had been not even a minute ago, thinking about what had just happened.

"Dad, I promise I'm ok! Niragi protected me," you giggled as your dad checked for the hundredth time that you were ok. Niragi stood behind, waiting for this to be over. Hatter sighed. "I guess you protect her just fine," he said, walking off. Niragi rolled his eyes, starting to leave the room again. "Thank you, Niragi. I wouldn't be here right now if you hadn't helped me back there... I made a stupid mistake. Um... I'm sorry about what I said earlier, I wasn't trying to be rude... or a tease," you said, grabbing his arm. He chuckled, turning to face you. You let his arm go, seeing as he was paying attention to you. "No problem. I'm the one who asked to go with you, so it would be stupid of me to let you die. And apology half accepted. I'll be off now," he said, going to leave once more. "Hey, um... do you want to walk around?" You asked. "Can't. I'm going for target practice outside the Beach," he said, nodding his head to the riffle over his shoulder. "Then I'll go with you," you stated. "Loud noises. You don't like them, remember?" Niragi said, trying to get you to stay. What had happened earlier today was still definitely fresh in his mind. "... I can deal with it... please? I just want to talk? Please?" You pleaded, looking at him with the puppy eyes. 'Goddammit... say no, say no, resist against the cute girl.' "Fine. But only this once. Let's go walk around," he said, giving in. 'You fucking idiot...'

By just this once, he meant it happened all the time. You two had gotten closer, and Hatter had definitely noticed.

Niragi watched the party going on in the pool area from the balcony of one of the rooms. You had explained your noise sensitivity to him in a bit more details. Like, listening to loud music was ok, because it wasn't sudden. Which is why you were who he was watching currently. He saw you waving at him with a smile. He waved back, smiling to himself. He could see you laugh, before one of the girls pushed you into the pool. He winced. "She's not going to be happy about that..." he muttered to himself before laughing a bit. "She likes you, you know," a voice said behind him. He quickly cocked his gun, aiming it, before seeing it was Hatter. He let out a sigh of relief, putting the gun down. "Just me. No need for alarm," Hatter laughed. "Like I was saying, she likes you. Won't shut up about you in fact," Hatter repeated. "Sure she does," Niragi stated sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "Believe what you want. But, in any case, she does. And before I wouldn't have let you near her, but after seeing how you've stopped some of your usual habits, and how you protect her, I'll allow it. It's only fair," Hatter said, before leaving.

"I didn't change shit. Crazy old man," he whispered to himself. 'Well, we did stop banging on doors if she's near. And started killing the traitors when and where she won't hear. We tried to stop making loud noises at meetings if she's there. And we still go on walks when she asks us to, even though we said only once.' His mind told him. He scowled at his thoughts, realizing they were right. He walked back over to where he was, scanning the party for you. "Damnit... where'd she go?" He muttered to himself, not being able to see you. "Where'd who go, Gigi?" A voice said besides him. He turned to the side quickly aiming his gun again. "Jesus fuck, (Y/N)!" He shouted, seeing was you. You squeaked at his sudden shouting, hiding behind your hands. They shook slightly, and he cursed himself for yelling at you. "You can't sneak up on me like that, you could get hurt you damn idiot," he sighed, putting his gun down. " 'M sorry..." you apologized. "It's... it's fine, just be careful," he said, patting your head awkwardly. Your hair was wet, and you were dripping water onto the cement floor of the balcony. A few minutes went by, and neither of you had spoken. You stood in comfortable silence looking down at the party going on. Niragi had been trapped in his thoughts. They went between wanting to scold you for the nickname you had used, and telling you how he felt. After a few minutes, you spoke up.

"Can I do something a bit crazy?"

"Uh... Crazy is good most times, so... go ahead."

"Good."

Those words were all that was said before you pulled him into a kiss.

"I like you. A lot, actually."

"..."

"Are you ok?"

"Mhm. Totally fine. I like you too.''

"Does this mean I can call you Gigi now?"

"No way in hell princess." (No way in hell senpai-)

Chishiya

It was almost an instant connection with Chishiya and yourself. You two had a relationship in which everyone could see you guys liked eachother, but no one had confessed. You two acted like a couple too, so many people were confused. He didn't say anything, not because he was scared... ok, well maybe a little bit, but because he didn't want to have a weakness. You also had the impression he only liked you as a friend, so no matter if you liked him or not, you assumed he wouldn't like you.

"Chishiya, gave you seen (Y/N)?" Niragi asked. "No. Why are you looking for her?" He responded.  "None of your business," Niragi scoffed, walking off. "I suddenly have the urge to find (Y/N) to piss him off," he stated to himself, shoving his hands in his pockets, and walking off to go find you.

He eventually found you in the meeting room. "Hi Chishiya," you greeted, your back still turned to him. "How'd you know?" He asked, walking besides you. "You walk quietly, and your walking pattern is distinct. And you don't smell like alcohol, chlorine, or booze," you stated. "Noted... Anyways, Niragi is looking for you," he stated. You groaned, hanging your head. "Is he? Alright... guess I'll see you later? There's a meeting tonight, so... see ya then," you said before leaving. He watched as you walked out, your footsteps getting softer the further you got. "Something's up with her, but what I can't figure out,"he muttered to himself.

When he returned to the meeting room, there was a couple of people. Hatter wasn't going to be at tonight's meeting due to some other business, so the number two was in charge of this meeting. Among those people were you and Niragi. You laughed at whatever Niragi had said, making Chishiya huff. He sat down in his usual spot, glaring at Niragi who was still talking to you. Why did he feel the need to talk to you so much? Hadn't he been out the whole afternoon with you?

You finally sat down besides Chishiya smiling at him. "Hello again," you greeted. "So what did the psychopath want with you?" He asked, a tone of anger in his voice. "Target practice. Dad wants me to be prepared, and since Niragi is one of the best shots here, he's been teaching me. Not alone of course, Aguni is there. Obviously," you explained.

A few minutes into the meeting, you yawned, looking out sleepily. "Stay up late again?" Chishiya whispered, keeping his eyes out on the table. "No... they just have me on night patrols... I'm so tired," you whispered back. He nodded, going back to paying attention to the meeting.

Not even a minute later, he felt a weight fall onto his shoulder. He looked out of the corner of his eyes to see you asleep on him. He smiled to himself slightly, before looking back to the meeting, acting as if nothing had happened.

After the meeting was over, Aguni asked if someone could take you back up to your room. Many of the men there offered to do it, but Chishiya stepped in. "I'll take her. She fell asleep on my shoulder, and honestly the 'princess of the Beach' shouldn't get touched by the dirty hands of these men," Chishiya states, using sarcasm and his usual tone of knowing better. Aguni held back a laugh at his words, but nodded. "You sure you can carry her?" Niragi asked. Chishiya knew this wasn't Niragi wanting to take you back to your room, it was Niragi poking fun at him. "I've carried heavier medical equipment. Please shut the fuck up and let me through," Chishiya said, hoisting you up. Niragi scoffed, walking away.

Chishiya carefully placed you in your bed, covering you up with blankets. " 'Shiya... Stay," you muttered, grabbing his hand. He froze up for a minute, looking down at your sleepy eyes. With your other hand, you held your body up. "Only... only for a little bit. Until you fall asleep," he muttered, getting into bed behind you. You turned, hugging him tightly. "Thank you 'Shiya... you're the best," you yawned, quickly falling asleep. He ran his hand over your hair, not wanting to get it caught and wake you up.

"You need to take better care of yourself... honestly, it's one thing if I don't, but you? You need to live through these games," he whispered, knowing full well you wouldn't wake up. "You're so sweet.... I really wonder why you stay around me... You're asleep, so it doesn't matter what I say, but I hope you know I... I quite like you. A lot actually. So... yeah," he whispered his confession, softly getting away from you. "Dream a little dream of me," he sang as he left the room. A song he'd heard once. But it was fitting. He hoped you dreamed of him.

When he went to leave, he heard someone call out for him. He turned to see Hatter, Aka, your father, Aka, the person who could kill him for what just happened in your room.

"So, she asleep?" Hatter questioned. "Yep. No funny business, I promise. I just stayed with her till she fell asleep like she asked of me," Chishiya stated, placing his hands up in mock surrender. "Oh, I have no doubt. She trusts you, so I don't have a reason to kill you. Yet," Hatter said, a bit too cheerfully for Chishiya's tastes. "Trust me?" He asked. "Yeah. Likes you too," Hatter mentioned. Chishiya felt a weird feeling in his stomach. Like... is that what they called butterflies?

"Likes me? Really. Interesting," Chishiya commented. "Won't shut up about you, actually. Chishiya this, Chishiya that. It's annoying sometimes, but...  it's nice to see her happy," Hatter said, smiling too himself. Happy? You felt happy around him?

"She hasn't been this excited or happy about anything since... since she was very young. I don't really mind you, just... don't hurt her," Hatter stated, walking away. Chishiya was still trying to reel in the fact that you liked him. You talked about him. To your father. "I'll... I'll confess when she's awake next time."

Last Boss

"Taka! What're we doing today?" You asked when you reached the target field. He jumped, startled by your voice. "Oh... hello (Y/N)... and we'll be doing basic blocking and striking today again," he mentioned. You smiled, and nodded. You gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, and watched his face slowly turn pink. "You're so cute," you teased. He looked away, stretching his hand out to you. You grabbed it happily, pulling him along.

There was only two people allowed to touch his katanas. You and him. That's it. You because you were his lovely amazing girlfriend, and Jim because... they're his. Obviously.

His body was behind your own to position you as he was teaching you, making sure you were correct before moving on.

"OK and then I can do thi-" you didn't get to finish your sentence because as you went to strike, you fell. Instead of letting Last Boss witness the utter act of embarrassement, you brought him down with you.

You landed on top of him, still holding onto his shirt. "Well... we've been in this position before haven't we?" You questioned with a sweet smile on your face. He blushed, knowing what you were referring to. He sat up, you still in his lap. "Come on, there's no need to be shy about it Samu," you giggled, kissing his forehead. "Well no... but yes?" He responded. You shook your head, kissing his lips. He pulled away almost immediately, making you pout. "We could get caught," he said, his hands resting on your waist.

"And?"

"You're dad would quite literally kill me. And if not him, Aguni. You're aware of how scary that man is, right? And how protective both of them are of you?" He stated. You frowned, knowing that Last Boss did not enjoy PDA. Especially since no one knew about you two.

He sighed, caressing your face with one of his hands. "I... fine. But we have to be careful."

A few innocent kisses and touches turned into a full make out session that left you both gasping for air, and wanting more.

"(Y/-"

"So uh... is this what you meant by Last Boss helping you?"

You had never jumped away from anything faster than you did when you heard your father's voice.

"H-hey dad," you stammered, looking around, not wanting to meet his gaze. "Hi, so just wanted to let you know we have a meeting in a bit, and to be ready. That's it," he said nonchalantly. A but to nonchalant for your tastes.

Your DAD had just walked in on you two making out, and that was his only response? No fucking way.

"I-im sorry about... about that," you apologized, looking down in shame. "Don't apologize for that. Who cares. As long as you're safe and happy, I could care less who you're with. Plus, he's decent. And pretty smart, so I'm ok with it," Hatter explained, patting your head. You smiled up at him. "Thanks dad," you said. "No matter what, you'll always be my little princess, so... go have fun. I'll let you two be," Hatter stated. "Oh, before I leave, Last Boss?"

"Yeah?"

"Hurt her, and I'll hurt you back, got it?"

"Yessir."

I love the idea of Hatter being a supportive dad who's just like "as long as they love you and you love them, who gives a fuck?"

And honestly. I just needed some fluff today.

[nightshade-minho]

-Nightmare- (13)

Warnings: mentions of abuse and domestic violence. smut, again. emotional sex, outdoor sex, v. slight degradation, fingering, oral (m. receiving), possessiveness, unprotected sex, overstimulation, creampie, light pregnancy kink.

Wc: 5.5k

As soon as you finished crying, you sat up, sniffing as you grabbed the bottle of water on your bedside table, chugging the liquid down. Wiping your lips, you slipped off the bed. Maybe you overreacted earlier...

You told yourself you had every right to be angry at him. He was playing with your feelings, driving you crazy.

Sometimes, he looked at you in ways that made the tiniest bit of hope bloom deep within you. But every time you let yourself hope, he let you down cruelly, unknowingly. Hope was a dangerous thing. You had to accept it would never happen.

Were you being selfish? You frowned as the thought settled itself in your head. He needed a best friend, but you had to ruin it by confessing...you knew things could never be the same now, even if the two of you somehow managed to make up for the 100th time. There were unspoken emotions crackling between you, the tension so tight and painful. It was tiring, frustrating.

When you lied to him, telling him that you didn’t love him after all...you’d noticed the disappointment in his eyes. It had made you curious. What if...what if he did like you? The way he seemed almost jealous during your short-lived relationship with Juyeon...

No. You shook your head. You wouldn’t allow yourself to hope again. Minho was a good best friend. And that’s all he’ll ever be. You knew you had to apologize for your outburst.

Standing, you wiped your eyes, making sure your face was dry before opening your bedroom door, only to be greeted with an empty living room. Frowning, you walked over to his door, knocking.

No response.

***

Minho sat in his car, drumming his fingers on the wheel. Everything had to be perfect. This was his last chance to tell you how he felt. He couldn’t afford to fuck this up...if he didn’t get to confess this time, he might as well give up.

He turned his head as his phone pinged, eyes scanning the text message he’d just been sent. Perfect.

***

Two days had passed, and Minho still hadn’t returned to the apartment. You felt empty. You couldn’t really blame him for leaving...but how long would he be gone? Was he out of your life forever? What if when the doorbell rings, it’d be him, coming to gather his things and move out?

The thought made you want to cry again. Your eyes were red, tired. Over the past few days, you’d thrown yourself into your work, finishing a lot of assignments in a very short time. All you wanted to do was apologize to him, have him back.

Your phone rang, and you sat up to take it, hoping it was him. Your heart dropped when you saw it wasn’t. Sighing and shaking your head, you lifted it to your ear.

“Hi, mom...”

“Hello, dear. I hope you’re doing well? How’s Minho?”

You swallowed, fiddling with the hem of your blanket, your mouth open and ready to lie.

But...you just couldn’t. It came out before you could even think about it.

“I’m in love with him, Mom.”

“And?”

You frowned, sitting up a little further. “What?”

“Honey, we know. We’ve known since you were 12.”

“B-but-”

“None of that matters. How are you guys?”

“Mom...”

You gulped, starting to spill. You told her everything that happened over the past few days, the heavy weight in your heart lifting slightly as she listened patiently.

Once you were done, you panted, rubbing your eyes. “Yeah...I don’t mind, Mom. I don’t care if he doesn’t like me back. I can’t lose him...but I think I just did. I haven’t seen him in two whole days.”

There was more silence, before your mom quietly spoke. “Darling...how about you come over this evening? You can have dinner here, maybe stay the night.”

“It’s an hour-long drive...and I don’t have a car. Minho’s gone, so I can’t make him drive me there either.”

“Take a bus. Surely you’re not that broke.” She chuckled. “Come on, I wanna see my baby girl...”

You sighed, smiling despite yourself. “Okay.”

You hung up after a few minutes of small talk, buzzing with excitement to go back to the place where you grew up. You realized belatedly that everywhere you looked, you’d be reminded of Minho.

You stood up to go change, digging through your wardrobe. There was still a slight ache in your heart, but you pushed it aside for now.

***

This was the longest the two of you had ever spent apart. Two days, and Minho was already feeling like he’d spent an eternity away from you. He sat on your bed, eyes scanning the walls of your childhood home.

The posters on the wall remained the same, the walls still painted a pale pink. His eyes drifted to the polaroid collage on the wall, some of the polaroids missing. He knew you’d taken your favorite ones when the two of you left for college...he liked seeing them whenever he was in your room. Each one brought back a different, wonderful memory from your childhood.

He stood up, walking over to the wall and scanning the pictures with a fond, sad smile on his face.

You hadn’t taken his favorite one, though. It was a selfie you’d taken under the willow tree years ago, one in which you were making a goofy face to the camera, the necklace snug around your neck. It was a day after your 13th birthday...and probably the day he realized you were the only girl for him. He was gazing down at you in the photo, the way he usually did when he thought you weren’t looking. He still remembered the way he’d felt that day...his dad had been particularly aggressive when he’d gone home. It had been so scary. He had had a restless sleep that night, his heart torn and his brain hazy even as he woke up the next day, walking to your house.

But seeing your face had gotten rid of all that.

***

You lifted up the wicker basket, waving as Minho walked over to you.

“Finally! You’re here!”

“Yeah...”

“What’s wrong? You look sad...” Your expression turned concerned, smile disappearing as you took in his dark features. He felt his heart quiver, cocking his head to the side. He didn’t want you to be sad...and you would be, if he told you what happened. Your happiness was more than enough to make him forget all his worries.

“Nothing. What’s that?” He pointed at the basket.

You frowned. “It’s a picnic baske- never mind that. You’re not fooling me, Minho. Tell me what’s wrong, or I won’t share this with you.” You warned, hiding the basket behind you. He chuckled, coming closer to ruffle your hair. “Yeah yeah, okay. I don’t want to do this in the middle of the street, though.”

You nodded, walking down to the tree, Minho following you silently. You sat down, pulling the plate of sandwiches you’d made out of the basket, and handing one to him.

He took it with a sad smile, sighing and looking down at his lap. “It’s just...the same old, you know? Last night, he was screaming. I heard glass breaking and things being thrown around. I checked on her before coming here, and she seemed fine, but...” He glanced at you, trailing off. Just as he’d expected, you looked like you were trying hard to not look as distressed as you were.

He sighed. “I don’t know.” He took a bite of the sandwich, closing his eyes and humming. “This tastes goo-”

He was interrupted by the feeling of your arms wrapping around him. He opened his eyes, looking down at you as you pressed your cheek to his chest, mumbling. Breathing in deeply, he used his free hand to pull you into him, leaning back onto the trunk and patting the small of your back.

A comfortable silence followed as Minho stretched his hand out to grab your sandwich from the plate on the grass, giving it to you. The two of you ate quietly, tangled up in each other, your touch conveying what your words couldn’t.

***

The photo was a reminder. You always knew just what to do, always made him feel at home in a world where he felt like he didn’t belong.

He belonged to you. You belonged with each other.

It might have taken years for him to realize, but now that he knew, he wasn’t going to give up.

***

You left the bus-stop, making your way to your childhood home. You pressed your lips together as you neared it, a heady mix of sentimentality and uneasiness fueling your exasperation with your decision.

It’ll be okay. Seeing your parents would make you feel better. Just...don’t think about him, for now at least.

You unwrapped your scarf from around your neck as you reached, tapping your foot as you rang the doorbell. You waited for your mom to open the door, exhausted, having spent the whole bus ride standing.

Your eyes widened as the door finally opened.

The last person you were expecting to see was standing right there, the familiarity of his face springing tears to your eyes.

“Minho?!”

“Y/n.” He smiled sadly. You frowned. Confusion, anger and relief filled you, as your brain fought between wanting to hug him, or kill him.

You chose the former.

Surging forward into his arms, you cried into his chest as you hugged him tightly. He stroked your hair, shushing you. “I’m sorry...” You apologized brokenly, sniffing.

“No.” He said firmly. ‘You’re not allowed to be sorry, because you had every right to be angry at me. I’m the one...I’m the one who should be sorry.”

“You’re my best friend, Minho. We’ve been through too much together to let things like this faze us.”

He bit his lip. “Things like...love?”

You paused, looking up at him and frowning. “W-well, yeah. Our friendship goes past silly things like love.” You laugh nervously, trying to hide the emotions bubbling up in you.

He blinked, swallowing. “Y-you think love is silly?” He asked, his tone as even as he could manage.

“W-well...I mean...” You trailed off, shrugging.

He sighed, shaking his head as he pulled you away from him.

“No more of this.”

“W-what?”

“No more dancing around the subject.”

“What subject?”

He remained silent. Grabbing your hand, he led you to the willow tree you knew the way to all too well. His grip around your wrist was too tight as he walked quickly.

Confused, you let him pull you along, squinting as you tried not to fall over from how fast he was pulling you.

He stopped suddenly as the two of you reached, slowly letting go of your wrist.

You panted. “What are you...” your voice grew faint, eyes still fixed on him. Your heart throbbed as he leaned in a little, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.

He looked away from you, smiling slowly. You followed his line of sight.

A small gasp left your lips.

He’d strung fairy lights from the willow tree’s branches, the space below it bathed in soft gold. There was a checkered picnic blanket on the grass, a familiar wicker basket lying on top of it. It looked beautiful.

The tree looked different from the last time you saw it...but it was still somehow the same. A wave of nostalgia washed over you, making you even more emotional as you glanced up at him, then back in front of you.

“When did you...why-”

“Shh.”

He dragged you over, sitting down on the blanket and tapping the spot next to him. “Come on.”

You hesitated, your heart beating loudly as you sat down. “Minho, I...I don’t know what to say...”

“So don’t.” He sighed, blinking as he inhaled, psyching himself up. It was time. There was a potent mix of fear and trepidation in him as the weight of what he was about to do dawned on him.

“I can’t do this anymore, Y/n. I can’t stay friends.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, tilting your head. You felt a sharp pain in your heart as you nodded, discomfiture settling on your face as you tried to smile. So, this was it. You’d really fucked everything up. “T-that’s...okay. I can understand why-”

He groaned in frustration, his heart a mess of emotions as he watched you look at the grass, blabbering as you tried to hide your heartache. “That’s not what I meant.”

You looked back up at him. “Then what did-”

He scooted forward, grabbing your cheeks. “I...”

He sighed, tearing up at the sight of your face. Seeing you cry always made his heart weak.

He couldn’t hold it back anymore.

He brushed your hair out of the way, lip trembling as he felt the tears keep coming. He opened his mouth, heart pounding.

“I’m in love with you, Y/n.”

As soon as the words left his lips, your face turned blank, your brain unable to comprehend what he had just said.

It felt like fire had just been set to your heart. You’d just heard the words you’d been yearning to hear from him for years...and you were unsure how to react, your mind still trying to digest it.

He...he loved you? Was this another one of your dreams that ended with nightmarish twists?  

Minho exhaled, smiling, his teary eyes sparkling. God. it felt good to finally tell you that.  

He looked back down at you, smile slowly dropping as he saw your expression.

“Look...I’m okay if you don’t like me back.” He said, his heart slowly breaking as you stayed quiet, your expression still shell-shocked. “I’m fine with staying b-”

You interrupted him, pressing your lips to his.

Tears were still streaming down your face. You just couldn’t take it anymore. He emitted a soft sound of surprise before melting into the kiss, his tears mixing with yours as he fell back, pulling you on top of him. The very real feeling of his mouth against yours confirmed that you weren’t in a dream, after all. This was real.

He kissed you like his life depended on it, breathing heavily as you gently deepened the kiss. His lips were soft, nipping at yours as he pulled away just a little.

Minho held your cheeks, inhaling as his eyes searched yours, the raw emotion in them blowing you away. You wondered why you’d never seen it before. Stroking the side of your head with one hand, he pulled you into him once more, his lips finding yours again as he closed his wet eyes.

“I love you.” He whispered against your lips, nudging your nose with his. “I love you I love you I love you.” Breathless, he swallowed. “I love you...”

The dam had been broken, and now all he he wanted to do was say what he’d been holding back for so long.

Your chest rose and fell with rapid breaths as you stared at him, his grip on your waist growing tighter as you felt yourself shake.

“P-please, don’t play with my feelings. Minho- Please, I can’t take it. Do you...do you really mean it?” You choked out, still in disbelief, even as he cupped your cheek, eyes boring into yours.

“I wouldn’t lie to you about something like this.”

You shook your head, wiping your wet cheek as you sat up a little. Getting off him, your eyes drifted up to the river as you turned around.  The water was still, the moonlight reflecting off of it.

He sat up as well, watching as the light breeze tousled your hair.

“I...Minho.”

“Mm?” He said, heart still pounding. He knew it was selfish of him...but he wanted to hear you say it, too. Yes, it was hypocritical, considering how long it had taken him to finally confess, but he couldn’t help it.

“I lied before. I mean...I lied about lying.” You groaned, struggling to formulate your words. “What I’m trying to say is...I’m in love with you too. And I have been for the better part of two years.”

A torrent of emotions rushed into him as he blinked rapidly, unable to comprehend it for a second. It should have been happiness, mainly, but there was also this heavy sense of hurt and guilt gripping him. So all the pain that had been caused over the past few weeks...it was all for nothing. The two of you had hurt each other over and over again, unaware of your true feelings. If only either of you had the courage to say something...all the heartache could have been avoided.

“Y-you are?”

“Yeah.” You sniffed, back still facing him. He watched as your body quivered, slowly realizing that you’d been through the same anguish as him...and for longer.

Shifting a little closer, he slowly wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“I’m sorry. For...for everything.”

“I am, too.”

You turned slightly, breathing in as you made eye contact with him. Staring at each other, you felt the weight on your heart disappear completely. Calmness filling the two of you as the once-unspoken truths lingered in the air around you, electricity sparking as you turned to face him completely.

You watched as his gaze drifted down from your eyes to your lips, his tongue darting out ever so subtly as his gaze turned heavier.

He leaned in, lips hovering over you.

“Tell me. Again.” He whispered, bottom lip brushing against yours as he surveyed your face, eyes turning darker.

“I l-love you.”

He growled in satisfaction, his lips claiming yours quickly. You whimpered as he pulled you onto his lap, his insistent lips parting your shaking ones as his tongue gently met yours.

Neither of you could help it. He was consumed with an ardent need to show you just how much he loved you. Minho had never been good with words...but there were other ways to prove one’s sincerity. Slowly making out, the two of you completely forgot how to breathe as the sweet fear from before melted away, surrendering completely to the passion. His hands were all over you, squeezing your skin, touching you as if you’d disintegrate at any moment.

“Minho...”

He gazed up at you, the ardor in his eyes catching you off guard as you opened your mouth to speak, hesitating.

“Promise to me...that we won’t ever hurt each other again. That we’ll...we’ll spend the rest of our life together, no matter what happens. Please.”

“Y/n...I don’t think I can let you go. You’re mine and I’m yours. We’re meant to be. I just wish it hadn’t taken me this long to realize. I wish I hadn’t turned into the one person I’m most afraid of. I’ve always feared history repeating itself...tried my best to avoid it. But here I am, hurting the girl I love.”

He sucked in air, eyes closing as he tried to drive away the bad memories.

“I won’t deny that you hurt me, but it’s not like I was much better. We both made mistakes, Minho. I’m prepared to make up for them, though. I’ll spend the rest of my life trying, if you’ll let me.”

You traced your finger over his cheek as he spoke. “I guess neither of us are perfect.”

You nodded. “I love you, Minho. All of you, including your flaws. I wanna take every part of you, and...I w-want you to do the same for me.”

He gave you a weak smile, kissing you yet again. He just couldn’t get enough of the feeling of your soft, wet mouth moving against his own...the feeling of being able to kiss you without any residual apprehension. It made him feel light-headed, your hot tongue sliding against his...the sensation causing him to groan against your lips as he adjusted you on his lap.

You pulled away to breathe. Minho’s eyes were already too far gone...and as you shifted slightly, you felt his thick bulge brush up against your core, softly gasping.

“N-need you, Y/n.” He breathed, resting his forehead against yours as his eyes welled up further. “If you’ll allow me...please, wanna claim you as mine...”

He really didn’t have to beg. Just the sight of him, breathless and wanting, sent sparks shooting through you. You needed him just as much as he needed you.

You let your lips trail down to his jawline, kissing along it. You hoped you could convey every inexplicable emotion you were feeling through each kiss you laid on his skin.

He caressed your back as you continued your ministrations, relaxing slightly. However, after a few minutes of you sucking tenderly down his neck, his impatience grew, and you could tell by the way he kept bucking his hips intermittently.

In a second, he rolled over so he was on top, admiring the way your face shone in the dim glow of the lights, hair splayed out on the grass. You looked so beautiful under him. He wanted to appreciate you even more, but the hardness between his thighs was making him increasingly aggravated.

Needing to be inside your warmth, his hand founds its way under your skirt, pressing the pad of his thumb to your clothed clit. He let out a moan as he felt how wet you were, delighting in the fact that it was all for him.

He stroked you through your underwear, eyes fixed on you. Your mouth was slightly open, eyes fluttering closed as you whimpered, needing more.

“Minho, please...” You spread your thighs apart a little more, hoping he would give you what you wanted. He leaned in, nibbling on your ear as he pushed your panties to the side. His fingers dragged through your slick folds, collecting as much wetness as he could before lifting his fingers to your mouth. You immediately parted your lips, sucking on his fingers as you squirmed, his tongue laving your earlobe.

“Kitten...” He whispered in your ear, the breathy neediness from before replaced with a cool confidence as he settled into his role. “So needy for me, even though we’re just a few minutes away from your childhood home...are you that desperate for my cock?”

You mewled, his words turning you on even more as he groaned, lifting off of you to scan your face. Your eyes drifted downwards, the sight of his concealed erection making you lick your lips.

“Wanna...wanna taste you...”

Minho’s eyes glinted, burning with fervor as he observed you, incandescent with desire. He’d never seen you like this before.

“Alright, kitten...”

He got off you, moving so that he was leaning against the tree’s trunk next to you. You turned slightly, fiddling with his zipper as you took his cock out, almost too eagerly. You got on all fours, pulling down his boxers to free his length.

Holding his girth in your hand, you admired it for a second before bending down and licking his slit tentatively, the taste of his pre-cum making you shudder. His hand smoothed down your back, lifting your dress and pulling down your panties just enough for him to access your core. You wrapped your lips around the head of his cock, shivering as his middle finger circled your puckered rim a few times before drifting down to your pussy.

You sucked on his tip, loving the way he tasted. You were glad you were fully sober this time, and in the right head-space to truly see, feel and taste him. Swirling your tongue around him, you moaned as he slid two fingers into your heat.

Minho grunted, the feeling of your warm walls clenching around his fingers combined with your wet tongue running repeatedly over his slit making him snap. He shoved his cock into your mouth, catching you by surprise. Groans left him as the pleasure washed over him, the speed of his fingers driving into your pussy increasing in time with his thrusts into your mouth.

You whined as he took his fingers out of you, pulling you gently off his cock. His eyes darkened even more as he admired your fucked out features, strings of drool and pre-cum connecting his tip to your mouth.

“You’re so pretty. I’m so lucky to finally be able to call you mine.”

You blushed, heart palpitating as you got on his lap again, hand wrapping around his cock. Minho placed his hands on your hips, pulling you forward a little so that your clit was pressed right up against his shaft.

“Wanna fill you up.” He mumbled, mouthing at your neck. “Make you mine.”

He lifted you up slightly, aligning your entrance with his tip.

“He didn’t...didn’t fuck you, did he?”

You shook your head, watching as Minho’s eyes flashed, satisfied with the answer. He entered you steadily, his cock filling you up deliciously. You let out a soft moan, feeling him slide deeper as you lowered yourself completely.

His fingers came up to your waist, pulling you against him, your cheek on his shoulder as he muttered obscenities.

“Good. This pussy belongs to me, and only me. Along with the rest of you.”

You whined helplessly, inaudibly agreeing as Minho chose that very moment to thrust up into you.

“You’re so beautiful. So breathtaking. Nothing- fuck, nothing can compare to this...” He mumbled, hiking your skirt up and clutching at your ass as he started making love to you, his pace steady yet deep.

It was different from the first time.

For one, this time you were fully aware of each other, senses flooded with love and pain and relief. He took it slow, loving the way your pussy sucked in his cock, plunging his length into you powerfully, each thrust sending rumbles of pleasure through your body.

Minho took his hands off your ass, gripping at the hem of your sweater as he continued rolling his hips into yours. He slid it up your torso and over your boobs, making you blush as his eyes fixated on your chest.

“Gorgeous.” He whispered, eyes darting up to meet yours as he leaned in to suck on your nipple, tongue dragging over your bud. Pressing kisses all over your chest, he kept fucking up into you.

“M-Minho...you feel so- fuck,”

He let go of your nipple with a pop, making you shudder as the cold air hit your wet bud.

“Are you going to cum, baby?”

“Mm.”

“Cum for me.” He purred, suddenly standing up, still inside you. Turning around, he pressed your back to the tree trunk gently, driving his cock slightly faster and burying his head in the crook of your neck.

You could feel wetness against your neck, realizing belatedly that they were Minho’s tears. You couldn’t blame him...there were tears filling your eyes as well.

“I love you so much, Y/n.” He breathed, pulling away after a while to look at you. You nodded, hands drifting to tug at his hair. “I love you too Minho. In a way that words can’t express- ah~”

You whimpered, feeling the pleasure build in your lower half. Minho’s eyes instantly turned darker, any vulnerability in them lost as he focused on making you cum.

You felt the head of his cock rubbing against your sweet spot, each thrust drawing out long, breathless whines from you. You felt so full, his cock so thick inside you, filling you up the way it was meant to.

“Angel- I’m c-close...” He grunted, twitching inside you as he pressed his lips to yours once again, biting on your swollen bottom lip as he pinched your nipple gently. The sharp pleasure caused the final wave that pushed you over the edge- you hit your high with Minho’s name hot on your tongue.

He followed not long after, pounding into you now. You clenched around him, still in the throes of your orgasm as you incoherently repeated his name.

He slammed into you one last time before filling you up with his cum, throwing his head back as he came.

“You feel like...like heaven, Y/n...” He gasped out, supporting you with one hand as the other ran through his sweaty hair.

Eyes drifting down, he noticed the way his cum was leaking out from around his cock with a groan. Unable to control himself, he fucked his cum back into you, head dropping as you whimpered at the overstimulation.

Satisfied, he pulled out, tucking himself back in. He set you down, chuckling as your legs wobbled. He caught you before you could collapse, dragging you down to the grass with him.

“I take it you can’t walk back home right away.”

You laughed weakly, shaking your head. “No. Wanna stay here with you for a while.”

He hummed in content. “Okay.” He wrapped his arms around you. “Oh...I almost forgot about this.” He grinned, grabbing the basket from your side and pulling out two sandwiches.

Your eyes widened in recognition as you took one from him.

“These are the same ones I made that day...though I thought we agreed peanut butter and apricot jam just doesn’t cut it.”

“Shut up, it’s for nostalgic purposes.” He laughed, taking a bite and immediately screwing up his face in disgust. “Blegh. Okay, fuck nostalgia...I should just have made Nutella.”

You giggled, watching as he dropped the sandwich back into the basket. You put yours back in too, twisting to face him.

“So...when did you do all this? Was that why you were missing?”

“I’ve wanted to confess to you for a while...I just didn’t know how to. It was just so scary.”

“Yeah. Trust me, I know.”

He stroked your hair, sighing. “The day after your thirteenth birthday party, we came here like we usually do. I realized that day, my feelings for you went beyond what one should typically feel for a best friend. I just...chose to repress them, because I was scared you didn’t feel the same.” He cupped your cheek, exhaling.

“I thought if I recreated the scene from that day, I’d finally have the confidence to confess. The fairy lights were a last minute addition, though. I just thought it’d be more...romantic.” He smiled awkwardly.

“Well, it really is.” You returned his smile, tilting your head as you took him in. “I’m still sorry about the things I said to you.”

“I am, too. I hate myself for all the pain I’ve caused you...but I’m ready now. Ready to be someone who deserves your love.” He tucked your hair behind your ear again, smiling at you.

“Your mom helped a lot.” He laughed. You gritted your teeth, snorting. “Yeah, I could kinda tell. She doesn’t usually invite me over this spontaneously.”

You were interrupted by Minho’s stomach growling.

“I guess we have to go home...I think I feel a little better now, actually.” You sat up a little, getting to your feet shakily. He got up with you, hands steadying you.

“You sure?” He smirked, holding onto your wrist.

You nodded firmly. “Come on. I’m craving homemade food.”

***

You sat in your too-small childhood bed that night with Minho, who was flipping through one of the scrapbooks the two of you had made years ago.

He pointed to a picture of 8 year old you with a baby doll, chuckling lowly. “I bet your mother would love for you to recreate this one, but with an actual baby instead of a doll. I could make that happen.”

You glared at him, shoving his shoulder.

As soon as you’d walked through the door, holding hands with Minho, your mom had been all over the two of you, cooing and asking about grand-kids already. You knew she meant well, but it was still so fucking embarrassing.

You looked up at Minho, pausing as you saw his eyes turning darker.

“Why not, though? You’d be a great mother. I know I’d love to fill you up with my seed one day and get you pregnant...see your belly all swollen with my child...”

You meekly avoided eye contact, his words affecting you in a way you couldn’t quite place.

“M-maybe one day. I don’t know how I feel about having a mini-you running around, though. I already suffer with just one of you.”

He laughed, slowly trailing off as his face turned serious, a sadness settling itself in his eyes as he turned away.

“We’d take such good care of it...” He gulped. “I d-don’t know how good I’ll be at parenting...but I know I’d try my best to be a good father. The kind a child deserves.”

You looked at him, heart clenching as you took his hand.

“You’ll be an amazing father. I know it.”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, placing the book on your bed side table, and getting under the covers with you. He turned off the table lamp.

Pulling you close, Minho kissed you for the last time that night. You felt the warmth in your body spread...your heart finally content, safe in his arms.

“It’ll be okay...” He mumbled, fingers gently running through your hair, watching as you drifted off to sleep due to the soothing action.

“As long as you’re by my side, everything will be okay.”

***

( Note: Ah, finally. This series is over. :’( I’m so thankful to everyone who stuck with this till now, and enjoyed it. There were times when I wanted to scrap it, especially because I was getting hate for it at one point? Anyway, I hope those anons are happy now. And my lovely readers, I hope the ending was satisfying enough. Love you all. )

***

[joonsgalaxy]

true care |07.5 (m)

→ pairing: bodyguard!Jungkook x female reader

→ genre: fake dating au, fluff/romance, angst, smut

→ word count: 2.3 k

•  summary: your (endearingly) shy bodyguard—hired by your father—would do anything for you. even though you roll your eyes at his persistence and pretend there’s no need for him to follow you to every and any place you go, there might be many more hazards in your life than you let on. and you might end up needing him in more ways than you—or your father—would ever think.

! warnings: mentions of toxic past relationship throughout the series; mentions of guns, alcohol

↠ chapter 7.5: you’re my painkiller

chapter list

a/n: it’s been a whileee. i know. this chapter is kind of an introduction to the 8th one. or basically a part of it. i just really really wanted to post something. i’m rusty. hope it’s not too bad. love, kyu

Jeongguk had run it in his mind a million times before. He hadn’t been counting exactly, but he was almost certain the number was rather accurate. He had explored all of the possible scenarios, all of the hazardous circumstances that could occur in various surroundings. That was what he ought to carry out as a bodyguard. And that was how his brain worked anyways.

He’d think a lot, calculating his every step in all those imaginary situations. Perhaps, he’d overthink a lot, but to be fair it only seemed to be an appropriate trait of his personality for this kind of a job. Fact is, you can never particularly know in what kind of a mess you’d end up. He was obliged to be prepared for anything. He was being paid for it. Well, not only for that, apparently. Jeongguk also had to pretend to be your boyfriend, at least around your friends.

But this night wasn’t about that, not anymore...

He was embarrassed. Deeply embarrassed. He had been before—when you saw the neighbourhood he was living in for the first time—and he was now—when it was the second time of you being here. This time, though, it was eminently different. This time you were inside the house. Inside his humble apartment. Sure, he’d move to another place soon (thanks to the rewarding job), but for now he couldn’t offer you much, except the view of the old playground for kids through the window and a cup of coffee that was probably at least three times cheaper than you were used to having. You refused the offer of coffee, though. And Jeongguk had no idea if you were being honest, when you said it would only magnify your anxiety. Perhaps everything that Jeongguk owned wasn’t good enough for you. It only made sense.

Is there anything he can help you with? ‘Yeah,’ you said. ‘I’d like to change—these clothes stink.’

He'd never think that you, by your own will, would express the eagerness to come to his place. Would borrow his clothes for the night without a smidgen of hesitation. This was rather... peculiar. Unexpected. Not in a bad way. Certainly not. This small apartment, where he spent his tolerable and not so tolerable days in, was the place you'd try and find some solace at. At least for the night. And that meant something, right? Had to.

'I don't want to go home,' without any effort, it seemed, of hiding the anguish within you, you let Jeongguk know your immediate thought once the incident was over. You had already given your statements to the authorities, and Jeongguk could see how drained you were from all that had been occurring that evening. 'Can we go to yours?'

He was taken aback by the request. Please, you added, when he found himself hesitating.

He couldn't say no to your soft voice and jaded eyes. Perhaps he should've.

And yet, here you were. There was no going back now.

As you were sitting there in his own shirt and sweatpants, he thanked God everything ended well that night. He wasn't sure how he'd be feeling now if anything had gone wrong. If anything bad had happened to you. There shouldn't be any kind of sentiment involved in this job, sure, but hell, Jeongguk was certain he'd lose his damned mind if anyone hurt you in any way. And not only because it would mean he failed at his responsibility to protect you, but also because... he was smitten. Kind of pathetic, if you think about it. Ridiculous, really, for he'd only met you a few weeks back.

The sigh you let out whipped him back to reality.

'I'm fine... you're fine... Mr. Ri is completely fine,' you said; the words were laced with certain kind of confusion, as if it wasn’t true. 'And still, there's this unpleasant feeling in me. I can't get rid of it.'

Jeongguk was sitting across the room from you. And even though his studio apartment was tiny and there wasn't much space between you two, his feet were itching to move even closer to you. He wished he knew how exactly he could comfort you.

'It's... disgusting. And all over me.'

It was so quiet. Unusually quiet in the room. Not even the annoying buzz of mowing the lawn could be heard. Nor the roars of cars pulling into the parking lot. It was as if the world around you needed to take a break too.

The walls in the building were basically paper thin. Jeongguk could usually hear some sort of sound at any given time of the day. The clatter of dishes in someone’s sink; the vexed parent reprimanding their child; the friction between a couple coming to life in a form of a loud quarrel. And sometimes it would comfort him in a way. Remind him of how diverse the world really is. Of how many different stories are unfolding around him. Just how many various things people have to deal with, all of them just as important. Quite humbling.

Even though it was silent at the moment, he didn't miss the sounds. The only thing he was certain he would miss when you leave his apartment, was your voice.

'Honestly? I'm glad I'm not home right now. I would most definitely lose my mind. My dad...' Anxiously, your fingers toyed with the hair tie on your wrist. Pulling, releasing, pulling, releasing. 'He would be asking me a million questions. Or he would just straight up avoid me.' Over and over, your skin was slapped with the result of your distress. Jeongguk wondered if you even felt it. Felt the sting of the stretchy thing making contact with your soft skin. Perhaps it was numb.

It was something you'd do a lot when being fretful—repeat certain movements absentmindedly. He'd seen it during the party; the night you looked breath-taking, the night you forced him to sit at the same table as you, even though it was not planned by the event organisers. He would still look back on it from time to time. Still was wondering why you did that exactly.

'You know, I think I've mentioned this before, but I've gone through something similar in the past. The reason behind my disagreement on my bodyguard carrying a gun with him...'  

Jeongguk couldn't remain still on the chair while you were in such an emotional turmoil. He shot up from the seat and crossed the room, gingerly plopping down on the bed right beside you. And though he deliberately left some space between you two, his hand dared to land onto yours; he carefully set it aside from your wrist that could already be seen irritated by the hair tie.

You glanced at him, and the look in your eyes was rather soft, grateful perhaps. Even so, Jeongguk drew his hand back, placing it in his lap. He would sooner slam his head against the door than make you feel uneasy by his close proximity. You already seemed so fragile.  

'We don't have to talk about it if you're not ready,' he assured you, when you stayed silent for a few another seconds.

'During your service,' you said after a while, 'did you see lots of violence?'

'There wasn't much during training. Though, I went on a couple missions that could be classified as pretty serious, I guess.'

'Were you scared?'

He thought about it for a moment, let the silence hang in the air akin to a fog above fields in the mornings. He figured there was no point in hiding anything. 'Yeah. There were moments I was terrified.'

Gently, in a shy manner you ran a hand across his duvet on the bed. 'How did you deal with it?'

For him, this felt deeply intimate. Almost inappropriate. You were finding out about his personal stuff in his own apartment. Your skin was touching the fabric he would later tuck himself into. And the necessity to ignore the closeness for the sake of both of you was crushing him.

'I kept reminding myself of what I was there for. I tried to turn deaf ear to the emotional side of myself. To use the rational one.'

'Did it work?'

'Sometimes.' Jeongguk shrugged. 'There were moments I almost lost it. There were moments I watched someone else losing it. Those missions... They were not for the faint hearted. But no,' seeing the worried look on your face, he quickly added, 'it wasn't all guns and death, don't get me wrong. Mostly waiting, watching, hiding, holding one's breath. Well, that one because of all the smoking other guys did.'

He saw a faint smile flicker upon your lips. That made his heart warm.  

The boy could tell there were a bunch of messy, hurtful things happening to you in your seemingly ideal life. And he could also tell that a handful noxious thoughts were tormenting that mysterious mind of yours. He had a feeling you were your worst enemy, as cliché as it might sound.

You were a private person, didn't let just anyone in, so he could only see the tip of the iceberg.

'You didn't pick up smoking then?'

'Nah.' Jeongguk should his head. 'Not because it's gross,' he felt the need to add, 'or that I think I'm above all that. Quite the opposite, to be frank with you. I know if I start smoking, I may never stop.'

'Oh?' You looked a little surprised. 'Your will, to me, seems to be made of titan.'

A corner of Jeongguk's lips twitched in an ironical smile.

'In a way, it certainly is. But I'm only human. I've seen the strongest men get hooked up on that shit, like finishing the whole pack of smokes in two hours and then losing their mind over the fact that there's none left. The withdrawal and the stress that came with it made them vulnerable, they lost their vigilance. You need to stay sharp at all times on this kind of job. I need to stay sharp on this kind of job.' He vaguely gestured toward you. 'So yeah, maybe I have the will not to pick up smoking, even if it could help me feel nice for a moment, but my body isn't addiction-proof, and that's when it gets tricky.'

There was a gentle nod from your side of the bed. 'It's good to be able to admit that to yourself. Not everyone can do that, even if it doesn't seem that complicated.'

'That's true.'

Jeongguk saw you getting lost in thought for a second. Then you chuckled in a derisive way; you were mocking yourself. The sound made the boy's heart ache a little. 'All that talk about you being in the military...' you began, 'and you're working for me now. Like who honestly cares what I've been through, when there are people such as you, responsible for mine and others' safety? You risk everything. For others. My God.' A sigh escaped your lungs. Jeongguk didn't know what to say. Who cared about what you've been dealing with? He did. But he wouldn't tell you that. Not now. This was already getting too personal. 'Most of the time I feel lost, and I feel this sadness just kind of sitting there on my shoulders, and... do I even have the right to feel this way? My life is pretty much perfect.'

'Nobody's life is perfect,' Jeongguk reminded you, adding, 'You have every right to feel. No matter what sort of feeling comes over you. No matter when or where. It's only natural. You’re only human, too.’

‘Yeah. I just feel like...’ You hesitated. ‘Like I don’t possess control over anything in my life anymore.’

Jeongguk exhaled a long breath. Decided to try and lighten the mood up. ‘You know you’ve still got control over me.’ He was your father’s employee after all.

You snorted with laughter. A success.

‘Just give me any order and I’ll do it.’

You looked at him almost challengingly. ‘Any order, huh?’

Jeongguk nodded, innocently.

It didn’t take much time for his mind to go back to the night of pure indecency between you two. It hit him like a train. All the orders uttered by your soft, slightly tipsy, yet remarkably alluring voice. All the risky and obscene actions he did there right beside you in the back seat of your car.

He felt his cheeks bloom in red.

Were you thinking about the same things as him right now?

The playful smile on your face morphed into one that didn’t seem as obvious, but Jeongguk thought it certainly looked just a dash more wicked. ‘Yeah?’

Even if his heart was starting to pound in his ears, and even if he knew there definitely was a possibility he would appear as a total idiot, he answered, ‘Yeah.’

Everything felt still in the moment that came after. What now? Was he a bad person for secretly wishing you would ask him to do something filthy again? For wishing he could feel that same adrenaline rush once again? Was he a bad employee?

There was a shift in the air. He watched your smile falter. And then your eyes, as captivating as ever, followed their way from Jeongguk’s orbs to his lips.

He thought his heart would jump right out of his throat.

‘Then kiss me.’

[delaber]

Just Friends (Part 3)

Story Summary: After moving to America for a 3-month long internship, you meet two interesting characters on a boring night out.

Word Count: 2.2K

Pairing: Rafael Casal x Reader

Warnings: Alcohol, minor drug use, smut, slight dom!Rafa, swearing, and loads of British references (sorry not sorry lol).

Chapter Note: let me know what you think

Tag List:  lonelydance mysearchforgratification

Other Parts: See Masterlist

FIVE WEEKS LATER

With the amount of work you had had in the lab in December, five weeks passed by easily, and before you could truly process what had become of time, you had spent your first Christmas ever away from England.

Still, even though five weeks had passed by, you caught yourself thinking about this guy, this Rafa, annoyingly often. 

You couldn't believe that you had fallen for (what you assumed were) his regular normie cad tricks: He had talked you up, walked you home, made you feel special, and then he hadn't given you any sign of life since then - and now the complete lack of contact was driving you insane! You knew that he was only interested in the shag, and so were you to be honest, but it still annoyed you immensely that the mere thought of him roughing you up had taken over most of your thoughts.

As if Rafa was a professional womaniser, it had only taken him a couple of hours and an obnoxious fuck boy-attitude to etch himself into your brain. And five weeks later, he was still on your mind?! What was going on with you? If you'd only invited him inside to boff back then, he probably wouldn't even have been the least bit interesting here five weeks later.

Thus, irritated with yourself and your flair for the dramatic, you often cursed yourself for having left him on the pavement that night back in November. On the night in question, however, the need to stand up to his spoiled attitude had been stronger than the urge to let him win and shag him senseless - and as a result, you often found yourself fantasising about him when you lay in bed at night. So in a way, he had won anyway.

And you hated it. You hated that he had somehow gotten to you. The way he had acted around you had made you aware that this boy was an avid smooth talker who was probably used to get whatever and whomever he wanted by any means necessary.

And you were having none of it. Forgetting about him was definitely for the best. You needed someone to knock the naughty thoughts of him out of your mind. By any means necessary.

You had never really cared much for New Years Eve, but this year, you found yourself in the right spirit for the first time ever. You had changed into the most form-fitting, festive dress you owned in the hopes of meeting a cute guy with whom you could spend the night. A guy who could knock the last thoughts of Rafa out of your head.

In the mood for an eventful evening, you had showed up for Miranda's all-girls pre-party right on time, tagging your roommate Samantha along with you. The first part of the evening passed by quickly; you had loads of champagne and ate a fancy dinner at Miranda's place surrounded by all of her best friends and some of your colleagues from the Hospital. You had all clinked to the new year as the date shifted to January 1st and you soon found yourself in a taxi on the way to an exclusive party downtown that Miranda's friend had secured you all tickets for. Big, fancy parties like this wasn't normally your scene, but you could make an exception for tonight. It was New Years, after all.

You had arrived at the club, had had a few drinks at your private table, and had even talked to some pretty cute guys, but for some reason they all bored you. At one point you found yourself cornered by a handsome - but particularly boring - gentleman when Samatha finally saved you.

"I just flirted my way to a bottle of champagne!" she squealed as she came running towards you with a magnum flask in hand.

"You did what?" you laughed at your bubbly roomie, the bore of a man by your side already forgotten.

"I just asked a random guy at the bar if he wanted to buy a table of pretty girls a drink - and the patsy did," she laughed, "not in my wildest imagination had I ever expected him actually to do it," she squealed as she twisted off the cork with a loud pop.

"So you just let the poor guy pay for it and then you ran away?" you laughed at her while holding out your glass, waiting for her to fill it.

"I reckon he did it to make me go away - I think he may have found me annoying," Samantha laughed, "He told me to take the bottle back to my friends' table and clink his glass from a distance. Look, it's him over there," she raised her glass to a guy that you recognised immediately; you would've recognised those fluffy black curls anywhere.

Rafa's friend Diggs.

When he noticed you looking at him, he too raised his glass and sent you a warm smile, silently telling you that he definitely recognised you too.

"Hey; I know that guy," you said slowly, "I met him when I'd just moved here."

"You know him?" Samantha stared at you with a sly smile, "Probably why he was so eager for me to bring the champagne back to the table instead of drinking it at the bar with him. How well do you know him if you don't mind my asking?" Samantha wriggled her eyebrows.

"Not like that," you laughed, "I only talked to him for a couple of minutes."

Samantha nudged you with her elbow, "you should go thank him."

"Yeah," you hesitated, turning away from him, "I'm honestly surprised he even recognises me."

"Well, you must've made quite the impression," Samantha was still looking at him from over your shoulder, "Oh shit, he's coming over here right now," she squealed in a whisper.

"Be cool!" you laughed before turning around, suddenly face to face with Diggs.

"Happy new year," he smiled and squinted his eyes slightly, "I think we've met before."

You nodded, reciprocating his wide smile, "we have. You're Rafa's friend," the words escaped your mouth before you could stop them.

He nodded, "...and you're Rafa's girl."

You could feel your cheeks getting warm now, "I've had like an hour long conversation with him. I would hardly refer to myself as his girl," you squinted your eyes at the handsome man in front of you.

He shrugged and laughed, "you know what I mean."

You cleared your throat, "well thanks for the champagne. You really didn't have to."

"I wanted to," he smiled, "I was hoping to catch your attention."

"Why? We've exchanged about ten words..."

"Yeah, but I'm sure Rafa would love to see you again."

"He's here?" your eyes widened. The mere thought of meeting Rafa again tonight was making your heart beat faster. You reminded yourself that you needed to keep your cool. He may be handsome and charming but he was also loud and obnoxious and a sleaze.

"We have a table in the back," Diggs nodded and pointed to an area that was cordoned off with red rope, "you should come with me."

"I don't think so," you managed to say with as much clarity as you could muster. You needed someone to help you get rid of Rafa - not indulge further in him. He was dangerous.

"Aw, come on," Diggs smiled charmingly.

"What makes you think he even wants to see me?" You tried, "as I said; I've had an hour-long conversation with him over a month ago."

"Trust me," he smiled convincingly, "I know my best friend. Are you coming or what?"

You weren't exactly sure whether it was a good idea or not. You were quite sure that if Rafa was acting just half as charming as last time, you'd be throwing yourself at him at the first chance you got and you were scared that his bad boy demeanour might lead to you wanting more even though you were going home in a couple of weeks. ..But then again, you were on the prowl for someone who could knock Rafa out of your head. Maybe actually being with him would be enough to finally close that chapter.

"Oh, she's coming!" Samantha said loudly while giving your back a small shove.

"Great!" Diggs shot you a blinding smile and stretched out his hand for you to take.

"Uhm, okay..." you said, actually glad that Samantha had made a decision for you.

As Diggs pulled you towards him, you looked back at Samantha who was looking at you with huge eyes and moving her lips without any sound, "who's Rafa?" she mouthed.

"I'll tell you later, okay?" you whispered to your friend.

Samantha tilted her head and whispered back, "well, if all of his friends are just as handsome as that guy," she nodded towards Diggs, "you're coming back for me!"

You laughed at her, "of course. I'll see you later," you said before taking Diggs' hand, following him straight through the club's dance floor and towards the closed off area.

When he reached the bouncer, he pulled up his sleeve and showed him a stamp on his wrist. "She's with me," he nodded towards you and the bouncer stepped aside, letting both of you enter the scene behind the red rope.

"Is this some sort of VIP area?" you asked Diggs as you took in the room that had been closed off to the rest of the party. The tables back here looked far more fancy and were lined with much more expensive booze than what had been available where you had been sitting only moments before.

Diggs looked at you with a weird expression, "Uh yeah..."

"It looks very expensive."

"Yeah, well..." he looked a bit uncomfortable, "we  - uh - we have a good friend who's a bit over the top with these things, but we just roll with it."

He sounded weird. Almost as if he was lying. You quickly shrugged it off, however, telling yourself that of course he was being honest; it would've been a weird thing to lie about. "Must be a good friend for you to spend this amount of money on his comfort," you mumbled as you watched a girl open up a bottle of ridiculously expensive vodka.

"Yes, well... come on," Diggs said and urged you to follow him.

You scanned the room as you tagged along Diggs, noticing several low-key famous people that you were sure were known for something semi-popular but that you couldn't quite place your finger on. You'd never really been the type to care for fame. Still, you turned to Diggs and asked, "hold up; are you famous or something?"

Diggs sent you a shrug, "...or something," he said mysteriously and pointed to a table in the far back, "our table is over there."

Slowly, you turned your gaze away from him with a feeling that you were definitely missing out on something. You followed the direction that he was pointing in and found a table lined with people. You quickly scanned their faces, eyes landing on Rafa almost immediately.

Just as you had expected, he was laughing obnoxiously loud, his Adam's apple bouncing up and down in his throat in time with his vociforous outbursts of laughter. He was wearing a dark suit and he had his blonde hair slightly slicked back, making him look particularly dark and handsome. It was pure sex.

Okay, you definitely needed to keep your cool.

He was chatting up a very attractive girl who was twirling her black hair between her fingers and smiling suggestively at him. His signature charming smile was in place as he leaned closer to her and whispered something in her ear. Whatever he was saying was definitely working as she kept touching his arm and batting her eyelashes seductively. He seemed to enjoy the attention, scooting closer and closer to the beautiful woman with each passing sentence. The sight of it made your stomach drop slightly.

You contemplated turning around and go back to Samantha before Rafa had had the chance to see you. Clearly, he was busy. You told yourself that you didn't want to be the reason why he was striking out with this girl who he was clearly trying to charm the knickers off - when in reality, you were angry with yourself; It was stupid of you to think that he actually wanted to see you when he hadn't stopped by since that night five weeks ago.

You took a step backwards to go back to Samantha but immediately felt Diggs standing behind you like a concrete wall. His palm came into contact with your back as he gave you a light shove between your shoulder blades, pushing you towards the table. "Hey Rafa!" he called out, "look who I found!"

[andipxndy-writes]

the coffee shop

fandom: alex rider warnings: none requested by: @zixylixy word count: 9.8k

cross-posted to ao3

summary: You knew you should've stayed in bed the moment your coffee went all over your front. Still... that meant you met someone unique, someone different. Someone who was becoming special to you. And if you were being completely honest, now that you were thinking back on it, you wouldn't have it any other way.​

the coffee shop

You knew you should’ve stayed in bed that morning the moment your coffee went all over your front.

To be fair, up until that point your morning hadn’t gone too badly. You’d woken up, been tempted to stay in bed for a few hours longer, and then realised you had emails to answer and paperwork to do for work. Granted, you were working from home, so there was no rush to actually complete the work you’d been assigned until the end of the working day, but it was nice to get it all done in the morning. Then the rest of your day was free.

And that was what ended up happening. As soon as you’d got up and ready for the day, you managed to get your work done pretty quickly. All it took was a handful of hours of properly focusing, and you could get everything you needed to do done quickly enough.

Plenty of time for you to do things for yourself.

Of course, doing things for yourself wasn’t the first thing that came to mind when you finished work for the day. First of all there was the dishes (which took all of five minutes), and then the washing (which took a little longer, but you had that all in in half an hour), and then there was the general cleaning of the house that you hadn’t managed to get to last weekend (which definitely took closer to a couple of hours, maybe more). By the time you were done with all of that, it was the middle of the afternoon.

You thought it was about time to actually treat yourself.

So at about three in the afternoon, you had your little backpack packed with your notebook, laptop and a book, ready to keep yourself entertained with a coffee at your favourite local coffee shop. Just to wind down, maybe get back into that reading and writing groove again.

Except, when you got to your favourite local coffee shop, it was filled. Somehow, and you didn’t know how, the place had become everyone’s favourite place to visit in the late afternoon. Which meant that you couldn’t find anywhere to sit. In fact, the knowledge that someone was sitting in your favourite spot on their own and was casually scrolling through their phone was what irked you the most, and it made you very hesitant to leave the place. A small part of you even wanted to kick them out of the seat. But it was crammed, and you didn’t particularly like being around so many people anyway.

So you left. You knew where the nearest Starbucks was, and you also knew that it wasn’t too far to get to, so it would have to do. For once.

(Last time you’d gone there, with the absolute crowding and mess that went on there, you vowed to never go again. But the nearest Costa was too far to walk and the nearest Cafe Nero was even further. So it would have to do.)

As you got your coffee, you had to mentally remind yourself that just because Starbucks was mainstream didn’t mean that the coffee was any worse than what you usually got at your favourite spot. Perhaps the baristas here were decent, and the coffee had to be drinkable for people to regularly get drinks there.

When you took your coffee and sipped on it, your brain and taste buds helpfully reminded you that the coffee was worse, and tasted pretty cheap and generic, but you were going to have to deal. Because the next best places were further out and you couldn’t be bothered to walk that far.

The only other downside to Starbucks was because it was so popular and so mainstream, it also didn’t have any space for you to sit. Luckily, you were less bothered about this, and had been prepared for such an eventuality, so you were heading out to go to the local park – there were some picnic benches there that you could sit on and use to relax whilst you had your coffee, and the day was nice enough that it made sitting outside with your hot beverage and a good book worth it.

Your plans were ruined the moment you stepped through the open doorway.

“Hey!” you cried as your cup smacked into your front and emptied out over your jumper and jeans. As much as you didn’t care about the coffee, you did care about what you were wearing. You just so happened to be wearing your favourite outfit that day.

You were not impressed.

“Hey, I–oh my god I’m so sorry.”

The person who had crashed into you was tall, with fair hair and plain brown eyes. There was nothing particularly remarkable about him, really. Apart from his sharp jawline. And handsome features.

Nope, nothing remarkable about him at all.

Shaking out your hands to get off the hot coffee before trying to peel your clothing from your skin so that it didn’t keep burning you, you huffed, scowling. One small part of your brain decided to remind you that you were glad to be rid of that horrible coffee, but you hadn’t exactly wanted it on you instead.

“I’m so sorry, let me buy you another coffee.”

You looked up at him and raised an eyebrow at the offer. You were currently covered in coffee, sticky and wet, and standing on the pavement in front of your least-favourite coffee shop.

Another coffee wasn’t going to cut it, and you made sure your face said exactly that.

“I need to change,” you muttered, more to yourself than the man in front of you as you looked back at your clothes. “This was my fave… god, I need to do another wash…”

You spared the man a glance out of the corner of your eye. The guy looked a little awkward now, hearing you ramble to yourself, and a small part of you was satisfied in knowing you’d made a grown man feel awkward about not watching where he was going. You didn’t tend to do that often, but when you did it was incredibly satisfying.

“I’m sorry, truly. I’ll buy you another jumper. And a coffee.”

Another jumper and a coffee? Was this man desperate for your forgiveness or something? You looked up at him properly, narrowing your eyes at him.

He offered a nervous smile in return.

The smile melted your scowl.

“I’ll take the coffee,” you mumbled in response, giving a sigh of resignation. “But after I’ve changed, god. I’m not sitting around in coffee-stained clothes.” Your clothes felt hot now, but they were definitely going to get colder and stickier, and that was going to get very uncomfortable. Before he could speak again, you held up a hand to silence him. “I live a ten minute walk away. You can wait for me right here. Right here. Don’t move.”

You didn’t realise how serious the guy was about getting you coffee (and a new jumper, you supposed) when, after you returned in a fresh change of clothes, he was still standing right there waiting for you.

***

There were a few things you learned from that coffee you had with the guy who’d crashed into you. Firstly, and most importantly, you found out that he wasn’t a fan of Starbucks either, and somehow managed to get you both into your favourite coffee shop when you told him about the spot. With seats in your favourite spot.

He’d laughed when you vowed to love him forever.

The second thing you learned was that his name was Alex. You introduced yourself too, of course, but he seemed more than a little reluctant to tell you his surname. You didn’t mind, of course, but that meant that you insisted on being given the same courtesy – first names only, no surnames allowed. And from the way he nodded, it seemed to be a good enough agreement for him.

The third thing you learnt was that Alex was actually single, and had been on his way to meet someone when he’d crashed into you. He then insisted that your impromptu “date” was a lot better than what he’d originally planned to go to. It made you curious about the person he’d been going to meet, definitely, and why he was so willing to ditch them for someone such as yourself – especially when he’d only just met you.

Well, what you two had done hadn’t been a date, exactly, considering it felt more like two friends catching up. Or two friends meeting for the first time. But you realised you’d enjoyed it like one, and the two of you exchanged social media handles before parting ways: you suggested Twitter, he gave you his Insta, and both of you laughed when you realised you had Tumblr.

Neither of you shared your Tumblr usernames.

And then that was it. You pretty much forgot about the guy – any thoughts of him were lost amidst all of the work you were suddenly bombarded with (which you didn’t appreciate at all, and you were frankly disappointed in your boss for) and you were barely even given the chance to breathe.

It made you miss your writing.

That was why, when you got your next batch of free time (and told your boss that under absolutely no circumstances was he to send you more work to do) you packed up your bag with your usual notebook and stationary set and headed down to the nearest park. Since that last time you’d tried to get coffee, you hadn’t even attempted to get out of the house and do some writing on your own. You figured today would be a good day to go out and get some writing done, as well as get some fresh air.

Taking one look outside, though, you realised it was gradually getting darker, and one look at the clock told you it would probably get dark within the next couple of hours. Knowing your habits, it would be dark long before you finished wanting to write.

Perhaps the nearest university library would be best. You still had a membership card for it, anyway.

It took you about ten minutes to get out of the house with everything you needed, and then you were walking towards the library. Your favourite coffee shop was on the way there, so you decided it would be a good idea to stop by the coffee shop and grab something to drink at the library. You had your travel mug with you anyway, and it wasn’t as if the library refused to let people drink in there all the time.

Students practically lived in there anyway. They had to keep themselves alive somehow.

Just as you were walking into the coffee shop, you realised it was pretty quiet inside… but very noisy outside. Not noisy in the sense that there were lots of people walking about, oh no. It was noisy because there was something more than a little hectic happening on the street that ran by the coffee shop. Cars were speeding past, bikes were speeding past. The only thing that didn’t speed past was an ambulance, which (considering the speed those vehicles were moving about) concerned you greatly.

Still, you managed to tell yourself that this wasn’t your issue and you moved on, not even looking back over your shoulder to see what was going on. The distractions would hold you back, and it was getting later and later. You wanted your coffee and your spot in the library.

It wasn’t until you’d grabbed your coffee and were about to head out that you saw a bike – a battered, wobbly motorbike – pull up outside the cafe. It was a no-parking zone out on that part of the street, and you knew this, but you weren’t going to be the one to warn the person about it when the owner was probably out back watching on a security camera or something. They could suffer from that earful themselves.

The rider got off the bike, stumbling a little bit as they got used to being back on their own two feet, before pulling off their helmet. That was when you realised two things.

One, you’d seen that bike before. It had been brief, yes, but that bike had definitely been part of that whole commotion that had gone on outside whilst you’d been walking. You were absolutely sure of it. In fact, you were pretty sure it had been near the front of whatever had gone on, and had been the main one speeding. Which was more than a little concerning, considering it had now stopped outside of the cafe.

Two, you recognised the person as soon as their helmet came off. You didn’t know exactly why you managed to recognise them so quickly, but you hadn’t managed to see them for a while. Not since you’d first met.

It was Alex.

You stood frozen in place, surprised that after so long you were finally seeing him again. It was… strange, to say the least.

He paused himself, standing sort of lopsided as though he was supporting himself with one leg mostly. He was also seemingly surprised to see you, and then he gave you a half-smile. You got a feeling that he actually did kind of remember you, though you didn’t quite know what would really encourage him to do that.

Then you remembered how you first met, and it all made sense.

“Hello,” he finally greeted once he was close enough to you.

You simply took a sip of your coffee, staring him in the eyes. You didn’t know why exactly you did that – maybe it was a reminder of how he didn’t have to make you spill your coffee all over yourself to get your attention. “Hi.”

You both stood there in silence for a few moments, him watching you drink your hot beverage, and then he finally decided to speak.

“Do you want to sit in here and talk for a bit? We should catch up, right?”

You raised an eyebrow at him. Catch up? That was definitely very… forward of him. “We barely even know each other.”

“Then we can get to know each other more.”

You were so tempted to give in and point out how forward that seemed. After all, this was only the second time you were meeting in person. Granted, you’d seemed to get on pretty well the first time you’d met, but that didn’t mean you’d get along this time… did it? But, of course, you knew you were better than that and that you weren’t the type of person to call someone out when you barely knew them.

“Fine,” you sighed. “But I’m not staying here.”

“Then I’ll grab a drink and join you.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Be quick, then.” It didn’t seem as though you were going to get much writing done today either, and it was this guy’s fault.

Again.

***

After that second meeting, where he managed to successfully crash your library writing time and instead had you both sitting in the nearest park chatting over coffee, you began to spend significantly more time getting to know and hanging out with each other. Less than a week after you’d met, you received a message to your Insta from him, and the two of you ended up striking up a conversation via direct messaging that got incredibly long and in-depth, about anything and everything that came to mind. It got to a point where you looked forward to getting responses from him, whether the topic had switched to politics or reading or hobbies. You hadn’t yet decided to tell him that you enjoyed creative writing – in fact, you weren’t even sure you were ever going to tell him, because that was a very private part of who you were – but you spoke about enough other hobbies that you realised you had a wide range of hobbies and skills between you both. There were even some that you shared, whilst others seemed a lot more… obscure on his end. (You certainly hadn’t been scuba diving before.)

Anyway, with the increased conversation came the increased chance to meet up, but every time you planned to meet up for another coffee at your favourite spot something came up. And you meant every time. Whether it was work pushing you again and forcing you to work beyond business hours, or Alex having to cancel for some reason or other (that he often didn’t tell you), everything you organised didn’t work out. It sucked, really. Especially since you seemed to spend more and more time at the coffee shop as the weather changed, whether it was because you were writing or because you wanted a change of scenery to get your work done as best you could.

Well, it sucked until, finally, someone decided to take it into their own hands.

Hint: it wasn’t you.

At the time, you didn’t know why Alex had asked for your address, and you didn’t know why you’d so willingly given it over either. But it wasn’t as though you were particularly worried about him knowing it. He was a decent enough guy, and if he wanted to get you stuff and have it delivered to your doorstep then you weren’t going to complain about it. If he decided to kidnap you instead, you were pretty sure you wouldn’t have a problem with that either. Considering how boring your life had become, you’d probably thank him for it.

You didn’t, however, expect him to turn up on your doorstep, bags of what definitely smelled like your favourite takeout in his hands. You tried not to let your jaw drop too dramatically.

You’d only ever mentioned your favourite takeout once, in passing conversation. How did he even remember that?

“Hi.” His greeting sounded almost suave, as though him going out and getting your favourite takeout after a good while of not seeing each other in person just to have dinner at your place was perfectly normal.

And not… weirdly kind, or borderline romantic.

“Hi,” you responded in an almost hesitant tone, watching him warily for a few moments.

He stood there with the takeout still in his hands, but he didn’t look awkward at all. Not one bit. If anything, he looked like he’d done this too many times before to be doing it again with you.

It made you curious.

“So… are you going to let me in?” The question was asked in a sarcastic drawl, not unlike the one you heard in your head whenever you read messages from him that came as a response to something funny you said, and it made you smile. The wariness and hesitation about him being there melted away immediately.

“I guess I am,” you chirped back, before standing aside and letting him walk past. As he passed you, you couldn’t help but notice he was wearing cologne – maybe he was walking closer to you this time than he usually did, but you could smell it.

And it smelled pretty nice.

You held yourself back from mentioning anything, though.

Soon enough, the two of you were sitting at your small dining table, usually intended for one but actually catering to two tonight, with the takeaway on the table between you both. You couldn’t remember being particularly hungry when Alex arrived, but as soon as you both sat down at the table and Alex began to unload everything ready for you to eat, your stomach decided to announce that it was empty and you were famished. Alex only cracked a grin at the sound your stomach made, and you had to try hard not to let your cheeks heat up in response.

“It’s not funny.”

“Of course it isn’t.” He opened up the food, and the smell was absolutely heavenly. “It’s an indication of how hungry you are. That’s all.”

“Exactly.” And then your eyes narrowed at him. “Are you mocking me?”

He simply replied with a grin as he finished dishing out plates for you both. His lack of an answer was just as good as a confirmation, in your opinion, and you scowled at him playfully as you picked up your cutlery.

You would have to forgive him begrudgingly, if only because he brought you food. And good food at that.

Your meal was pretty nice, you had to admit. The conversations you had were varied, as they usually were, and somehow Alex managed to bring up almost everything that you could have talked about – from politics to art, and science to TV. Even you had to admit that the conversation was a lot more interesting than it usually was, and even if you didn’t share the same opinion on some things, it wasn’t so different that you immediately hated each other and broke off your friendship.

Yes, because that was what it was. Friendship.

You were just friends with this hot guy.

…Your mother was going to have words with you when she found out about this.

By the time you finally looked at the clock, you had both finished dinner a while back and were just sitting at the table, chatting. At some point, you’d popped into the kitchen and made hot beverages for both of you – a tea for him, and a hot chocolate for yourself.

The clock, of course, was almost at midnight. Your eye twitched.

You had work tomorrow.

Alex followed your gaze to the clock, his own eyebrows rising. “Oh, shit.”

“Oh shit indeed.” You looked down into your mug and, finding it was empty, pouted a little. There was nothing there to keep you two talking other than a desire to continue the conversation, and it wasn’t as if you could tell your boss that you were tired because you just wanted to chat with a friend. “I guess we’ve got to finish off, huh?”

That was all it took for both of you to start clearing up, and by the time all of the dishes were washed and everything was put away it was well past midnight. It wasn’t as if washing up was going to go smoothly when the two of you could easily have chatted the night away. In fact, it was almost one in the morning when you and Alex finally made it to your front door, you leaning on the door frame as he stood just beyond your doorway.

It took you almost ten minutes to actually say goodbye.

“Message when you get home,” you called out as he turned to head down the corridor. He gave half a wave over his shoulder, smiling back at you, and you waited until he’d completely disappeared from sight before closing the door, leaning against it with a frown.

Why were you so determined to make sure Alex was safe?

And why, why, did you all of a sudden latch onto just how attractive Alex was?

***

From then on, dinner seemed to happen on a pretty regular basis. Somehow you managed to pry Alex’s home address from his lips, and sometimes you got what you worked out was his favourite takeaway and headed over to his place, surprising him with dinner and a chat. One time, you were pretty sure you walked in whilst he had someone else over – a dark-haired woman, pretty with freckles and blue eyes. She only looked between the two of you before leaving, a smirk on her face, and you narrowed your eyes at Alex until he admitted that she was a childhood friend that he was (somehow) still close to.

You met her a couple more times. She was nice.

But not as nice as Alex’s oldest and longest best friend. He was a riot.

The first time you met him, Alex came over bringing dinner with a scowl on his face. Before you could even ask what was wrong, a smaller, wiry guy burst in with a huge grin on his face. He, of course, immediately struck you as a troublemaker.

You just didn’t know how much of a troublemaker he was.

He spent most of your dinner recounting stories from when Alex was a teen, all the stupid and reckless things that Alex had done that you were pretty sure would have got him into very big trouble if any sort of adult had found out, and you ended up spending most of the dinner laughing as Alex rolled his eyes and tried to correct him or defend his actions. You didn’t really have an opinion on much of what Alex did (that was a lie, you thought he was totally reckless and stupid), but you found it funny watching him squirm and get defensive, and he was fun to poke. This was a side of Alex you hadn’t really seen before.

You liked it.

It wasn’t until the end of the evening that you found out that Alex’s friend’s name was actually Tom Harris. You didn’t know how you’d managed to go that whole evening without finding out his name, but you had.

The next morning, the first thing you did was send him a friend request on Facebook. By the end of the day, you had him on all possible social media platforms and were sending each other all of your favourite memes.

Your favourite meal by far, though, was the one that stuck most in your memory. It would always stick the most in your memory.

Alex, in an apparent twist in tradition, had decided to bring his favourite takeaway over to yours for the evening. You didn’t mind the switch – you actually kind of liked it – but you didn’t hesitate to rib him for it. After all, what kind of gentleman was he if he brought over what he wanted, instead of what you would want?

His response of, “You’ll eat anything anyway,” hit deep, but it wasn’t wrong. You swatted at him with a tea towel for it, and he simply laughed as he moved to unload everything on your tiny dining table.

“I can’t believe you ditched my favourite for yours today,” you whined as you sat down, waiting for him to dish out the food onto your plates. The agreement was that whoever brought over food would be the one serving, but it was weird being served food that wasn’t your favourite. “This feels like a betrayal.”

He just scoffed at you and rolled his eyes. “My place was on the way.”

You raised an eyebrow at that. You knew that your place was on the way from his to yours, you saw it every time and silently longed over it whenever you brought over Alex’s favourite to his place. So the only way for his chosen place to be on the way was for him to be coming from that direction, which was in the opposite direction. Like, if he was coming from somewhere else.

Like work.

“A busy day at work, then?” you asked casually. Alex didn’t usually come from work straight to yours, he usually came from home. At least, that was what you assumed. After all, he was dressed a lot less casually than he usually was. (In fact, you wanted to say that he looked pretty dashing in what definitely looked like a business suit.)

A small frown grew on his face in response to your question, stayed there for a moment, and then he seemed to brush off whatever was on his mind and give you a small smile. “Yeah, pretty busy.” He paused for a moment, finishing off dishing out his food and setting the takeout bowls aside, and then, “I’ve been asked to go on a business trip.”

Your eyes shot up at this, widening as you stared at him. Alex had never really gone into detail about his job before, but… a business trip? You didn’t think he went on business trips. At least, he hadn’t been on one since you’d known him. Not that you’d known of anyway.

“…How long?” you asked eventually, once he’d taken his blazer off and settled in his seat, both of you about to start eating. Your voice was quieter than you expected it to be. You didn’t quite get why you were so quiet all of a sudden – it was just Alex, and you’d had friends disappear for long periods of time before. You were pretty sure you had some friends who went on regular business trips. But you’d gone quiet anyway, and it didn’t seem as though you were going to make yourself any louder.

Alex watched you for a few moments, his fork in his hand and hovering over his plate, and then he put his cutlery down. You got the feeling that this was about to be a pretty in-depth conversation, and mentally prepared yourself.

“Unconfirmed,” he answered, his voice taking on a harder tone, “but maybe a couple of weeks.”

“Where are you going?”

His lips pursed at that, and that confused you. Why was he so reluctant to tell you? “Somewhere in Europe. I’m not sure where yet.”

You just stared at him. Why was he keeping it such a secret? You got the feeling that he knew… but weren’t you close enough friends for him to tell you something like that?

Alex gave a sigh, picking up his fork again. “Let’s… let’s talk about something else, alright?” He offered you an awkward half-smile. “I didn’t come here to talk about me. I came here to have dinner and talk about anything and everything, like we usually do. You know?”

You did know. It was nice to talk to someone who wasn’t a coworker at the end of the day about anything that came to mind, especially over dinner. It meant that you could have varied conversations that didn’t involve getting work done.

But now you felt as though you really should know more about him. What was his job? Where did he even work? He’d never told you that before. And you didn’t think he was ever going to tell you that now.

So you picked up your own fork, looking down at your plate, and decided to focus on your food for a little while. Until you got all of your thoughts together, at least. You didn’t think you would be able to talk until that happened, and there was no way for it to not be awkward if you decided to go and collect yourself in the bathroom or anything like that.

The rest of your dinner was pretty quiet. You did, eventually, manage to collect all of your thoughts and get back into conversation with him, but you couldn’t help but feel that at least some of it was forced, on both sides. You didn’t want it to be – you missed the easy conversation you and Alex tended to have at the table when you were sharing dinner – but it ended up being so. Even as he helped you to wash the dishes and put everything away, you realised the atmosphere just wasn’t as relaxed and easy as you were used to it being.

And it continued that way all the way up to the front door, where you ended up in your usual position of leaning on the doorframe as Alex stood outside of the door. You both stood there in silence for a few moments, taking in the fact that this would be your last dinner together for a while.

“Well,” you started, pushing yourself off the doorframe, “I have work tomorrow, so…”

“Right,” Alex agreed, his hands in his pockets as he nodded. Usually he would at least take some of the food back to his place if he bought it. Today he wasn’t taking anything. “You shouldn’t stay up too late. Or you get–”

“Cranky,” you cut in, rolling your eyes. “Yeah, I know.”

That made Alex crack a grin, and somehow that eased the tension between you both the slightest bit. There were at least some parts of your friendship that wouldn’t change with Alex being away for so long. You’d miss the dinners, definitely, but you had Tom’s number. You could invite him over regularly, and show up at his as well. Sure, he had a girlfriend, but she was lovely and probably needed someone a little more sane around for at least a little bit of time a week.

“I guess I’ll see you when I see you,” you said, trying to sound hopeful, and Alex gave a nod. The situation, the whole him leaving thing, didn’t feel as depressing as it could have been. It was temporary. Alex would be back, right?

“I guess so.” He pulled out hand from his pocket and half-waved in his usual way, before turning to head down the corridor. “See you around!”

You simply smiled, and as soon as he disappeared from sight you moved to shut the door, sighing. Perhaps… perhaps Alex would change his mind and actually tell you where he was going. Perhaps Alex would even message you whilst he was out on his business trip, just to see how you were doing without him around. Those late night chat conversations were always nice, and if those stopped for two weeks you would be sorely disappointed.

You were just headed to the kitchen to make sure everything was tidied away and switched off when there was a knock on the door, and you frowned. Who could be knocking at the door at this hour? You turned and headed back towards the door to see who it was.

As soon as you opened the door, you felt a pair of lips against yours.

You were surprised at first, not sure who it was that was actually kissing you, but then that familiar smell of cologne hit you and you knew.

It was Alex.

His lips were dry, a bit chapped despite recently having dinner, and still managed to feel soft against your own. He seemed a bit hesitant at the start of the kiss, but when you didn’t fight back… when you didn’t fight back, his arms circled your waist, pulling you closer. You simply sunk into the kiss, letting him move his lips against your own, with your arms moving to rest on his shoulders and your hands interlocking behind his neck. You didn’t know how long you even kissed for, but by the time you were pulling away you were starting to feel lightheaded. You blinked owlishly at him, genuinely surprised at what had happened.

Had he just… had he just kissed you?

He stared back at you for a few moments, before clearing his throat. Pulling away from you, he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. Then he opened and closed his mouth a few times, clearly trying to decide on the words to say. And then,

“I’ll… see you in a couple of weeks, then.”

You stared after him in something akin to shock as he disappeared down the corridor.

***

The following two weeks were nothing short of torture for you, both physically and emotionally. Work, somehow, got significantly more busy for you, and it meant that you actually had to go back into the office some days to get some work done. You didn’t particularly like the idea of going back and being around so many of your coworkers for long periods of time, not when you were so comfortable in your own space at home and were pretty productive on your own as it was. But it meant that if you had to stay on and do work, you weren’t distracted by the idea of ordering dinner only to realise that there was no one around to have dinner with. Sure, Tom was about, and so was his girlfriend. But Alex was out of town.

It also meant that you didn’t have to spend any time thinking about that last dinner you had together. About how you’d felt when you found out that Alex was disappearing on you for two weeks all of a sudden, or that he actually went on business trips and disappeared for periods of time.

Or how you felt when he’d kissed you for the first time.

You sometimes got butterflies just thinking about it, him placing his lips on yours and holding you close. The way his slightly dry lips felt against your softer ones, how he smelled up close, how warm his embrace felt as he pulled you in close–

You had to pinch yourself to stop yourself from thinking about it, otherwise you’d spend all day pining or crying over it.

Sometimes you even visited the cafe where you first sat down together to chat, where he’d bought you your first coffee and you’d had your first… well, your first technical date. All you wanted was a coffee, and you ended up being assaulted by thoughts of him and the time you’d spent together.

You didn’t want to think about it that way – you’d never wanted to think about it that way, that it was your first date. But that was how you ended up thinking about it. It had been a date, technically. And all the times where you’d gone to each other’s for dinner had also been dates. You just didn’t want to think of it in that way because you’d only ever thought of him as a friend, and you hadn’t discussed anything to imply that you were anything more.

That kiss more often than not made you think of him as something more.

It reached its worse when one evening, you got off work early. You thought you’d be fine, you told all of your coworkers that you’d be fine at home on your own (it wasn’t as if they knew about Alex anyway) and headed off. It was the middle of the week, so it wasn’t like you could join in on anyone’s night out or anything. Because, you know, no one went on a night out right in the middle of the week.

That evening you found yourself craving company, just wishing there was someone there to have dinner with you. That evening, you craved him.

That evening someone knocked on your door, and you opened it to find it was Tom, Alex’s best friend. He had a frown on his face, a genuine look of concern, which quickly wiped away when he realised you were standing there. The look turned into a grin as he held out what was obviously your favourite takeaway, perfectly bagged and ready to eat.

Just as Alex would.

“I hear someone usually gets takeout with Mr. Businessman,” he teased, before heading into your place without even an invitation. You wanted to be mad at him as he started rambling on about how Alex had thought it was best to get a replacement for dinner and how every time Tom had knocked you hadn’t been there, but really you were glad. You hadn’t wanted to spend the night alone.

Well, you wouldn’t.

And really the night turned out to be more fun than even you had expected. Tom was a non-stop chatter, commenting on anything and everything, and he even went as far as telling you stories about Alex that you were very sure he wouldn’t tell you himself. It meant that you spent pretty much the whole night in stitches as Tom recalled his and Alex’s childhood. You knew he and Alex had been friends for a long while, but just knowing some of their history… it made you realise how they had managed to stay so close for so long.

If you had been through even a smidge of what those two had been through together with a friend, you doubted you would have left them behind ever. You were pretty sure you would have been best friends for life.

When it came time for Tom to finally leave, you couldn’t help but feel like you were going to miss him. Sure, having dinner with him didn’t match up to having dinner with Alex, and you were definitely sure there was someone else Tom could have been with that evening, but it was the nicest night you’d had since Alex had left. You appreciated Tom, you really did.

And you made sure to tell him that as you both headed to your front door (you didn’t have the heart to make him do the dishes with you, like Alex did, so he was leaving considerably earlier than Alex usually would).

Tom only gave you a grin as you thanked him. “It’s alright. You’ve done a lot for him. It’s the least I could do for you.”

You frowned a little. What exactly had you done for Alex? As far as you knew, he had done so much for you. He bought you food, kept you company, and had genuinely been a good friend to you from the moment he’d bought you a coffee to make up for the spilled one. You couldn’t really think of anything you had done for him. Instead of dwelling on that, though, Tom was quick to switch the subject to when you’d next have dinner together (and he pointed out that you’d need to bring over extra as well) and informing you of his favourite takeaway.

Part of you didn’t want to feel like he was talking as though Alex would be away for longer… but he was definitely talking like Alex would be away for longer

“Are you going to be alright?”

Tom’s question snapped you out of your thoughts, and you stared at him. Were you going to be alright? You’d spiralled already because one person was missing – it wasn’t as though the world was ending or anything. So you gave him a smile.

“I’ll be alright.”

A small part of you wondered whether that was really true.

***

It was more than a couple of weeks. You’d been busy, and had probably lost track of the time, but it felt like it had been more than a couple of weeks. It had been too long since you’d shared a dinner with that rather attractive fair-haired man, whose first time meeting you involved making you spill your coffee all over your front. You were still really missing him, like you were having withdrawal symptoms, and it felt weird.

You hadn’t ever missed someone like this for so long before – not even your own parents. It felt… weird. Part of you didn’t like it. You didn’t want to feel this way when it took over most of your waking thoughts if you weren’t sufficiently distracted. You wanted to be able to think of and do other things without having to try so hard. And more often than not, you couldn’t do other things unless you were working, because nothing else distracted you enough.

Other than, well, writing.

But you hadn’t had your writing mojo in a while. Mostly because you spent most of your time at work, but also because you didn’t actually have the energy or the time to get out your notebook (or even open up your documents) on most days to actually get some writing done. Perhaps it was about time to kick that back into gear. You had a feeling that hobby would kick your loneliness.

And that was how you ended up packing up your backpack, your notebooks and stationary in there along with your empty travel mug, as you headed down to your favourite coffee shop. You hadn’t been there in ages – not since before Alex had left – and you missed their coffee. You thought you could do with something hot and caffeinated, just to kick you into gear and wake your brain up. After all, you wouldn’t have the usual adrenaline from work waking you up and pushing you through.

The walk down to the coffee shop was rather nice, admittedly. It was a decently nice day, and it was peaceful outside – most people were either at work or relaxing at home for the day, so it wasn’t as though there was anyone outside to bother you or get in your way. Soon enough you managed to make it to the actual coffee shop, and you were more than glad that you hadn’t really bumped into anyone on your way down. It meant that you didn’t really have to talk to anyone at all, not even your neighbours, so you could get into the headspace that you wanted without too much issue.

The only thing was, the coffee shop was decently busy at the time. There was a steady hum of conversation as you walked into the shop, various people sitting on the different tables available. You worried that it would mean there wouldn’t be any space to sit, or that someone would try to strike up a random conversation with you, until you realised that your favourite table was actually free, and you smiled.

This was definitely a sign.

You headed straight to the counter to order your classic usual – an iced caramel latte, even though it wasn’t particularly hot outside – along with a blueberry muffin. Just to treat yourself and get you into the vibes of the cafe. It didn’t feel like it took long at all for your order to come, which was probably helped along by the fact that the barista hadn’t seen you in a while and struck up a conversation with you. You felt a little bad for not visiting as often – you used to chat near-regularly with this guy when you came there on an almost thrice-weekly basis – but you never had the time recently, and you admitted that.

When he asked you how your writing was going, you just felt guiltier.

Either way, you exchanged social media handles before he gave you your order, and you promised to message each other more when you weren’t around. After all, you liked chatting with the guy. You may as well strike up whatever friendship you had going with him. (And if it turned into something more… then what did you have to lose?

It was about half an hour after you sat down, when you’d finally got into your writing flow, when you felt the whole atmosphere of the cafe change very suddenly. What had once been warm and welcoming suddenly changed to curiosity and wariness, and as much as you wanted to ignore it and keep writing, the change was too dramatic for you to ignore. You had to see what was going on. That was why you put down your pen and looked up, curious about what was going on.

And it felt like, in that moment, your breath was stolen from you.

You recognised that familiar mop of fair hair the moment you saw it. You’d had dreams, weird dreams, of running your fingers through that hair, just to see how soft it was. You’d always imagined that it looked thinner and more wiry than it actually was, that you would run your fingers through it as he lay his head in your lap, the two of you relaxing at either of your places or even out on the local park, simply enjoying nature.

You were drawn out of your daydreams about his hair when his eyes suddenly focused on you. You’d always known his eyes were dark, but something was… something was different about them now. You couldn’t quite pinpoint what, but it was something. Something that you had a feeling should concern you.

Still, the moment his eyes landed on you, they somehow lit up, and that was enough to get you to stand to greet him instead of sitting until he came over. You watched him as he slowly approached you, not intending to get any closer to him.

Your feet carried you forward anyway, and soon enough you were embracing him, your arms wrapped tightly around him, and his around you. He felt almost like a lifeline, like someone you needed to survive. You didn’t know when he’d become that for you, how or when you’d come to depend on him so much, but as you clutched him you realised that you weren’t sure how much longer you could have survived without him around.

“I’ve missed you,” you murmured, your lips right next to his ear.

He let out the breathiest of laughs, tickling your ear. “I’ve missed you too,” he murmured lowly. And then he pulled away just enough to look you in the eyes. “We need to t–”

You didn’t know what had come over you, but the next thing you knew, your lips were pressing against his in a soft kiss that you hoped, you dearly hoped, conveyed everything you were feeling right then. Everything you felt about him in that moment. The way he froze up reminded you of how you’d hesitated when he’d first kissed you, but then he was kissing you back, his familiar chapped lips moving against your own. A few moments later you slowly pulled away – not breathless, but satisfied. And he rested his forehead against yours, a small smile on his lips.

“…Okay then.”

You laughed at his words, suddenly very aware that people in the cafe were probably staring at you both. Regardless, you took the opportunity to reach up and run a hand through his hair. You realised that your thoughts had been right – it was softer than it looked, and felt running through your fingers. Idly, you watched as his eyes closed in response to the movement.

So he liked his hair being played with? That was good to know.

“You’re right,” you spoke up, making him open his eyes so that he could concentrate on what you were saying. “We need to talk.”

Alex nodded as your hand slid out of his hair to rest on his shoulder. His hands rested on your hips, holding you close. “Right. Talk.” He paused for a moment, as though he was collecting his thoughts, and then, “Coffee?”

Your smile widened impossibly as you thought back to the first time you’d met. Of how he’d bought you a coffee in this very shop, and had your drinks at the very table you’d been sitting at when he’d walked in. And you were about to do it again.

“Coffee sounds like a good idea. You’re buying?”

He scoffed as he pulled away fully, making you laugh. “Are you expecting me to buy, or asking me to?”

You simply grinned at him as you headed back to your table. As soon as you sat down, you rested your elbow on the table and your chin in your palm, a smirk on your face. “You figure it out.”

He stared at you for a few moments, noticing your half-finished iced latte still sitting on the table, and rolled his eyes at you. “You’ve been spending too much time around Tom.”

“I’ve been spending just enough time around Tom, thank you very much.”

You just about managed to stop yourself from saying how you wanted to spend more time with just him, though. Just about. But that was all that went through your mind as you watched him go off to get his coffee from the barista you’d been chatting with earlier.

Soon enough he was back with his coffee. You swore you could see the barista watching after him with a weird expression on his face, but as soon as Alex was sitting in front of you your focus was on him, and not on the guy you chatted with whenever you came there to get your coffee. Your eyes were glued to him and only him as he took a sip from his coffee, and you couldn't help but realise that there were… purple-ish marks on his neck. At least, they looked that way to you. You didn't get much time to look at them, though, because soon enough he was looking at you again and had put his mug down, his shirt covering up whatever you’d seen.

“So, talking,” he started, and you couldn’t help but glance down at your iced latte, very tempted to take a sip from your drink so that you didn’t have to say anything. But you got the feeling that he would catch that – Alex was very observant – so you decided against it.

“Talking,” you repeated, before taking a deep breath. How did you even talk about it? It was… a lot, but at the same time, so little. Where did you even start? “…Do you want to talk about the first, or the second?”

You could tell Alex was trying to hold back a smirk as he looked at you. “Well, ideally we should start with the first, don’t you think?”

Well, when he put it that way, he made it seem so obvious.

“Okay, then you start,” you pointed out, deciding now was a good time to take a sip from your latte. “After all, you initiated.”

His cheeks flushed pink at that point. “I did.”

You realised that you found the pink flush very cute.

It took him a few moments to seemingly compose himself, and that was the moment you realised that Alex wasn’t as confident or as outgoing as he usually let on. There, right then, you were seeing him as a shy, awkward man – probably the kind of person he’d once been before he’d grown up and started putting on the more confident front.

You liked this shyer version of him.

“I… have liked you for a while,” he admitted, his voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear him. “I say a while, I mean… I mean a month, or so?" He gave an awkward half-shrug. "I just… acted."

You stared at him, blinking a few times. "You just… acted?"

"Yes."

"On impulse."

"Yes."

"Giving into an animalistic desire–"

"I wouldn't go quite that far."

You didn't know why, but suddenly you felt emboldened. The feelings you thought were a one-way crush turned out to be reciprocated, and your heart was bubbling with so much joy. But for some reason… for some reason you didn’t see the same level of excitement in his eyes.

Instead, you saw… was that hesitation?

He looked down at his mug, and then back up at you. And that was when you realised he wasn’t sure whether you felt the same way. Or, at least, that was what you were thinking, anyway. So you rolled your eyes at him.

“Aren’t you going to ask me on a proper date, or something?” you teased. You quickly realised that maybe saying that was a little too bold, but the way his cheeks flushed and he awkwardly laughed made you think that maybe he didn’t think of it as really offensive. Though the longer it took for him to answer made you wonder whether he was actually considering asking you on a date, or was trying to find a way to let you down gently.

“Dating me isn’t easy,” he finally said, his voice quiet. He looked… nervous now. “I’m a demanding person.”

“I know, I’ve fed you,” you responded casually. When he didn’t laugh, you realised he was probably talking about more than just food.

“I can also be absent for weeks at a time,” he pointed out.

“I can work with that, I’ve had a taster.”

“My job is really demanding, and I can’t tell you anything about it.”

That one confused you. Alex hadn’t ever told you anything about his job before anyway, but you knew that if you were getting closer to him that you’d want to know what he did from day to day. Or at least have an idea of what he did every day. But hearing that he couldn’t tell you anything… that sounded like it would be tough to deal with. And it also sounded like it was something that Alex anticipated.

So you reached over and placed your hands on his, watching as his eyes widened and he tensed a little. You gave him a small smile.

“I wouldn’t be dating you for your job. I’d be dating you for you. The job thing is secondary and not as important.”

He stared at you, as though he was actually processing what you were saying and whether you meant it. You hoped that he knew that you did mean it, and that you really did want to date him regardless. Relationships came from working hard at them – the two of you could work past anything you were unsure about now over time.

“Are you sure?”

You rolled your eyes at him. “Do you think I’d still be sitting here with you if I wasn’t?”

He stared at you, seemingly trying to decide whether you were telling the truth or not. So you decided to offer him a soft smile to try and encourage him.

“Do you really want to do this?” Alex asked, and you gave him a definitive nod.

“Yes.”

The smile that appeared on his face… it wasn’t quite blinding, but it was certainly very beautiful and very happy. And it made you smile even wider in return.

“Alright then.” He took a deep breath, still smiling. “Alright.”

“So pick me up tomorrow at seven?” you went on, and he laughed a little.

“Tomorrow at seven it is.” He shifted your hands so that he was actually holding them, and he squeezed a little. A squeeze that marked the beginning of a rather companionable silence as you both stared down at your hands, how they looked as you held onto each other.

Until you broke it.

“Is this the end of our talk?” you asked, looking up and raising an eyebrow at him. “Because if it isn’t, I think we need to discuss the way you alert me before you disappear for weeks at a time. The night before you go is not acceptable and I would like to have words with you about that.”

He grimaced. “Yeah, about that–”

“The next time you do that, I’m punching you and breaking your nose.”

He blinked, and then smirked. “Are you, now?”

“You bet I am.”

You knew you should be offended by the way he laughed at you, but you couldn’t help but smile at his reaction. It had been a while since you’d heard that laughter coming straight from him.

It was nice.

And you were glad that you were getting the opportunity to hear it more. At least, you hoped you were. You just had to wait and see.

[pi-cat000]

BNHA: something sad (Grief)

Summary: The last time Katsuki sees Izuku alive the other boy is rushing to save him. A ‘the Sludge Villain incident gone wrong’ AU.

Characters:  Katsuki Bakugo

Fandom: My Hero Academia

WARNINGS: Major Character death, swearing, heavy angst. destructive behaviour.

(Additional part here)

..

(Grief- Katsuki self reflects and visits Izuku’s grave)

Katsuki knows he has a volatile personality, probably inherited it from his mum, and enough attitude that he has steamrolled his way through life without much difficulty. Things annoyed him easily and he got irritable at the drop of a hat. He has enough self-awareness to recognise that as a flaw, even if he had never seen it as much of a problem. 

There was a difference between irritation and anger. Deku had always made him angry, inducing a burning hot sensation that ate at his insides. Now Deku was gone and he couldn't turn any of it off. It was like the world was suck behind a filthy pane of glass that he couldn’t smash through no matter how hard he tried.

Katsuki watches the head of his Kamui Woods figurine bend at an odd angle as the plastic began to superheat, having been exposed to a string of minor blasts. He had been slowly working his way through his figurine collection as both quirk training and to take the edge off his anger. Melting this figurine was particularly cathartic. 

“Perhaps we should look into getting you some new hobbies.”

Katsuki shifts his focus to glare at his father who stands at his bedroom door, an expression of worry pulling at his features. No surprises there, worry was his father’s default response to anything Katsuki did these days.

 “Not interested.”

“Something to get you out of the apartment,” his father continues to which  Katsuki narrows his eyes. He wouldn’t be in the apartment if he had any say in it. Both his parents know this. 

“Some physical activity where you’ll be able to let loose without having to worry about property damage. I have a colleague whose brother runs a kickboxing studio. I can make arrangements for you to spend time…” 

“I said, I’m not interested,” he grumbles, returning to his current distraction.

“Well, I want you to think about it,” his dad instructs, “It would do you a lot of good and it’s something you’re passionate about….” 

The figurine Katsuki is holding begins to blacken, colours melting away under his tiny, controlled bursts. There is an unhappy sigh from his father and the sound of footsteps retreating down the hall. He growls and the figurine explodes with a small Bang. Melted plastic is flung across his walls and floor. 

He knows what his dad is trying to do…

How many times had he begged his parents for better training opportunities, for karate or boxing lessons, only to be denied due to money restraints? Outside of a few judo lessons he had received as a birthday gift from Inko one year, any combat training he did he had been self-taught. 

Now he’s no longer interested, his parents are practically threatening him with extracurricular activities. 

It’s fucking annoying is what it is. 

He reaches for another figurine only to find that he has none left aside from his limited edition All Might collection.  He lets out an angry breath, trying to rid himself of his restless irritation. It doesn’t work, and he ends up standing so he can pace back and forth, listening to the pop, pop, focusing on his tingling skin as sparks run up and down his arms. It keeps him distracted for all of two seconds. 

Usually, he would be at the library studying, or going on long runs and working on his physical conditioning. Sometimes, he would meet up with a few of the loser-extras from school and they would visit an arcade. Recently, he had taken to wandering through the streets around his neighbourhood, waiting for something to piss him off enough that his mind would white-out in pure rage and could forget reality for a few seconds. Obviously, that had become a lot harder after several run-ins with the local police had had him all but permanently grounded outside of school hours. 

This is what he wanted… he remains himself. His plan to piss people off enough that he received some iota of punishment was working like a charm so, of course, it sucked. He hated it, but then, he hated all the alternatives as well so what did any of it matter. 

Katsuki ends up with his ear pressed against the door, listening for activity in the living room, waiting for an opportunity to make a break for it. He needs to be careful because Aunt Inko is visiting and the last thing he wants is to see her stupid, sympathetic smile. 

When it sounds like the coast is clear, he creeps out, stealing down the hall. Muffled voices from the kitchen are all the encouragement he needs to beeline for the door and slip out before anyone can spot him. He’ll be in trouble for this later. He’s counting on it. 

The hot summer air is a welcome change from the chill of air conditioning. There is the loud buzz of cicadas, chirping away in the sticky heat. He picks a direction and walks, not caring that he is wearing the sweatpants and the black singlet he had slept in. If someone has a problem with his presentation, he is more than willing to throw down. 

Unfortunately, the relief being out of the apartment brings is short-lived. Today, a feeling of discomfort follows after him which has nothing to do with the heat. A bubbling frustration that bites at his heels as he stalks the streets. It is that feeling he has come to associate with times when all his rage burns away, leaving him numb.  

He doesn’t plan to stop at the florists, he just sort of does. 

He turns suddenly into the store before he can properly process what he is doing. The chime on the glass door rings and the sickly-sweet smell of the store has his nose wrinkling. Before he can chicken out and retreat, he walks to the counter. 

“How much?” He snaps at the older lady in overalls manning the register, pointing at the nearest bunch of white flowers. He has no idea what type they are but that wasn’t the point wasn't it?

“Ah,” The woman squints at him, taken back “That depends how many you want?”

“I don’t care” He smacks the few yen he has on the counter, “However many that’ll get me. Don’t rip me off.”

 The woman nods slowly, “Do you just want these specifically? You don’t want to add some more colour to the bouquet? White is a bit of a dower colour.”

“Whatever is cheapest…just make it quick.” He is already regretting coming in.

The woman hums, pulling out a roll of paper, beginning to place and wrap the flowers Katsuki had pointed to. 

“Who are they for if I may ask?”

“No.”

“Oh? A special friend maybe,” She begins to tease.

“He’s dead,” he snaps abruptly, “and he’s not my friend. Just give me the damn flowers.” Why did people always make this shit more difficult than it needed to be?

The old hag is silent after that, awkwardly finalising his purchase which ends up being an assortment of white flowers with a few smaller yellow and red ones scattered between. It almost looks pretty and it is sickly-sweet smelling, just like the store.

He tries no to think about his destination as he walks with renewed deliberation. He doesn’t think about it right up until he is practically walking into the low stone wall nearest the gate. The shock of seeing the place has him freezing in place, breath catching. The last time he had been here had been during the funeral.

There are lines of thin, tightly packed, gave markers, rising horizontally on sets on uneven steps. There is barely room for people to pass between them on the narrow, flagstone path. Trees are scattered throughout the space, providing patches of uneven shade. The noise of the cicadas is louder here, almost oppressive in its throbbing hum.  For a moment, all he wants to do is walk up to the nearest stone and blow it all sky high. Then he would be sure to flatten every marker in the place until the land was a barren waste. That would get him arrested for sure. The thought passes quickly, and his eyes slide away from the cemetery to his flowers. They don’t look nearly as nice now he has almost strangled them with an unintentionally tight grip.

He breaths out, resisting the urge to set something on fire. Slowly, he walks up the steps, passing the small temple at the entrance. Deku is buried further in, his stone modest in size when compared to the others.

“Deku…” He grows out a greeting when he arrives and it gets caught in his throat. The stone, obviously, does not respond.

Before he can accidentally blow them up, he carefully places the flowers next to the small pile already adorning the small stone. There are more offerings than he expects to be there. He recognises a few of the names from school. One larger bunch looks especially expensive and elaborate, monopolising most of the limited surface space.

‘From Yagi Toshinori’ the card attached reads. Katsuki doesn’t recognise the name. 

He doesn’t know why he’s surprised, he didn’t know shit about Deku other than their shared ambition to be a hero.

“Deku…” Why the fuck is he having trouble talking, “You’re...” He stops.

 “You’re a fucking moron,” he manages to spit.

“I didn’t need you to save me.” The anger is burning so hot that its almost unbearable. Pop, pop, his hands fizzle. “I didn’t want your help.”

BANG! He makes sure the explosion is directed away from the stone and up into the sky. The small shock wave it produces rustles the flowers and nearby trees. All the cicadas stop chirping at once, plunging the area into an eerie quiet. His legs feel shaky and he is practically vibrating with anger. 

“What did you think a quirkless idiot could have done!”

Save his pathetic life while the real Heroes watch him suffocate from the side-lines? His brain supplies an answer. It was all a big joke wasn’t it? The bastards had all watched Deku die. That was what a Hero did apparently, wait for backup while someone died because it was safer for them. Safer for the Hero.

 His legs give way and he falls to his knees, curling his hands into fists, jaw locking up. Finally, the haze of anger falls away and his mind quietens. Everything was painfully clear now. People didn’t care when Katsuki yelled, swore, and hurt other kids, because his quirk was amazing, making him amazing. What a joke. If he hadn’t had his quirk, then the Slime Bastard would have had nothing to work with, and Deku might still be alive.

“I’m…I’m fucking sorry okay." He had always treated Deku like shit and he doesn’t think, if their positions had been reversed…he doesn’t think that he would have even thought about saving someone like himself.

The truth stings. He slams his fist into the flagstone next to him and he watches it crack.

"I’m sorry…”

He was lucky…that’s all he was… He wasn’t special… he was just an average human with a good work ethic and a garbage personality who just happened to have a powerful quirk.

He wasn’t a hero…well, not one like Deku had tried to be…like Deku had been…

He didn’t even want to be a hero...not anymore...He doesn’t know what he wants.

“Damnit…” the words have no heat behind them. The explosive rage that had been burning continuously in his chest for the last week simmers, snuffing out like a candle. There is a hole where his anger had eaten away at something fundamentally him, leaving empty space.

Katsuki leans forward, letting his head thump against the stone.