#one hour fifty three minutes. yeah. longer than i thought but not by much

[rowynri]

IZUTSUMI!!! :DD

[2nd2ndalto]

what if there were two (side by side in orbit)

__

(chapter 1 here)

Chapter 2

September 1998

When Will opens the door to the basement office the next morning, there’s a flurry of activity.

“Thornhill, Virginia,” di Angelo says by way of greeting. He squeezes past, handing Will a map. Will accepts it, his eyes following his new partner’s progress across the office. The dark-haired man drops to a crouch to dig through a drawer in the corner. “Little town, right at the edge of the Shenandoah National Forest,” he continues, his voice muffled. “Place is known for maple syrup, mostly. Tourism. Some very picturesque bed & breakfasts. At least, that’s what the librarian told me when I called.”

“Sounds… nice?” Will says, a little confused. He glances to the clock on the wall, just double-checking. Yes, he’s almost 15 minutes early. Di Angelo has clearly been here for a while already. There’s a bag open on di Angelo’s desk. From what Will can see from where he’s stalled several feet into the office, there are files inside, and a jumble of clothes.

“Oh, it’s lovely,” Di Angelo turns to raise an eyebrow at Will. “Except for the recent string of murders.”

Comprehension dawns, probably a little late. “Oh.” Will blinks, trying to catch up. “How – how many murders?”

Di Angelo stands, running a hand through already messy hair, causing it to stand half on end in a way that somehow makes him look even more attractive rather than insane. “Three in the past two months. The most recent being Sarah Wilton, age twenty-four. Her body was found yesterday morning. But I was looking through some old newspaper articles, and the recent deaths are very similar to a string of murders in the same town fifty years back.”

Di Angelo delivers all of this rapid-fire and Will gazes at him for a moment once he’s stopped speaking, still processing. His gaze drifts to the map he suddenly realizes he’s still holding. “Oh. Okay. So, road trip?”

“Yeah, I thought so,” di Angelo says. He’s stuffing a few more things into his bag, then forcing the zipper closed. “You okay with that? If you’re not ready to go out in the field yet you’re welcome to stay here, take a look at some more files. I don’t mind–”

“No,” Will says immediately, “a road trip sounds great. What do I need?” He’d anticipated possibly being out on some overnight trips, or longer. He’s brought a minimal overnight bag to work today, though it won’t be adequate for a longer excursion.

“Shouldn’t be much,” di Angelo says. He plucks his bag from the desk, makes a fluid turn to grab his coat from the hook on the wall. Will stares, transfixed by the other man’s movements. He registers that he’s still standing in the middle of the only open space in the office, and takes the few steps over to his desk.

“It’s maybe a two-hour drive,” di Angelo is saying. “I just want to take a look around, talk to a few people. We should be back by the end of the day, but I’d take a change of clothes just in case. Oh, here,” he adds, fishing a folded newspaper from the edge of his desk. “You can take a look at that on the way. Ready?”

Di Angelo’s eyes are bright. He looks a little manic. It suits him.

::

A car has already been requisitioned, apparently, and Will follows di Angelo to the parking garage.

“Who’s driving?” Will asks, surveying the line of monochrome sedans and hatchbacks.

Di Angelo stops in his tracks, his gaze a little over-intense. “I drive.”

Okay, then. Will’s a decent driver, but he grew up in a house with too many teenagers and only one vehicle, so he never got into the habit of doing it regularly. That, and he still finds the freeways around DC a little daunting.

“Did you grow up around here?” Will thinks to ask as di Angelo turns off Ninth Street and angles the car towards the freeway entrance.

A brief glance to Will, guarded. “Yeah. Sort of.”

When it seems no further information is forthcoming, Will supplies, “not me. I’m from Texas. Little town with one traffic light. My mom lives near Fort Worth now.”

There’s no response to this. Will decides not to take it personally. He reaches across the dashboard for the newspaper di Angelo handed him earlier. Deaths Shock Small Town reads the cramped headline under the fold.

“Three deaths this year,” Will muses, half to himself. The rest of the article is on page six, just a few short paragraphs. “Seems as if something like that would be bigger news in such a small place. Do they get a lot of murders out that way?”

Di Angelo raises an eyebrow. “I’m willing to bet they don’t.”

Will reads further. “New housing development encroaching on the forest… bodies found with limbs ripped off –” he frowns. “Couldn’t these be animal attacks? This place is right on the edge of a national forest. If this housing development is pushing into established animal habitat…”

“That would be the most logical conclusion,” di Angelo says slowly, eyes on the road.

“But?”

“But…” di Angelo lets it hang for a moment. “The bodies appear to have been gnawed on by human teeth.”

Will grimaces, glancing back to the newspaper. “The article doesn’t mention that.”

“No,” di Angelo allows. “But I have other… sources.”

“The librarian?” Will asks.

There’s a pause as di Angelo changes lanes, passing a slow-moving RV. “It can be helpful to keep an open mind when gathering information,” he says cryptically.

Will glances over the article again, then at the other man. “Local law enforcement asked for FBI assistance?”

Now di Angelo looks a little guilty. “I’ve found, in this job, that often it’s better to ask for forgiveness than permission,” he says carefully.

Will snorts.

“The case sounded like it had potential,” di Angelo says, not quite apologetic. “I figure we’ll drive out, have a poke around, talk to a few people. If nothing pans out, no harm, no foul.”

“Sure,” Will agrees. It’s not as if he’s an expert.

Di Angelo clears his throat. “Have you ever heard of the Shenandoah Strangler, Agent Solace?”

Will raises an eyebrow. “No, I have not.”

“There are some legends in this area – a being only ever seen in the forest. People have reported a creature with horns or antlers, the upper body mostly human, lower half more like a goat.”

There’s a brief silence in the car.

“That sounds… unlikely,” Will says evenly. “Is that what you think is going on here? Some kind of cryptid?”

A shrug. “Only one way to find out.”

Will watches the other man out of the corner of his eye for a moment. He reminds himself that this is his second day on the job. And he does always try to keep an open mind. “Have you encountered other reports of… cryptids? In your work?” Will asks.

Di Angelo doesn’t respond for a moment. He reaches up to nudge the rearview mirror, the tiniest adjustment. He flicks a glance at Will, hesitant. “Do you really want to know?”

“Yes,” Will says, decisive.

Di Angelo’s lips twitch into a grin, eyes bright.

::

An hour later Will has learned more about cryptids of the Southeastern and Mid-Atlantic US than he ever would have thought there was to know. The more he listens to his new partner, the more he’s surprised how easily their views align, or at least complement each other. Di Angelo doesn’t come across as gullible, or guileless. He’s sharp and thoughtful. Knowledgeable, but more impartial than anything else. Open to possibilities. And who could argue with that?

The further they drive, the more Will finds himself warming to the other man. The idea of acting as a snitch is repellent in itself. As they begin to pass the exit signs for Thornhill and the impromptu cryptid lecture draws to a close, Will feels a wash of relief that maybe, really, he won’t have to.

They arrive at a trailhead just outside of town, miles of forest stretched out before them. The sun’s been up for a few hours but the air still feels cool here, misty. They’re set to meet someone from the Parks department, reportedly. Will trails behind his partner as di Angelo scopes out the area. Before long, a battered-looking red pickup pulls up, kicking up a cloud of dust in the parking lot.

Di Angelo walks back towards the lot, Will following. An older man exits the truck and begins making his way up the path towards them.

“Morning,” di Angelo calls. “Ranger Blanchette? I’m Agent di Angelo, this is Agent Solace.”

They both shake the ranger’s hand. He’s got thick gray hair and a thicker mustache. He’s shorter than Will, and solid-looking.

“Surprised to see FBI out this way,” says Blanchette, gruff. “From what I understood, sheriff’s office had this investigation all wrapped up.”

Di Angelo chooses not to respond to this. “Thanks for meeting us. Do you mind showing us where Sarah Wilton’s body was found?”

The three of them troop into the woods. It’s not far, just a few minutes down a narrow, uneven dirt trail and then a few yards into damp, mossy forest. Blanchette seems in no particular rush; slow, measured steps down the path. Though they’re not moving at any great speed, Will still manages to stumble several times, and reminds himself to keep all-terrain footwear at work. Di Angelo seems light on his feet somehow, even in dress shoes.

Will has spent most of his life feeling clumsy, too big for his body. Di Angelo and Blanchette are both noticeably shorter than he is, and it makes Will extra aware of all the extra space he occupies, as unreasonable as he knows that is. He grimaces to himself.

“You okay?” di Angelo asks. He’s slowed his own pace as the path widens a little, falling into step beside Will.

“Yeah.” Will shoots him a smile.

Blanchette leads them into a small area bare of trees. “This is where they found her. Not much to see. They cleared the crime scene pretty quickly.”

The ground in the little clearing is more trodden than one might expect, but aside from that, there’s nothing of note. Di Angelo crouches, running his fingers over a patch of flattened moss. “Third death in these woods this year, right?” he says, glancing up at the park ranger.

“Yeah.” The older man pauses, thoughtful. “You see some weird stuff out this way. Or at least that’s what I’ve heard.”

“You ever see anything weird?” di Angelo asks. He sounds cool as anything, but Will can tell he’s dying to hear something juicy.

“Hard to say,” Blanchette hedges, a shifty glance at di Angelo and then Will. “There were some similar murders, a few decades back…”

“One case in 1947, right?” di Angelo says. “Man wandered off the trail, body was found a few days later with a leg gnawed off.”

Blanchette nods slowly. “Yeah, and then a couple of other deaths the following year. Folks say it wasn’t a human that killed them. People seem to think it was some kind of… creature.”

Will stays carefully quiet, taking in this exchange. Di Angelo’s face is impassive, but not judgemental. He’s clearly had similar conversations in the past.

“I thought I saw something, a few times,” Blanchette continues, gazing beyond the clearing where the trees thicken to a nearly-solid wall of lush green. “Something almost human but not quite, you know? Thought I saw it come out of the trees once, near sunset. Long, scraggly hair. Looked like it had horns. It kind of sniffed the air, like a dog would. And then it went back into the woods. Scared the crap out of me to be honest.” He glances at Will who nods sympathetically. “After a while, I figured it was just some kids messing around.”

“That’s interesting,” di Angleo says. “How long ago was that?”

“Couple years.” Blanchette rubs the back of his neck. “Everyone’s got their own weird story out here. Something they’ve seen. My brother swears he once found a dead rabbit with a human tooth in it.”

“Whereabouts?” di Angelo asks.

“All in this general area. There are some caves down over yonder.” Blanchette jerks his chin in the direction of thick brush. “People ‘round here tend to give them a wide berth. These murders’ve got everyone nervous. I’d advise you gentlemen to stay armed, if you’re planning on wandering around out here.”

Will has no argument with this. And he has very little desire to go wandering into caves, mythical creatures or not.

They don’t spend any longer in the woods. Apparently di Angelo has already secured an appointment with the county coroner. Will’s privately impressed that he managed to line all this up before the sun had even properly risen this morning.

“Mind if I put on some music?” di Angelo asks as they return to the car. The radio is on, something mindless and chattery, the volume too low to get the gist of the program.

“Sure, go ahead,” Will agrees, remembering Kayla’s comment about di Angelo’s music choices. He smiles to himself. “Got anything good?”

The other man huffs. “Anything good, he asks,” he mutters to himself, pulling a zippered sleeve of CDs from his bag and popping one into the player.

There’s a sharp buzz of electric guitar and then a hum of bass. Well. Kayla’s right about at least one thing.

“Nine Inch Nails,” di Angelo says, glancing over at Will.

Will grins. “Yeah, I’m familiar. A little emo, don’t you think?” he asks the other man – because he’s quickly realizing that there’s something about di Angelo that makes Will want to tease him mercilessly. He won’t, though. Probably.

“Emo,” di Angelo rolls his eyes. “And what do you listen to? Top Forty?”

Will laughs. “Rude. And yeah, sometimes.”

“Should’ve known.” Di Angelo’s eyes are on the road, a smile playing on his lips.

Will shrugs. “I listen to a bit of everything.” With five kids in a small house, there hadn’t been much space to be picky about music choices. “Lots of show tunes lately. A few Disney soundtracks,” Will adds, nonchalant, glancing over for a reaction. He’s not disappointed.

Di Angelo’s brow creases. “Show tunes,” he says, flat. “Like Cats?”

Will shrugs. “Not recently. I’ve been listening to a lot of Rent. And the score from The Little Mermaid is pretty flawless.”

Di Angelo shakes his head, slow. “I’m requesting reassignment as soon as we get back to DC.”

Will laughs, loud. “You could. You might just end up with something worse, though.” He gazes out at the woodland flashing past the window, weak sunlight just starting to catch the bright yellows of the changing leaves. “It’s my turn to choose the music, next road trip,” he adds. He enjoys di Angelo’s cringe immensely.

::

Will’s been feeling a little lost all morning, wanting to make a good impression, eager to prove he’s more than just a tagalong. It’s a bit of a relief to get to the coroner's office. Here, at least, he’s in his element.

The coroner is a tired-looking, bespectacled man. He’s probably only about a decade older than Will, but with the posture of someone who’s been carrying the weight of the world for a good few years. “They say animals can develop a taste for human flesh, but this was no animal,” he tells them, pulling on gloves and reaching for the sheet covering the body.

Will moves closer. White female, 20s, healthy-looking aside from being dead and missing most of her right leg and a portion of flesh at her shoulder. He glances at di Angelo, who’s standing several steps back, paler than Will’s seen him. “You okay?” Will asks under his breath. The other man nods, tight.

“You see these teeth marks, just below the clavicle?” the coroner asks. “Those sure look human to me.”

Will inspects the marks, a semi-circle of dark red imprinted into ghost-white flesh. “Yeah, that’d be my conclusion, too. What was the cause of death?”

“Blood loss, as far as I can tell,” the coroner says. “She was likely still alive while her leg was eaten off.”

::

They pause outside the coroner’s office, neither of them rushing into conversation. Nico leans back against the warm brick of the building, closing his eyes and taking in a deep lungful of fresh air. He’s lightheaded, clammy.

The smell of morgues, the artificial chill in the air – no matter how many times he revisits these scenarios, even years later, his mind always goes right back to Bianca, identifying her body after the crash. His body remembers, even when his mind tries to push it down. It doesn’t help that this victim was a young woman, close in age to his sister when she died. He takes another breath, trying to force himself to feel less like vomiting. Or crying.

“Not crazy about corpses?” comes Solace’s voice.

Nico attempts to unclench his jaw enough to answer. “Morgues, mostly. Can’t get used to them.”

There’s kind concern in Solace’s blue eyes, a crease to his brow. And the sentiment isn’t unappreciated, exactly. Solace seems like a decent guy. But the fact of the matter remains that everything is so much simpler when Nico works alone. When there’s no one here he needs to explain himself to.

Solace’s gaze lingers. “You’re definitely not the only one. Anyway, that’s what I’m here for, right?” He offers Nico a shadow of a smile that Nico can’t quite return.

Solace turns his gaze to the street before them, propping himself up against the wall next to Nico without further comment, not making any move to rush them back to the car. After a long moment, Nico levers himself upright. He scrubs a hand over his face. Solace follows, unhurried.

“You know, I think I’d be willing to gnaw someone’s leg off in exchange for a coffee right about now,” the taller man says thoughtfully, and Nico barks out a laugh, surprised. Solace turns, a sunny, toothy grin.

“Or at least chew on a clavicle,” he amends.

Nico feels his own face relax into something that’s almost a smile, feels the ache of grief fading into the background again. Solace has really nice teeth, Nico thinks suddenly. White and straight, except for one slightly crooked lateral incisor. Nico’s struck by the bizarre thought that those teeth look like they probably could gnaw on a clavicle. He finds himself horrified and intrigued in equal measure.

“Coffee sounds good,” he says.

::

“So what’s next?” Solace asks as they make their way back to the car, coffee in hand.

“Not sure.” Nico unlocks the doors, settling his coffee in the cup holder and flipping his phone open. No new messages. “I tried calling a couple of the previous victims’ families this morning, but I couldn’t get a hold of anyone. I guess we could try going by their residences.”

He reminds himself, not for the first time today, that he’d better play this one by the book. He has a feeling Solace’s field reports will be scrutinized more carefully than he’d like.

There’s quiet as they both buckle in. Solace looks like he’s chewing on something. “You’ve got copies of the police reports from the victims this year,” he begins, sounding hesitant. “Do you think the sheriff’s office would have the autopsy records for the historical victims?”

Nico shoots Solace an approving look. “That’s an excellent idea.”

A tentative smile. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Nico agrees, anchoring his hand on the back of the passenger seat as he reverses out of the parking spot. That’s perfect, a logical next step. And he didn’t even need to plan it out himself.

Nico glances at his new partner. That look on his face, it’s… relief.

Nico merges back into traffic, taking a moment to make sense of this. It’s almost as if Solace is worried about what Nico thinks of him.

That’s surprising, somehow. Unexpected, at least. Solace is smart and easy to talk to and he wants Nico’s approval. Is it possible Reyna sent the wrong agent downstairs?

Logically, Nico should be suspicious. It’s not an act, though, he’s pretty sure. Nico doesn’t love putting his profiling skills to work on a personal level, but Solace is an open book, emotions painted clearly across his freckled face. And Nico hasn’t exactly conducted extensive polling, but when he ran into a buddy from Violent Crimes in the cafeteria yesterday, the guy had nothing but good things to say about Solace.

Nico finds, occasionally, that friends and acquaintances will expect him to have particular insight into their psyches. It’s so far from the truth that it’s laughable. Nico’s much more adept at piecing together the motivations of serial killers than navigating the complexities of the people right in front of him. And he’s even less interested in examining his own interiority.

Solace told him, yesterday, that he just wants to do good work. Well. That’s something Nico can help with.

“You’re already thinking like a special agent,” he tells Solace, his voice coming out warmer than he meant it to. He clears his throat.

Solace huffs, looking pleased at this. “I’m not feeling very special yet.”

Nico shrugs. “That’ll come.”

::

The ease of their day ends at the sheriff’s office. Deputy Tait is another sturdy old white guy, unfortunately possessing none of the chill of the park ranger they met this morning.

“You don’t have any jurisdiction here,” Tait says, impatient. His face is several shades redder than when they arrived, Nico notes with some interest. “No one contacted the Bureau. I don’t even know how you heard about this incident, but there’s no reason for the FBI to be involved. Woman wandered off a trail at night, got mauled by a panther. I don’t know what you two think you’re going to find here!” His voice rises, and several heads turn in the vicinity.

Solace seems to shrink in on himself a little, but this is familiar territory for Nico.

“Look,” Nico says, still as calm as when they walked in twenty minutes ago, “I’m sure you’re right. We’re not looking to cause trouble. Just let us take a look at the case files and we’ll be out of your hair.”

Nico waits patiently as the sheriff regards him with acute exasperation. Finally, the older man lets out a noisy breath. “Fine. Come back in an hour and I’ll see what I can do.”

Nico glances towards the empty file room and the woman sitting at the desk inside with a crossword spread out in front of her. She meets Nico’s eye and shrugs.

“Thanks so much for your help,” Nico says, trying hard not to roll his eyes.

“And don’t go making a spectacle of yourselves around town,” Tait adds irritably. “We got tourists coming from all over the county this weekend and we don’t need FBI poking around and scaring them off.”

::

Nico’s still hoping to speak with the previous victims’ families, but no one answers when they try knocking on doors. He hasn’t been able to obtain contact information for anyone who might have been acquainted with Sarah Wilton.

Some time later, Nico’s seated beside his partner on a park bench near the center of town, both of them having acquired canned drinks and hot dogs from a cart nearby. The sun filters through the trees above, dappling the yellow leaves beginning to pile up on the grass at their feet. The smell from the hot dog cart is mouth-watering, and the hot dogs are perfect; lightly charred and nestled in fresh, fluffy buns.

Solace groans in appreciation around his first bite. “Oh my god this is so good.”

Nico nods in agreement, mouth full. He shoots a glance to his partner, who’s looking blissful, still chewing. “Um. You have mustard on your nose,” Nico says.

“Oh. Fuck.” Solace grimaces, fishing in his pocket for a paper napkin and then scrubbing at his nose. He turns, looking mildly abashed, freckled cheeks and nose tinged pink. “Better?”

And it would be overwhelming looking at anyone at such close range, wouldn’t it? Nico glances away quickly. He nods. “Yeah. Got it.”

“You still thinking cryptids?” Solace asks. He cracks open his Coke and pops a straw into the can.

Nico glances over, still half-expecting to see disdain or impatience on the other man’s face. But there’s only curiosity. It’s unnerving. Nico finds himself relaxing a little more each time it happens.

He shrugs. “I’m open to the possibility.” He gazes off into the distance, cars zipping by on the street ahead of them, a whole town full of people going about their business as if there isn’t a potential murderer lurking in the woods.

“It’s a nice little town,” Solace says.

Nico nods in agreement. Red brick buildings, a pretty town square edged with well-tended flowerbeds. People lunching on patios and on the grass in the afternoon sunshine. The kind of quaint little place city people like to escape to, especially at this time of year when the leaves are changing. They’d seen several signs advertising harvest festivals and craft shows on their drive out.

“Reminds me of the place my little brother went to college,” Solace offers.

And Nico knows it’s not meant as anything more than an offhand remark, just idle conversation, but he feels his jaw tightening.

“Those files should be ready by now,” Nico says, standing and crumpling the foil from his hot dog.

Solace stays seated a moment longer, blinking up at him. Then he follows. “Yeah. Lead the way.”

::

The files aren’t yet ready, as it turns out, and they pause outside the sheriff’s office.

“Looks like this might be a little more than a day trip,” Solace comments with a glance at his watch.

“Yeah,” Nico agrees. “Not sure why they’re making us wait if they’re so eager to get us out of town. Might be an overnight stay, though. Are you okay with that? If you’ve got someone expecting you home, you could always head back,” he says, suddenly realizing he hasn’t the vaguest idea what the other man’s personal life might entail.

But Solace shakes his head. “No, I’m good. I’ll give my sister a call later and let her know. We share an apartment.”

Okay. He has a sister. And an apartment. And the brother he mentioned earlier. That’s… useful information to have, Nico supposes.

“What about you?” Solace asks. “You have someone at home? A girlfriend?”

Nico snorts. “No.” He unlocks his door, then reaches over to pop the passenger side lock.

And Nico doesn’t know why he feels the need to elaborate, but the words are out of his mouth before he has a chance to overthink it, tumbling into the sun-warmed car as Solace reaches for his seatbelt. “I um. I have fish,” he says.

Solace pauses, seatbelt pulled halfway across his chest. “Fish?”

Nico feels his face warming, the embarrassment and discomfort of being known, even a little. He knows it’s stupid, but that’s what he is. “I have pet fish. At home.”

“Oh. Nice.” Solace looks unreasonably pleased at this.

“I get my sister to feed them if I’m going to be out of town for a while,” Nico continues, for some unknown reason still talking, “but they should be fine for a couple of days.”

“You have a sister too,” Solace says, far too curious.

“Yeah.” Nico turns from the other man abruptly, puts the car in reverse and backs out of the parking space. For good measure, he turns the CD player back on and bumps the volume up.

::

With no luck in contacting the victims’ families and without any joy from the sheriff’s office, di Angelo suggests the library – a scan through old newspapers on the off-chance there’s some insight to be gained there. Will agrees easily. He slowly feels as if he’s getting his legs under him, checking off boxes, following the trajectory of the mystery. He’d been worried he’d feel like he was in the way – di Angelo is surely accustomed to working alone – but the other man doesn’t seem to mind the company, as long as Will refrains from asking any personal questions.

Di Angelo pulls a film sheet off the microfiche reader, sliding it carefully back into its envelope.

“No luck in January 1948?” Will asks. He leans back, rubbing at tired eyes.

Di Angelo shakes his head, pressing a hand to his mouth. Will raises an eyebrow and the other man grimaces. “These things make me queasy,” he mutters.

“Take a break,” Will says, firm. “Pass me the next month and if I find anything, I’ll read it to you.”

But aside from the few short articles di Angelo had in his archives back at the office, there’s nothing. Most of the news from February 1948 is about new, post-war housing being built at the edge of the town. It’s strange.

Di Angelo’s phone buzzes, and he stands, digging in his coat pocket. He glances around at the other library patrons, walking quickly out into the hall as he answers, his voice low. He’s back only a minute later, looking frustrated.

“Everything okay?” Will asks.

“Reyna,” di Angelo mutters. “She’s not happy that we came out here without prior authorization. Sheriff called the Bureau. Reyna wanted us back immediately. I convinced her to let us stay until tomorrow.”

“Oh,” Will says, taking a moment to process. “Reyna. The assistant director. You’re on a first name basis with her?” Ramirez-Arellano hasn’t struck him as the sort of person who’s on a first-name basis with anyone.

Something shutters in di Angelo’s expression. “Oh. I guess.” He turns back to the case of film sheets on the table beside them.

“Care to elaborate?” Will asks, curious.

“No.”

Will resists the urge to tease, though it’s a close thing. “Are we in hot water?” he asks instead.

Di Angelo scrunches his nose.

Cute, Will thinks, involuntary, then inappropriate his brain tells him, louder. What is with him. All he can think is to blame it on Kayla. He never would have considered this man in anything but a professional capacity without her interference.

“Probably not,” di Angelo says slowly. “Reyna’s under a lot of pressure from her bosses. She knows my hunches usually pay off. And I solve cases. Besides, you should be okay.” The corner of his mouth twitches. “You’re new.”

Will bites back a smile. “I’ll just tell her you’re a bad influence.”

Di Angelo shoots him a grin. “Exactly.”

::

There’s a young man waiting near their car when they exit the library, and the two agents exchange a glance as they approach him. He’s thin, mouse-brown shaggy hair brushing the shoulders of a threadbare checked shirt. He watches the two men as they approach, looking like he might run if they get too close. Will’s struck by the thought that the guy looks like someone his father would cross the street to avoid.

Apollo’s mouth, twisted in distaste: “don’t give them any money”. The thought makes Will’s jaw clench and his stomach ache. He has no desire to examine that any further at the moment. Luckily, he doesn’t have to.

“Are you the FBI agents?” the man asks once they’re close enough for conversation.

Di Angelo nods. “We are. I’m Agent di Angelo and this is Agent Solace.”

“I’m Billy Wilton,” he says, holding out his hand. “Sarah Wilton’s brother.”

Billy looks as if he could use a good meal even more than di Angelo, Will thinks. Di Angelo must be thinking along the same lines, because ten minutes later he’s led them to a nearby diner, and the three of them are seated in a red vinyl booth. Di Angelo waves off the younger man when he tries to reach for his wallet.

“Thanks for taking the time to talk to me,” Billy says. “The police didn’t want to. They told me the case was closed, it was an animal attack. I just want to make sure someone knows about Sarah, you know?” He drops his gaze and Will feels a surge of sympathy for the young man.

“Why don’t you tell us about her,” Will says, gentle.

“Sarah was my big sister. She loved the woods,” Billy begins. “When we were kids, we used to go exploring there all the time. She used to tell me ghost stories, stories about half-humans living in caves there.”

Will glances over at his partner, half-expecting the cryptid-fervor back in his gaze again. But there’s only sadness there.

“She was a good sister,” Will says softly.

“Yeah. She was. Our family lived out in the trailer park – until they closed it down to make room for the new housing development, anyway. In high school… well. Our family never fit in. There’s a lot of money here, and we didn’t have that. But Sarah always made me feel like I fit in,” Billy continues, twisting a paper napkin in his fingers. “We were always a team. Then after high school… she kind of got mixed up with the wrong crowd, I guess you could say.” He glances up, looking guilty. “You might have seen that, if you read the police report. She was a good person, though.”

Di Angelo nods. “She’d gotten involved in drugs. Sex work. Is that right?”

Billy nods, his gaze darting back to the table. “Maybe she was killed by an animal, I don’t know. But I couldn’t help feeling the sheriff just wrote her off. Because…” he trails off.

“Because she didn’t act the way she was supposed to,” Will says quietly.

Billy nods.

“Do you know of anyone who would have wanted to hurt Sarah?” di Angelo asks.

Billy lets out a long breath. “Honestly? We hadn’t been in touch as much over the last year or so. But no. I don’t think so.”

::

“Poor kid,” di Angelo says, gruff, as they get back into the car.

“Yeah,” Will agrees. He thinks about the shadows under Billy’s eyes, the way he’d cleaned every crumb from his plate.

Di Angelo puts the key into the ignition and then pauses, scrubbing a hand over his face. “That’s the hardest part of this job. All the people left behind. Sometimes I can find answers for them, and sometimes…” he shrugs.

“All you can do is your best, right?” Will says, soft.

Di Angelo nods, gazing out the window. “You never really forget any of them. Not the ones we help and not the ones we don’t.”

There’s a long pause wherein Will tries to piece together the right kind of reassurance. He comes up empty-handed.

“Anyway.” Di Angelo clears his throat, starting the car, “we should go see our good friend Deputy Tait.”

Finally, the historical files are waiting for them, but they’re frustratingly sparse. Bare-bones, autopsy reports nowhere to be found. There are a few witness testimonies, really not anything more than what they already learned from the park ranger, vague reports of sightings of a creature in the woods near where the bodies were found.

An hour later, squinting in the low light of the small office they’ve grudgingly been provided with, and di Angelo sighs, pushing his chair back. He turns to Will, looking tired and a little regretful. “I might’ve dragged us all the way out here for nothing.”

Will shrugs. He’s not going to start complaining on his second day. “It’s not a problem. You never know unless you try, right? Besides, I need to get my field legs under me,” Will adds. “Probably better with something like this than a super high-stakes chase through the city. You know, scaling brick walls, running after perps.”

Di Angelo huffs. Will shifts in his chair, the gun at his hip digging into his skin. His hand drifted to it, almost subconsciously.

“You don’t like the gun,” di Angelo states, a bit out of nowhere.

Will makes a face, twitching his suit jacket back over his hip. “I don’t love it,” he admits.

Di Angelo nods, thoughtful.

“I do know how to use it,” Will feels the need to add, and the other man offers him a faint smile.

“I wasn’t suggesting otherwise.”

“I’m trained in medicine,” Will continues, feeling as if he needs to defend himself, though he’s been given him no indication that this might be necessary. “I spent a lot of time learning how to save people. Sometimes from this.” He gestures to his hip where the gun is hidden by his jacket.

“Makes sense.” di Angelo gazes at Will for a moment, contemplative. “I don’t love it either, I guess. But it’s a tool. It’s good to have when you need it.”

Di Angelo’s gaze lingers on his face for just a moment longer, a quiet intensity, and Will looks away, feeling his cheeks warm. He reminds himself that di Angelo is experienced in psychological profiling, one of the best in the business. He suddenly feels too exposed.

“So what’s next?” Will asks, eager to change the subject.

::

They both settle into their motel rooms after bidding each other goodnight. Nico pores over his notes. Something isn’t adding up. The sheriff seems way too eager to sell this as a simple animal attack. And then there are the missing autopsy reports. Tomorrow they’ll head back to DC, and the mystery will be lost forever.

He pushes away from the small table, restless and twitchy, not nearly tired enough to sleep. He glances at the TV. He could find something to watch. Or go for a run.

Or he could head back into the woods.

Nico gathers his things quickly, pulling his coat back on and closing the door behind him. Then he stands in the near-dark, conflicted. Because there’s no need to bother his new partner with this, right? The work day is long over. Solace is probably asleep anyway. And Nico’s made similar excursions on his own countless times.

Nico heaves a sigh, stepping a little further from the moths fluttering around the exterior lights of the building. Plans for wandering alone into possibly-creature-infested woods are the kind of thing one should probably share with a partner, when one has had a partner assigned.

It’s late now, almost eleven. Nico decides that he’ll leave a note, if Solace has already gone to bed. But as he nears the door, he can see light filtering through gauzy curtains.

A soft knock at the door and Solace answers just a moment later, surprise on his freckled face. He’s got glasses on, shirtsleeves rolled to his elbows. His blond curls are mussed, a frizzy halo in the half-light seeping from the motel room. He looks taller in the near-dark, if that’s even possible. It shouldn’t be. He’s not even wearing shoes.

Nico shakes himself internally. Focus. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“No, I was just writing up my field report. Should have gotten to it earlier, but there was a good episode of Star Trek on,” Solace grins, easy. He seems like the kind of guy who’s easy with everyone. He’s even easy with Nico. Nico’s never been easy for anyone. He’s certainly not about to start now. Not for all the six-footedness and blond curls and toothy grins in the world.

“I just wanted to let you know, I’m gonna head back to the woods where we met the park ranger,” Nico says.

Solace blinks, owlish behind his glasses. “Right now?”

“Yeah. I can’t sleep. I just want to go take another quick look around before I turn in.”

There’s a beat, and then Solace says, “I’ll come with.”

“No, you don’t have to. I just wanted to let you know where I was –”

“What, in case you turn up missing a leg tomorrow?” Solace asks over his shoulder, dry. “Let me grab my coat.”

::

The drive back to the woods is quiet; no music playing, di Angelo not offering much in the way of commentary. Will gazes out the passenger window at the darkened houses. There’s next to no traffic at this time of night, especially once they leave the town limits and head into rolling hills and woodland.

“So, what are we looking for?” Will asks as they step out into the cool night air.

“Maybe nothing,” di Angelo says, “but most of the sightings of this creature have occurred around this time of night. It can’t hurt to take a look around.” His eyes are serious as he turns to Will. “Just stay alert.”

Will doesn’t need to be told twice. He’s got his gun holstered and his flashlight lit as they walk towards the trailhead. The crunch of leaves and gravel underfoot seems unnaturally loud.

It’s weirdly quiet and still, and it remains so as they make their way through the woods to the place Sarah Wilton’s body was found. It puts Will on edge, like the trees are closing in on them. They pause in the small clearing they visited earlier in the day.

“I don’t think I want to go too much further into the woods. We’ll lose the trail,” di Angelo murmurs after a moment. Will is privately relieved. He’s glad di Angelo hadn’t decided to come out here alone, but before the other man had shown up at his door, Will had been making important plans involving a hot shower and the vending machine he’d seen beside the reception desk.

They wait, flashlights trained on the ground in front of them.

“Flashlights off?” Will says after a moment, quiet. “We’re not going to sneak up on anything like this.”

Di Angelo nods, and they flick the beams off. The silence is eerie, pressing in on Will’s ears, but at least the moon is bright, and after a few moments Will’s eyes adjust and he can see the contours of the landscape. Trees loom over them, moonlight filtering into the small clearing.

Will glances at di Angelo. He’s alert, watchful, scanning the trees around them. But as time passes, even his fervor starts to fade.

Will is just about to suggest that they head back when there’s rustling off to the left. Will resists a gasp at the sudden noise, his heart picking up speed. Both men turn in unison, silent. Will’s hand goes to his gun, a similar motion from the man next to him.

Will’s barely breathing, primed by the stories of cryptids di Angelo shared on the drive out, and honestly off-balance from being in this situation at all. Most of the fieldwork he’s been involved in have involved people who were most certainly already dead. Not… potentially going to be murdered very shortly.

There’s movement among the trees. Will’s definitely not imagining it, nor the way his partner tenses beside him. Will’s hand tightens on his gun, his eyes straining into the darkness.

There’s still and quiet again, long enough that Will feels he’s finally able to take a full breath – but then there’s the distinct snap of a twig and the movement of branches, too close.

Whatever’s moving in the trees looks human, but… not. Will feels a shiver run down his spine at the unreality of it. It’s walking on four legs, but it doesn’t look like any animal Will’s ever seen. It moves parallel to them, loping through the underbrush, a weird, uneven gait. Then it stops to sniff the air and torturously slowly, turns to face them where they stand in the clearing.

Will’s mouth go dry. Di Angelo’s still as a statue beside him, the three of them motionless in the moonlit woods. For an interminable moment, they gaze at each other.

The creature slowly stands, rising to two legs and looking much more human now, except the short, curly horns growing from the crown of its head, just barely visible in the cool moonlight. It’s head has an odd shape, distinctly not human, and the dissonance makes Will’s skin tingle.

The creature surveys the two of them for a long moment before continuing on its path, moving deeper into the woods.

Will let out a long breath. He and di Angelo turn to each other, and Will thinks that his expression must mirror the other man’s – half terrified, half amazed.

“Seen enough?” Will asks weakly.

Di Angelo beams at him. “Holy fuck. Yeah.”

Will laughs, mostly at the expression on the other man’s face, feeling more than a little awestruck himself.

“Did that look human to you?” asks di Angelo once they’re back in the safety of the car.

“I don’t know what to think. Whatever – or whoever that was… they certainly match the description from the park ranger.” Will shakes his head slowly. “So what now? We alert the sheriff’s department?”

Di Angelo nods, his eyes on the road. “Yup. They’ll want to search the woods and surrounding area again.”

It’s nearly three in the morning by the time they pull back into the motel parking lot, and Will decides to forgo the shower in favor of a bag of Hickory Sticks and then bed. He sleeps hard and dreamless, waking to a brisk rap on his door and sunlight already pouring in the window.

Will stumbles across the room and squints into the peephole to see di Angelo fully dressed and looking tense.

“Give me a minute,” Will calls, quickly shedding his t-shirt and sweats in favor of the same dress pants and shirt he wore yesterday. It’s a good thing they’re planning on heading back today, because he really hadn’t packed for a prolonged stay.

Will unlocks the door. Di Angelo is pacing on the walkway. “They shut us out,” he says, before Will can open his mouth to speak.

“They – what?”

“They shut us out,” the other man repeats, angry. “Fucking NSA. They’ve got the whole area barricaded, I couldn’t get in there, couldn’t even get anyone to talk to me. They threatened to arrest me and they gave me an armed escort back to the main highway.”

Will frowns, bewildered. “But - why NSA? Do they think this is some kind of threat to national security?”

Di Angelo throws his hands up. “Beats me. No one’s talking. I’ve got a call in to Reyna and I’m heading to the sheriff’s office now. You coming?”

Will’s already nodding. “Yeah. Of course. Can – can I brush my teeth first?”

Di Angelo’s expression softens, marginally. “Yeah. Of course.”

They gaze at each other for a beat. “Here. Come in.” Will opens the door wide, stepping back. The other man enters, dropping into a chair. He’s still there when WIll exits the washroom, feeling a little more human after having taken the time to shave and splash some water on his face.

“Sorry,” the other man says. “For barging in –”

“No, it’s fine, I was…” Will hesitates. “Okay, I was sound asleep, but it’s fine.”

Di Angelo huffs out a laugh. “Coffee? To make up for waking you?” He holds up a styrofoam cup, clearly from the coffee maker on the desk.

Will’s face must betray his relief, because di Angelo laughs. “What do you take?”

“Oh, um. A sugar and a creamer. Thanks.” Will stands there awkwardly as the other man prepares his coffee. Di Angelo takes care to secure the white plastic lid before handing it to Will.

“Cheers,” Will says, and they awkwardly bump their styrofoam cups together. Their fingers brush and the swoop in Will’s stomach catches him off-guard. He opens his mouth to speak and then closes it again as he realizes he has no idea what he was going to say.

Then di Angelo gives him a nod and leads the way out to the parking lot. Will follows, giving his head a shake.

::

Deputy Tait meets them at the front desk of the station. “I had nothing to do with this,” he says, raising his hands in surrender, maybe taking in di Angelo’s fierce expression. “I reported what y’all saw last night, and next thing I know we’re overrun with feds.”

In this instance, Will’s inclined to believe the sheriff. If anything, he hadn’t wanted more attention drawn to the matter.

Di Angelo nods, deflating. “What can you tell us?”

“Not much,” Tait admits. “They’ve been searching the woods for a few hours. Last I heard they were gonna blow up a couple of caves on the north angle.”

Will isn’t the only one surprised with the fact, and di Angelo sounds aghast. “They’re blowing them up?”

“Seems they got a hold of whatever animal’s been causing these deaths. They killed it on sight, and they want to make sure there aren’t any others.”

Di Angelo curses under his breath, then turns on his heel. Will thanks the deputy before following the other man back out to the car.

Di Angelo is standing beside the sedan, eyes on the mountain range, his jaw tight. There’s smoke rising in the distance, silhouetted against a haze of green forest.

“Fucking cowboys,” he seethes. He turns to Will. “You saw what I saw, right? That wasn’t any kind of animal.”

WIll hesitates. “It was dark, and I didn’t get a great look at it, but… no. It didn’t look like an animal.”

Di Angelo scrubs a hand over his face. “What happened to discovery? What happened to curiosity? Living in harmony with nature? No. Instead we have to blow up what we don’t understand.”

Will stays quiet, eyes on the horizon, an ache in his chest.

Di Angelo’s gaze flicks over to him. “Don’t get me wrong,” he says, quieter. “I get that they had to do something. But is this the solution?” He waves a hand towards the woods, frustrated.

“It’s not as if this creature, whatever it was – was coming into town looking for victims,” Will agrees. “The deaths only happened once humans started invading its territory.”

“Yeah.” The other man regards the smoke in the distance for another moment. “Reyna’s expecting us back,” he mutters after a long moment. “We should pack up.”

They return to the motel, retrieving their few possessions and preparing to leave town. Di Angelo looks truly defeated.

“Hey,” Will says over the top of the sedan, “I can drive, if you want.”

Di Angelo regards him, inscrutable. “No. That’s okay. Thanks, though,” he says, finally.

Will watches the other man as he hefts his bag into the back seat.. “Why don’t we make one more stop before we head out?”

::

Billy WIlton’s place is on the way out of town anyway, as it turns out. The mansions and wide lawns gradually fade to smaller, post-wartime houses, close together, sagging roofs and crumbling staircases.

Billy’s sitting on his front porch when they pull up in front of the house, and he rises to greet them. He’s already heard the news, or at least some of it.

“I’m so sorry,” di Angelo tells him, “NSA’s shut us out now and the Bureau wants us to leave it alone. There’s really not much else we can do. But whatever killed your sister, it’s gone. I hope that brings some closure, at least.”

Will thinks Billy looks calmer than he did yesterday, something settled in his expression. So there’s that.

He nods in understanding. “I’m glad you came by. I wanted to thank you again.”

Di Angelo shakes his head. “We really didn’t do anything.”

Billy shrugs. “You let me talk about Sarah. It helped. I appreciate your time.”

Will thinks his partner looks almost tearful for a moment. Then he seems to collect himself, reaching out to shake Billy’s hand. “Take care of yourself,” he says.

Billy nods, reaching out to shake Will’s hand, too. “Safe drive.”

::

Will gazes out the window as di Angelo guides the car onto the highway. The day’s turned wooly and overcast, iron-grey clouds hanging thick and low over red-yellow foliage.

“That was a bust,” di Angelo says after a long silence. He sounds exhausted.

“I wouldn’t say that. Billy Wilton was grateful. We helped at least one person.”

“Maybe.”

“You showed me my first cryptid,” Will offers.

Di Angelo glances over, almost smiling. “Yeah? Is that what you’re gonna write in your field report?”

“Something to that effect. Apparent humanoid creature, didn’t resemble an animal, horned, oblong head, four-legged gait.”

“Well sure, when you put it that way,” di Angelo mutters.

Will laughs.

They ride in silence for the next few miles, a far cry from the treatise on cryptids Will was subjected to on the drive out. He glances over at the other man.

“So, Agent di Angelo. How’d you get interested in this field in the first place?” Will asks, fully expecting not to have to say much for the next twenty minutes.

The other man lets out a long breath. “It was a bit of a hobby, when I was a kid. You know. Paranormal… stuff.” There’s a long pause. “And then I became aware of the X-Files when I started at the Bureau. Transferred over from Violent Crimes when the opportunity presented itself.” He falls silent.

“That’s a good story,” Will says, when the silence continues to stretch and the road continues to disappear under their tires. “Detailed and compelling.“

Di Angelo huffs. “How about you?” he asks after a long moment. “You were in med school, before the Bureau snagged you. How’d you end up there?”

Will takes a second, considering his answer. “Hard work. A few scholarships, too many part-time jobs. Lots of sleepless nights and no social life to speak of. My dad could have helped a lot more than he did, but…” Will shrugs.

Di Angelo shoots him a sympathetic look.

“It’s kind of the family business, I guess. My dad’s a doctor. His dad too. It was what everyone expected. I kind of found myself in the middle of it before I’d properly thought it through.”

“Those things are hard to back out of, once you’re committed,” di Angelo says, quiet.

“No kidding,” Will sighs. “I did think I wanted to practice medicine, for a while. And then I didn’t. And then the FBI came calling, and that seemed like a good opportunity. Two years at Quantico, and then I got shuffled over to sit in a car with you listening to –” Will grabs the CD case from the dashboard. “Green Day.”

Di Angelo huffs. “At least you got the last part right.”

Will laughs. They fall back into silence, though it’s briefer this time, maybe lighter.

“You grew up in Texas,” di Angelo says, out of nowhere.

“Yeah, I did,” Will says, surprised at the unprompted query. “Carleton. Sixty miles from just about any kind of civilization. Three brothers, one sister.”

“That must have been nice,” di Angelo says. His voice is almost wistful “Growing up in a big family.”

Will shrugs. “Yeah, for the most part.” It was a big family… until it shrunk by almost half. But there’s no need to get into that right now. “There were too many of us and not enough space,” he settles on, instead. “Lots of good memories, though. How about you? You mentioned a sister?”

Di Angelo doesn’t immediately react, and Will wonders for a moment if the other man didn’t hear him.

“That’s Hazel, that I mentioned,” he says finally. “My half-sister. She lives in Baltimore. But Bianca. She was… my other sister. She died. A little over ten years ago.”

“Oh,” Will says, suddenly feeling as if he’s completely put his foot in it. “That must have been… I’m really sorry,” he says, softer. And for a second he wants to mention Michael, and Lee, but at the closed-off set of di Angelo’s face, he thinks it might be better to move on.

“Thanks,” di Angelo says after a moment. “It sucked. Still does, to be honest,” he laughs without humor.

“Yeah,” Will agrees, his own voice hoarse. He has a stupid impulse to reach out and squeeze the other man’s hand where it rests on the gear shift. Instead he diverts and distracts; much as therapy has taught him it’s not his job to raise the spirits of everyone in the room, old habits die hard.

At least he’s successful, pointing out a Krispy Kreme sign at the next exit and drumming up some excitement about coffee and doughnuts. They get back into the sedan after the brief stop, di Angelo pops in another CD, and there’s not much conversation aside from the occasional “sorry” or “oops” when their fingers bump as they reach for the cup holders.

Traffic is heavier as they near the DC city limits, and the CD cycles back to the first track.

“Want me to change it?” Will asks, reaching for the zippered case between them.

“Sure. You can choose one. Or just stick in whatever’s next.”

Will flips through the discs, trying and failing to find anything he’d choose to listen to voluntarily. There’s a CD at the back of the case with the title written in Sharpie on the disc.

“The Early Years?” Will asks, holding it up.

Di Angelo glances over. "It's Tom Waits. You might like it."

Will’s not entirely sure about that, but he goes for it anyway, surprised at the gentle acoustic guitar that flows from the speakers when he pops it in. They're three tracks in when he catches the dark-haired man smiling, truly smiling at him, and Will laughs. "It's good," he says, surprised.

Di Angelo just nods, looking pleased. He turns his attention back to the road, one hand loosely gripping the top of the steering wheel. Will leans back into his seat, lulled by the quiet melody and hum of the car. He sneaks a glance sideways. Di Angelo looks just as relaxed, Will thinks, the tension of the case in Thornhill drifting away in the hum of the highway, the miles under their tires.

Di Angelo drives the way he moves around his basement office, Will thinks. Languid and graceful, like he belongs in the space. Like he’s a part of it. It’s not… unattractive.

There’s a pause and another track begins, a soft progression of chords in a major key. Di Angelo begins singing along softly, under his breath, then a little louder with the chorus.

Will watches him out of the corner of his eye, something warm and unexpected blossoming in his chest. The other man has a low voice, well suited to hitting the lowest lows of the song. Will grew up in a house full of musicians, and he’s a quick study. When the second chorus begins, Will joins in with a light tenor harmony.

Di Angelo shoots him a smile, not faltering in his melody as they begin passing exit signs for DC and as the chorus slips back into the verse.

The song ends and Will grins. “You have a nice voice, Agent di Angelo,” he tells the other man.

Di Angelo huffs out a laugh. “You’re not so bad yourself. Maybe we can have a second career as lounge singers, if this FBI thing doesn’t work out.”

Will laughs. “Sounds like fun.” He tilts his head. “I’ll bring my Disney soundtracks along next road trip. We can sing the Aladdin duet.”

“Oh my god,” di Angelo mutters. He’s fighting a smile. “Next road trip, I’m requesting separate cars.”

Will laughs. There’s a moment of quiet as the CD continues to play and di Angelo smoothly changes lanes. “You know,” he glances at Will. “You can call me Nico.”

Will grins, somehow feeling like he’s won something, like maybe this whole case wasn’t such a bust after all.

“Nico,” he says, trying it out. Stupidly, it makes his cheeks warm. He carefully turns his face towards the passenger side window.

::

Three weeks later

Reyna pauses in front of a filing cabinet in the basement office, surveying the mess on its surface. Most of it is unremarkable - books, files, newspapers, overdue expense reports. She peers at a framed photo sitting atop a box of envelopes.

Then there’s the slam of the stairwell door and a voice in the hall. Reyna turns, brow furrowed. It sounds like Nico’s voice, but the voice is singing. Not only that, but Reyna’s quite sure she recognizes the song, because it’s from the animated mermaid movie her nieces are obsessed with. So perhaps it’s not Nico? But who else would be in the basement, particularly after five pm?

The office door opens and it is indeed Nico, still singing to himself, eyes on a sheaf of paper in his hand. He crosses to his desk, completely unaware that he has an audience.

Reyna clears her throat.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Nico jumps about a foot in the air, clutching at his chest. Reyna’s gaze follows the trajectory of the papers he was carrying as they flutter to the floor.

Nico slumps against his desk, breathing hard. “What the fuck, Reyna – what the fuck are you – Jesus Christ.”

“Whose fish?” Reyna asks.

“Whose – what?” Nico asks weakly.

Reyna turns back to the filing cabinet, plucking the framed photo from the top of it - four tropical fish in a tank, an array of plastic tropical plants anchored in colorful gravel, a skull sitting in the corner. “Whose fish?” she repeats, holding the photo out to Nico.

“They’re – they’re mine.”

“Yours?”

“Yeah –”

“You have a framed photo of them. In your office.”

“It was a – stupid Christmas gift from Hazel. Reyna –”

“But you brought it to work. And put it in your office.”

“Reyna, what the fuck are you doing here?” Nico bursts out, exasperated.

Reyna carefully replaces the photograph. She turns and watches Nico for a long moment. “I wasn’t aware you were a Disney fan,” she says.

“I’m… not?” Nico says, looking completely lost.

“Part of Your World? The Little Mermaid?”

Now there’s a trace of something other than irritation on Nico’s face – recognition, or embarrassment. Interesting.

“That’s not me, that’s my idiot partner,” Nico mutters.

“You know all the words.”

Nico frowns. He opens his mouth, then closes it again. “Reyna –”

“Speaking of which, how are things progressing with Agent Solace?”

Nico’s posture softens. “He’s – fine. I mean, he’s got garbage taste in music. And he thinks he’s funny.”

“You seem to think he’s funny as well.”

“I – what?”

“I saw the two of you walking back into the building this afternoon. I would have said hello, but you were busy laughing at something Agent Solace had said.” Reyna quirks an eyebrow.

Nico sighs, finally dropping into his chair. “Is there a reason for this visit, or did you just come down here to antagonize me? Because I’ve spent the last two days in a car with Solace, and honestly I’ve had my fill of that.”

“Fine.” Reyna clears her throat. “I came to speak to you regarding your investigation in Thornhill.”

“Oh.” Nico sags in his chair. “Look, I know we went down without prior approval, but –”

Reyna raises a hand to quiet him. “That is not what I came to speak to you about. I had a meeting with Octavian this afternoon.”

Nico grimaces. Honestly, Reyna can relate.

“He was initially quite unhappy with what he considers a misuse of resources to chase down a lead that didn’t pan out, especially one he deems outside the purview of the Bureau’s mandate. What I most wanted to impress upon you, however, is that Agent Solace’s field reports were flawless. He was able to outline your investigation in a way that even Octavian was unable to find fault with.”

Nico blinks. “Oh. That’s…”

“Yes, it is,” Reyna agrees. “Agent Solace was also able to delineate your role specifically in a manner that cast you in the best possible light.”

Nico looks a little stunned.

“And, purely as a matter of interest,” Reyna says pointedly, “Agent Solace’s reports were typed, submitted on time, and scrupulously proofread.”

At that, Nico rolls his eyes. “Do you want Solace to take over down here? I can go upstairs and do autopsies if you like.”

“What I am saying, Agent, is that it may be very much in your best interests to be nice to Agent Solace. If you’re very lucky, this partnership could be a significant factor in helping you keep your department.”

Nico scrubs a hand over his face. “I let him play his stupid CDs in the car. What more do you want from me?”

Reyna watches him and he sighs, watching her back.

“Fine," Nico says grudgingly. "I’ll be nice. He’s – he’s not so hard to be nice to. As it turns out."

(chapter 3 here)

Notes:

1. I have done a LOT of work on this chapter and tbh it's still probably my least favourite. I found it really hard to write these two as complete strangers, not to mention this was the first ~case chapter I wrote and I felt entirely out of my element. Not looking for sympathy, just sharing because I like to hear about people's writing processes :) Incidentally, writing casefic got MUCH easier with some practice. 2. On a related note, I wrote this chapter completely cold turkey, no planning, the way I'd usually write a one-shot. DO NOT RECOMMEND. I spent a lot of time trying to figure out what was going on when I got to the editing stage. 3. At some point I realized I could just make up town names and it made my life so much better. 4. Thanks a ton to @rosyredlipstick for the beta & to @anything-thats-rock-and-roll for random troubleshooting :)

[rachi-roo]

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Black Clover: New High score!

Yaaaay! I'm so happy to see Black Clover thriving on this platform again ^^

Summary: Tiggle fic. Luck and Magna have had an ongoing contest with each other to see who has better endurance, and Asta wants in. Even though he doesn't know what he's gotten himself into.

Characters: Lee Asta, Ler Magna, Luck and ler Vanessa.

Tw: None

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"That was not half an hour! It was twenty-nine minutes and fifty-eight seconds." Magna grumbled as he and Luck shoved each other through the main doors. Both looking out of breath and scruffier than usual.

Luck grinned, bouncing on Magnas shoulders. "Was not! It was half an hour! Three minutes longer than you lasted, Maggie."

Upon hearing their voices, Asta poked his head around the corner, pouting as he noticed their messy clothes. "HEY! Don't tell me you've been working out without me!"

Magna plopped down on the couch, rotating his shoulder in its socket as it ached. "Working out? Not really. We've just beeeeen, uuh, testing out each other's endurance-"

"Endurance training!? Without me?!"

"Well, no it's just-" The ex-punk wasn't sure, this was a sort of inside joke that he and Luck had been doing for ages now. Over Asta's shoulder, he spotted Luck giving him a nod as he grinned. He wanted to let Asta in on their little game, just for a laugh.

Magna's uneasy expression changed into a smug grin, as long as Luck didn't mind, he was down for getting Asta involved. "I don't know, little guy, it might be a bit too much for someone as inexperienced as you." He shrugged, watching Astas face twist into one of absolute disgust.

Luck chimed in with a grin. "What if we went easy on him the first time?"

"I bet I can take it! I'm tough! I'm strong! I've been working out every day of my life! Look at these guns! Look. At. Them!" The small wizard flexed his arms in an attempt to impress his friends, desperate to get in on the action.

Magna held up his hands in defeat. "Okaaaay, okay buddy. But you need to be prepared for a rough ride. And we won't be held responsible for whatever happens."

"You can't scare me! Let's do this! I'm pumped! YEEEEAH!" He was vibrating with excitement. Magna and Luck exchanged smirks, knowing exactly what was about to happen.

"Uh-huh, yeah, woohoo. First things first," Magna started, standing from the couch and stretching. "Lose the jacket and cloak. And hand over your belt-"

"Done!" Asta practically threw his clothing at Magna, standing like a pokemon sprite, all poised and ready to fight. "C'mon, c'mon!"

"Haha! He's so hyper!" Luck giggled.

"You're one to talk." Magna huffed, taking Asta's wrists and binding them together with his belt, earning a confused look from the short boy.

"What, uh, are you doing?" He asked, tugging slightly on the belt before yelping as Luck shoved him onto the couch.

"Not to worry! All part of the test." The electric blonde chuckled. "C'mon, arms up! Up!" Magna and Luck took their positions. Asta laid on the couch whilst Luck held his arms up, Magna sat on his waist.

"Alright, last chance kid. You sure you want to do this?" Magna smirked, cracking his knuckles, smirking at Luck.

"Yeah! Wait what are we do-IHIHIIII!" Asta's body suddenly spasmed as he felt the unmistakable feeling of fingers shaking into his tummy, instinctively yanking his arms down to defend himself. Magna tutted as Luck shook his head.

"Damn, not even a second. I thought he'd be tougher than you, Magna. Guess not." Asta pouted, looking at Magna as he shrugged.

"Doesn't look like it, oh well, maybe when he gets stronger we can-"

"No! No, I got it! I just wasn't expecting you to tickle me! Start again!" Asta puffed his chest, putting his arms back over his head, bracing himself for the ticklish onslaught.

"Alright," Magna chuckled, flexing his fingers over Asta's clothes stomach, the flesh trying to hide away from the digits as Asta sucked inward. "My longest time is twenty-nine minutes by the way." And with that, the attack started again, the white shirt Asta wore offered little to no defence as Magna scribbled and squeezed the puppy fat on his tummy.

"Pffff-! Ahahaha! Oho gahahad!" The ticklish wizard managed to resist the urge to defend himself this time, trying his best to leave his arms up in Luck's grip. "I-Ihihi! I got thihihis!" He beamed, his heels digging into the couch as he tensed.

"Oh yeah? What iiiiif we move on up a little?" Magna hummed, moving to pinch at Astas lower ribs, rubbing his thumbs in circular motions on the protruding bone. Asta's hips bucked, that spot surprisingly more sensitive than the other.

"AAAH! Ah! Geheheez!" He shook his head, twisting his torso back and forth.

Luck giggled at Asta's reaction. "Oh wowwie! He's so loud!" He said in a raised voice so he was heard over Asta's ridiculously loud cackling and yelling. Happy yelling. But loud, contagious yelling.

"He sure is. I wonder what noise he'll make if I do this! Coochie, coochie, coo, loud mouth." And so began the teasing as Magna shoved his hands up inside Asta's shirt, vibrating his fingers into the front of his ribs, just below his pecks. The noise that followed caused a flock of birds to scatter in the nearby trees outside. You'd think someone was being murdered.

"GYAAAAAAHAHAHAHAAAAA!" After completely emptying his lungs, Asta took in a sharp breath, laughter falling silent for a brief moment. Magna and Luck couldn't help but laugh with the boy and be amazed by how he was holding up. He did need to breathe though, Magna thought.

"I think we should stop for now, you're going to loose your voice kid-"

"NOHO! No! I-IYAHAHA! Icandothis!" Asta blurted out before falling into a bout of giggles. Magna shrugged, continuing the tickling tournament. He looked up, feeling the weight on the couch behind him shift, then smiled upon hearing the voice.

Vanessa's silk tone greeted them with a chuckle as she sat on the couch, crossing her legs and trapping Asta's ankles between her thighs. "Well, well, what are we doing in here?" She asked, already knowing exactly what they were up to. She had seen Luck and Magna do this to each other before. "Say, Asta, want me to help? A big strong wizard like you can surely take more than just Magna's training." She chuckled, playfully slipping Asta's boots off, all whilst he's still in hysterics.

"Gihive me your wohorst!" He blurted out, of course, he could take more than this! He's going to be the wizard King! With the okay given, Vanessa started slowly dragging her nice pointed nails up and down Asta's soles, making his little toes curl as he tensed his legs up.

"AHAHAAAA!"

"Ooh, I think he likes that." She smiled. Through all Asta's squirming, his headband had slipped over his eyes, deepening the tickly sensations as his other senses were heightened. A flurry of warmth filled his belly. His cheeks and nose a soft pink, along with the tips of his ears.

He was indeed holding up very well. Between Magna mercilessly switching between Asta's tummy and ribs and Vanessa now scratching on the paw-pad-like toes, surely he would break soon.

Some time passed when Asta finally felt at the end of his rope. His breath getting shallow and his throat became dry. "Okahay-! Ah-AHA! OKAHAY! I GIVE! STAHAP!" And instantly, the tickling stopped.

Luck untied Asta's wrists, Magna and Vanessa removed themselves from their Asta-shaped seats, allowing the tuckered-out boy to curl up on himself, still giggling like a loon. He slowly peeled his headband from over his eyes, smiling at his friends.

"That was impressive kiddo, lemme get you some water." Vanessa smiled, fetching a glass of cool H20 to rehydrate the shrivelled little man.

Asta graciously took the glass, sipping between giggles. "Hah..... ehehe.... H-How long..... Did I last?"

Magna petted his hair, sympathetically. "That was eighteen minutes and forty-four seconds. Not beating us this time but, hey! At least you got a score higher than zero." He chuckled, prodding Asta's cheek.

The boy sighed. "I need to get better! Let's go again! Right now!" He moved to lie down again when Vanessa stopped him. "I don't think so, kid. You're tired enough as is now. Maybe another day. Right?" She asked, looking at Magna who nodded in agreement. They didn't want to burn him out completely.

Asta nodded, he was pretty tired after all that. He'd have to think of a way to strengthen his core maybe. Work on being able to turn off his tickle receptors as well as his pain ones then the time needed. As he sat thinking of how to improve, he found himself starting to doze, leaning back into the couch cushions.

This new tool that could be used against him and needed to be dealt with. After a long nap that is.

[anyoneseenadam]

Healing

pairing: Azriel x reader (acotar)

warnings: TW - sexual assault, rape, objectification and implications of abuse, smut, consensual sex, azriel is a sweetie and rhys is a good bestie

a/n: first of all PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS!!! i’m really proud of this fic but I don’t want to trigger or upset anyone, that being said it isn’t too graphic but still. Anyway I hope u enjoy, this took me three days lmao <333

based on: this and this

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You had your first less than savoury encounter with men when you had barely turned nine. Your body still hadn’t finished forming, but you were growing, and your body was gaining some semblance of shape as you did. It wasn’t much – just a whistle from across the street – but for a second your heart seized up with fear, and in the next you almost felt giddy. A man thought you were beautiful.

You felt like a princess that day – felt the way you had when the boy from your class had kissed your cheek, still too young to process the intentions behind that single whistle. But you didn’t care – someone wanted you.

When you got your first period at twelve – even more changed. Your body felt new, and you didn’t feel comfortable in the changes. Your old clothes didn’t fit and now your mother forced you into tighter corsets for those long, long dinners you had to attend. Your parents were respected Fae in the Hewn City – nobles who liked to drink and smoke and throw extravagant balls. And with your new body you could no longer simply hide in the corner or climb through secret passages with your friends – muddying your dresses.

Now you had to smile when men hugged you slightly too long, laugh when they commented on how much you had grown up, sit pretty and pristine with an old mans hand loitering to close to your rear for hours as you watched your parents drink away their troubles.

By the time you were fifteen you were used to the constant attention, your beauty not uncommon where you lived but still doted on often. Unaware of their desire for your youth, your naivety. The women never offering a helping hand but instead glaring down high skewed noses as their husbands slurred into your ears – still in shock that a pretty, young thing like you was all alone at this party.

When you were sixteen you decided to change that – kissing an alright looking boy at a party and telling him exactly what he wanted to hear so he would kiss you back. He stayed when you didn’t protest as he pulled you to the bathroom and pushed you to your knees. And for this small request, the greasy hands on your body at balls and dinners or any other social gathering halved – now only the truly self-righteous felt they could touch you still.

The only problem was you truly did love the boy you had chosen. He had faults yes, but he was kind – he brought you flowers and kissed your cheek. But he also spoke over you, forced you into silence and took what he wanted. And he always wanted the same thing.

If anything it was his father’s fault. The military commander never leaving room for debate when he argues with his wife – and sons only become what they see in their fathers.

Your father had left with a younger woman a few months after your fourteenth birthday, and you hadn’t seen him since – only heard stories of him galivanting around the autumn court from your classmates. You could see the distaste your mum held you in as she realised she would have to stick around to look after you, not yet old enough to be married. Then Amarantha had taken hold of the country and that possibility had been thrown out the window anyway.

Weirdly enough not that much changed in your life when she took power, the only major difference was that now you had to block out screams before going to sleep and even they had become like white noise. You still drank with your friends on Friday nights, went out with your boyfriend on Saturdays and slept the pain away on Sundays. Your weekdays consisted of school, dinners, balls and whatever more your mother could throw together to appease the high queen.

That and the high lord of the night court had started making appearances at the events your mother threw. He was a cruel man standing so proudly at the queen’s side – but you saw something flickering in his eyes whenever people spoke, complimenting his power and rule. You saw what you felt as you laughed at compliments and lingering touches – you saw pain, but more importantly you saw anger. And right now you could use anger.

During one ball you watched him leave, taking an odd route – not the one that would help him escape the loud music but instead a long winding corridor leading to a series of smaller rooms. Without thought you peeled away from your company, muttering excuses and went after him – grabbing a bottle of wine as you did.

You found him reclining in an empty room and knocked on the door gently. He cracked open an eye – slow like a cat – and beckoned you in. You moved to perch next to him, leaning back with a straight back and letting your head loll slightly as you took a swig of the dark red wine, before passing him the bottle.

“You looked like you could use a drink,” you smiled, eyes focused on his sharp jaw as he held the bottle to his mouth with a laugh.

“One way of putting it,” he smiled. The two of you sat in silence for several minutes as you took in his beauty, his looks plus mannerisms all made him seem like a wild cat - a panther trapped underground.

“Why are you here?” he finally asked, and you raised a hand to trace that sharp jaw. But instead of devouring you as any lesser man would’ve, he brushed your hand away and held it tightly in his larger one. “That’s not gonna happen, you’re what sixteen?”

“Almost seventeen,” you said, cheekily. He laughed but shook his head, squeezing your hand before releasing it.

“You’re still a child,” he said matter-of-factly, and you scoffed, stealing your wine back to drink again.

“Yeah well that’s usually a selling point,” your voice was sad, but you didn’t dare let your eyes stray from his – refusing to show fear, “And you’re so nice to me, I wouldn’t tell anyone.”

He laughed as you pouted, “You practice this in the mirror or something?”

“Usually works in three seconds,” you confess, and he whistles under his breath, “Men are rather easy to manipulate when they’ve been trying to get into your skirts since your first bleed.”

“And you wonder why I’m not about to take advantage of you,” he laughed, and you smiled – a real smile, or real enough. “Plus I don’t think your little boyfriend would be pleased.”

“Eh, he’s never pleased - I don’t think this could make him worse.” Rhysand took the wine back and frowned.

“Does he hurt you?” his voice was sincere but the laugh you let out was not.

“Don’t all men,” he swore, and you laughed again, “Yet you foil my plan to make you fall in love with me and whisk me away to the moon.”

He laughed, but his eyes darkened with deep sadness you were sure you would never understand, “I think we both no that even I could not do that, but I might be able to crush your fly.”

“Little boyfriend? Fly? You really don’t like him do you?” you laughed, head lighter already.

“I don’t like any man who thinks they can hurt women,” he said, frowning when he realised through your passing back and forth there was no wine left.

“Shit that took us like five minutes,” you complained, and he laughed, waving his hand lightly as several more bottles appeared before you – you grinned as you grabbed another.

“So any friends with weaker moral backbones that I could marry?” you asked with a laugh, and he smiled at you.

“I’m sure I could find someone,” he leaned back again. You smiled – finally happy that one night might pass in the company of a decent man.

Soon, you’d find it would be more than one night, a close friendship quickly blossoming between you and the high lord. All your friends were convinced you were sleeping together but true to his word he didn’t touch you, and by the time you surpassed the age of eighteen you didn’t want him to. But that didn’t stop other men.

After a particularly bad argument with your boyfriend that had left you with a handprint on your left cheek you had broken up with him – sending away his apologies and flowers, smart enough to see he didn’t hold the mental capacity to change.

Plus you were beautiful and young, you could certainly do better. And you soon did – rich men who liked to buy you jewellery, and fine clothes, men who enjoyed literature and art and spending time with you.

And at the start of each relationship, for a few blissful seconds you would believe in their pure intentions. But then a hand would drift from your lower back to your ass, or the gentle kiss that followed a necklace would shift from your mouth to your breasts. Not one of them wanted to wait until you were comfortable, so you made yourself comfortable.

You pictured pretty, strong men were holding you down and making you feel something, slipping your own hand between your legs and they penetrated you to try and replicate what you were sure a lover’s touch must feel like. And as always – after the first time- they stopped asking for permission, you were their toy, so you no longer had choice over that part of yourself.

But through nice guys and bad boys, for fifty years you had Rhysand who was a friend – who treated you with respect and finally let you talk, let you breathe.

In the end he was the one who found you, in the backroom of a party – drunk and undressed. You were weeping, curled in a ball with your attackers’ seed dripping out of you, bruises decorating your bare skin. When he turned you over with his comforting hands he found your nose dripping red and the vibrant lipstick you wore smudged.

He helped you sit up and redress, took you home and stood outside the bathroom while you scrubbed yourself clean in scalding water – still unsteady on your feet. You changed into a nightgown silently and neither of you said a word when you crawled into bed next to each other, crying in your best friends’ arms as he tried to console you.

When you woke up, he was gone with just a scribbled message about Amarantha and the name of a healer he trusted. But you just placed it back down, turning onto your back and staring at the ceiling as hot tears ran into your hairline.

You barely ate anything for the days following your assault – fighting with your mother more when you rarely saw her and subsequently breaking it off with your current boyfriend. You had thrown his hands off you when he tried to touch you and the screaming match that followed ended your relationship.

Your bond with Rhysand grew only closer however as you spent nights drinking in candlelight, talking about anything and everything until you were sure he knew every inch of your soul and you his.

“You know what I’m going to do as soon as she’s gone,” you whispered one night as you stared at the twinkling lights you had hung on your bedroom roof to imitate stars.

“What?” Rhys had asked, never letting his eyes leave the ‘stars’ which he had laughed at and then proceeded to rearrange to make them more accurate. To which you threw a pillow at his head.

“Find a hill, or a pier, or a large pit or anything and scream into it until my throat bleeds.” You said and he laughed, the bed beneath you rumbling.

“Consider me on board.” He joked as you sat up to perch at your vanity – smudging the sharp eyeliner you wore with a small brush and applying some red lipstick.

“Wanna go out?” you asked him, and he sat up to with a small, sad smile.

“Can’t.” you understood his implication and frowned.

“I’m honestly surprised she hasn’t gutted me yet,” you tried to lighten the mood, but his face darkened slightly when he joked back.

“Oh she wants to, I’m telling her any information you give me about citizens, so she doesn’t.” He said, ruffling your hair as he stood to leave.

“That’s fair, I’ll keep an ear out,” you smiled, squeezing his hand gently before he left.

Things changed when Feyre Archeron appeared, you saw the way your friend watched her and realised you might be competing for his attention soon, but you were happy for him. Until he brought her to that first party – drugged and barely dressed. You felt the bile rise in your throat as you pushed down memories of yourself in such a similar position, and while you knew he would never hurt her – he was still a man. And you were foolish to believe for all those years that he was a man who would realise this was wrong.

Making polite excuses you left the party, picking up the tails of your dress as you all but raced home – ditching the dress and closing the blinds tightly as you made yourself food in your underwear. The sick feeling in your throat spreading through your chest and stomach as you ate, abandoning your meal halfway for a book and large sweater. And when he knocked on your door that night, desperate to tell you all about her – all about the human girl who he was sure could be his mate, you pretended to be asleep.

You barely spoke to him the whole time she was there, unable to look him in the eyes when she was so clearly out of it – and the feeling only grew when the next morning she would have all eyes on her. You understood that feeling. You instead spent parties flirting with Tarquin, the young high lord who was only a few years your senior or warding off marriage invitations with laughs and carefully placed words.

Rhys would sometimes catch your eyes – furrowing his eyebrows at you when you avoided his gaze, the sick feeling never really leaving. But it wasn’t until you watched Tamlin slay Amarantha with a smile that he tried to speak to you again. Feyre was Fae and leaving with her betrothed and Rhysand had just confirmed they were mates – and never had he needed his best friend quiet like he did now.

You were sitting when he found you, head in your palms and blood dusting the skirts of your dress. You had been sitting near Amarantha when it happened. You looked up when he neared, smiling sadly as he sat next to you.

“Want to go home?” he asked you quietly and you scoffed, standing, and moving to leave quickly. He followed after you, grabbing your arm as you wrenched it out of his grip with more ferocity than he had ever seen from you.  

“Don’t touch me,” he held his hands up, backing away to give you space as you got your breathing under control.

“What did I do?” he asked – smart enough to not presume anything.

“How could you think it was okay, after what happened?” your voice was quiet again, and so sad.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he implored, stepping slightly closer again. You raised your eyes to meet his and he understood, the darkness you carried in your eyes shining through – the memories that resurfaced in those dark moments. “I’m sorry, let me explain please.”

You let him hold your arm softly as he winnowed the two of you to your house where you sat down heavy and tired.

“I did it because she needed out of that cell, but I saw what they did to you and you’re a fae woman, she’s… she was human. So it meant that no one else would touch her.” He tried to explain, “And she wouldn’t want to remember.”

“That’s a horrible thing to do Rhys.” You stated and he hung his head low, “How in anyway was that helping her, to get her out you could’ve snuck her here or just take her to a ball and let her dress normally.”

“I’m sorry, I just knew this would’ve been the safest option,” he grabbed your hand again and squeezed it like he did all those years ago, “It’s over, we can go home.”

“I am home,” you laughed bitterly, gesturing to your house.

“No, you’re coming out of this city – we’re putting it behind us.” He stood and held out a hand.

“I know you’re trying to be dramatic and all, but I have to pack – and think.” You said and he laughed.

“Take your time,” he said, sitting back to wait for you, “And I know it might take you a while to forgive me, but I’ll wait.”

You had left soon after, as he revealed his city to you. Winnowing to a house where two beautiful women stood at the door, strong winged men appearing next to them almost instantly – all sharing the same tear-eyed look. Well, all asides from a short, dark-haired woman who simply smiled.

The men you presumed were Azriel and Cassian barrelled towards Rhysand, attacking him in the most violent hug you had ever witnessed. Mor followed soon after and Amren simply offered him a curt nod, to which he bowed slightly with a cheeky smile.

Cassian turned to look at you and everyone followed suit, you straightened up – not wanting to cower under their gazes.

“And this, this is (y/n).” Rhysand said, placing a hand on your elbow, “She’s the only reason I survived under the mountain.”

You smiled at him, annoyed still – but you still held so much love for him in your heart. You looked away when Cassian approached and wrapped you in a tight hug, lifting you off the ground slightly.

When he released you he looked you dead in the eye, “I am forever in your service.”

“Cassian let go of the poor girl,” Mor exclaimed behind him, and you giggled, looking to Rhys for support.

“Forgot to tell you he’s a hugger,” he shrugged, and you shoved his shoulder.

“Oh did you!”  you laughed.

“Gotta get used to it, you’re part of the team now,” Cassian slung an arm around your shoulder as he guided you inside, “which means lots of hugs and long talks about emotions.”

“Don’t steal my best friend Cassian,” Rhys jabbed at his brother as you all moved to sit inside around a long table.

“He already had I’m afraid, can’t reverse love like ours,” you joined in, patting Cassian’s hand as he punched the air in victory, Rhysand feigning pain as he dramatically collapsed into his chair – a hand over his heart.

When you were finally seated you caught Azriel’s gaze, his eyes locked on you – having watched you interact with his family for less than five minutes and already completely enamoured. You smiled softly when you caught his gaze and he grinned at you, no words passing.

Later that evening – after too many drinks, you found yourself alone on a balcony you found, drinking in the fresh air greedily after all those years underground. You didn’t realise he was there until he was next to you – silent on his feet, his shadows a cool chill passing over your shoulders.

You tilted your head to look at him, in awe of his beauty. Not even Rhysand had awed you as much as this man was, his beauty unparalleled by anyone you had met before. He turned his gaze down to you as well, fighting the urge to reach out and touch you as he watched you move with such elegant curiosity.

“We haven’t had the pleasure of being formally introduced,” you smiled, lifting your hand delicately, “I’m (y/n).”

He met your hand halfway, lifting it to his mouth with perfectly poised and trained grace. “Azriel,” his voice was deep, gruff – and sent chills through you quickly. But when he moved your hand from his mouth you held on, the sparks flowing through you telling you all you needed to know. He similarly made no move to let go.

“Are we? I don’t really know how any of this works,” you laughed nervously but he smiled so warmly and tugged you slightly closer to him with the hand you were still clutching.

“You’re my mate princess,” he said, voice rough from disuse. You smiled widely, eyes forming tears as your gaze never strayed from him – finally getting one person who would truly love you, not your body – but you. He tugged your hand gently and you followed him inside, smiling and love drunk.

“We should probably go to the house of wind,” his voice was quiet as you furrowed your eyebrows at him.

“Me and Cassian have to share a room here, the bed are singles.” You smiled and laughed – irrevocably happy.

“Yeah maybe not,” you said, and he held your hand softly as he walked you to the front door, passed his past out friends, Rhys cracking an eye open when you walked past him, and you turned when he tugged your skirt gently.

You okay? He asked in your mind, and you smiled at him.

I’m perfect, why? You replied as he closed his eyes again, clearly too tired to hold them open - Azriel moving to retrieve your coats.

Just don’t feel pressured into doing anything you’re not ready for, Azriel is understanding he won’t get angry. A sort of cold feeling settled on your shoulders when you realised why Azriel wanted that extra privacy.

Shit forgot I had to do that you joked but Rhysand felt the stress growing, however before he could reply Azriel was by your side again and you were waving him goodbye, your smile tight lipped.

Honestly, you trusted Rhysand when he said that Azriel would understand – but so far you had yet to meet a man who truly respected the boundaries you set, a man who would truly wait. Azriel met your eyes in silent questions before scooping you into his arms, flying high above the house as you squealed in his arms, clinging tightly to his neck, and shutting your eyes tightly as you soared above the vibrant city.

He felt you tense as you neared the house, swooping lower in order to land on the large balcony attached to his room. He placed you on shaky legs gently and looked down to smile at you again – heart so full of love and peace.

Not only was his brother returned to him in one piece, but along beside him came you. His mate. His mate.

You caught his gaze and gave him a tight-lipped smile, terrified for history to repeat itself. You wanted to talk to him and know him – you didn’t want him to learn to love your body instead of you. And you were truly afraid to be touched again, you hadn’t been with a man since you were raped – fear stopping you before they could get close and walls slamming up if they tried.

“Are you okay?” Azriel’s voice was dripping with concern – genuine concern, and the way he said it made tears well up in your eyes. His own instantly widened as he sensed the sadness and fear rolling of you in waves, wrapping his arms around your shoulders as you sobbed into his chest. “Oh sweetheart we don’t have to do anything, c’mon lets go sit down.”

He guided you through the glass doors and sat you down gently on the bed, holding you gently and coaxing you through your breakdown. Once your breathing had calmed slightly and you had pulled out of his embrace, wiping your tears harshly with the butt of your hand.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered quietly, terrified to anger your mate when you’ve only just found him.

“It’s okay darling, what’s wrong – did I do something? You’re not terrified of heights are you?” he asked, and you laughed softly, a smile growing on his face as his worries eased slightly.

“No, that was fun,” he grabbed your hand in his scarred ones and you gripped it tightly.

“Then what was it?” you looked into those beautiful, worried eyes and let out an exhale – bottom lip quivering.

“I just don’t think I can – I can’t do that tonight.” You whispered the words lowly, afraid of his reaction as you clung like a child to his hand.

“Hey, that’s okay – we don’t have to do anything until you’re ready,” he smiled, worries easing. You still wanted to be with him, just not in that way yet – and he could wait. He would wait a million years if you asked.

“Even if I’m not ready for a while?” You asked, and he held your face in his hands gently – looking into your tear-filled, defeated eyes.

“I would wait forever and then some – I have already waited so long to meet you, I’m sure I can last longer, especially if you’re next to me.” Your smile was so sad when you met his eyes.

“I’ve been told that before,” Azriel just pulled you closer to him with a cheeky grin.

“And were any of them your mate?”

“No,” you smiled at him again and he thought his heart was going to combust.

“Well then, I love to prove people wrong.” You buried your head into his chest as his arms came around you once more, “Would you like to sleep here, or would you like your own room?”

“Here is fine, I like the way you make me feel,” you said quietly, tugging on the bond experimentally. Azriel just smiled and tugged back.

“That works for me, I’ll get you a change of clothes.” He moved to stand but you stopped him – tugging on the dress shirt he wore.

“I want this,” you grinned cheekily up at him, and he laughed, but undid the buttons and pulled it off anyway – turning around to let you change in peace. When he turned back around you were looking up at him with wide eyes – looking impossibly cute in his shirt.

“It has holes in the back,” you complained, and he laughed, sitting down to tug off his trousers before sliding under the covers as you scrambled to lay in his arms.

“Well I do have wings,” he cemented his point by letting one drape over your shoulders as you sighed in content.

“Really, I hadn’t noticed,” you deadpanned quietly, burrowed deep under his arms and the covers. His chest rumbled with the silent laugh as he pressed a kiss into your hairline.

The next morning he awoke to you laying on his chest, tracing the scars on the backs of his hands with a delicately pointed finger. He stared in wonder, and you must have felt his gaze because you turned your head to meet his eyes, face still puffy from sleep. As you whispered to him that morning, your chin resting on his chest as you gazed up at him until he rose to get your morning drinks. Barely daring to leave for more than a few seconds. And when he returned he was so glad he did – welcoming the sight of you curled up under his sheets with a shy smile and tired eyes.

“Do we have to do anything today?” you asked as you sipped your drink slowly, Azriel’s’ arm tight and secure around your waist.

“Nope,” he said, delighted at the prospect, “I just want to be with you and my family.”

“Sounds heavenly.”

True to his word, for the next few weeks that past, you and Azriel didn’t progress past slow, occasional kisses and lingering touches. But before either of those he was always searching your eyes – asking permission. And you truly fell in love with him during those weeks.

He was caring and consistent – never promising anything he couldn’t bring. And he cared for you, he cared for you past your body and looks. He wanted to be with you for an eternity.

One night, while you lay together, speaking lowly and listening to the rain fall outside your room – a glass door cracked open, you decided you were ready. You pressed closer to him, your lips meeting his own in a kiss more passionate than you had previously shared.

He followed your lead with just as much passion, but when you crawled into his lap he pulled away slightly.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to rush you,” he asked quietly, hands coming to rest on your hips.

“I’m sure, I love you and I want to be with you.” You told him sincerely, “But I haven’t been with anyone in a few years so I’m a little out of practice.”

You giggled nervously but he furrowed his eyebrows, “But you told me about your boyfriends?”

“Yeah but I – stopped dating about five years ago.” You tried to explain quickly, old nerves being brought up, but Azriel pulled you closer and as always his touch calmed you.

“Can I ask why?” he watched you drop your head a little as you breathed slowly – determined to not let your fear rise, you would probably end up telling him anyway so you might as well get it over with.

“I was raped.” You stated and his grip on your hips tightened slightly as he swore.

“Darling, I’m so sorry,” he started but you stopped him with a sharp glaze.

“You don’t need to apologise, it happened and it’s over now.” He could practically feel you pull away, so he loosened his grip on your hips and instead brought his arms up to hold you against his chest.

“Who did it?” he asked, voice dark and dangerous. You muttered a name lowly – under your breath – and he pocketed in the darkest corners of his mind for later. His shadows itching to tear the man apart.

“Look (y/n), if you’re ready I am more than happy to oblige but I need to know you’re really ready, I will wait as long as you need.” You pulled away from his chest and kissed him gently.

“I’m ready, I trust you,” he smiled up at you from where you perched on his lap and you giggled and he flipped you over, laying between your legs with a feral grin.

He made you cum three times with his mouth and those beautiful, beautiful hands alone – more than you had ever experienced with a man and he hadn’t even received any pleasure yet. Except from the pleasure of watching his perfect mate fall apart on his sheets, over and over.

And when he lay over you, your legs pushed up and wrapped around his waist, and his forearms on either side of your head – he would later swear he had never felt more complete.

“I’m here with you remember, will be the whole time.” He assured you, voice soft as he lined himself up and you smiled.

“I love you so much,” you whispered, and he pushed in slowly, filling every part of you and pushing against every spot you didn’t know you had. You swore under your breath when he bottomed out, the slight pain quickly being reduced to please as he dropped his head into the crook of your neck.

“Fuck baby, you feel so good,” you felt shivers run through your body at his gruff voice and smiled, moaning when he began to move.

He pulled his head from where it hid in your neck and watched as you closed your eyes – head thrown back with a smile – and his hips bucked, desperately trying to control himself as he watched you arch your back.

“Shit Az, you’re so big,” you moaned loudly, unaware of the trance you had pulled your mate into.

“You’re so pretty,” he whispered with a harsh thrust, a hand coming to stroke down your face as you opened your eyes to meet his, “So perfect.”

You felt as if your heart was going to burst from the love that filled it as you reached up to kiss him softly – conveying every word, every thought, through that kiss. When you pulled away you were nearing your end, the sensations building in you without the need of a fantasy or your own hand.

You moaned his name, gripping his shoulders tightly as one hand instinctively moved to stroke down his wing. He shuddered above you with a loud groan – his thrusts speeding up as he to neared release, yours hips surely bruising from the force of his own.

“C’mon baby, need to feel you, need to know you’re mine.” His words ignited something in your stomach, and you clung tighter to him, kissing his sharp jaw as you smiled.

“I’m yours Azriel, now and forever.” Your gentle words pushed him over the edge and his skilful fingers dipping between your thighs brought you down with him. The two of you crying out at the sensations you shared as a growing need to never let him go consumed you.

He collapsed on top of you soon after and he intertwined your fingers with his own as your breathing evened out. He slipped out of you, and you smiled up at him as he sat up, rolling off your body and laying to the side while you came to rest your head on his firm chest. He brought his spare hand upwards – twirling strands of your hair slightly as you rested in silence. After a few minutes, you clambered into his lap and kissed him firmly as he pulled you impossibly close.

“Thank you,” you whispered against his lips, and he felt his heart swell with gratitude to the world for giving him an angel that would willingly hold his hand and guide him out of the darkness.

“I am so in love with you,” he whispered back, and you giggled, a hand moving slowly to stroke him as you felt him harden beneath you again.

“Hmm, is that so?” you whispered.

Azriel, who had started pressing light kisses into your neck, nipped you gently, making you squeal, “What were you saying darling?”

“That I am also deeply, and unequivocally in love with you.” You replied and he rolled his eyes.

“Just putting me to shame with your big words.” He muttered and you giggled – crawling down his body.

“I’m sure I could make it up to you.”

[ababanerb]

“when the pillars fall” shoto todoroki

Inspired by @/maddsbuckley on TikTok. Please go check her out, she’s amazing!

                                                      x x x

summary: shoto todoroki is strong, and he’s got the good looks to boot. but sometimes, in the dead of night, he falls apart and without fail, you’re there. you’re always there for him. then, the pillars fell, and he’s there for you just as much as you are for him.

genre: angst with a kinda happy ending

warnings: manga spoilers, takes place after the war arc, some cursing, critical injuries, hospitalization, shoto and reader are weak for each other

word count: 2,217

Shoto Todoroki is supposed to be a hero prodigy. Shoto Todoroki is supposed to stand tall and strong, and keep his father's hero legacy alive.

And he's all of those things. Except for late at night when he comes creeping into your dorm with the key you gave him to crawl underneath the covers with you because of a nightmare he had.

"I'm sorry. I can go if you want." Is what he says the first time he comes to your dorm, but knocking this time because you had yet to give him his own key.

"You've gotta at least tell me what's wrong first." You say gently, and he crumbles. He mumbles that it was just a silly little nightmare as tears roll slowly down his face and you pull him into your dorm to cuddle.

"It's not stupid if it woke you up, Sho," You say as he pulls you into him like you're a teddy bear. And it’s always a little awkward cuddling with him after he’s had a nightmare, his body fluctuating sporadically between hot and cold, but you don’t mind because the longer he holds you the faster you fall back asleep.

You ask him if he wants to tell you about it, but Shoto never does, saying that he’s already forgotten, but the feeling stays longer than the visual. And you nod, and drift off faster than you should, but Shoto doesn’t mind - he never does - and he’s so completely lost in you. He’s so completely enamored by you, and he’s never been so happy to be lost.

He continues to knock for his next five visits after the first night, and you eventually get tired of him waking you up in the dead of the night so you give him his own key.

The seventh time he shows up at your door, he doesn’t use the key. No, instead, he stands outside your door and calls you. The dial tone rings in his ear and it doesn’t help soothe the tightness in his chest or the lump in his throat at all, and he wonders if it’s really so bad for him to use the key you’d given him. Eventually though, you answer - you always do - and he falls in love with you all over again.

“Sho?” You ask, voice scratchy and stiff, and he can hear you through the door, “What’s going on?”

It’s technically a stupid question to ask, you know he’d only ever call you so late at night if he’d had a nightmare, but he also doesn’t call you very often either. 

“Can I come in?” Shoto asks, and you make a groggy noise of confusion.

“What d’ya mean, Sho?” 

“Can I come in?” He repeats, and then softly knocks twice on your door.

You hang up then, and Shoto watches your door swing open with tears pricking at his eyes. And when you drag him into bed with you the world feels like it could never be wide enough.

                                                         x x x

Then, your world fell apart. 

The pillars that held up Japan’s hero society crumbled in a measly seven hours. 

With too many prison breaks, fatalities, and injuries to count, Shoto could care less. Because you were gone. He’d been with you early that morning, before everything fell apart.

He’d been in bed with you, cuddled up close and basking in your presence, the two of you had changed into your hero costumes together. He’d been with you for hundreds of hours too little that morning, and he wants to know where you are. 

He asks his older brother Natsuo where you are by showing him the little sticky note that he’d written the question on and shown to every nurse, doctor, teacher, and friend that came in to see him. His throat had been burned to hell, and he wished more than anything to get up and ask every damned person in the hospital where you were.

He’s supposed to be talking about Touya - he’s not Touya anymore, he has to remind to himself, that man is Dabi, not Touya - and all he can think about is you. 

Shoto has to remind himself that he can’t cry. Because right now, the people around him need him to be strong, and that includes you, where ever you are. He hopes you can feel him wavering, desperately wishes for you to show up.

It’s on his sixth night in the hospital that somebody finally tells him where you are. It’s Bakugo, surprisingly enough.

“Hey, IcyHot,” Bakugo greets, and Shoto uses text-to-speech to ask him if he should even be walking. The blonde is covered in just as many bandages as Shoto, and when Aizawa had come by on his third day in the hospital, Shoto had been told all about everybody’s condition except yours.

“Yeah, i’m fine,” Bakugo says, easing himself into hard plastic chair next to Shoto’s hospital bed, “Y/N’s not though.”

Shoto croaks out a pathetic noise, but Bakugo doesn’t need prompting.

“All the other damn extras said not to say anything to you,” Bakugo continues, and for the first time ever, the cocky blonde is visibly nervous, worried, even, “Y/N’s in the ICU. They haven’t stabilized since they got in. Nobody’s told me what happened to them, but apparently Dunce Face was one of the last people to see her before she was brought here. He... He thought that Y/N was already dead when he last saw them. They’re in a medically induced coma, according to Mr.Aizawa.”

Shoto sits there, in silence except for the quiet humming of the AC unit, for thirty minutes. Bakugo sits with him, just as quiet. 

“Where are they now?” Shoto’s phone asks, the words choppy and abrupt, and Bakugo looks pained when he tells him your room number. Neither of them do anything for a while after that, and Bakugo sits in the hard plastic chair that’d begun to make his butt sore until Shoto falls asleep with a million things on the tip of his tongue.

Shoto is released from the hospital four days later, extensive healing and pain meds made sure of that, and nobody had been allowed to see you yet. He’d asked around, and eventually he learned that you’d undergone six different procedures since you’d arrived.

Tonight would be your seventh.

                                                          x x x

It’s hot. Very hot.

The flames are blue, and a few of them lick at you, but they don’t burn. There’s a battle cry from both sides, and you watch as villains pour from the Gunga Mountain Villa. It takes five minutes, and war has broken out all around you.

You’re fighting too, better suited for close combat, and you’re watching your classmates, your friends being battered around, fighting in a war that they shouldn’t be fighting.

You’re the first to make inside the building, and you’re vaguely aware that you’re bleeding. Fatgum tells you to retreat, telling you that you look on the verge of death. You tell him you’re fine.

You’re not fine. The building is rumbling, and the ceiling’s begun to cave in, it’s hard to breathe, and you can’t see through the blood that’s caked over your left eye.

The pillars fall in seven seconds, and you fall too. 

You call for him, for Shoto, in the last three seconds of your consciousness, you call for him.

It’s dark.

                                                        x x x 

When you wake up, really wake up and open your eyes to look right into the harsh white fluorescent lights of your hospital room, nobody’s there with you. There’s a vase of dying roses on the windowsill, and you can already tell from the crisp handwriting on the brown tag that Shoto had been the one to leave them. And it’s cold, but you prefer that to the blazing heat you’d felt when you’d fallen asleep.

Where is Sho anyway?

Your heart monitor steadily beeps away, and when a nurse comes in to check your vitals she’s surprised to see you’re awake. And even more surprised when the first thing you ask for is Shoto.

“Sho,” You say, and your voice is dry and raw and barely a whisper, “Where’s Sho?”

The nurse stares at you wide-eyes for a moment, before she gets you a little dixie cup of water.

“Who’s Sho?” She asks, and you struggle to swallow the little cup of water she’d given you.

“Shoto Todoroki,” You say, “Is he here?”

The nurse purses her lips, and looks at you sadly, and you wonder what she’s thinking about before she tells you that she’ll be right back with the doctor. She leaves three more dixie cups of water on your foldaway table before leaving.

You sit there for almost an hour before the door opens again, and it’s a horrible hour because every time you close your eyes all you can see is the bloody battle that should have killed you.

The doctor comes in first, and right behind him is the person you’d been thinking about since you’d woken up. You’d been with him all that morning before the war, and all that night. And you were with him now.

The doctor tells you what day it is, and you start crying when he tells you it’s been almost a month since you’d first been admitted to the hospital. 

“Fuck,” You whimper, voice crackling and breaking as you reach out for Shoto, and he’s there - he always is - and his hand feels so good in yours - it always does - and you start crying even harder when you see the tears in his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Sho. You look so tired.”

“I love you,” And he says it like there will never be another chance to say it, and once the first ‘I love you’ leaves his mouth fifty more follow. And the doctor looks you over as best he can, before telling you that you’re cleared for visitors and that you’d be able to leave within the week.

And as Shoto begins to cry he has to remind himself that he is supposed to be a hero prodigy. That he’s supposed to stand tall and strong, and keep his father's hero legacy alive. But you hold onto his fingers so tightly, and for once, you’re asking if you can come over because you’ve just had a nightmare. It’s a shared nightmare, Shoto tells you, shared by millions.

Two days later you’re allowed to go back home, back to the dorms, and Shoto has to help you get dressed because you can barely breathe standing up let alone walk without your legs collapsing. Shoto kisses your tears away when you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. You’re covered in scars, and there are still stitches in places where the wounds were slower to heal. 

Your whole world fell apart in seven hours that day, and it continued to fall apart after that. Shoto’s there for you the whole way back to UA, and he tells you that your school, your second home, had become a home to thousands of others too. Shoto had given his dorm away and he’d been staying at his family home while you’d been in the hospital.

But your dorm is still there. And nothing’s changed at all.

“I’ve also been staying here too,” Shoto tells you when he helps you into bed, “I hope you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind at all, Sho,” You tell him - you never do mind - and he crawls into bed next to you, minding your right knee with it’s poky little stitches and the new metal patella that replaced the kneecap you’d shattered during the war.

Japan fell apart in four days, Shoto tells you, and you can’t find it in you to care, because the world is too big and too wide but Shoto makes it feel smaller.

It was dark, when the pillars fell. And the two of you are blind, lost in it, and you’d never been so afraid of being lost. 

“I don’t think I can go back to hero work,” You tell him early the next morning, as he gets dressed to go back to his family home, “Not for a long time.”

“That’s okay, my love,” He replies, he won’t tell you, but he’s not sure he wants you to go back, “Do you want to come home with me?”

He doesn’t need to ask, because he would have taken you with him anyway.

“Yeah,” You tell him, and you struggle to push yourself up into a sitting position, “Just... Will you promise me something?”

“Anything.”

“Promise me you won’t die.”

It’s stupid thing to ask for, you know it is. Because everybody dies eventually, but you don’t know what you’d do if you lost him. The two of you are lost, but at least you’re together. 

Shoto doesn’t need to question it, because he’d thought you were dead for almost a whole week. And he doesn’t ever want to be without you, even though he knows he’ll have to.

“I promise you, Y/N, I won’t ever leave you, and I won’t die.”

It’s dark, Shoto thinks, as he helps you into the back of his father’s car, But it’s much less dark with you.

[cherryyharryy]

please write something about Harry overhearing the reader’s friend tell her that Harry doesn’t spend time with her that she deserves someone better they hang up b4 the reader can say anything like angst to fluff

Thank you for requesting!

This is 80's harry lol

WC: 2.4K

Harry pauses the music on his Walkman, slipping the headphones off his ears to rest around his neck while he fiddles with the key to his apartment.

She had spent the night—his angel. It had been quite the set up, since she still lives at home with her parents while finishing college, a little white lie was passed around to cover her absence. Harry wasn’t a secret by any means, but her parents weren’t the most open minded, and a small fib was easier to handle than trying to rehash the same discussion of y/n being a grown woman. It was hard enough for her to get their approval for college...one mountain at a time.

Harry’s ears burn as he sets the groceries down in the kitchen, the thought of her still tangled up in his sheets beckoning him back to his room, is enough to drive him wild. He doesn’t catch himself zoning out until the phone rings. He untangles his music off his shoulders and yanks the phone off the wall, but y/n has beat him to it, her soft morning voice greeting Caroline before Harry can utter a word.

His brain is too slow in making the connection that he should hang up. That he shouldn’t eavesdrop on his girlfriend’s private conversation. That he owes her the respect that her parents never give her. But he hears his name, specifically, he hears Caroline ask y/n how last night was, so the phone stays glued to his ear.

“Amazing,” she purrs, and Harry’s stomach flips. “We did it like, three times.”

The girls giggle, and Harry shuffles on his feet with a veiny blush spreading all over his body. He can imagine y/n draped in his sheets, phone cord wrapped around her fingers, just a few steps away from him

“Better be nothing short of amazing,” Caroline says, “with what little time he gives you anyway. Ugh, if Tony ever left me hanging as often as Harry, I’d dump him so fast.” She smacks her gum into the phone and Harry flinches. “He tried to ditch me one time to go see Scarface with Rob, and I was like, hell no, you’re taking me skating like you promised. Honestly y/n, you can do better. You’re surrounded by college boys, go find a future doctor.”

The phone almost slips from Harry’s hand, but he catches it and hangs it back on the wall, just in time for his entire world to start crumbling to his feet.

Did he really not spend enough time with y/n?

How long has this been a topic shared between them?

And why hasn’t she said anything before?

Harry stands in the middle of his kitchen, immobilized. He can’t lose her, especially not to something he can fix. She’s been his girl since they were sixteen, there’s too much history between them, or so he thought.

He files through the memories he has of them together, trying to quantify them, trying to see where he started slipping.

Maybe it’s when he took over his dad’s business? But she knew how demanding it would be, and always supported him. Or maybe it’s because they don’t go out as much? Between him managing an appliance store, and her working towards a bachelors, they often opt for nights on the couch watching SNL reruns.

His mind is foggy, and he doesn’t catch his bedroom door creaking open.

“H?”

Harry startles back to present, gripping the counter as y/n emerges from his room wearing nothing but his t-shirt.

“You okay? Look like a deer caught in headlights.”

“Mm, no, fine.”

“I heard you come in a bit ago.” She flicks her eyes over his kitchen, looking for the breakfast he had promised to make almost an hour ago.

“Didn’t want to be too loud.”

“Oh, alright.” She smiles, attempting to diffuse whatever awkward tension has settled in his home. “Well, cook away! I can help too.”

He grabs her wrist before she reaches the fridge. “No, I’ll make it for you. Go back to bed.”

“You sure?”

He nods, forcing a smile.

She peers back over her shoulder twice on her walk back to his room, hoping to figure out what’s going on, but learns nothing.

As soon as his door shuts, Harry flies around his kitchen, grabbing what he needs to make the fastest breakfast in the world.

He’s going to spend every free second he has with her, and doesn’t want to waste any if he doesn’t have to.

***

Harry knows he’s borderline annoying. And he knows his actions are beginning to appear creepy, if not bizarre. He tags along with y/n everywhere she goes now, even at the doctor where he almost followed her back to her exam. She gently placed her hands on his chest and told him that she would rather the doctor do the job, promising she’d be out in no time.

She’s been tiptoeing around him too, not sure what to make of his new routine of gluing himself to her side, hoping it will wear off and things will go back to normal.

But she waits and she waits, and normal never resurfaces.

“H, baby, I can’t concentrate with you so close to me.”

Harry looks offended, slipping his reading glasses off his nose and closing the book he was halfway through, giving her his full attention when he asks what she means.

Y/n peers around the library, not wanting to have this discussion so publicly, but too keyed up to wait any longer. “I’ve just noticed that you’ve...been a little clingy lately? More like a lot.”

“I just wanted to spend more time with you.”

“You’re picking me up, and walking me to my classes—”

“Thought that was nice?”

“You don’t even go to this school. Listen, the sentiment is nice, but I’m starting to feel a little suffocated.”

Harry bites his cheek so hard he draws blood. “And what did Caroline have to say about that?”

“What?”

“I’m sure that nosy friend of yours had a lot to say about me when you brought this up.”

“Excuse me!”

“Quiet, please,” one of the staff members shushes y/n, “Or I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

Y/n ignores the snickers from a table of girls nearby, recoiling her embarrassment and turning it to anger. Her voice, although lowered, now drags out of her mouth in sharp tones. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I heard everything, that morning Caroline called my phone to talk to you about how crummy of a boyfriend I am.”

That morning, now a month ago, is hardly a memory in y/n’s head. She fights around for details of the conversation, but comes up empty handed. “I still don’t know what you’re talking about, and frankly, I don’t care.” She starts closing all her books and gathering her school work to shove into her bag.

“Where are you going?”

“Home.”

Harry blinks, fumbling for his next question as y/n hurries across the library. He’s quick to catch up with her, waiting until they’re outside where they don’t have to whisper. “Don’t walk, I have my car.”

He reaches for her shoulder but she shrugs it off. “I’m going home. My home, not yours.”

Harry freezes on the sidewalk. She continues on her way until she disappears around the building. A few students yell out at Harry, making fun of the guy who, from a distance, just got rejected. He flips them off and heads to his car, beating the steering wheel all the way back to his apartment.

***

“You’ve been studying an awful lot lately,” y/n’s dad comments from across the dinner table. “Do you have a big test coming up?”

“Hm?”

“You spend the night with Rayna almost every weekend.”

“Oh, uh, yeah. We have a lot of tests.” Y/n spoons a bite of mashed potatoes into her mouth, thankful neither of her parents went to college. It’s allowed for more stretched lies when she sleeps over at Harry’s. “Like a lot. Every week.”

Her mother hums from her seat, nodding to save her spot in the conversation while she finishes chewing. “We told you how hard it would be. But you wouldn’t listen.”

“That’s not—” “Shelly’s daughter just got a job as a receptionist, over at that dental office by the mattress store.” Her dad points at y/n with his fork. “You could ask her if she knows of any other places looking for a girl.”

“I’m not going to have a job where the requirement is girl.”

“You’re taking this too liberally, dear. Oh Lord, John, that school did just what you said.”

“No—”

“That’s what happens, girls go off to try and get a degree...and what for? What are you going to do when you get married and have kids?”

“Kids!?”

Her mom scoffs. “Well you’re not going to be able to raise children and work.”

“Are you two serious right now? It’s 1985, not fifty-five! Women go to college, they work, some of them don’t even get married! Or have kids!”

“When you were little you couldn’t wait to be a mom. Now all of a sudden you’ve changed your mind. That never would have happened if we hadn’t let you go off to that damn school.”

“Yes I’ve changed my mind! If it hadn’t been for that school, I never would have realized that it’s my own mind to change. It’s my own life to do whatever I want with, not yours.”

“Well I am—” Her dad is interrupted by the door bell echoing outside the kitchen. “One minute. We’re not done with this yet.”

Muffled voices stagger from the front door while y/n pushes the food around her plate. She hopes that whoever is at the door keeps her dad busy for a while. She knows her mom won’t have these types of conversations without him, which just showcases the lifestyle she is adamantly trying to avoid. One that was passed down to her parents, but y/n is determined to squeeze herself out of that narrative no matter what.

“Y/n!” her dad calls, “you have a visitor.”

Y/n peers up at her mom, both women exchanging confused glances before they go see who had arrived.

“Oh,” y/n says dully, “It’s you.”

Harry stands with his hands shoved into jacket pockets, peering at each family member before speaking. “Hey, uh, I was hoping we could talk. Privately.”

Y/n nods, and leads the way back through the kitchen to the back porch. She’s not really in the mood to be talking to him, or having this conversation, but right now he’s a free ticket away from her parents, so she accepts.

They sit halfway down the steps, just like they’ve done a thousand times before. Her on the right, him on the left. Usually his arm is thrown over her shoulder, and their knees bump together until Harry pulls her in so close that not even a breeze could fit between them, but now they’re both collected on their respective sides of the wooden step.

“Heard the new Prince song?”

Y/n rolls her eyes. “It’s been a week.”

“Exactly, a lot’s happened in a week. Prince came out with a new song, Michael Jordan’s rookie of the year, and there’s gonna be a Rocky four.”

“Did you come over to talk about everyone else’s good news?”

Harry sighs. “We’ve never gone a week without talking. Ever.”

“Well you really hurt my feelings.” She turns to look at him, tears welling up in her eyes. “I mean, you don’t even trust me, so you listen in on my phone calls—”

“That’s not—no. I picked up when you did.”

“But you still listened.”

“Okay yeah, but only because I heard my name.” He shrugs, a timid smile playing on his lips. “Wanted to hear what you thought about me.”

“I tell you what I think all the time. I’ve never kept my feelings secret from you.”

“It’s different.” He pulls his hands from his pockets and runs them through his hair, tugging on fistfuls of curls out of frustration. “But then when Caroline said all that, ‘bout me not spending enough time with you, it killed me.”

“That’s what this is about,” she sighs, more to herself than to Harry as the memory of that morning resurfaces in her mind. “You dork, what about what I said back?”

“I hung up. Didn’t wanna hear anything else after that.”

“I told her how wrong she was. How we spend lots of time together.”

“You did?”

“Mhm. She’s always bragging about her and Tony, like they’re the first two people to date ever. I totally rubbed our relationship in her face.”

Harry’s surprised by the gleam on his girlfriend’s face, and tries not to laugh. “What else did you tell her?”

“I dunno.” She shrugs, suddenly shy. “Can’t remember.”

“How convenient.” He nudges her knee with his, and she bumps him back.

Y/n exhales, dipping her head back to squint at the stars peeking out from a cloudy night. “My parents are driving me crazy.”

“They always drive you crazy.”

“Yeah but, more than usual. I got spoiled staying with you on the weekends.”

Harry hums, reaching his arm over to pull her into his side. “Maybe it shouldn’t just be weekends…”

“They would know something’s up if I stayed over on weeknights.”

“No, baby, I mean permanently.”

“Like moving in together?”

“Why not?”

She chews on her lip, trying to keep her smile hidden. “I don’t know...that’s a big deal. It’s a big step.”

“We can think about it. No rush.”

“It would be nice. To see each other whenever we wanted.”

Harry tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Wouldn’t have to ask your parents permission for anything.”

“Yeah…”

“Just me.”

“Hey!”

“I’m kidding, angel.” He kisses her forehead and takes her hand, helping her up.

Y/n’s parents are in the living room when the two are back in the house, and just the thought of continuing her evening here lights a fire under y/n.

“I’m going over to Harry’s,” she announces.

Harry drops her hand, just as surprised as her parents.

“Excuse me?” Her father turns the t.v. off and straightens in his chair. “I don’t think so.”

“Well I think so,” y/n defends. “Come on, Harry.” She takes his hand and tugs him towards the door.

“Harry!” Her mother protests.

He looks over his shoulder just as he’s being led out the door. “Oh, you can call me Rayna.”

[some-kindofgnome]

tastes so bitter (tastes so sweet)

You’re driving back from an out-of-town mission with Hawks when your car breaks down on a very sparsely-populated highway. While you await relief, things get... personal. 

characters: takami keigo (hawks) x f!reader

word count: 7.1k

warnings: smut (18+ please!), car sex, pro hero!reader, angst, emotionally unavailable hawks

notes: ta-dah!!! the car sex fic! this turned out way longer and way more feelsy than I ever intended it to be. but I’m grateful for the chance to show you how I play with plot and emotion as well as some good porn. porn with feelings, y’know? 

EDIT: The supremely talented @la-saffron​ has created an absolutely spectacular piece of artwork for this fic! Please go and look at it right here, it’s really quite splendid

Masterlist

The shadowy trees on either side of the highway cast a chill across the pavement as the sky went dark.

It was far from sunset, but the woods were so tall and thick that the light had disappeared from the road a long time ago. The overpriced navigation system laid into the dashboard of Hawks’ luxurious car was no help at all; not when you were taking the only road for miles around.

The highway narrowly passed for two lanes, winding precariously down from the mountains. Dotted with reflective yellow signs- deer crossing, bear crossing, creatures-of-unimaginable-horror crossing. Bigfoot himself could have wandered into your headlights and you barely would’ve flinched.

But that was to be expected, given where you’d come from.

That day’s mission brought you both far, far away from the city. There was a national forest about three hours away- one of the biggest in the country- and you and Hawks had been called in at the crack of fucking dawn to drive all the way out to the woods and investigate some ‘strange reports,’ as the rangers cared to call them.

Most park rangers knew what they were seeing when guests came in from the woods reporting abnormal happenings. Nobody was truly immune to fear, though, when faced with the impossible.

Whether there were paranormal creatures lurking in those woods or not, you couldn’t have been sure. But after spending the day exhausting both your quirks combing every spare inch of those woods, you were relieved of your overnight duties by a group of other, more nature-savvy heroes.

Hawks had been miffed, but too exhausted to argue. He didn’t like to think he’d been overshadowed. You were just thankful to be going home to your own bed.

“Okay,” you sighed, nursing the last of a lukewarm soda from a burger joint at the edge of the only one-horse town you’d passed through. It was a pretty unassuming stop for dinner, but you and Hawks both agreed that the burgers were way too good to be sold to so few patrons.

Keigo was driving, with one palm splayed lazily across the bottom edge of the wheel. His scarlet wings stretched into the backseat, draping over the shoulders of his black leather backrest like some bizarre kind of seat cover.

The fact that his car was so luxurious was not lost on you- although you were more surprised to find out that he had one at all. Hawks seemed like the last person in the world to need a car, after living in a fantastic downtown penthouse. And owning a pair of wings, come to think of it.

He owned it because he could. And because he knew how good he looked in the driver’s seat.

“What?” He turned a curious eye toward you, though he never quite pulled his gaze from the road.

“I know we started this conversation on the way here,” you began, “but… we never exactly finished it.” You swirled what was left of the ice chips in the bottom of your cup, considering the best way to voice your thoughts.

“Alright.” He sounded vaguely amused, slouching a little further down and drawing an idle palm over his feathered hair. “Shoot.”

“Well…” You trailed off. “You’re kind of… a city guy.” You were already starting to talk with your hands. The racket coming from your half-drunk soda was proof enough.

“What makes you say that?”

“You are,” you defended. You let a playful edge creep into your tone. “And the agency’s kind of a city thing.”

“Am I really as one-note as you’re making me out to be?” He was chuckling. Your cheeks were going hot. You weren’t sure how this became a personal conversation, but you were determined to steer it in the proper direction. You course corrected.

“I just mean, we don’t take a lot of jobs outside the city. Like… ever. So, what’s with this one? Why this call?”

He didn’t answer right away. When you glanced across the car, he was licking his lips and appearing to be, very genuinely, thinking.

“Well,” he began. There was an immensely appealing depth that wore around the edges of his voice when he was deep in thought. You hung on tightly, trying your best to hide how intently you listened.

“I was just… bored, I guess.” He gave a lazy little shrug. His eyes were still trained on the windshield, but you could feel the weight of his urges. He wanted to look over. You turned your head, willing him to.

“Probably sounded like bullshit, now that I think about it,” he confessed, “but if there really was somethin’ freaky in those woods… I dunno. I wanted to see it.”

You resisted the urge to snort.

“Maybe you should start a ghost hunting branch at the agency.”

“Aw, c’mon,” he protested. This time, he really did drag his eyes away from the road for a second. They glinted playfully in the dark. You got a flash of pearly canine from the barest hint of a grin, but it was enough to put a stupid smile right across your face.

A sickening thud from beneath the hood zapped any false confidence you’d been building. There was a dull pop, then the engine died.

“What the- shit.” Hawks scrambled to put both hands on the wheel, navigating the car with what momentum remained over to the narrow shoulder. The tires hit gravel and soft mud, rolling pathetically to a stop and settling in damp silence.

“What the hell was that?” You leaned over the dashboard as your pulse came down from near-terminal velocity. There were half a dozen lights blinking away on the dashboard- symbols you couldn’t understand.

“Not sure.” Keigo was doing his best not to sound too perturbed. As a result, he was just perturbed enough.

You knew what those lights implied, though. Service due. Oil change due. Battery maintenance due.

“Jesus Christ,” you hissed, “when was the last time you took this car in for service? It’s a miracle you even made it out of the goddamn garage.”

Hawks was in the process of mashing the engine start button like an arcade game. When you spoke up, he pushed it down and held. The engine gave a dull, sad sort of sputter, but nothing roared to life.

“Look, look,” he dismissed, waving a hand in your direction as he unbuckled his seatbelt. “I don’t drive this thing that often, okay? I’m gonna go check under the hood.”

He climbed out of the driver’s side and slammed the door before giving you the chance to remind him to pop the hood. For a minute, you let him wallow in his mistake, watching gleefully as he pried at the seam of it. Finally, you unbuckled yourself and leaned over, flicking the release for him.

He gave an unamused glance toward the windshield and lifted the hood, obscuring all but the very tips of his drooping wings from view.

After about fifteen seconds, he ducked back into the car with a rush of cold air behind him. He rubbed his palms together as you watched, arms folded over your chest.

“So?” You prompted. He gave a sideways glance in your direction, blowing into his chilled hands.

“So what?”

“Oh my g- what’s wrong with the car?” You tried your best not to let panic set in.

“I don’t know. It’s just a bunch of pipes and wires under there. They didn’t exactly give me a map of the thing when I bought it.”

You’d seen Hawks pull people out of burning buildings before. You’d see him think on his feet, devise a plan and act on it in the blink of an eye. Usually, he was impulsive. Confident. Clever.

Tonight, on the other hand, he was demonstrating a very clear affinity for money over brains.

You flopped into your seat, scrubbing your hands over your face. You were not going to freak out. You refused to. It didn’t matter that Keigo had suddenly become useless in the face of disaster. You were heroes, even if you had to save your damned selves.

“Oh,” he quipped from beside you. “Still got bars. See?” As you peeked over at him through one cracked eyeball, he waved his illuminated phone screen at you. “It could be worse, kid. If this were a horror movie, this thing’d be dead.”

He tapped away on the screen, seeming very pleased with himself. Even his wings gave a little ruffle, draping themselves smoothly over the back of his seat again.

“I’ll call us a tow. We’ll be outta here in no time.”

A few minutes later, you had a map pulled up on your phone while Hawks’ brow creased deeper and deeper.

“Uh-huh.” His voice had taken on that irresistible deepness to it again, but this time it was sending pangs of dread through your gut.

“Right.” He brought a palm up to smooth over his jaw, fingertips bending and pressing idly against the patches of scruff that dusted it. “Y-yep, yeah, I understand. Fifty miles is a long way. I know it’s gonna be a lot to send a truck that far. But-“

As he was abruptly cut off by the other end of the line, those idle fingers slipped up to his temple, pressing inward and rubbing in stiff little circles.

“Okay. Alright. Yeah, I guess we’ll wait, ‘cause there’s not much else we can… I understand. Yes, thank you. Thank you. Okay, we’ll be here. Or within a ten-foot radius. Thanks. B-“

He blinked rapidly at the screen as he pulled it away from his ear. “Have an excellent night, sir,” he muttered under his breath. He let out a deep sigh, lifting a hip to tuck his phone away again.

“They said they would send someone,” he said, “but the depot is, like, fifty miles from here. Could be a couple of hours.”

“A couple hours?” That cold dread was settling into your chest again. So much for sleeping in your own bed.

“Yeah. C’mon, get out.”

“What?” You glanced past him at the frosted driver’s side window. “It looks freezing out there.”

“Well then, you’d better bundle up. C’mon. I’m gonna fly us back to the city.”

“No way. Hawks- Keigo.” You grabbed his arm and squeezed tightly as he made to get out of the car.

“What?” Exasperation was creeping into the edges of his voice. The sides of his gaze, too, as he landed against the seat back with a thud and turned his cheek to look at you.

“You’ve been flying all day. Your wings are shot. You’re not flying anywhere.”

“What? They’re fine.” He gave the appendages in question a defiant flutter and a cloud of expiring feathers floated into the backseat.

You folded your arms across your chest. Hawks gave a frustrated growl.

“What do you suggest, then?” He retorted in fierce opposition to your silence. “Just sit around and fucking… die of old age before the tow truck comes?”

“Oh my god, you’re the number two hero,” you snapped back. “When did you become such a drama queen? Yes, we’re going to wait. Like a normal person would have to.”

“I’m not being dramatic; I’m presenting you with a legitimate solution and you’re ignoring it!”

“If you try to fly us both out of here, you’re gonna hit the ground before we’re halfway home. And then we’ll be really stranded, with no water and no shelter. So, if you’d like to fly back all by yourself, I can’t stop you. But I’m not going to let you kill both of us.”

“Fine!” Hawks’ cheeks were flushed with temper as he kicked the door open and clambered out of the car. He kicked it shut again so hard the whole body rocked, and for a moment you were left, trapped in shocked silence.

He was really going to leave you out here. Alone.

Half a dozen heartbeats passed before his boots crunched on the shoulder and he wrenched the door open again, flopping back into the car with an immense sigh of irritated defeat.

“Fuckin’ freezing out there,” he muttered as quietly as possible.

You wanted to punch him.

“You ready to wait?”

His wings stiffened behind him, then drooped so lowly they seemed to disappear into the backseat. He looked at you from the corner of one tawny eye.

“Yeah.”

For the first hour, you honestly enjoyed yourself. As soon as Keigo accepted his fate, he got much closer to his usual mellow self. You finished off cold fries from dinner, listened to true crime podcasts on your phone, (you listened- he talked over the whole thing) and played a few ruthless games of hangman on a couple of napkins you found in the glove compartment.

You’d spent a lot of time with Hawks in a professional capacity. As partners, you took most of your missions together. You were well-versed in the way that he liked to think, the way he approached a job, a conversation. You worked well with each other and you were drawn to his quick wit and laid-back humour. Even if he was a piece of work at times, you made a strong team. But you didn’t do a whole lot of hanging out.

“Okay, that’s it,” he chided as you added an extravagant top hat to the completed, dressed hangman scrawled onto the inside fold of your last napkin. The word he’d failed to guess was ‘patience,’ and the irony of his struggling was not lost on you.

“Aw, c’mon,” you protested. “You’ve still got gloves and a bow tie left.”

“No, no, no.” He held up a palm, shaking his head. There was a good-natured grin curling his lip as he bowed toward the door. “I’m callin’ it. I gotta take a leak.”

You snatched your soda cup from the drink holder, clutching it protectively against your chest.

“You’re not going in here.”

Next, it was Hawks’ turn to shoot you a deadpan stare.

“How about in the woods? Is that allowed?”

Your cheeks went hot. “It’s pretty dark out there.”

“Aw.” Hawks shoved the door open. There was an unfamiliar glint to his eye as he tossed a mischievous look over his shoulder. “Guess you won’t be able to sneak a peek, then.”

You slammed your fist into his back. “Shut up and go take a piss.”  

As the car door clicked shut, you turned the other way out of sheer habit. All you could see in the opposite window was the reflection of your own face. Maybe it was just the dim light, but you looked exhausted. Keigo had seen you caked in blood, streaked by mud and soot before. But you’d both been awake since four o’clock that morning and there was a special kind of ugly feeling that came with overtiredness.

You were dreaming about the first thing you’d do when you got home again when Hawks climbed back into the car. He looked considerably brighter as he ducked inside, and he brought a flush of rich, earthy forest-smell along with him.

“Don’t tell me you couldn’t find it in the cold out there,” you quipped. Payback.

But Keigo just chuckled, shaking his head.

“Close the door,” you whined as the frigid air from outside finally reached your bare arms. “It’s already cold enough in here.”

“Aw,” he crooned, tugging the door shut behind him. “You scared of a little cold now, kid? It’s not so bad out there. Feel.”

He lunged at you, ducking rapidly to rub his frigid cheek against your shoulder. You let out a terse yelp and squirmed, trying to shove him back amid a sea of chilled giggles. He got a few passes of his icy skin on yours before you both realized how close you’d gotten.

Hawks cleared his throat and scooted away from you. In the bare light from the shitty overhead lamp, you were starting to see the outline of a flush creeping into his cheeks.

The light abruptly went out, leaving you in darkness again.

“Tell me something,” he mused, grabbing for the abandoned takeout bag and digging a hand into it. He produced a tiny wrapped square and tore it open with his teeth, removing the folded alcohol wipe from inside and gliding it with impossible grace over his fingertips. He eyed you sideways.

“How come we don’t hang out more?”

Your chest went cold. You’d been dreading that question all night. Longer than that, even.

“What d’you mean?” It was a gut response, but you instantly kicked yourself for even attempting to play dumb.

“You know,” he chided, dumping the wipe back into the paper bag once he was finished with it. “We work. We do interviews together. We do those bullshit PR functions together. I’ve known you- what, two years? And we’ve never even been for a drink. What gives, kid? Don’t tell me I grate on you.”

“I get plenty of you on company time,” you retorted. You were starting to panic. You weren’t ready for this conversation, but it didn’t seem like you were going to be rescued by the timely arrival of the tow truck.

“Okay, okay, I’d take that,” he laughed, “if you hadn’t agreed to take this mission with me. C’mon, this wasn’t exactly a nine-to-five gig.”

He paused. “Come out with me this weekend.” He nudged your shoulder with a bony elbow. You tried your best not to snap.

“Stop,” you pressed quietly. “You know why we don’t.”

The smirk slipped from Keigo’s face.

“What? Why?”

“Don’t make me say it.”

“Wait a second, there’s an actual reason? What the hell is it?”

The confusion was genuine on his face. Hawks could be a smarmy little shit when he wanted to be. But you could tell he wasn’t fucking with you.

“Oh my god.” The words slipped out like a deep breath. Your hand drifted to your mouth as cold shock ran over your skin. “You really don’t remember.”

“No.” His confusion was bordered with fear. He sat back a little, letting his eyes drift over your expression. “No, I really don’t.”

You swallowed hard. You should have known that you’d have to talk about this eventually. But he didn’t even remember the night that had been changing the way you acted around him for nearly a year.

“Last Christmas,” you began. Your breath was so short that it put a desperate hush to your voice that you absolutely hated. You revelled in your ability to act casual around him, but the more probing he got, the harder that composure was slipping.

“At the agency gala. You remember the party, right?”

Hawks rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, and I got trashed.” He paused. Realization dawned on his face, and he shot you the deepest, most sincere look of concern you’d ever seen. Even more sincere than the look that crossed his face when you got shot off the roof of a house and broke a rib.

He leaned forward.

“Did I do something?” He swept a palm over his mouth, fingertips dallying at his chin. You knew exactly how he felt in that moment. You’d been there before, too, realizing that you’d lost control. Blacked out. Understanding that you might have done something you were going to regret.

“You really don’t remember a thing?” It was your turn to be horrified. How could something that consumed your every thought stay so damned far from his?

His fingers were still curved around the point of his chin. He’d gone white, and he shook his head as his eyes cast down to his lap.

“You fucking kissed me, okay?” You snarled with a whip of frustration. “There was mistletoe and you kissed me under it and-and Christ, I can’t believe you.”

“What? What?” He demanded as his voice grew defensively sharp.

“I had no idea what you were gonna do. What you were gonna say, what was gonna change between us. I showed up to the agency the next morning and your hungover ass acted like nothing had ever happened.”

“Of course I did,” he defended, “I didn’t think anything did happen. Oh my God, did I really kiss you?” His wings were coming to life all of a sudden, bristling on either side of his seat. There was a dull whisp as one edge of them brushed against the window. They seemed to expand, along with his horror, to fill the entire car.

He pushed further. “Well, did you… did you want me to?”

You could see where his thoughts were taking him. The answer was an impossible dilemma. To lead him further down that path would not only be cruel, it would be untrue. But to tell him the truth- that you had wanted it- would be to shatter the fragile illusion of casual, platonic intimacy that you’d been building over the last two years.

You chewed your lower lip. Hard enough to hurt.

“Oh god, you didn’t,” he gasped. That was enough for you to lift your chin and shoot him a sudden, sad, pathetic little look.

“Jesus,” he gasped again, deeper this time. “You did.”

“Look,” you snapped. “I was never gonna say anything to you. I was never gonna push it. You didn’t feel that way and I knew that and I just wanted to work.”

He told you enough about his personal life as it was. Every date he swung in from on Monday morning, every Friday night he spent preening in the last hours of the workday hurt enough already. If you’d grown close, fallen harder, it would’ve become too much to bear.

“What do you mean, I didn’t feel that way? What way don’t I feel? How could you even know that?” He was beginning to raise his voice back at you and the adrenaline was pushing you way too far to listen.

“Because you never said a fucking word to me about that kiss! You pretended like it never even happened, Kei! What was I supposed to think!”

“If you’d asked me, you woulda known that I didn’t speak up ‘cause I didn’t remember a goddamn thing!” Keigo jammed a finger into his temple. His golden eyes flashed. He was so fucking hot when he was angry, but this was not a fight you ever wanted to have.

Luckily for you, he was having it without you.

“What do you want me to say to that?” He snarled. “Huh? What- you want me to tell you that I’m sorry for not having psychic powers? That I’m sorry I didn’t hire a mind-reader to tell me what the fuck was going on with you?”

He scrubbed his hands over his face. You were on the verge of tears.

“I-I never-“ you began, but Keigo beat you to the punch,

“You know, maybe I noticed that you were actin’ funny around me. And maybe I should’ve asked. But maybe if you ask yourself, and if you really, honestly give yourself the truest answer, you’d be able to admit that you knew how I felt about you. That you always knew.”

“Of course I knew!”

Your response echoed raw and deafening in the silence of the car. You’d lost your temper and shouted it at him with every decibel left in your breathless chest. Your fists were clenched atop your frigid thighs as you bent over in your seat, shivering. To your immense embarrassment, warm tears trickled down the sides of your nose.

He was right, after all. Every sideways smile he’d given you was just a little too broad to be friendly. Every time he caught you by the hand, he held it just a little too long. Every time he offered you the crook of his elbow at a stuffy charity gala and every time he poured you into a cab at the end of the night, he promised to take good care of you. Every time he looked at you at all it was with a depth that you had recognized, but never understood.

“But look at us, Kei. Look at what we do to each other.”

You sniffled, scrubbing tears off your cheeks with the heels of your hands. He reached for you, seeking to comfort, but his hands twitched midair and he drew back instead.

“Yeah,” he croaked. You tossed a glance in his direction. He looked more dejected than you’d seen him in a long time. He rested both hands on top of the wheel, the rest of his body sagging against the seat back.

“Except now I’ve told you,” you continued. “And now we both know, so everything’s fucked no matter what.”

You were met with silence. The truth was dawning on you. You hated to even consider it, but it felt like what needed to be done.

“When we get back to the city,” you started. Hawks interrupted you with a low rasp of your name.

“No, when we get back, I’m giving you my resignation.”

“Fuck, stop.”

Keigo lunged, grabbing you by the back of the neck and pulling you toward him. He rested his forehead against yours and closed his eyes. The warmth of his closeness weighed on you like a heavy quilt. You couldn’t even pretend not to be immensely comforted by affection from him.

“I’m not gonna let you do that, kid.”

You were both drawing deep breaths- slow, rolling gulps of air that matched over gradual time. You licked your lips, bracing your chilled palms on his shoulders. Your fingertips brushed the very edges of his feathered hair, dull and soft in the dark.

You’d talked each other down from bigger, badder edges before. But this one had sharp, jagged rocks waiting at the bottom. This one, you were going to have to jump from together.

“I can’t do this,” you pleaded. “I can’t keep myself away from you like this.”

“Don’t.” His voice was hushed and so achingly tender, like he couldn’t take the command himself.

“I can’t-“

“Then, don’t.”

He was firmer this time, and the pad of his thumb brushed the bottom of your lip. He pulled back just a hair, grazing the tip of his nose across yours. The heat of his breath puffed over your lips and his blonde eyelashes threatened to tickle your cheek.

He drew in a slow, calculated breath.

“Lemme kiss you. Lemme try again. I’m not gonna forget it this time, I swear.”

“Keigo, please.”

“Just lemme try. Just once. I’ll never ask you again, if you don’t want me to.” He pulled back the rest of the way and your body keened at the loss, but he looked deeply into your eyes. Deeply like he’d never been allowed to look before.

You licked your lips. Considered it for half a heartbeat. Then you gave a slow little nod.

“Okay.”

To your surprise, he didn’t lunge again. He took his time with you. He cupped your cheeks tenderly between his bare palms, memorizing the curve of your face. He stared, taking you in like this. At his mercy.

Finally, he leaned in and captured your mouth in a soft kiss, heartbreakingly loving. You responded eagerly, blossoming beneath his touch and bracing your hands on the broad plane of his chest. Your fingers curled in the fleece that lined his coat.

You kissed back with near-desperate urgency, shamelessly showing him how touch-starved you’d become. Dating was pointless when Keigo stole your whole heart every time you showed up to work.

The quiet press of his tongue had your jaw going slack in his hands. Your kiss went needy all at once, and he licked into your mouth with a hunger behind his movements that you never anticipated sensing from him.

You broke from him first, turning your cheek to him as your lungs burned. Your mouth was swollen, and you gasped greedily for whatever stale air lingered between you. He grabbed your chin and forced your eyes back to his.

His gaze was fearsome. Ravenous. You were powerless beneath it.

You combed your fingers through his hair like you’d always wanted to, settling your palm at the nape of his neck. Your own voice was nearly unrecognizable, nothing more than a feral growl.

“Get in the back.”

Hawks took one look at the narrow gap between his seat and yours and sat up, nudging the driver’s side door open. He climbed eagerly into the road and then back into the back seat, settling in the center with his legs and wings splayed wide.

Meanwhile, you took the opportunity to wiggle out of your boots and pants and slam dunk everything into the foothold of the passenger’s seat. You climbed over the center console in your underwear and settled into his lap.

Even though you had to bow your head against the cushioned ceiling, it was a holy sensation. Your thighs settled perfectly into the crooks of Keigo’s legs, and his hands slid so naturally over the curves of your hips. It was as if you’d done this before.

You kissed him again, using the weight of your newly boosted height to descend hard and loving against his lips. He grabbed you hard by the ass, drawing you smooth and tight against his hips.

“God,” he groaned eagerly into your mouth.

“You’re so. Fucking. Perfect,” you hissed back into his, and he squeezed you harder, breaking his lips from yours to trail a hungry path of kisses along the edge of your jaw. His scruff scratched at your chin just like you imagined it would. You loved him like this- trimmed, unshaven. The rougher, the better.

“Don’t say that,” he purred dangerously close to your ear. “You’ve seen me at my worst.”

You tried not to grin, remembering Keigo barfing over the balcony of the Plaza after one too many charity-benefit martinis. Keigo caked in ooze after cutting open that sludge villain from the inside. Keigo on the verge of tears, just a few minutes ago.

“I still think so,” you pressed, and he smiled against your cheek. His wings, tired and bruised but majestic as ever, stiffened proudly. They were capped firmly by the cramped space that surrounded you, but the feathers that spread across the back seat were sleek and graceful.

You dug your fingertips between his jacket and his t-shirt, feeling the warmth of his torso all over. He did his best to shrug it open, but the material was caught up on his wings- no getting it off now.

He wound his hands into the hem of his shirt and tugged it up for you. The skin you could feel by slipping your fingers underneath was all you were going to get.

Not that it mattered to you. It was far more than you’d let yourself so much as picture before. While you felt your way across his heated abdomen, he dipped his head to your pulse point. He scraped the points of his teeth across your tender flesh, making you sigh and shiver. He pressed a hand to the small of your back to keep you close and nibbled all the way down to your neckline, leaving a trail of tiny welts in his wake.

They would fade by morning. Tonight, the feeling was enough.

He glided smooth, tender fingers up your sides. You straightened, letting him wedge your long-sleeved t-shirt up around your shoulders. You had to bend even further and press your forehead awkwardly against his shoulder to wrench it off. Once he peeled the fabric over your head, you tossed it haphazardly toward the front seat. Keigo was already going to work on his fly.

The tender press of his erection had grown apparent by that point, stiff and needing down one thigh of his thick pants. You reached between your legs and palmed it indulgently. There was an answering throb of arousal in the pit of your belly as you felt the shape and thickness of it trapped against his body, and an even stronger one when his hips pressed into your touch and he gave a low rumble of approval.

“Don’t act so surprised,” he crooned. With his pants unfastened, and the bulk of his cock shifted to the stretchy pouch of his undershorts, he slid a fingertip down the plane of your belly and curled two graceful digits between your thighs.

“Are you wet for me yet?” He shot you a deep, lustful stare. You rocked your hips against his fingers, hopeless in resisting the pleasure he offered. Keigo nudged the crotch of your thong easily aside, dipping his middle finger against your slit.

He sucked a sharp breath through clenched teeth as you gave a simultaneous yelp of stimulation. When he looked up at you again, he bore a sly little grin. You’d seen it a thousand times before, but never with such desire. And never all for you.

“You’re drippin’, kid.” He arched his palm, slipping that finger slowly upward and easing it inside you. There was no stretch, but the sensation of intimacy- of being felt in such a way by those hands that you’d never dared to fantasize about- was intoxicating in its own right.

Keigo was, apparently, feeling it, too. His eyes were deeply lidded, glazed completely by his own desire. The tip of his cock had found its way over the waistband of his undershorts, weeping shiny precum against his stomach and the bottom of his shirt.

He curled a blunt fingertip inside you, massaging your tender front wall. The feeling rappelled up the column of your spine and brought deep trembles forward. It brought fresh handfuls of wet slick from your depths, gliding down his palm and between his fingers. He took the hints your body offered and rubbed faster, watching the way your expression morphed from desire to pleasure.

“Stop,” you hushed, leaning forward and pushing your lips to his. He drew his hand back from you immediately, settling it on your thigh. The wet little print it left against your skin wasn’t lost on you.

“Something wrong?”

“No,” you replied. “Just ready for you.”

He gave a low, loving little chuckle and shifted beneath you. “Can’t hold out any longer?”

You smiled into his hair. “Don’t want to.”

“Fair enough.” His smile was even, but the tug in his voice betrayed his fraying nerves. It thrilled you to know that you weren’t the only one putting way too much emotional stock in this. It was immensely validating to discover that he’d been anticipating it, too.

He wiggled and squirmed against the backseat, shucking his pants and underwear down over his thighs and letting his cock pop out. It bobbed against his stomach- thicker than you’d imagined- framed by a trimmed scruff of tawny hair that disappeared under his shirt.

“Fuck,” you sighed in spite of yourself.

“I know, right?” He rasped. He reached for you, cupping your jaw. He brought your forehead down to his, giving a weak laugh. “What the hell have we been waitin’ for?”

“We just needed the bottle episode to shove us together,” you giggled. “C’mon, we’re a walking trope right about now.”

“We’re about to become a different trope if you don’t let me fuck you.” It was his turn to play the desperate card. But the ache between your thighs had not dulled, even a little.

He wrapped his fingers around the base of his shaft and you lifted your hips. He gave the heated tip a playful little swipe along your slick slit, but his game backfired when both of you let out tight cries of sensation.

You rocked your hips forward, taking his tip eagerly inside. The sensation was toe-curling, made even better by the way he held you tightly against him, nosing at your ear and kissing any patch of skin he could reach.

He brought his free palm to your ass as soon as you were situated, helping you slide the rest of the way onto his cock. With your knees braced on either side of his lap and your feet pressed tightly against the front seat, you let him bottom out. And for a moment, you just sat there.

“Jesus,” Keigo sighed, lolling his head against the seat behind him. You still had your head deeply bowed, trapped in the space that seemed just an inch too tight.

“I…” Your thighs shuffled. Your hips gave a little squirm. It felt good, but it wasn’t enough. Keigo cracked an eye and lifted his chin, sensing a problem.

“What’s the matter?”

“I just…” Your cheeks went hot. You licked your lips. “I can’t move.”

His gaze cast downward, to the place where you were joined. He took in the press of your thighs, the curve of your neck. He snorted.

“No, you can’t. C’mere, kid, I gotcha.” He planted that palm on your ass again, drawing your hips forward and up, as far as you could take them. Your head and neck bowed with the rest of your back as he draped your upper body over his chest and held you tightly against him.

Then he planted his feet and gave one good, deep thrust. Your innards gave a jerk. Oh, fuck.

“That’s it,” you panted into his ear. He nodded tensely.

“Yeah?” He prompted. “That’s workin’ for ya? Alright, alright. We’ve got this, kid, c’mon. Lemme show you somethin’ good, okay?”

One thrust sent you spiralling. But the rhythm that he dove into- steady, tough, fluid- sent every nerve through your body into meltdown. You were entirely incapable of dealing with such pleasure, combined with the emotions that swirled through your lovestruck brain.

It felt as though you had been holding out needlessly for all this time. Like all the hurt and frustration and heartbreak you shed over him would be evaporated, now that you understood that he wanted you like this, too.

Like that was all there was. You, Hawks, and the free love you could now share.

“I’m n-not-“ Keigo stuttered, piping up after a series of breathless pants and airy groans, “n-not gonna last much longer, kid, you’re… really gonna make me feel it.”

“Yeah,” you breathed back. You looped your arms tightly around his neck, tilting your hips forward. You could feel the barest hint of stimulation when your clit brushed his belly, so you leaned into it- aching for your own release.

His rhythm doubled as the intensity of your pleasure spiked dangerously high, and when you gripped him hard and rocked your hips in time with his, there was a low, warning pull that echoed all the way up to your throat. You were close. Very close.

Your head dropped backward and Keigo leaned forward, drawing his mouth up the vulnerable column of your throat. He panted hard and heavy against your pulse point.

“That’s it, kid, that’s fuckin’ it, baby, oh, God, I’m g-gonna f-fucking… I- shit, I- can’t… fffuck!”

Keigo let a vicious roar tear from his throat as he reached his vibrant peak. His erratic thrusts brought you to a tight little climax, too, and you clung to him and whined and rode through the pleasure as he fucked madly up inside you, spurting messy shots of cum into your depths.

Gravity took hold of his pleasure, dripping it onto his shaft and pooling it in a sloppy mess between you. And when it was all finally over, you collapsed against his body and you both stayed, airless and spent, wrapped tightly around one another.

It was the bright flash of headlights on the back of his neck that brought you to the surface, moments later.

The inside of the car was warm and stuffy and damp. Had you just come in from outside, you might have realized that it reeked of sex. Sweat and breath and fluid and feeling. The windows were near-opaque, fogged by the dampness of your lovemaking.

It was a moment you might have loved to capture, if you weren’t about to be so rudely interrupted.

The light in your rear windshield was bright white and flashing orange. Unmistakable.

“The tow truck,” you wheezed, scrambling off of Keigo’s lap. “Oh, fuck.”

“Get dressed,” he muttered weakly, already scrambling to get himself cleaned up and decent. He was far more dressed than you were, so you did your best to climb back into the passenger’s seat and slide back into your own clothes. You banged your shin hard on the center console, and your head on the ceiling as your body flailed in retaliation. You crumpled into the front seat and nearly kneed yourself in the mouth trying to scramble back into your pants.

By the time you climbed out of the car, fully dressed, with a few additional bruises, Hawks was already standing on the shoulder, talking to the driver. The driver was wagering a few guesses on what might be wrong with the car. Hawks’ eyes had already glazed over.

“Hey,” he greeted, as he spotted you emerging over his shoulder. He introduced you quietly to the driver before the ballcap-wearing, bearded man spoke again.

“Yeah,” he gruffed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ll give you a lift to garage nearby. It’s kinda late, but he keeps weird hours. I bet he’ll take a look for you, it’s prob’ly an easy fix.”

“That sounds great,” you gushed, clasping your palms together. There was a lot of stiffness settling in around your hips and thighs. You couldn’t be sure if it was a result of the compromising position you’d nearly been discovered in or the whole lot of not moving you’d done for hours before that.

Either way, it felt good to stretch your legs.

“You c’n go ahead and hop in the back,” the driver directed, waving the key that Keigo had apparently already given him in indication. “I’ll get you hooked up, no problem.”

Keigo opened the truck door for you, and you climbed over the passenger’s seat into the back. He followed closely behind you, tugging the door shut and slouching into the opposite side.

You sat in silence; hands clasped between your knees. A confusing air settled between you.

You felt vulnerable and raw and moony. You wanted to hold his hand and curl up to him in the back seat. Kiss his cheeks and tell him how good it was, tell him how much you felt.

For you, though, it could never be that simple. There was no free love for heroes like you.

Pay later, always.

Keigo felt the weight of your gaze. He turned to meet your eyes and shot you a thin smile. You’d seen the look that he’d turned to hide from you, though.

The truck driver climbed into the front seat before words could pass between you. But you didn’t need to hear them to know what they were going to be.

You didn’t need a warning to understand what Monday morning at the agency was going to look like.

[yannowhatigiveup]

A Blinded Kiss

I haven’t posted anything recently so I dug around in my WIPs to see if anything was even worth posting and I found this that I made a while ago. It certainly isn’t the best but it isn’t the worst out of all my other WIPs.

"Is this really necessary?" The bluenette asked, eyeing a blindfold given by her brotherly figure.

"Of course it is Pixie!" An older man with two-toned hair replied, way too over enthusiastic about the whole situation. "It's a great way to find your way around the manor”

"And it's a great family bonding experience too!" Another man in the room replied, even more enthusiastic than the first.

"Fine, I'll do it Jay" the blue-eyed girl huffed, twirling the blindfold between her fingers. "What are the rules again, Dick?"

Dick beamed at the girl before answering. "Well Mari, it's simple. Put the blindfold on, count to fifty, spin around and try to steal a hug from anyone in the manor"

"So I have to walk around the manor blindfolded and try to sneak up on you? You know that's impossible!" Marinette exclaimed, she would not go around the house looking like a touch-starved fool.

"That's exactly why we're doing it" Jason replied, shrugging his shoulders. "It'll last a long time."

After a few seconds, the blue-eyed girl sighed, giving in to both Jason and Dick. "Fine, if that's what makes you happy" Marinette wrapped the matte-black fabric tightly around her eyes, already struggling within the first few seconds. She began counting and she heard the two scuffling away, smiling while being able to tell which direction they went in. In the mean time, Marinette debated her options.

'Both Jason and Dick would be the ideal choices but they'll be able to hear me from a mile away. Tim would be the most logical one since he's half asleep, but where does he even go in this maze? God knows where Alfred is, Mr Wayne is scary. Damian-' She paused her train of thoughts, granted Marinette had only met him a few days ago but that didn't stop the crush she had heavily try to cease. 'He'd probably hear me from a mile away as well. This game is so unfair'

Soon enough, Marinette reached fifty and spun herself around, she used a bit too much force than needed so now not only was she blinded but she lost her sense of direction. Giving herself a minute to recover, the bluenette began to walk. Using her improved senses, thanks to the miraculous, Mari was slowly able to create a theoretical map in her mind, though it did take much more energy than she desired.

"Fighting an akuma is easier than this" The bluenette muttered as she hit her thigh along the corner of a wall.

Even though she was using her enhanced abilities, she'd pump into a corner or a wall every now and again, the amount of times increased when her energy was being used. After wondering a hall for what seemed like hours, the bluenette came to a staircase, one that she ever so carefully used to get to a higher floor. Once she did, she kept a hand on one of the walls, using it as a guide. Soon enough, her hand came to what felt like a doorframe. The door was closed she could tell but it was recent used due to the fact that the doorknob was warm. Making sure not to intrude, she knocked on said door, she almost missed the muffled 'come in' had she not been paying attention. Marinette opened the door, went in and quickly shut it behind her, taking a deep breath.

"Okay I hope you don't mind but which room is this and whose in the room? Dick and Jason thought it would be a good idea to walk around the manor blindfolded while trying to sneak up on them" The bluenette huffed, only to freeze when she heard a familiar chuckle.

"I've heard, you're in my room, It's Damian just to clarify" 'Sh-' "So, what task must be fulfilled to give you permission to take the blindfold off? I doubt you want to keep it on any longer" Marinette giggled.

"You're right, I would probably get lost of I continue. Um, I have to 'steal a hug' apparently"

"So you have to hug someone without them inspecting it" Damian came to that conclusion to which the bluenette nodded her head.

"Yeah that's basically it, hey do you have anywhere I could sit down? I'm getting tired..."

"Of course, my bed is five steps to your front and two steps to your right, make yourself comfortable" She wasn't sure how red she had gotten but she obliged anyway. Had she not been wearing the blindfold, she would've seen Damian smiling at her flustered state. Giving herself a moment to regain her energy, Marinette turned to where she presumed Damian was working at his desk. "Can I hug you? Jay never said I couldn't ask the person first. I-I won't if you don't want me to! I just wanted to ask so..."

She heard the boy thoughtfully hum before he made his way over to her. From what she could tell, Damian was now in front of Marinette, looming over her.

"Did Todd or Grayson say it had to be a hug?" Marinette tilted her head in confusion and thoughtfulness, that had never crossed her mind before.

"W-"

"What happens if I kiss you instead?"

The bluenette didn’t reply with words as she knew how terrible her words would be in her flustered state. But she wanted this, her heart longed for it in a way it never did for anyone else. Instead, she nodded, giving the green-eyed boy permission to do as he wished.

She felt his hand lightly tilt her chin up towards, where she presumed, his face was. Then he pressed his lips onto hers, his other had behind her head, tugging at the fabric around her eyes. Marinette felt bliss, she was glad that no one else would interrupt this moment. Shivers went down her spine as she felt Damian’s hands travel up from behind her neck and to wear the blindfold was knotted, gently tugging at the binding. She was glad that when her face was free from the fabric that comprised her vision, the first thing in her line of eyesight were Damian's deep emerald eyes, the shimmered the same way they had when she first laid eyes on him, she'd been enraptured ever since. The boy, however, was smirking as he noticed the pink that dusted her face. Without a moment passing, she threw herself the green-eyed boy, delivering a hug. As she pulled away, her hands cupped his face and she returned his embrace with one of her own. When she pulled away once more, she smiled in satisfaction at his flustered expression.

"When did you realise you had feelings for me?" Marinette asked softly, her forehead pressed against his trying to regain her breath.

"That's a very easy question" Damian stared lovingly into her eyes. "I fell the moment I saw you take down that Akuma three times your size" Her eyes widened.

"You know about me being Ladybug?"

"The same way you know I'm Robin"

They both smiled, creating a truce to not reveal anything.

"Well I better get going, see you later." She got up from the bed and opened the door, only to turn around and say "Je t'aime mon cœur" before exiting the room, leaving a blushing Damian.

Marinette walked back down the stairs, the piece of cloth in hand and small love-struck smile on her face. When she entered the main living room, she came face to face with the owner of the manor.

"Oh hello Mr Wayne"

"Hello Marinette, I see you managed to get the blindfold off" The older man gestured towards the piece of fabric in her hand. "And please, do call me Bruce. Who did you end up surprising with a hug then?"

She smiled brightly before replying. "Damian"

His usual formal demeanor broke for a moment but Bruce quickly picked the pieces back up. "He didn't attack you or injure you in any shape or form?"

Marinette decided to play the oblivious little girl. "No..? Why, does he do it often?" Her head titled in confusion.

"Nothing it doesn't matter" Bruce simply sighed and shook his head. "Also, there's something I'd like to discuss with you at dinner, if you don't mind"

"No not at all, I'll see you at dinner then?" Bruce nodded and left, leaving Marinette alone in the room, waiting for her honorary older brother and his brother to come in. Which they did but only after some time, it was hilarious to see them crouched down, talking to each other in hushed voices. They flinched as she cleared her throat, both slowly turning towards the sound to find a smug looking Marinette and a blindfold whipped around her finger.

"I win"

~~~

Most of the occupants at the table were either in an all out war or were about to be, except for Marinette and an exasperated Bruce Wayne.

"So Marinette" The eldest Wayne began, silencing the rest of the table. "I hope you don't mind me asking but when you were off searching for Jason, you mentioned attacks that have been occurring in Paris, is this true?"

No one failed to notice the girl flinch. "Yeah it's true"

"...how bad are the attacks? In your opinion"

"Well it depends on how strong the person's emotions are really. If their emotions are strong, then the Akuma is strong too"

"What's the strongest akuma that Paris has seen?" It was Tim who asked and memories of the event began swimming through her mind, she got rid of them with a shake of her head.

"The deadliest akuma Paris has experienced was an akuma called 'Syren'. She's a regular person but, as an akuma, she managed to kill around 2 million people. But don't worry! Ladybug's cure managed to bring them back to life"

"D-did... did you die, Pixie?" Jason asked, his anger mixed with worry was boiling over and luckily simmered after seeing her shake her head.

"Do you think the heroes of Paris would let heroes from the Justice League come over to help?"

Marinette contemplated for a moment, should she really risk the heroes getting akumatized? "I think they would but I wouldn't know"

Bruce nodded while Jason leaned over the table to talk closer to his honorary little-sister. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I didn't want to bother you"

"You're not a bother, Pixie" Jason smiled at the bluenette on the other side of the table. "You never are and you never will be"

~~~

Marinette returned to Paris a few days later, in the mean time, Bruce and the rest of the batfam were planning their visit to the City of Love. Soon enough, the vigilantes were boarded on the plane. Their flight to Paris was relatively silent. After a few hours, they landed and the vigilantes waited on the Eiffel Tower, only to find out there was a battle going on. Before they could engage in the fight, they were engulfed with magical ladybugs that seemed to fix anything destroyed. As they were mesmerized by the cure, a certain spotted-heroine wobbly landed on the platform. Batman was first to notice.

"Ladybug" His voice caused the others to turn around. "Thank you for allowing us into your city"

Ladybug nodded, not uttering a single word.

"We were hoping, with your permission of course, that we could help you be rid of Hawkmoth once and for good" Again, Ladybug didn't reply. "Ladybug?"

When the heroine didn't respond, Batman glanced at Nightwing and the rest of his sons, clearly something was wrong. Unexpectedly, Robin took his glove off, approached the Ladybug-themed hero and placed his hand onto her forehead.

"You have a fever" he stated, his hand trailing down her face to cup her cheek. His family all shot him weird looks. She tiredly blinked at the vigilante, recognising him as Robin and allowed herself to fall into his arms, detransforming while doing so, leaving a burning hot Marinette.

"Dami?" He hummed. "Take me home, please..." She drifted off to sleep, comforted in her lover's arms. He glanced at his family, holding the bluenette close.

"Pixie...is Ladybug?" Red Hood's voice was first.

"You didn't know?" Robin's voice mocking confusion, enraging Red Hood that his youngest brother knew something about his sister that he didn't. Even more so that his demon brother was holding said sister,

"We should take her back home" Dick went over to feel the girl's forehead. "She's burning"

"Tikki?" Robin asked and a red creature flew out from one of Mari's pockets, startling most of the people there.

"I'll try to heal her on the way, follow me"

The floating red creature flew down from the Eiffel Tower, Robin and Marinette close behind. After some hesitation, the others followed, they ended up on top of a bakery. One by one, they entered through the trapdoor on the balcony, finding both Damian with his mask off and a weak looking Marinette. Despite her enfeebled state, the bluenette greeted each vigilante, her gaze landed on Jason.

"It's just a fever, I'll be fine"

Jason removed his helmet and ran a hand through his hair before both settled on his hips. "You don't look fine"

"I promise I am" She wasn't convincing, not at all.

"Fine" Jason huffed, he could never truly say no to the girl he viewed as his little sister. "But since when were you two a thing" He pointed at the two, his gaze resting maliciously on Damian.

"It's all thanks to you, you know" Marinette smirked at Jason's confusion. Tim snickered as he seemed to catch on to what she was saying.

"Had you not organized that 'blindfolded game', I doubt we would be together at this moment" Damian supplied the information, clearly unfazed by the burning rage in the eyes of his older brother.

"Baby Bird's all grown up" The eldest Wayne son overdramatized wiping a fake tear, Batman sighed at his two eldest sons while pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Get your fucking hands off her, Demon Brat!" Jason tried to lunge at Damian, only to be stopped by both Dick and Tim. Though his fury only grew when Marinette snuggled closer to the green-eyed boy, both smirked in victory over Jason's horrified appearance.

Marinette was now part of the family in more ways than one. Though they wish they had found out in better circumstances, they would be able to take down Hawkmoth once and for all, side by side, all together. And to think this all happened because of a silly blindfold game.

[wonderlustlucas]

home - hwang hyunjin

⇢ prompt “I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t sure.” ⇢ pairing hyunjin x female reader ⇢ word count 2.7k ⇢ genre fluff, kind of angsty? ⇢ warnings insinuated that this takes place during covid & that reader has some case of depression/anxiety i literally wrote her as me so like ⇢ summary In which Hyunjin shows you just how special you are.—college!au ⇢ a/n happy birthday to my love, my comfort, my home

What am I doing here?

Unfortunately, there is no one else to blame but herself for being left without plans on this Friday night. Regretfully so, she instead finds herself alone on the upper level of the business building. Scratch that, the whole building, probably – she’s been here since four, and the few students that were once alongside her left hours ago. Initially here to work on an essay, she now occupies her time bouncing between YouTube, Twitch, and Crunchyroll, watching whatever she is feeling at the moment despite Monday’s deadline looming over her.

Sighing, she looks away from a boring page of YouTube recommendations, stretches her neck, and reaches for her hot chocolate. Well, not hot anymore, she realizes with a wince after taking a sip, struggling to swallow the now cold drink. Gaze flicking to the time on the corner of her laptop, she frowns. 9:43. She considers walking home once it hits ten, the unstirred silence of the building starting to prick up her spine like needles. Home, she thinks with an amused exhale from her nose. A too small, overheated double dorm room that technically is a single now that her roommate has gone online for the rest of the semester. Home.

She wonders, briefly, if anyone were to miss her if she were to go home home. If anyone would even notice, anyway.

She wouldn’t expect them to, honestly. It’s not as if she goes out of her way to hang out with anyone, usually opting to cozy up in her room and pretend she does not see the groupchat blowing up with plans to meet at the dining hall, a study session at the library, a trip to the mall. She loves her friends, really, but can rarely find it in herself to actually participate in said friend activities. Sure, there are some nights she actually leaves the confines of her room to join them, but to be quite frank, she’s glad they have learned to simply stop inviting her. Makes the whole looking for an excuse problem a lot easier.

Besides, who would want to go out on a night like this, anyway?

Just as she has flipped to page fifty-three of The Old Man and the Sea, she looks away in boredom, instead opting to gaze out the window. Focusing past her reflection on the tall glass pane, a warm feeling she can only describe as peace seems to settle over her, watching the snow fall like moonlit glitter across campus. The snowstorm had started light when she first arrived, soft enough she could manage with her hood down, dotting her with only miniature droplets of water. Now, though, the flakes are so large she can focus on one at a time as they fly past, covering the ground with a solid two or three inches at this point. In the distance, she can spot snowplows making their rounds to clear the pathways, the route to the business building already turned slushy blue as salt melts the continuous snow.

She sighs, eyes wide like a child as she represses the urge to go outside and grab a handful of it, maybe fall onto one of the lawns and make a snow angel, stick her tongue out and try to catch one of the large flakes. Tomorrow, maybe, she thinks, looking at her grey sweatpants and deciding walking back with soaked pants in this weather would not be the best idea.

So late into March, she cannot help but chuckle at the number of students complaining about the snow and cold temperature on SnapChat, even her friends having to change their plans. She, on the other hand, finds such last chance snowstorm beautiful; sure, she was ready for spring and eventually a break from school, but watching the snow dancing under the streetlights, choreographed by the gentle wind, she thinks it’s something to hold on to, keep her grounded to reality that albeit the stress and monotony of college, such moments like these still exist.

She jumps at the sound of the front entrance slamming closed.

Who the hell? She frowns, annoyed at whoever decided now was a good time to come inside, subsequently ruining her little moment of serenity. Turning red at the thought of some raunchy couple thinking to spice things up in the presumably empty building, she considers packing her bag and heading out. But no matter which exit, they would still see her, and that would be painstakingly awkward. Maybe she could escape into one of the smaller reservation rooms, or at least make some exaggerated noise so they at least know they’re not alone.

Could just be a janitor, or maybe someone else deciding to shelter somewhere other than their dorm to buckle down and do some work, she thinks. No matter who it is and what their intentions are, her leg is already bouncing a mile a minute having gotten used to having the space to herself.

So caught up on how or when she should take her leave, she does not hear the footsteps coming up the stairs until they’re right behind her. Tensing up, she watches in the window’s reflection as the business building’s second occupant steps up onto the platform and… heads towards her. Panic setting in, she tries to decipher who it is through the blurry reflection but to no avail, heart racing at the thought of a stranger approaching her, one of her friends finding her here on a Friday night, a janitor going to ask her to leave.

She turns her head as soon as they stop beside her.

“Hyunjin?” She blurts, taken aback. This was the last person she expected to be here. Somewhat relieved but heart still beating in her throat, she blinks up at the tall boy to make sure it’s really him, brows furrowed in confusion. “What are you doing here?”

“I should be asking you the same thing,” he returns, pulling his mask down below his chin and smiling cheekily at her. “I went to go pick up my food and saw you in the window,” Hyunjin explains, tugging the beanie off his head and shaking his hair out, showering her in the tiny droplets. Wrinkling her nose, she takes notice of the Chipotle bag in his hand and how soaked his coat is.

“Here,” she offers, reaching for the bag. Passing it to her with a grateful smile, Hyunjin unzips his coat and sets it over a chair beside her alongside his beanie, wipes the melted snow and sweat from his eyes, and tries to fix his now mused bangs. “So, what are you doing here?” He asks while doing this, regarding her with an amused glint in his eyes.

“Work,” she sighs. Then, glancing to the screen of her laptop and realizing it’s still the home page of YouTube, she grimaces. “Trying to do work. Not really. Just watching the snow.”

“It’s a lot prettier when you’re inside,” Hyunjin comments, following her gaze to watch the frenzy of snow before taking the bag from her and offering a quiet thanks. “But I meant more why are you here?”

She isn’t quite sure what her relationship with Hyunjin is. Having been one of the many acquaintances she barely made at freshman orientation, he did not seem like the kind of person she expected to still be in her life. She wouldn’t exactly say they were close, but she considers Hyunjin a friend, she thinks. After a good month or two forgetting he existed, she randomly bumped into him at the dining hall, recognizing that unfairly attractive face of his in line for chicken nuggets and immediately falling into conversation. Turns out, he was mutual friends with her lab partner, Kim Seungmin.

She does not see Hyunjin as much as she wishes she did. She had not shared any classes with him in the past three years, and even if her friend group and his overlapped in the slightest, it was not always a given that they both would be able to hang out as much as their closer friends do. Still, there always seems to be a random occasion, such as now, where they bump into one another. Each time is a pleasant surprise, of course, and not just because of his pretty face and wide shoulders, but because he has always seemed to care for her in a way no one else does, and that in itself is enough to have her heart racing every time he comes close.

Not that she has a crush on him or anything, but it definitely is hard trying not to fall in love every time he even so much as smiles at her.

Face heating up in embarrassment at his question, she avoids looking him in the eyes and randomly minimizes the Chrome tab on her laptop. “You know,” she drones on, “just taking it easy for the night.”

Hyunjin hums in agreement, opening the lid of his burrito bowl and stabbing a fork into the layers. Even her mouth waters. “I feel like I never see you,” he contemplates, finally taking a bite. His words surprise her. “Uh, yeah,” she coughs, forcing herself to look away before she gets too enraptured over how beautiful he looks even after trekking through a snowstorm, long hair messy but falling over his face in a way that has her fingers twitching to tuck away. “I usually don’t go out with everyone. Not my scene.”

“Aw,” he coos, “I get that. Sometimes I’m the same way, I just want to relax on the weekends after working so much all week.”

Thank you!, she almost shouts, but bites her tongue. She agrees, but even she does not know why she can’t find it in herself to go out and party with everyone else. She’s just lazy, to put it simply. Nevertheless, his words put her at ease, no longer worried that he might think she’s a loser for staying in every weekend.

“Exactly,” she agrees, “parties are fun, sometimes. But I just prefer laying low. I don’t think my friends like that, though.”

Gaze finding his, her heart does somersaults at the smile he offers. “Nah,” Hyunjin says, confident, “no one thinks that. Everyone has their way of having fun. Honestly, all I’ve ever heard is your friends complaining how they miss you and that you would make going out more fun since you’re so funny.”

“Which is true, by the way,” he adds.

She feels as if she is going to combust. “Oh,” she croaks, throat dry, “um, thank you. That’s sweet of them. And you. I guess I didn’t consider that they miss me when they go out.”

Hyunjin scoffs, raising a brow but finishes chewing before speaking again. “Are you nuts? You’re so fun to be around, of course they’re going to miss you.”

“Okay, stop that,” she laughs, burning from the inside out at his compliments. “Just being honest,” he laughs, opening the bag of his tortilla chips. “Want any?”

She looks at him with wide eyes. “Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t sure.”

“Okay,” she huffs out an airy laugh, rolling her chair closer to his. Miscalculating that he was going to move, too, she quite literally feels her blood pressure skyrocket as her knees bump into his. And he doesn’t move. “Here,” moving the bag closer to the edge of the table, Hyunjin glances at her for only a split second before focusing on his bowl again.

Reaching into the bag, she feels emboldened not only by his previous flattery, but his proximity as well, and scrambles to continue the conversation. “Why are you eating Chipotle so late?”

“Pre-birthday celebration. Also, DoorDash took forever,” Hyunjin laughs.

“When’s your birthday?” She asks, munching on a chip.

“In,” he pauses, tapping his phone, “two hours.”

Oh. “What?” She gasps, blinking at him. “What? Why aren’t you out? It’s your birthday weekend and you’re here eating Chipotle?”

“Woah, okay Miss I-Prefer-Laying-Low. Maybe I wanted to chill tonight, since tomorrow I’m going out? Hm?” Hyunjin chuckles at her scowl, pursing his lips. “Okay, yeah, I guess but—”

“No but’s,” he interrupts, the amused glint in his eyes disappearing, “I’m here now, and that’s what matters, right? I’m lucky I saw you in the window.”

“I guess,” she mutters, realizing her heart has not stopped its staccato frenzy since moving closer, “you scared me, by the way. I’ve been here alone for hours and suddenly someone is walking up to me, I think I shit my pants.”

Hyunjin bellows out a laugh, and such an airy sound momentarily leaves her awestruck. Oh, god, she’s in deep. It’s over.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he giggles, battling her hand to reach for a chip. Even the touch of his long fingers against hers has the entire butterfly population roaring to life in her gut. “Look, I made up for it by gifting you chips.”

“True,” she hums, licking residue salt off her fingers before leaning back in her chair to catch a breather. Too much physical contact and emotion for one night.

“What are you doing next weekend?” Hyunjin asks, taking her by surprise. Again. She thinks she is going to faint if she isn’t able to wrap herself around him within the next fifteen seconds.

“Um,” she starts, then remembers her previous idea of going home after this week was over. “I was probably going to go home next Friday.”

“Oh,” is all Hyunjin says, seemingly disappointed. “Why?”

She grits her teeth. Why? Really? “I don’t know,” she shrugs, not even convinced herself, “I’m bored and lonely here. I love everyone here but I miss my friends at home. I might as well be slightly less bored at home.” Hyunjin frowns.

“Okay, what about this,” he starts, leaning close enough she can count his individual eyelashes and nearly smell the flavor of his lip balm, “you go out with us tomorrow night and if you have fun, you hang out with us next weekend, too. Oh, and whenever you want some company, you text me and we’ll come here or somewhere else and do homework together or just chill. How does that sound?”

All she can do is blink at him. Her initial thought is how dare he try negotiating whether I go home or not? But, there it is, again, she realizes. That extra step he takes, the genuine care he shows her, acting like her well-being is his responsibility. “You don’t have to do that, Hyunjin. I don’t want to bother you every time I feel lonely. I’ll be fine.”

“Christ, you’re dense,” rolling his eyes, Hyunjin sets his fork down, wipes his hands on his thighs, and suddenly leans in to hold her face with both hands, “I wouldn’t offer to sit around and do homework with you when you’re in need of a friend if I didn’t want to.”

Her heart is racing so fast she fears he may be able to hear the thud of it against her chest. What he’s saying is starting to sound a lot more than some friend-to-friend comfort, and it’s making her head hurt, especially with his thumbs ever so slightly swiping against her cheeks. At her silence, he starts again.

“Y/N,” he says, voice dropping an octave, “don’t go home. This is your home, too, you just don’t want it to be.”

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she thinks she is going to say something, but nothing comes out. There is nothing to say. Hyunjin is right, he has read her like an open book, and he’s here to offer his shoulder to lean on. “Okay,” she whispers, “I’ll go out with everyone tomorrow. And I’ll try and stay here for the rest of the semester.”

“That’s my girl,” Hyunjin smiles, leaning closer and pressing a featherlight kiss to her lips. At first, it takes her by surprise. But then it all starts to make sense. The snow makes sense. Her essay makes sense. Being here makes sense. Hyunjin makes sense. His birthday makes sense. She makes sense.

Outside the glass windows, the wind starts to howl, blowing the composed ballet of snow to its final act, covering the pathways and the streetlights and the roof of the business building in perfect white glitter. Inside these windows, she realizes they would notice if she were to go home.

Why would she ever do that when her second home is right here in front of her?

[peterspideyy]

interruptions

written before newt came out <3

summary- newt tries to tell you how he truely feels about you, but keeps on getting stopped

warnings- fluff, maybe some angst, and newt being pissed off with everyone (apart from you hehe)

————

“i can’t believe i’m agreeing to letting you do this, minho.” newt groaned, as said boy had his hand wrapped around the second in command’s arm, dragging him across the glade.

“well, newt, i’m actually shucking helping you if you couldn’t believe it.” he replied.

“yes. i can’t believe that you out of all people want to help me.” newt snapped back.

“i’m actually doing this for your own benefit,” minho shrugged, “as well as mine, i can’t bare to listen to you chat about how much you love y/n all day. it’s starting to drive me insane.”

newt abruptly stopped, causing minho to fly back at the sudden action. “how do you think i’ll be able to do this? i can’t bloody talk to her without going red or stuttering like a complete idiot!”

minho smirked, “well, a- you go up to her, b- say how you feel, c- ask her out, d- and then you’re with the love of your life and you can spend the rest of your day’s togther, saying bloody”

“all british people don’t say bloody all the time, you know?” newt questioned.

“well, you do.”

newt sighed, rolling his eyes.

“stop being a shank, and go up to her.” minho gestured, looking behind him.

newt followed minho’s gaze, before it landed on you, who was laughing with gally and chuck. a slight smile creeped up on his face at the sight. he was completely and utterly in love with you. he doesn’t know exactly when he fell in love with you. it might have been when you first came up in the box. you were so scared, yet adorable, and the british boy instantly found a soft spot for you. it might have been at a bonfire, were the golden light casted a slight glow on your face, causing newt to choke on his drink. or it might have been that night, when you talked for hours about anything and everything. he doesn’t know when, but he can feel that he is in love with his best friend.

“i-i can’t, minho.” newt whined, looking at the runner who was smirking again.

“it’s so funny watching you be in love, newt.”

newt groaned, placing his head in his hands, “you’re not helping.”

“well, if you shucking ask her out already, she’ll say yes and you’ll live a happy life drinking...tea.”

newt rolled his eyes for the second time. “stop. anyway, what if she doesn’t feel the same way?”

minho titled his head to the side, “that could happen...but listen, you can tell she’s in love with you too.”

“how?”

minho froze. “you’re kidding me, right?”

the second in command looked at minho cautiously who shook his head in disbelief. he couldn’t believe newt has never noticed how you look at him for longer than a friend does or how you can’t function properly around him. you’re both completely oblivious to each other’s actions. and it’s driving minho insane.

“right, let’s get this over with. today could be the best day of your life.” minho smiled, putting his hands on newt’s shoulders before leading him towards you.

“or the worst.”

“think positively.”

newt couldn’t. millions of thoughts were circling his brain, as he got closer towards you. he could hear your laugh more clearly now, and he wanted to get out of minho’s grasp and run away. but, he breathed out heavily, trying to gain some confidence as he and the runner stopped infront of you.

“hey newt! minho!” you spoke.

newt stood still, eyes wide making minho roll his eyes. “hey y/n!”

you glanced at newt, furrowing your brows at how weird he was looking at you, making you immediately feel nervous. but, unbeknownst to you, newt was having a mental breakdown- on the inside.

“everything okay?” you questioned, glancing at minho who was starring at newt.

“newt here,” minho started, pushing said boy forward slightly, “has something he would love to tell you.”

you glanced at the second in command, who was looking down at his feet now, not daring to make eye contact.

“okayy.”

minho slapped newt on the back of the head, making him wince as he sent daggers to the runner, before looking at you. “can i-i speak to you please? in private?”

you smiled slightly. “sure.”

and so you and newt walked away from minho, gally and chuck who were sending newt thumbs up making him roll his eyes. newt was literally shaking- he has never dealt with this amount of stress and worry before. he didn’t want this to effect the close friendship you had- it meant so much to him, and he wouldn’t know what to do if he ruined that.

you stopped by the gardens away from people, as you turned around to face the blonde haired boy. “what’s up newt? you’re worrying me.”

he laughed, “tell me about it.”

“what does that mean?” you inquired, titling your head to the side. “you can tell me anything you know, i’m your best friend.”

“well, shit.” newt thought, gulping loudly.

“erm, okay, i don’t know how to word this so i’m just going to say so i’m sorry about that i’m not very good with putting words together sorry-“

“newt.” you spoke, cutting off his rambling.

“right, sorry.”

you giggled. “if you say sorry one more time i’m going to hurl something at you.”

he laughed, rubbing the back of his neck, “right sorry- er i mean okay.”

“tell me what’s going on with you.” you encouraged.

“y/n i-“

“newt!” alby shouted from across the glade cutting him off, making him sigh.

“perfect timing, huh?” newt mumbled, making you chuckle.

“newt! where the shucking hell are you?!” alby continued shouting, causing newt to smile sadly at you.

“i better go and see what’s bloody happening. i’ll tell you later.” he said, before turning around and running towards the leaders frustrated calls.

————

after newt sorted out alby’s problems with gladers not following orders, he went to find you, to finally tell you what he’s been wanting to tell you for a while. he saw minho running towards him, a wide smile on his face.

“have you done it yet?” minho asked.

“no.”

“what? why?!”

“blame alby!” newt huffed, as he carried on looking for you.

“have you seen y/n anywhere?” he asked, not once looking at minho.

“oh yeah, she’s in the med hut.”

newt froze, turning around slowly and dreading the worse. “what?”

“stop panicking, she’s fine. chuck cut his hand so she’s sorting him out.”

newt physically relaxed, a blush creeping on his cheek at the thought of you being so helpful to the gladers. they didn’t deserve you. he didn’t deserve you.

“right, thanks.” newt replied, before running towards where you were. he walked in, seeing you give chuck a reassuring smile who was clutching onto his hand, which had a bandage wrapped around. tears stained chuck’s face, making newt’s heart pang. sure it was only a little cut, but he was a kid. and a kid should not be in the glade. chuck mumbled a thanks, before walking out leaving you and newt alone.

“bless him.” you spoke, tidying up the work space.

“yeah.” newt whispered.

you breathed out, turning to look at the british boy. “are you going to tell me what’s happening then?”

“er, i don’t- i mean yes. yes i am.” he stuttered, walking towards you, and placing his hands in yours looking in your eyes deeply. he searched for any disgust or worry in your orbs, but only found confusion and a hint of something else but he couldn’t put a finger on it. he sighed, mentally encouraging himself to actually say he likes you.

“y/n, i’ve been wanting to tell you this for a while now, and i think i’m in lo-“

“newt!”

“you’ve got to be kidding me.” newt thought closing his eyes, as he mentally attacked whoever is calling him.

“newt! where are you?”

he sighed, as he realised the shouting belonged to gally. soon, the builder walked into the med hut, looking very angry. nothing new there.

“what do you want?” newt asked, wincing at how rude he sounded.

gally looked between the two of you, before glaring at the british boy. “you...” he spoke sternly, pointing at him, “need to go out there and sort it out.”

newt breathed out heavily, taking his hands away from yours before rubbing the back of his neck. “sort what out?”

“the animals.”

you laughed, as newt scoffed. “you seriously inturrupted me for animals?”

“yes! come on!” and before newt could say no, gally left causing the blonde boy to sigh heavily for the millionth time. he turned to look at you, smiling at you slightly.

“seems like everyone wants you today,” you mumbled. “tell me later, ‘kay?”

newt nodded, but never moved as he debated to just blurt out ‘i love you,’ before he went to see what was happening. but, he decided to go against that idea, smiling slightly as he ran out of the hut to gally and the others.

————

“have you done it?” minho asked newt, eagerly waiting for him to say yes and give him details. but, he didn’t expect newt to shake his head, as he sighed closing one of the animal pens.

“what? why?” minho shouted alerting the whole glade, making newt snap his head towards him.

“minho i swear to god shut it-“

“oh fine. sorry.” he laughed, but stopped. “why haven’t you shucking told her?”

“do you not think i’ve tried too?! i keep on getting bloody inturrupted. first alby and now gally. if one more person cuts me off, at the wrong time, i’m going to bloody throw them in the pit!” newt barked, but only so minho could hear.

“oh.”

newt scoffed. “yeah, oh.”

minutes passed before minho spoke again. “i have an idea.”

“this is going to be great.” newt replied, sarcasm evident in his voice.

minho only smirked, before pointing at you, alone, in the kitchen. “go to her now, and i’ll distract the others.”

“how are you supposed to control fifty boys in a couple of minutes, when it’s took me three years to do so?” newt questioned, one hand on his hip.

“trust me. i have my ways.”

newt glared at him. “don’t you dare, threaten them.”

“i won’t, newton.” minho laughed, as newt cringed at the nickname.

“go go go!” minho urged, pushing the boy more towards to kitchen making him sigh, as he walked to the kitchen.

“right, listen hear you shanks!” minho shouted, as newt walked away, making him roll his eyes, before he entered the kitchen. you looked up from cutting vegetables, smiling slightly.

“why is minho shouting at everyone?”

“er, no idea.” newt lied.

“okay,” you placed the knife down carefully, “what do you want to tell me?”

newt’s nerves suddenly came back, nearly making him sick. “erm...”

“it’s okay newt, you can tell me anything.” you spoke softly, placing your hands on his, hoping to calm him down but it did the exact opposite.

“okay...y/n, your my bestfriend. i wouldn’t be who i am today without you helping me through...everything. and i-i don’t know when but, i’ve started to feel something. what i’m basically saying is, that i am in lov-“

“hey, newt?” thomas questioned cutting newt off, as he walked into the kitchen, clearly oblivious to the conversation happening.

“what?!” newt shouted, making thomas jump and look at him.

“oh sorry did i inturrupt something?” he asked looking between you both, guilt flooding him, making newt’s angry expression soften.

“yeah, it’s fine though. what’s up?”

“i was just saying that minho and gally are fighting.”

you giggled, as newts eyes went wide. “what?”

“minho started to teach everyone how to protect themselves, and now they’re fighting.” he said simply, pointing outside. you and newt followed his finger, to see he was right.

in the middle of the glade, minho and gally were wrestling while everyone was cheering loudly. even alby was laughing- slightly.

“you’re shucking kidding me.” newt mumbled, leaving the kitchen insantly to stop whatever was happening.

————

“did you do it?”

newt glared at minho, who was now in the med hut, with bruises all over his body, after his ‘training’ with gally.

“no. thanks to you being a complete and utter shank.”

minho only laughed slightly, angering newt more. if that was possible.

“it’s not funny minho. all day i’ve been bloody trying to tell y/n how i feel, but i can’t with fifty slintheads inturrupting me.”

minho looked at his friend, starting to feel slightly guilty. “sorry.”

newt sighed. “it’s okay, i-i just...it’s so annoying you know? the one time i finally have the guts to tell her that i love her, and the world won’t let me.”

“do it tonight?” minho asked, gesturing to the bonfire starting to be lit by a few boys.

newt nodded slightly, “i could do. unless one of you shanks cut me off.”

“i promise that by tonight you and y/n will be together.” minho cringed, as newt blushed at the idea of finally being with you.

————

the fire in the middle of the glade, was lit, as it soared into the night sky, warming up everything around it. everyone had a glass of gally’s drink, securely in their hands, as they all laughed and talked.

you were stood next to thomas, laughing at something he said while newt was across the glade, watching and building up his confidence. the liquid from gally’s drink, nearly split over at how much he was shaking from nerves. he didn’t want to mess this up.

“newt! have you done it yet?” alby slurred, patting him on the back, as he pointed to your figure. newt only shook his head, scared that his voice will show how scared he was.

“go overrr to her!” he shouted.

newt handed alby his drink, causing the leader to laugh as he gulped the rest of it before walking away to get more alcohol. newt rolled his eyes, as he made his way over to you. his heart was panging so loudly, anyone could hear it. he barely had time to tell himself what he was going to say, before he found himself stood infront of you.

“oh hi newt.” you smiled, causing him to grin back.

“h-hi, can i speak to you please?”

thomas’ eyes went wide, as he realised what was about to happen, “oh my god, your doing it!”

if looks could kill, thomas would be dead right now.

“do what?” you inquired, looking between the pair.

yeah- newt was going to kill thomas.

“n-nothing, come on, let’s go.” newt spoke, before ushering you away, as thomas whispered ‘good luck’ down his ear.

once you and newt were away from everyone, you turned around to face him. “are you finally going to tell me what you’ve been wanting to tell me all day?”

“hopefully.”

you smiled, nodding slightly, as you waited for newt to say what has been on his mind. newt breathed in, mentally figuring out what he was going to say. he’s been panicking of actually trying to talk to you, he hasn’t even thought of how to word his feelings.

“iloveyoumorethanafriend.” newt spoke quickly, surpising himself at the sudden outburst.

“what?” you questioned, laughing slightly. you didn’t understand a word he just said.

“okay er, i love yo-“

“newt! your doing it! yes!” chuck shouted cutting him off. you glanced at chuck, furrowing your brows at what he meant causing the british boy’s anger to return.

“i swear to god, if a kid releases my feelings to her before i do.” newt thought, as chuck started dancing happily around the pair.

but, before chuck could even open his mouth, newt placed his hands on your cheeks turning your head to face him, before smashing his lips to yours, making your eyes go wide, but soon relaxing and returning the gesture. chuck’s chanting stopped, as he watched the pair infront of him; he gagged slightly before running away leaving you and the second in command to melt into each other. your hands wrapped around newt’s neck, as you played with the hairs on the back of his neck, while his hands moved from your cheeks to your waist pulling you closer- if that was possible. you pulled away after a couple of seconds, leaning your forehead against his as you both tried to catch your breaths, with your eyes closed.

“i’ve been wanting to do that for a long time.” newt spoke first, laughing slightly.

“i’m glad you’ve done it.” you laughed with him, as you opened his eyes, a faint blush creeping on your cheeks as newt was already looking at you. he brought one of his hands to your cheek, softly placing a peice of hair behind your ear.

“i love you, y/n. so much.” he smiled. your heart melted at the sight of him. he looked so happy- with all the stress of the maze being washed away from him insantly.

“i love you too. so much.”

newt beamed wider this time, glad you feel the same way, before he leaned down again ready to plant his lips on your again, but was cut off by minho patting him on the back.

“knew you had it in you, newton.” minho smirked, winking at you both, causing newt to see red again.

“if one more person inturrupts me today, your going into the pit for a year.” newt warned, glaring at minho, making you giggle. minho held up his hands, before turning around and walking away.

newt rolled his eyes, before turning to face you, all the anger evident in his eyes being washed away insantly. “right, where were we?”

“i think you were about to do this.”

and as you leaned in, placing your lips on his softly, you both drained all the cheers and claps from the gladers away, with only each other as the only thing in the world you truely cared about.

————

a/n- i can just imagine newt getting so pissed off with everyone ahah! hope you enjoyed :)

————

newt taglist-

@parkersbliss @liberty-barnes @sweetiesangster @marilovescevans @the-salty-asian @24kbucky

[bluegarners]

“I have your loved one” with Dick and Jason?

heyyy, it's finally here haha! i'm slowly getting to each request lol

here it is on ao3

I Have Your Loved One

It’s Thursday.

Time: 23:47, or 11:47 p.m.

Bludhaven has hit a rough patch in its weather, a vicious storm battering against thin windows and overflowing gutters and drains. It’s one of those storms that brings in the water but no lightning, dark clouds blanketing the entire sky, remorseless and relentless in its pursuit of smothering any light from escaping. The clouds don’t muffle anything though, perhaps amplifying instead the downpour that floods through Bludhaven’s streets and alleyways. Its citizens like to think this is a New Jersey hurricane, freshly mutated and traveled from the east coast into their humble, mildew covered city.

Dick likes the rain. Likes the way it pounds against his apartment, screaming to be let in but just barely warded off by seven inches of concrete and steel. The blinds are closed against the windows, and he has towels pushed up against the sills just in case the sealing lets up. Even if they were open, Dick is sure all he would see is another wall of gray and black, dozens of delicate raindrops splattered against his windows.

Because of the storm currently wreaking havoc in his city, Dick has elected to stay indoors for the time being. Eventually, the rain will let up, its pattern being close to about 05:00, and then he’ll suit up and do a quick patrol before work. For now, he’s content with sitting on his couch and listening to the water smack against the old building and run rivers down the sides. He’d like to sleep through it, a free white noise service at the ready, but his mind simply refuses to allow him to rest just yet. In a few hours, he’s sure he’ll come to hate himself for not taking NyQuil or some other drug to help him fall asleep, but for now… Well, it’s nice. The rain is nice. It’s also very loud.

He misses the first call.

His phone is face down on the kitchen table, about eight feet away from where he lays on the couch, mindlessly staring up at the ceiling. It vibrates, buzzing for thirty seconds, before falling silent.

He misses the second call too.

Thunder rumbles through the black sky, its force shaking the windows and only encouraging the downpour. His phone buzzes again during it, quieting after another thirty seconds.

Dick hears the third call. Hears the tail-end of the buzzing, getting up from his position on the couch and padding over to pick up his phone only to miss the last few seconds. He unlocks his phone, checking the number, and feels something cold settle into his gut when he sees no caller ID. It’s the same person though, all three times, but no voicemail.

He’s about to call the number back, just in case it’s someone he knows and they’re ringing from a payphone or something else, when the no caller ID flashes across his screen for the fourth time.

Dick answers on the second ring. “Hello?”

“Is this Richard Grayson?”

“Yes, that’s me. Who is this?”

The voice is feminine, a slight, western accent, longer o’s and a faint drawl. Somewhere from Arizona most likely. Lower register too. Older woman, mid-to-late fifties. Smoker.

“That’s good. I was starting to think I had the wrong number, Richard.”

“Yeah, sorry, I just didn’t have my phone on me. You didn’t say earlier, but who is this?”

“That doesn’t matter too much right now. What does matter, though, is this.”

She pauses. There’s shuffling he can hear on the other side. A faint, second voice in the background. No, three voices. At least two others in the room with the woman. He can hear the sounds of an air condition unit rattling.

“I think you might’ve cut off there. What were—”

“I have your loved one, Richard.”

Lightning cracks through Bludhaven.

His stomach falls onto the floor, pooling around his ankles. The storm outside grinds to a halt, the quiet louder than any thunder it’s ever managed to produce, and there’s a high pitched ringing reverberating inside his skull. Dick thinks he might be sick.

“What?” he chokes, the air in the room suffocating and weighing down his lungs. “What did you say?”

“I have your loved one,” the woman repeats, calm and slow. “Your brother, actually. Then again, he tells me you aren’t related by name nor blood, so we’ll settle for a loved one.”

“What do you want?” Dick demands, already scrambling to get to his computer, find where they’ve taken Jason. Find his brother.

“He did say you weren’t one for small talk,” the woman carries on, unhurried and unconcerned. “Your brother isn’t either, hardly said a word all this time.”

“Can I speak to him?”

There’s a small huff on the other end of the call, exhalation and a sigh leaving the woman’s mouth. A cigarette. She’s smoking during this conversation, blowing the smoke into the receiver.

“I don’t know,” she finally answers. There. Dick has his general location. Still in Gotham. He needs the tracker to be more precise though. It’s taking time though. Too much. “Your brother here was pretty convinced you wouldn’t answer after his daddy didn’t pick up. Cried pretty hard about it too.”

“What are you talking about?” Dick grounds out, fearing his phone will crack with how tightly he’s gripping it.

“Well, you weren’t our first choice to call, Richard. I’m sure you understand.”

Dick says nothing, focused on the computer screen in front of him. He should contact Barbara. This would be faster with her. Faster to find Jason.

“We called about seven times,” the woman continues, blowing another puff of smoke out into the phone. “Isn’t that right, boy? We called and called and called. His daddy didn’t pick up once, went straight to voicemail each time. A shame, really.”

There’s a sniffle on the other side of the call and Dick’s heart seizes when he realizes it’s probably Jason.

Batman was currently off-world, all communication with him being strictly between Justice League lines. Bruce Wayne was somewhere in the Bahamas, partying with Italian models and Spanish actresses.

Of course he wouldn’t pick up.

“Can I please talk to him?” Dick asks for the second time, fisting a hand into the couch cushions. “Please, I just want to make sure he’s okay.”

More smoke. “I’ll ask him.”

There’s a muffled thud, the phone most likely having been put down, and quiet voices filter through the line. He can’t hear much of what they’re saying, short bursts of comprehensible syllables before fading back to unintelligible noises. His computer dings with a response from Barbara. She’s going to use one of the J.L satellites to better pin-point Jason’s location. She’s also in communication with the police, reporting a child-abduction.

Keep them talking, she writes. Everything is going to be okay, Dick.

It feels like his heart is beating in his throat and his tongue has swollen to the size of a bowling ball. The storm outside is unrelenting. Lightning hasn’t struck again.

There’s more movement on the other side, clattering and scattered noises. The phone’s been picked up.

“Alright,” the woman says, raspy and uncaring. “The boy says he wants to talk to you, Richard.”

Dick holds his breath, waiting. There’s more noises, a transfer he thinks, and another sniffle interrupts it.

“Hello?” a shaky voice asks into the receiver. Dick feels like crying.

“Jason,” he breathes. “We’re going to get you out of there, alright? You’re going to be okay.”

“I’m sorry,” his brother rattles, a sob latching onto the end. “I’m so sorry, Dick. I-I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s okay,” Dick shushes, feeling himself get choked up at the fear in the younger boy’s voice. “I know you didn’t, bud. Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”

“No, not really. I didn’t think you were gonna pick up,” he admits, voice cracking. “B-Bruce didn’t. He didn’t answer, Dick, and I-I thought you weren’t gonna either. I-I thought—”

“I’ll always answer, Jason, I promise. I’m coming for you, okay? I’m going to come get you and we’ll both go home together. Does that sound good, Jay? You’re going to be fine.”

“Okay,” the thirteen year old relents. “You promise though, right? You’re not gonna leave me here?”

“No, Jay, of course not. I’m not going to leave you there, I’m coming to get you. Right now. I promise, okay? Jason, I would never abandon you. You’re my kid-brother and I love you. I’m not going to-”

“As touching as this is,” the woman interrupts, “I think that’s enough.”

“Put Jason back on the phone,” Dick snarls. “I swear, if you lay a hand on him, if you even touch him, I will end you.”

“Sure, honey,” the woman drawls, puffing into the receiver. “Here’s what’s going to happen, so I want you to listen to me.”

His computer dings. It’s Barbara. She’s got the location. It’s close. Not even twenty minutes away. Border between Bludhaven and Gotham. Motel next to the gas station connecting the freeways. Room 13.

He’s out the door and revving up his motorcycle before the woman has even taken a second drag from her cigarette. The rain is beating against him, gloomy street lights flickering through the shrouded dark of the storm. Thank god for Bludhaven sewers, only slightly better than Gotham’s. The water level is only a few millimetres high.

“Now, I don’t want to keep this kid anymore than you want him to stay here with me,” the woman drones. The streets are empty. Dick blows through every red light he comes across. The tires are new, the grip is fine. “So, I think we can make this simple.”

“What do you want?” Dick growls, transferring the call into his helmet. He prays she can’t hear the rain battering against it. “Just tell me what you want already and I’ll give it to you.”

“Don’t rush me,” the woman snaps, and it is then that Dick realizes that this is all probably by chance. This isn’t some criminal mastermind who plotted to find and kidnap the son of a billionaire. This isn’t a case of a rogue villain piecing together vague details and figuring out Batman and company’s identities. It’s simply someone desperate. Someone who saw the opening and took it. The poor planning is evident, practically spelled out in bold print that these people have no real idea what they’re doing.

“Sorry,” Dick bites out, veering through a short-cut that says, in neon orange, Danger. Construction Zone. “Please continue.”

The woman on the line is vindictive though, choosing to remain quiet as the sound of a lighter clicking open tinnies through the call. She takes her time lighting a new cigarette, taking a long, slow drag and holding it in for a few seconds. Dick jerks his bike to the right, narrowly avoiding a large pothole. A passing car blares its horn at him. Finally, the woman exhales. He can hear Jason cough in the background.

“What I want,” she starts, a new color of intrigue hitting the back of her throat. He’s barely ten minutes away now. Could probably half it if he took more backstreets and increased his speed. “Is for my son to be released from prison.”

“Who is your son?” Dick asks, cursing silently as his back tire skids, hydro-planing for a moment. Thunder crashes above him and the rain continues to pelt at his body. It feels like getting hit with a paint-ball gun.

“Landon Jennings. I want you to get him released. I know you have the access to lawyers, probably have debts owed to you from people in high places. I want him released tonight.”

Time: 00:14.

01:14 a.m standard time.

“I can do that,” Dick says, heart beating faster as he sees the sign for the motel, dim in the gray, “but I’ll need a few hours. I need to contact my lawyers. Where is your son stationed?”

An icon appears in the front of his digitized visor. It’s Barbara. She sees him closing in. Police are on route. Seven minutes out. He has the option to wait on them and keep the kidnappers on the line.

“Same place they all go,” the woman barks. “Use that head of yours and figure it out. I want my son out by tonight, or you’re not going to see your brother again. And,” she rushes, “I don’t want the police involved. If you call them, I’ll know, you understand? I don’t want to hurt the kid, but I’m not scared to. My husband is here with me too, so if you try and—”

Okay, so waiting isn’t an option. He’s going in.

“No police,” Dick interrupts. “I understand. Please, don’t hurt him.”

“If you just do what you’re told, then I won’t have to.”

“Thank you,” Dick whispers, gently getting off of his bike and leaving it on the side of the road. He can’t chance them seeing him pulling into the motel lot. “You said your son’s name was Landon? If you don’t mind me asking, what is he charged with?”

“Why do you need to know?”

Dick jogs towards the motel, careful to stay out of direct light. The general office looks closed. Most of the windows facing the lot are shielded by salmon colored curtains. There’s only one floor, thankfully. Dick sees door 13. He’s shaking. His fingers are numb.

“My lawyers said they need to know in order to file for a judge to repeal his sentence.”

“Is that so?” the woman asks, suspicion tailing her voice. She takes a drag from her cigarette, contemplating. Dick’s clothes are soaking wet and he cringes every time his shoes squelch against the concrete. He decides crawling is best, ducking under windows and avoiding peepholes. “Fine then. Landon got falsely accused of statutory rape and breaking and entering. Is that what your damn lawyers are looking for?”

“Yes,” Dick breathes. He’s at door 10. He can see a faint glow coming from behind the curtains of room 13. He’s so close. “Thank you.”

He taps on the side of his helmet, sending a series of numbers that he’s sure Barbara will understand.

23-26-8-37

E-N-T-R

He can’t wait any longer.

While crawling, Dick made sure to get a good look at the motel’s doors and hinges. They’re standard, and though both Gotham and Bludhaven tend to have better locks than most other cities, Dick recognizes the model of the door and the wood it’s made out of. They’re thin enough for him to ram through. The hinges on the sides are rusted over as well, and Dick thinks they might just be weak enough to break. The windows however. The windows are his best bet. He doubts this kind of motel invests in bullet proof glass, and on some of the sills, he can see water damage. They leak. Poorly made. Meaning, if he ran at them, he could break through pretty easily.

But, if that doesn’t work. Or if he’s not fast enough to get on his feet once in. Or if the window is directly in front of Jason and the glass breaks all over him. Or if—

Stop. He can’t think about the what-ifs right now. Dick knows he can do this. Knows how to do this. There isn’t any more time to wait. He promised he would get Jason out of there, and goddamnit, he’s going to keep his promise.

“You’re being really quiet,” the woman mutters. “What’s going—”

Dick takes a deep breath and tenses. The light behind the curtain flickers. He needs to move. Now. Now.

Lightning splits across the sky and Dick can’t tell if it’s the glass shattering or the thunder that makes the other-worldly crack but it doesn’t matter because Dick lands feet first and is tucking and rolling before the occupants have a chance to react.

“Oh my god!” someone screams, but Dick isn’t paying attention to them because his gaze zeroes in on his brother, tiny, thirteen year old Jason, who’s tied up on one of the beds and staring right at him.

He can’t linger long though because he hears the words, “Get the gun!”, and he’s up on his feet again, rushing the closest person. It turns out to be the husband, a balding man with a patchy neck-beard, and Dick bunches up his fist and swings, socking the man in the stomach. He doubles over, wheezing, and Dick can see the small pistol in the man’s right hand, and Dick strikes down on his shoulder, kneeing him simultaneously. The pistol drops and so does the man, groaning, and Dick turns to the woman, who is staring at him like an animal cornered.

“Don’t come any closer!” she yells, pocket knife trembling in her grip as she shoves it in Jason’s face. “I’ll stab him, I will!”

Dick holds up his hands, sidestepping the groaning man. “Put the knife down.”

“No!” the woman argues, a strand of black hair falling into her mouth. “Now I told you- stay there! Don’t fucking move or I’ll kill this kid, you hear! I’ll fucking slice his throat open!”

With how scared the woman is, and how precarious she holds the pocket knife, which Dick can see is dull even from where he’s standing, he knows it’s not an idle threat. Scared people will do anything to get out of the situation they’re in. Scared people are unpredictable and dangerous.

But so is Dick.

So is Jason.

“I’m not going to move,” Dick reassures, eyes flickering towards his brother, “so, please, drop the knife. We can talk this out.”

“Talk?” the woman shrills, jerking the knife closer to Jason’s jawline. “You just killed my husband!”

“I didn’t kill him,” Dick corrects. “He’s just unconscious. Come on now. It’s just you and me. Let’s talk this over. I can still get Landon out if you give me back my brother. It’s as easy as that, alright? Just put down the knife, and we’ll talk. Does that sound okay?”

The woman looks like she’s considering it, the hand holding the knife still trembling, when the first sirens enter the lot. Red and blue light flash through the broken window as rain seeps into the curtains.

“You rat!” she screams, furious and terrified and desperate all at once. “You fucking called the cops! You broke—”

She doesn’t get a chance to finish before Jason snaps his head back, headbutting the woman directly in the nose. He falls to the side, getting out of range of the knife, and Dick takes his cue, leaping forwards and gripping the woman’s wrist and squeezing, weapon falling from her grasp. There’s blood spurting from her nose and Dick throws her to the floor, getting her on her stomach and hands behind her back. He sits on top of her, his weight overpowering any strength she has left, and in the next few seconds, police are banging on the door.

“This is the GCPD! Open up and put your weapons down!”

“You can come in!” Dick shouts, holding the squirming woman in place. “We’re unarmed!”

Things happen quickly after the door bangs open, several officers pouring in like the Bludhaven storm. As soon as an officer handcuffs the woman he’s on top of, Dick is rushing to Jason’s side, another officer cutting away his bindings. His younger brother turns to him, about to say something, but Dick cuts him off with a crushing hug, cradling the back of Jason’s head to rest against his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry,” Dick whispers, gathering his brother more fully into his arms. “I should’ve been there sooner. God, Jason, I’m so sorry.”

“I-I thought you weren’t going to come for me,” Jason confesses, hiccuping. “When Bruce didn’t pick up, I thought it was because he didn’t want me anymore. I-I told her that, I told her Bruce wasn’t coming but she wouldn’t listen and-and I—”

Dick wraps his arms more securely around the sobbing preteen in response, gently rocking back and forth as the mattress springs squealed under the pressure.

“I know I haven’t always been around,” he says, uncaring about the snot dribbling into his shirt, “and I’m sorry you thought you couldn’t rely on me to come and get you. You’re my brother, though, and I will always come running when you call. No matter what. I promise, Jay. Anywhere, anytime, I promise I’ll be there. Okay?”

“Okay,” Jason wheezes, the adrenaline from before slowly releasing its hold. “I trust you.”

Dick presses his face into his brother’s hair, relief washing over him as his heart slows. He’s never had a sibling before. Things were still tense with Bruce, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be a big brother. There isn’t a thing in the world he wouldn’t do for this kid in his arms right now.

“What’re brothers for, right?” he mumbles.

The rain doesn’t stop and pours and pours and pours. Dick just holds Jason tighter.

The real storm was over.

Five months later

It’s Thursday.

Time: 11:47 a.m.

The stone is nice. White marble. Shiny. Expensive.

There are fresh flowers. Roses and yellow daisies. The dirt is still new too. Evidence of freshly upturned earth. Dick reaches down and pulls out a weed that’s sprung up at the corner of the stone. Tosses it away.

He doesn’t have flowers. He has a newspaper in his left hand. Reads: Mourning billionaire sets off on trip to Europe.

Jason died a month before he got back from across the universe.

Anywhere, he had said. Anytime. I promise I’ll be there.

He crumples the newspaper into a tight ball and shoves it into his pocket. Stares at the stone. The sun is out. There are no clouds in the sky. It’s nice.

It’s a nice day.

“Fuck,” Dick mutters, a familiar burn in the back of his eyes. “Fuck.”

Anywhere, anytime.

Dick Grayson is an only child once again.

[wesimpforxiao]

Say My Name and I’ll Be There: 9.2

"Oh my god!"  Your shriek nearly deafened the yaksha while your nails dug into his shoulder and back.  The wind whipped your hair into both of your faces, much to his dismay as he struggled to keep track of his footing.  "This is crazy! This is awesome!" Another leap and your heart dropped to your stomach in a fashion that sucked the breath out of your lungs.  "W-wait this is terrifying!  Xiao!  Slow down!"  

You asked for this yet have the audacity to panic?  Xiao tensed under the increasing grip around his body and made another leap.  Well, a 'leap' is a bit of an understatement; whether he was teleporting or zipping through the air, you couldn't tell--it happened so fast your mind couldn't keep up.  The two of you were nearing the top of Mount Tianheng, and with every 'jump' he took you'd look down to find another fifty or so feet added to the distance between you two and the ground.

Just as Xiao was beginning to think you wanted him to stop, an exasperated laugh left your lips.  "This is awesome!"

The yaksha clicked his tongue at the myriad of sounds you were making.  First you were screaming with excitement, then terror, then laughing, and now you're gasping?  Will you just make up your mind? Are you scared or not scared?  He couldn't keep up with your quick switches just as you couldn't keep up with his speed.

And then there was the fact that you asked him specifically to carry you up the mountain, not climb up with you or merely teleport to the top.  Was this the duty of a boy friend?  He didn't recall you ordering Aether to carry you at all during your travels.  Minus the time you had your leg clawed by that lawachurl, but that doesn't really count--

His feet lightly landed onto the grass at the top of the mountain and he stilled, stealing a glance at your profile.  "We're here."  Archons, your grip finally relaxed against his stinging skin.  He was expecting that classic dumbfounded look on your face, but you pulled away with the widest--and dumbest--grin once your feet lowered to the ground.

"That was amazing-!" You nearly lost your balance from the vertigo of travelling so quickly, but Xiao grabbed your arm before you could stumble over the edge of the cliff.  "Can we do that again?"

"You can't be serious," his eyes narrowed in disdain.  

"One hundred percent! Come on, please?"

Wha-What is this all of a sudden?!  Xiao averted his eyes the second your pleading ones took hold.  He let go of your arm as his gaze fell to the grass.  

You couldn't contain the gasp within your lips, "You're...blushing?"  You don't remember if it's happened before, but the very tips of his ears were pink and it was painfully obvious in the sunlight of late morning.  "Xiao, the Vigilant Yaksha, BLUSHING?!"

"I suggest you keep your quips to a minimum unless you--"

"I can't believe this is happening! What did I do to make you blush? You're ears are bright red!"  Your hands cupped the sides of your face as you freaked out.  He was so neutral when it came to emotion, but the past sixteen hours or so he's shown you more of his vulnerable side.  But the adeptus was visibly showing emotion! "This never happened before!"

"There's nothing timid about you, having the courage to mock me.  So fight me," he started to raise his glare from the ground.  "How long do you think your body will last against my blows?"

"Rex Lapis must've blessed me-!"  

In your excitement, you failed to remember that the ledge was right behind you.  One second you were laughing your ass off with a face as bright red as Xiao's, and the next you were flailing breathlessly in the air attempting to find solid ground.  Xiao's figure shrunk at the top of the cliff as you plummeted.  The shock rendered you unable to scream and instead you gasped for breath as the wind whistled in your ears.

Xiao lifted his gaze in time to watch you fall over, and he simply moved so that his gaze could still follow your shrinking figure.  "It's a wonder humans survived this long," he muttered with a slightly amused expression.  Does she not realize she has her wind glider?  He failed to notice the corner of his lips curling upward.  

He had no intention of letting you plummet to your death.  But after the stunt you just pulled on him, he figured it wouldn't hurt to tease you a bit too.  You were by no means anywhere near the ground or any other hazardous objects; his enhanced vision and depth perception confirmed it.  Why not let you fall a bit?  Maybe your wits would return to you and you'd actually remember the glider attached to your back.

Three...four...five...Xiao counted the seconds.  You were nearly half-way down the cliffside.  ...Six...She's not going to remember, is she?  Seven..."Tch." He prepared to jump.

I-I'm going to die!  You finally managed to inhale a reasonable amount of air, not daring to peek behind you at the ground that was closing in.  Your thoughts were racing with nothing but panic.  Think, think! Think of something! You wanted to smack yourself when you remembered who accompanied you.  He wouldn't just let you die like this, it was stupid of you to even forget that much!  You involuntarily reached for the cliffside where Xiao was now nothing but a miniscule dot in the distance.  

"Xiao!"

Warm arms wrapped themselves around you the instant his name fell from your lips, and the familiar sensation of teleporting enveloped you.  You spun around and hugged him as tightly as you could the second your feet touched the ground.  He didn't even tense up this time--

"You didn't remember your glider," he pointed out nonchalantly.  Almost teasingly.

"That's why you just stood there?!"  He grumbled something you couldn't hear and returned your embrace with his head buried at the crook of your neck.  His ears were still red.  Are you telling me this is how he acts when he's shy?!  

The two of you stayed in that position for awhile, never quite loosening your hold on the other as if to ensure they wouldn't float away like an anemo slime or a bloaty floaty.  A cool breeze slid across your skin--an intimate gesture Xiao wouldn't dare outright commit, much less think of.  And yet the wind entangled itself in your hair much like his hand would clasp around your nape.  It seemed to embody the long-lost gentleness of the yaksha.  It was subtle.  Soft.  An indirect display of affection.  Maybe it was just your imagination.

Just awhile longer, Xiao's heart yearned as he held you close until rational thought returned to power.  Your absence would sting more now that he's seen you, but that didn't take away from the fact that this visit allowed the sealing of your bond, and therefore saved you from a painful demise for the time being.  The last thing he wanted was for you to return to Childe, but maybe this is what would prevent his karma from touching you.  The farther you are from him, the safer you'd be.

But for right now, just awhile longer, he'll allow himself to drown in your warmth.

...................

"You seem more than eager to get back to work, Mezzetin," Childe teased as he led you through the halls of the palace.  The two of you had just returned to Snezhnaya, but the Tsaritsa had apparently no intentions of letting either of you rest after your long journey.  

"Don't mistake my happiness for the Lantern Rite as happiness for the Tsaritsa's operations.  I'm only cooperating to keep the peace in Teyvat."  

"So, when are you going to tell me what you and Xiao did?"

"Excuse me?  Since when is my private life any of your business?"

"I have the right to know since you so blatantly disobeyed my orders not to leave the harbor."  Childe grabbed the door handle and faced you.  "I expected more professionalism from you, but honestly, I'm not at all surprised," he baited with narrowed eyes.  "I could tell the Tsaritsa, you know."

Your heart seemed to skip a beat at the thought of facing her again.  Something about that nightmare you had when you were with Xiao ignited a vague fear of her that you didn't really have before.  You swallowed hard before jutting your chin up at the harbinger.  "Do it."

"Oh?"  Childe squinted as he towered over you.  

"Do it," you repeated.  "Who do you think she'll discipline more, since it was a certain harbinger's idea to bring me along and didn't properly watch me?"  Childe stared at you for a few silent seconds before twisting the door handle and entering Dottore's lab without another word.  Yeah, that's what I thought.

"GAHHHHH!"  A deafening, sickening cry of pain snapped you out of your gloating session.  It was much like the rest that you've heard; the test subjects of Dottore were often strangers to mercy.  But unlike the trials before, there were no piles of bodies lying in the middle of the arena.

"Did he just start for the day?"  You forcefully peeled your eyes away from the suffering man and kept them on Childe.  It would be unusual if he did; he started in the early morning hours, but you and Childe had arrived in mid-afternoon.  

"Dunno," he shrugged slightly.  

"Ah! Childe."  Dottore noticed your presences and gave a signature manic grin, his arms spreading wide.  "We have made a breakthrough!"

"This doesn't look like a breakthrough to me," you muttered loud enough for him to hear.  Anger flickered across the masked man's face before he reset his eyes on his fellow harbinger.

"This is the fifth subject of the day."  The man's cold stare eyed the suffering Fatui agent with something similar to a sadistic excitement.  "It appears your idea to bring that brat with you succeeded."

You didn't hear Dottore, intent on watching the Fatui agent closely.  He had finally stopped shrieking, and he pushed himself to his feet rather unsteadily while wiping the sweat away from his forehead.  He was healthy despite being drenched in sweat and breathing heavily while he recovered from the subsiding pain.  You let out a sigh of relief you didn't know you were holding in.  You didn't have to watch another person die at your feet--

Wait a minute.  He wasn't dying.

A cool shiver crawled down your spine at the realization, and you flinched when a manic laugh escaped Dottore.  "That was the original serum at work.  How's that for a breakthrough, brat?"

"That's...impossible," you uttered with wide eyes.

"Thank your superior for making it possible."

Your attention slid to Childe, who didn't bother to look you in the eye.  His expression was unreadable, and it remained that way when he escorted you to your room in silence.  His presence couldn't feel more hostile in that moment.

"You...my bond...," you choked when the two of you were at the door of your room.  "You lied.  You used me! You used our bond for your own selfish purposes!  How could you?"

"Don't start this, Mezzetin," a weary sigh left him as he turned to you.  His allegedly guilty appearance only infuriated you.  

"Outside, now."

The second the two of you were outside the palace walls, you let yourself snap into a fit of rage.  Childe had barely started to turn around when an ice shard shot at his face, slicing across his cheek.  His blood splattered onto the snow, and he wiped at his face to examine his blood on his fingers.  "Mezzetin--"

"Don't 'Mezzetin' me!"  Hundreds more icicles shot at him in a flurry until he had no choice but to defend himself and summon his hydro blades to parry the blows.  "This was the last straw!  I'll kill you!"

"Then I'll be more than happy to give you a fight."  Despite his usual excitement when it came to battle, he was calm and collected, even so much as cold and distant.  He lacked the usual spark fighting always gave him.  His eyes were empty and lacking of enthusiasm.

"Tch."  Your vision glinted in the sunlight as the temperature surrounding you dropped below zero.  Snow whipped through the air to create a barricade that caged the two of you in a small arena.  The blizzard made the snowflakes like needles that could cut through skin if one got too close to the edge.  Your own powers seldom hurt you, but in your anger, a few rogue icicles cut across your forehead, arms, and your back.

At the pace you were going at, it was self-destructive.

Childe noted this as he parried your every attack despite his blades turning frozen solid now.  "Mezzetin!  Keep this up, and I won't hold back!"  His warning fell on deaf ears.

"What makes you think I want you to hold back?  I'm settling this here and NOW!"  The snow beneath his feet erupted, sending him spiraling out of the eye of the storm and into the blizzard's rage.  You summoned your polearm without hesitation and began to walk towards him.  

His arms were stuck to his blades, which were stuck in the ground.  He must've attempted to summon a new set and accidentally froze his limbs.  He watched you approach, hunched over to shield himself from the blizzard.

"You said visiting him would be good for me!"  Your screams were carried away by the wind.  "That you realized your own selfishness!  This was nothing but more manipulation, wasn't it? You're NOTHING but a lying monster!"  The wind grew harsher.  Your blade grew sharper once you were a few feet from him.

Cold eyes looked down upon the Tsaritsa's war dog.  What a pathetic site it was; an esteemed harbinger on his knees before you.  A harsh kick to his jaw dislodged his hands from the ice they were trapped in, and more blood was splattered onto the snow.

"That's it," a smile of satisfaction spread across Childe's lips, making your eyes narrow in disgust.  "You're finally showing potential."  He sat up with his back to you.  "If you constantly fight like this, I'd listen to you more carefully."

"Shut up--!"  Your lance stabbed at his figure, but in one fluid motion he swung around and deflected your blade with his hand.  A sudden burst of electricity sent you flying several feet backwards.  "Ngh!"

"But unfortunately for you, ojou-chan, you misinterpreted the entire situation."  Your clearing vision settled on the electro delusion that glinted at his hip.  His figure stood over you and a sharp, hot pain tore through your side.

"Gah!"  

"I have the right to discipline my subordinates as I see fit," he twisted his blade and dug it deeper into you, completely uncaring that you were squirming around and twitching from the electric shocks pulsing through your body.  "Listen closely, girlie, because I won't say it again."  You desperately clawed at his weapon, but he held it firmly in place and refused to remove it.  "You needn't tell me what you learned from Mr. Zhongli or your adeptus boyfriend.  I don't care for that information.

"My bringing you back to Liyue was truly for your own benefit, and it just so happens it was for the Tsaritsa's benefit as well.  Make no mistake Mezzetin, I am on your side when it comes to private life.  But when it comes to work and the Tsaritsa, my loyalty lies with Snezhnaya.

"I don't care if you don't believe me.  If you so badly want to escape the Tsaritsa's grasp, you have much to learn.  Patience, for starters."  He ripped his blade out of you.  "Don't take this too personally, ojou-chan.  I don't condone disorderly conduct from anyone under my supervision."

[sassycassie-s-writing]

My Favorite Smile

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): DC/BatFam - Jason Todd/Red Hood

Rating: PG-11/T- (this one has a couple ✨swear words✨ in it lol. I don’t usually write them out, but sometimes you just gotta say what you mean)

Original Idea: X (Obsessed with this channel right now)

Notes: (Masterlist)(By Character)(About Me) 2,182 words... it’s a longer one again. I casually wrote this in, like, two hours. @welovegroot @jason-redhood @jason-todd-squad

^^^^^

Holding his coffee and croissant, Jason looked around the crowded café for a place to sit. Every table was occupied by at least one person, and the rules of personal space in public said the couches were full, with one person sitting on either end.

His eyes fell on a table with a single occupant.

His heart stuttered to a stop. Wait… is that her? Damn, she looks good this time. He scoffed at himself. Who am I kidding? She looks good every time. Should I talk to her? Should I tell her? She didn’t believe me last time… and I don’t know if I can stand another lifetime without her… but last life we didn’t meet till I was almost fifty. I really wasn’t expecting to find her this early.

He straightened up and strode over to her table. “Excuse me, is it alright if I sit here? The café’s pretty crowded and the other tables are full.”

She looked up and Jason’s brain stopped working as she met his eyes. She was just as incredible as she always was. Thousands upon thousands of years, and he still never got over how beautiful she was. “Sure, go ahead,” she said with a smile before going back to her phone.

—

“I’m Jason, by the way,” the man said, sitting down.

I glanced back up and gave him my name in return.

He smiled. He had a handsome smile. Just looking at him… something tugged in the back of my mind. “That’s a pretty name,” he said.

My ears warmed and I looked away. “Thanks,” I muttered. I looked back at him. “Sorry if this sounds… weird—but have we met before?” I cringed but smiled. If we had…oh it’d be so embarrassing if I’d forgotten him. And a man as handsome as him—how could I have forgotten?

But a look of delight crossed his face, before being replaced by one of neutrality. “Not in this lifetime,” he replied.

“Kind of an odd way to word it,” I remarked before I could overthink whether that sounded really rude or not.

Jason’s ears turned red. “Well… yeah I guess so. Sorry.” He looked down at his coffee cup and croissant and chose to take a sip of his drink. After swallowing, he looked back up at me. “This is probably gonna sound really creepy, but please just hear me out for a few minutes. Do you believe in soulmates?”

I reached up and scratched an itch just behind my ear. “I mean… kind of? I think maybe they exist for some people, and other people could be matched equally well with multiple potential partners,” I said.

His shoulders slouched with a sigh of what might have been relief. “Thank goodness,” he said. He met my eyes. “Because… we’re soulmates. You and I. Sometimes—very rarely—two people are so destined to be together, that they’re reborn over and over to stay together throughout thousands of years’ worth of lifetimes. Sometimes we both remember, sometimes only one of us does. I don’t think there’s ever been a lifetime where neither of us remember. Besides the first, I guess. Back when we didn’t know we’d be reborn. We never look the same twice—different bodies, different backgrounds. But we always have the same soul.”

A reasonable person would have thought he was making up a really long, bad pickup line. But I stared at him with rapt attention. Like some missing puzzle piece I’d been looking for my entire life fell into place. It just sounded… right.

���How do we find each other, if we look different every time?”

He took a deep breath. “Well… when one or both of us remember, we can… kind of sense it? Kind of see it? Like, right now, I see you, but I also see every face of yours that I’ve seen across every lifetime.” He cleared his throat. “Sometimes we don’t. Find each other, I mean. The distance between where we’re born or the timing of our rebirths keep us apart. But there’s only been… three of those, if I remember right.” He laughed. “So glad you believed me this time. It would have sucked if you got a restraining order—because those are a thing now—and I had to spend this life without you.”

I leaned forward, shoving my phone in my pocket. “Tell me more,” I said.

“Where do you want me to start?”

“Um… I don’t know. The beginning? Our first life?”

He nodded. “Ancient Greece,” he said. “Like, really early in Ancient Greece’s history. The gods blessed us. Bound our souls for eternity. Your hair is actually the same color now as it was back then. Kind of a… nostalgic favorite of mine. You’re absolutely stunning every time I see you, but I have some favorites. You do too.”

I snickered. “Oh really? Like what?”

“Well… I always think you’re adorable with dimples or freckles. Green eyes are a favorite of mine too. And your current hair color is my favorite. There were also a few times where you were a little taller than me. Those were nice. You’re most comfortable to hug that way. But, without fail, every single lifetime I see your smile and I think, ‘That one. That one’s my new favorite.’” He chuckled. “As for you, you’ve told me that you like me best with brown eyes—even though you don’t like brown eyes normally. Um… you also like it when my hair is curly.” He gestured to his black hair, slightly curled, with two white curls arcing down the center of his forehead. “You told me… seven lifetimes ago? That you like me best with piercings and tattoos, but when I brought it up last lifetime you said even when I have them I still look like, and I quote, a ‘giant nerd.’”

We both laughed. Jason sighed and shook his head.

“Then again, you said that was your favorite during our pirate lifetime. And I can also say hot damn you looked good with tattoos and a big hat.”

I gasped out a laugh. “We were pirates?”

He laughed too. “Yeah. Well, you were. To start with, anyway. You and your crew were visiting my town and you, absolutely drunk, stumbled into my house. I was a carpenter that time. Thank the gods we both remembered that lifetime or I probably would have shot you. You spent half the night drunkenly blathering about how much you hated my hair when it was long the way it was and that you’d cut it off if I didn’t. The next morning, when you’d sobered up, you apologized. And I’d said it was fine. And… you asked me to come with you. I’ve spent dozens of lifetimes endlessly in love with you. So, like the lovesick fool I am and was, I said yes.

“It… was not a long lifetime. Pirates rarely made it to old age. We were both killed when a Royal Navy ship attacked us. I went down first. You told me in our next lifetime that you single-handedly killed half of that crew’s sailors in revenge even though you knew you’d see me again—because you’d been having so much fun that life and they ruined it. Eventually their captain killed you himself.” He took a bite of his croissant.

It was certainly a lot to take in. But everything he said was so vivid… I wasn’t sure if it was my imagination coming up with the images or… memories that had merely been locked away somewhere deep inside. The sea. The deck of a ship. An octopus tattoo on my left forearm, tentacles reaching to the back of my hand, a similar one on his tanned, scarred neck. Curly auburn hair, a scruffy beard. Brown leather coat and blood under his nails. Pierced ear and eyebrow. A tattoo of a mermaid with a face and wild hair that I knew must have been mine on his right thigh as we found alone time together in my cabin—a pile of leather clothes in a heap on the floor, topped by a big hat with a big feather.

I met his eyes again. “Tell me about another one.”

He smiled. “Well… there was another time I was a soldier. You remembered. I didn’t. I passed through your town on my way to report for duty, and the weather got bad. Your family owned a tavern that doubled as an inn. So, that was where I stayed. You didn’t tell me. I fell in love with you anyway. You would tell me stories and sing for me and make me food in private. When the weather improved, I went off to war and, miraculously, I survived. Even though I spent most of my time that fight thinking about you. I came back to your inn and asked you to marry me. You said yes. We were married soon after. I had to leave a lot. Fighting battles I didn’t care about. Eventually, I came home injured and dying. You held my hand and promised you’d see me soon. I thought you meant heaven or just said it to comfort me. You never told me we were endlessly-reborn soulmates.

“When I was about fifteen my next lifetime, all my memories came back. We both remembered that time, actually. When we ran into each other again we got into such a big argument about you not telling me. Literally picked up right where we left off. Two twenty-year-olds bickering like the old married couple we were. The life after I don’t remember is always a bit of a wild ride as all my memories come back. I imagine it’s similar for you. It’ll be similar for you.”

He reached across the table and took my hand. I squeezed his fingers. Our hands fit together perfectly. I wondered why I’d told him I liked him best with brown eyes when his blue eyes were absolutely gorgeous. “So… what now?” I asked.

He made a face. “Beginnings are always hard when one of us doesn’t remember. Because I have thousands of years of love for you, and you don’t even know me.” His fingers tightened around mine. “I’d like to take you out on a date, if you’ll let me.”

“Does it count as a first date?”

He smiled. It was a sad smile. “It can. It does for this life.”

“Have we… ever had children? Together?”

Jason regarded me thoughtfully. “We have,” he said. “But our bloodlines never last long. Usually we’re lucky to get great-grandchildren. We’re blessed to be together forever, but our families die off quickly. You speculated once that it’s the blessing’s attempt to make sure we’re not reborn into our own bloodline.”

“So we have no living descendants.”

“No. It’d be a little weird if we did. Like ‘Hey, kiddo, you’re our great-great-great-grandson! I know we’re younger than you but trust us!’” Jason laughed.

I could get drunk on that laugh. “I’d… I’d like to go on that date.”

He looked elated—and relieved. “Me too. I’d like to get to know you again.” He glanced around the crowded café. “What do you say we get out of here and go somewhere quiet and I can tell you more stories about our lives? You’ve always been the far superior storyteller, but I learned from the best.”

I smiled. “Yeah. Let’s get out of here. I want to hear everything.”

He helped me to my feet. I gathered my jacket, cup, and phone. “Great. I can’t wait to tell you about the time I was a magician.”

I giggled. “My place or yours?”

“Mine. I have a memento from our most recent past life that I tracked down. I’d like you to have it.”

“What is it?”

Jason didn’t answer immediately. Just held my hand as we left the café. Gotham’s overcast autumn sky was chilly. “I… I want it to be a surprise but I’m also too excited to tell you.” He bit his lower lip, staring at me. “Gah. Fine. It’s your wedding ring. I found it at an antique shop not far from where our oldest niece lived. We didn’t have any kids, last life. We didn’t meet till I was forty-nine and you were forty-three. We both decided it was too late for kids. But I had a few nieces and nephews. Our oldest niece was in charge of our estate. We died in the eighties. But I found your ring. You can use it again, eventually, if you want. Or we can get you a new one.” His face reddened. “I don’t mean to presume. But I don’t know if I can live without you this lifetime after having you for such a short time last life.”

I squeezed his hand. “Let’s try that first date first. I feel this pull toward you I can’t explain, but we’ll build up to the soulmate thing. Okay?” I smiled at him.

—

Jason couldn’t help but stare at her. Those eyes, that stunning face. This one, he thought. This smile is my favorite.

[onceuponaloonatic]

samihyo pregnancy fluff part one !! there will be a part two so don’t worry !! it’s jut already four am and i want to publish some content before i fall asleep !!

sorry i’ve been taking so long to post stuff, school sucks. but i only have three more weeks left !!

“Baby you really don’t have to do that.” Sana couldn’t help but laugh at Mina as her wife opened the car door for her. It had only been two days since Sana had told her about her pregnancy, but ever since, both of her wives had been so careful around her. Sana wasn’t allowed to cook (it’s not like she was before, but they had laid down stricter rules now), she wasn’t allowed to do laundry, and every time she tried to clean Mina or Jihyo would take the cleaning stuff out of her hand. They always tried to offer her arms when she was going somewhere and  It was cute for a few minutes, but it got old quickly. She knew they had wanted this for so long and now that they had this they wanted to do everything they could to protect their baby, but it was getting annoying quickly. “It’s really okay. I like doing things for you.” Mina nodded.

“I know but it’s becoming too much.” Sana rolled her eyes. “You are adorable, and I love you, but please stop treating me like I’m made of glass. That goes for you too Hyo.” Sana turned to her other wife, who was grabbing their stuff from the car. “I know you two are just excited and a little scared, I feel the same. But really, I’m pregnant, not dying.” “Fine.” Mina couldn’t fight the smile on her face. “You win.” Jihyo mumbled. 

“Really though you two are so cute. You’ll both make good moms soon.” Sana giggled, intertwining her hands with both of theirs. “Let’s make sure the baby is good first before we start talking about this stuff too much.” Jihyo nodded. “We never know anything that could go wrong-”

“Shh.” Sana turned to Jihyo. “No bad thoughts today.” Jihyo rolled her eyes at Sana but smiled. “You okay Mina?” Mina had grown quieter as they walked inside the hospital, all their hands still together. Jihyo had noticed it when they first stepped out of the car, but didn’t comment at first. 

“I just- I don’t like hospitals.” Sana and Jihyo both knew this fact. They had tried to find a good doctor that didn’t work out of a hospital, but the only ones that met their standards were in hospitals. Mina had said she would be fine, but both of her wives knew to look out for her. “It’s okay. We won’t be here for very long.” Sana kissed her and Mina’s joined hands. “I’ll go check you in.” Jihyo smiled at the two. “Thank you babe.” Sana giggled, guiding Mina over to a chair in the waiting room. Mina unconsciously tightened her grip on Sana’s hand, and Sana swiped her thumb over Mina’s hand. “Hey, what are you thinking about?”

“If the baby will look anything like you.” Mina commented. “Oh yeah? Maybe it will. There's what, a fifty percent chance?” “I don’t think that’s how genetics works.” Mina giggled. “You are the science professor.” “Chemestry is dumb.” Sana rolled her eyes. “I think that’s biology.” “Biology is dumb.” Sana pouted. “I haven’t thought about either since I was what- a sophomore in college?” “You teach physics.” Mina pointed out. “Physics has nothing to do with chem or bio.” Sana nodded. “Maybe if we’re lucky the baby will be a science nerd like me.” “Or maybe they will prefer humanities.” Mina giggled. “Or who knows what if they want to become a pop idol or an artist?” “That would be pretty cool too! It’s kinda crazy to think how they could be anything- that they are this little ball of potential and we get to raise it.” Sana giggled. “Yeah…” Mina trailed off. “I can’t wait to find out what they love.” “Me too.” Sana smiled when Jihyo started walking back towards them. “They said it should be any minute.” Jihyo smiled at the two. Sana reached her arms out and pulled Jihyo down for a kiss, causing a blush to spread out on her cheeks. 

“Sana.” Jihyo whined. “So adorable.” Sana giggled. “Both of you.”

“Stop.” Jihyo whined, a blush on her face. “Okay.” Sana smiled. “Mrs.Minatozaki?” “Right here.” Sana grabbed both of their hands, both of them happily following her to the back area. After a preliminary examination Sana is taken to a back room while they wait for the first ultrasound. Sana’s leg is bouncing while she waits, her nerves making her quieter than usual. Mina and Jihyo both noticed, looking over at each other for confirmation before Jihyo spoke up. “It’s okay.” Jihyo nodded. “You really don’t need to be nervous.” “Really.” Mina kissed Sana’s cheek. “We are in this together love.” 

“Okay.” Sana took a deep breath in, slowing her leg. “I’m good.” “You sure?” Jihyo asked.

“Yeah.” Sana smiled. “I’m perfect.” When the doctor tells them the baby is perfectly healthy, they all start crying. Jihyo and Mina are able to hold it back until they are in the car, but Sana cries right there in the doctor's office. She blames it on the hormones, but they all know the real reason. They had all wanted this for so long. So goddamn long. They had watched all their friends have and raise kids. They had seen so many negative pregnancy tests. They had sat through the pain doctors visit when they told them Mina was infertile. They had sat through so many doctor visits. They had all lived with the thought in the back of their mind that maybe they couldn’t get pregnant, and had all debated giving up. They had even fought over this topic. But now, now they were having a baby. A healthy baby that right now was so tiny and fragile and it’s heartbeat was so fast and so, so perfect. They had wanted this for so long, and now that they were having it, they were so beyond happy. There was only one thought on all three of their minds as they all cried in the car, and that was that they couldn’t wait to meet their baby in a few months. 

xx 

Jihyo smiled when she saw the adorable look on Sana’s face when she first presented her with red bean mochi at three am. The cravings had started quickly with her pregnancy, they had only known about the baby for a week and Jihyo was already making a trip to the twenty four hour supermarket for one of her wife’s cravings. She was just lucky they had a pretty extensive Japanese section, Jihyo was worried she wasn’t going to find it. “Thank you.” Sana had the most excited adorable look on her face. Jihyo couldn’t help but kiss her. “No problem love.” Jihyo giggled. She was still tired, but she also had a bit of energy from the drive to the supermarket. Sana unwrapped her treat, trying to be as quiet as possible. Mina had an early morning class the next morning, so they were trying to let her sleep the best they could. “Is it good?” “Uh-hum.” Sana nodded with a smile as she took a bite. Normally they didn’t eat in bed, but Sana and Jihyo both knew they could make an exception today. “I have been craving red bean all night.” “Oh yeah?” Jihyo giggled. “Well maybe the baby really likes red bean.” “Maybe. It’s not my favorite food, but it’s all I could think about.” Sana took another bite. “What were you and Mina talking about earlier, when I was napping?” Sana had been extra tired lately, and had started taking after work naps before dinner. Mina and Jihyo were always supportive of these naps, they knew Sana was extra tired now. The doctor had even warned them Sana would be more fatigued due to the fact she was a bit older than most first time moms. “Oh, Mina and I think it might be a good idea to wait to tell our friends about the baby.” Jihyo commented, laying on her back and wrapping an arm around Sana’s waist. “The first trimester is unpredictable, and we never know what could happen.” “The doctor said the baby was healthy…” Sana trailed off, looking down at the bedsheets. “I know love. And I’m not doubting that the baby will continue to be healthy. We just need to be a little cautious, that’s all.” Jihyo smiled at her wife. Sana was halfway done already, and she had a bit of red bean on her cheek. “We can tell them soon. Just in a little bit.” 

“Fine.” Sana whined. “That makes sense.” “I know you want to tell them.” Jihyo sat up and gently brushed some of the red bean paste off Sana’s cheek. “And you can… Just wait a little longer okay?” “Fine.” Sana whined, but softened when Jihyo kissed her. “Now let's go back to sleep, we don’t want to wake Mina up.” They both smiled at their other wife, who was now starfishing on their bed. Mina tended to do that when she was by herself or Sana and Jihyo were in the corner like they were now. It was cute, but if they weren’t careful Mina would steal all the blankets and they would spend the night considerably colder than normal. 

xx Sana let it slip the next day. 

Ever since Sana moved to Korea, Sana and Momo had a tradition of getting Japanese food together once a week. It had started when they were kids, and as they grew up it never went away. It used to be every Friday, but when Momo had her kids Fridays became too crowded with sports practices and carpool duties, so they had moved it to Thursdays. They only ever really  missed it if one was on vacation or one was sick, and even then they tried to make it up to each other. They had been best friends since they were kids. They were a literal family. Meeting up every week bonding over their home food was something both of them absolutely adored. Sana had let it slip after ordering her second bowl of ramen. Momo hadn’t seen Sana do that much, so she was surprised when her cousin had decided to go for a second. She rarely ever even finished a first bowl when she ordered ramen, and here Sana was eagerly ordering a second. 

“Well you try being pregnant and nauseous all day. You would eat a lot when you felt better too.” Sana had argued, not even noticing her slip for a second. “Wait-what?” Momo paused mid bite, her jaw hung open while she looked at Sana. It was then when she saw Momo all wide eyed and slack jawed that it hit her what she had done. “You're pregnant?” “Oh yeah.” Sana took a deep breath. “Jihyo and Mina didn’t want me telling anyone, but yeah we just found out last week.” Sana had already predicted what Momo’s reaction would be when she told her. Momo had never been the type to get overly emotional, so Sana was guessing she would give her a warm smile and a simple congrats. She never would have expected Momo to burst into tears. It was so Un-Hirai-Im Momo. Sana had known Momo since they were born, they were cousins and they had always been close. And it was rare she had seen Momo cry. And all the times she had seen it, it was always related to Nayeon. She had cried a couple times when they had particularly bad fights, she had cried at their wedding, cried with her when they got approved to adopt the twins, and Sana had seen tears clinging to her eyes the night Kazumi was born but that was pretty much it. “W-What’s wrong?” “Nothing-god nothing.” Momo sniffled. “But Sana… Sana, you're having a baby.” Seeing Momo in tears brought Sana close to them herself. Momo knew about all the pain they had suffered by this years-long process trying to have a baby. All of their friends knew about it, but Momo knew it very well. Sana had called her stressed or in tears too many times for her to not understand how much mental anguish it had caused both Sana and her wives. Momo had been through it herself before they adopted the twins, though it was not nearly as long. She knew how hard it had been on all of them, but particularly Sana. “Yeah…” Sana sniffled, looking downwards at her stomach and putting one hand on it. “Yeah… I am Momoring.” Needless to say, they gathered some weird looks from the others around them, but they didn’t pay them any mind. They were both just so happy, they couldn’t hold back their emotions. Later after they left Sana made Momo promise she wouldn’t tell anyone and Momo agreed only after Sana promised not to tell anyone she had cried. 

xx 

Sana hadn’t meant to read Jihyo’s mail. She really hadn’t, but she had just found it and thought it was something else. 

Sana had been waiting for a letter from her boss with the official documentation for her requested time off. Since they rarely took any vacation time, she had a lot saved up. They had never needed to take much of their vacation time, most of them had a couple weeks of break in the summer to travel and they didn’t have kids so vacation days were rarely used, so naturally all three of them had a lot stored up. When Sana went to ask her boss for the next semester off and maybe even the one after, he readily agreed. Sana was one of the top professors in her department and had ten-year as well as a wealth of vacation days, so he really didn’t mind her taking an entire school year off to focus on her family. However since it was a pretty lengthy absence from work she would need some official paperwork from the university to document her year of absence. So naturally when she saw a piece of paper with the university's emblem at the top stuffed into one of their drawers she grabbed it, thinking it was for her and had gotten put there by accident. It was very Un-Mina like but sometimes Jihyo would forget to tell her she had mail and leave it in odd places. It usually wasn’t in a random drawer, but Sana hadn’t thought about it too much. When she read the letter, she quickly realized it wasn’t for her. “Park Jihyo, why didn’t you tell me about this?” The minute Sana read it, she knew she had to talk about it with her wife.

“Tell you about what?” Jihyo asked, turning from where she was playing Minecraft with Mina. “That you were offered to do research fall semester in Switzerland.” Jihyo put her control down when she heard that. She let out a long sigh, gesturing for Mina to pause the game as she opened her arms for Sana to come over to them. “I’m not going to go.” Was the first thing Jihyo said. “What- no I want you to go.” Sana nodded. “I’m sorry if I seemed mad- I’m just mad you didn’t tell us.” “I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t tell you guys because I don’t plan on going.” Jihyo told Sana, turning to Mina. Mina looked a little hurt as well, but she was remaining quiet. Sana had been very hormonal lately, and could get mad easily, so she knew Jihyo was trying to be calm with her.

“You’ve wanted to do research for so long though Hyo…” The architecture department was huge, so there were a lot of professors. Naturally as such, there weren’t many research opportunities for professors. Jihyo had always wanted to get one, but since she had started from the bottom she was never given the opportunity. “I would be gone for four months Sana…” Jihyo trailed off. “Four months at the end of your pregnancy. I couldn’t do that.” “The fall semester ends weeks before my due date, you would still be back in time.” Sana argued. “No-no I don’t want to be away from you then.” Jihyo nodded.

“I mean- Mina can take care of me. You really won’t miss much. Just me complaining about my back hurting and that I have to pee all the time. I think you should go.” Sana looked to Mina for help, Mina nodding.” “You have wanted to do research forever Hyo…” Mina pointed out. “You may not get the opportunity again for a while, and Sana’s right. I can take care of her.” “Or we could even go with you to Europe.” Sana suggested. “I got approved for the whole year off next year.” “No- baby do you know how miserable that would be? You would be very pregnant on an annoying long flight. Putting the many many dangers of that aside you would be so miserable the entire time. It’s okay. I can maybe talk to the lead and see if they do something like this again in a few years.” Jihyo nodded, grabbing one of Mina’s hands and putting the other over Sana’s stomach. There wasn’t much yet, but at two and a half months pregnant a bump was starting to form. “Besides, I want to be here. I want to listen to you complain about your back hurting and that you have to pee.” “We can do that over facetime. I can tell you every day over video call if that's what you want.” Sana offered. “No, I want to be here. I want to be with you for the last few doctors appointments and the rush of trying to get everything ready for the baby and all of the little complaints about your feet or your back hurting. I want to be here for nesting and all the little kicks the baby is going to do. I want to be here with both of you. It’s not the same over video chat. It’s okay. I can do research later, but this? This is something we won’t experience again.” Both knew she was right. After Sana gave birth there was basically no chance of her getting pregnant again. The doctors had already told them that and they were okay with it. They were just happy they were able to experience it once. “Are you sure?” Sana asked, putting her hand over Jihyo’s on her stomach. “Of course I’m sure.” Jihyo nodded, squeezing Sana’s hand. “I love all three of you so much, there’s no where I would rather be than right here.” 

xx 

As convincing as Jihyo had been in front of Sana, Mina could tell she wasn’t being completely obvious. The next time Sana went out with Momo for their weekly dinners, she comforted her wife about it. “Are you- are you really okay giving up the opportunity to do your first research?” Mina knew dancing around the subject wasn’t going to work, as much as all her instincts were telling her too. Truthfully, she didn’t understand what Jihyo was giving up as much as Sana. Her department really didn’t do research so it wasn’t something she had ever really thought about. Sana had been involved with three research projects before, and she had loved all of them. Even when she would come home exhausted she would always happily recount what exactly she had done and how exciting it was, even if Mina and Jihyo had no idea what she was talking about. They both liked seeing her so excited, and listening to her talk, so it worked out. “Yeah-of course.” Jihyo nodded, not looking away from her switch. “I will get another chance in the future. Maybe.” “Maybe?” “No. I will.” Jihyo sighed. “It just- it couldn’t have worse timing. If this had happened a year ago I would consider going but right now- right now I can’t leave.” “Hyo… I know you want to stay with Sana, but if you do something you’ll regret, it will just make you miserable.” Mina put a hand on Jihyo’s cheek, stroking it and forcing her to look her in the eyes. “And I know you don’t want the baby to see you miserable.” “Mina-I can’t.” Tears rushed to Jihyo’s eyes as she gazed into Mina’s loving ones. “We waited so goodman long for this- Years Mina. We’ve waited years. As fun as research sounds- I can’t leave now.” “Are you sure?” “Yes. And yeah maybe I’ll be a little scared I’ll never get the opportunity to do research again, but you and Sana and the baby are so much more important to me.” Jihyo couldn’t help but pull Mina into a kiss, her tears dripping down her cheeks still. “I love you three so much, you don’t even know it.” “Hyo…” Mina leaned in and captured Jihyo’s lips again. “I love you so much.” 

Needless to say, when Sana got back and found them in bed with nothing but the covers on, she whined about how they started without her. But, they both happily made it up to her.

xx 

After Sana’s first checkup of the second trimester, they all agree it’s time to tell their friends. Their friend group had a long standing tradition of having family dinners together on the second and fourth Sunday night of every month, and even when some of them started having kids this didn’t change. It was time for all of them to hang out and catch up, something they were always able to do during the week. They would rotate who hosted, so everyone would have to experience it at some point. The day they decided to tell everyone it was at Chaeyoung and Tzuyu’s. 

Mina, Sana, and Jihyo were usually the first to arrive. With Mina affinity for being on time and the lack of children they were usually the ones who got there first. So because of that one of them always got roped into helping cooking. This time, the minute Jihyo was through the door Tzuyu was basically pulling her by the arm to the kitchen. Tzuyu and Jihyo had always been close, Tzuyu had gone to the same middle school and high school as Jihyo and had always looked up to the older woman. When they first met, Tzuyu barely knew any Korean. But Jihyo didn't seem to mind. She was the first one Tzuyu met who really tried to understand her and put in effort. Tzuyu had loved it at thirteen, and she loved it now. “Tzuyu’s always looked up to Jihyo huh?” Sana asked Chaeyoung once they were out of the room. “Oh yeah. She’s been like her little sister since they met.” Chaeyoung giggled. “Oh, let me get Emi. I’m sure she will be happy to see you guys. She’s been a little grumpy lately but Tzuyu thinks it’s just puberty.” “She is about to be twelve right?” Mina asked, guiding Sana over to the couch and taking a seat. She wrapped her arm around Sana’s waist as Sana snuggled into her side.

“Right.” Chaeyoung nodded. “Anyway, let me go get her.” Mina and Sana nodded. Mina pulled out her phone while they waited while Sana looked at the framed pictures of Emi on the walls. Chaeyoung and Tzuyu had seemed like they would be the last of their friends to want kids, but once they had Emi they had fallen in love with her so hard. Neither kept too many pictures of themselves around, so they didn't used to have very much hanging in their house, but their walls were littered with photos of Emi. Emi’s first day of school in Korea. Emi’s school sports day. Emi’s first piano recital. Emi’s first trip to the zoo. All of those moments were arranged across Tzuyu and Chaeyoung’s walls. Looking at it made Sana a little nostalgic. Emi was growing up so fast. Sana remembered when she was younger. She had always loved Sana because Sana would speak Japanese with her. She liked Mina and Momo for the same reasons, but she was especially close to Sana. “Aunt Sana, Aunt Mina!” Sana wasn’t given much warning before Emi captured them both in a hug. “Hello Emi-chan.” Mina smiled at Emi, returning the hug with one arm awkwardly. “Hey Emi-chan! It’s been a little while since we’ve seen you!” Sana smiled at Emi, sneaking a kiss onto the girl’s forehead, which caused Emi’s face to scrunch up. “Aunt Sana stop. I’m not a baby anymore.” Emi whined in Japanese. “You’ll always be a baby to me.” Sana giggled. “What have you been up to lately sweetie?” Sana asked in Korean, so Chaeyoung could join the conversation. Chaeyoung and Tzuyu had both learned a lot of Japanese since adopting Emi. Both had taken the N5 exam a couple years after adopting Emi and Tzuyu had recently passed the N3. Chaeyoung had stopped after the N4, but they had both put a lot of work into learning Japanese for Emi. Their argument was if Emi was going to be putting in a lot of work to learn Korean, they should be putting in work to learn Japanese. But as much as they had learned both were conversational at best and couldn’t entirely keep up with native conversations. “Not much.” Emi shrugged. “Your soccer team won the last tournament you played in.” Chaeyoung commented. “Oh yeah?” Sana asked, Emi nodding. “That’s great Emi-chan!” Sana wasn’t used to Emi being so quiet, but she could tell she was being a lot more quiet than she usually was. “I heard you got really good grades this year.” Mina smiled at Emi, who nodded. “That’s amazing Emi.” “I still got a B in Korean.” Emi pouted. “A B is still a pretty good grade Emi.” Sana pointed out. “Korean is hard, I barely got B’s when I was in school in Korean. But you're doing amazing. We’re all so proud of you, you know that right?” “Thanks Auntie Sana.” Emi couldn’t stop a blush from spreading over her cheeks at the praise both of her Aunts were giving her.

xx 

The minute Hansol gets there, Emi’s attention is drawn away from the adults as she runs screaming to her friend about their latest math homework. Jeongho follows the two upstairs to Emi’s room while Seoyun briefly makes an appearance in the living room with the adults. Her face is buried in Dahyun’s side, and Dahyun mouths to the others she had a bad dream last night and had been reserved all morning. “Hey Seoyunie, Auntie Jihyo is in the kitchen and I’m sure she would love to say hi to you.” Sana pointed out to the little girl. Seoyun loved Jihyo like Emi loved her. Ever since they had met her for the first time, Seoyun had been attached to Jihyo. No one was entirely sure why, but Auntie Jihyo had always been really special to Seoyun. 

“Aunt Jihyo?” The eight year old asked, exhaustion on her face as she looked at Sana. “Yup. In the kitchen.” Seoyun immediately let go of Dahyun and ran off towards the kitchen. “Thanks Unnie.” Dahyun stood up straighter now that Seoyun was gone. 

“Of course, rough morning?” Sana asked. 

“I woke up a bit late this morning, so Jeong was the first to notice but she has been attached to one of us since we woke up.” 

“She was hanging off Hansol when I found her.” Jeongyeon nodded. “After that she switched to me for a bit and right before we left it was Dahyun.” “She’s weird about touch. Sometimes when she’s like that she wants to constantly be touched. We always just let her come to us though, we just want her to be comfortable.” Dahyun added.

“I hope she feels better soon. I might be a little much for her to be around everyone for so long.” Mina muttered worriedly. “I talked about it with her before we left, I might have to take her home early if she needs it. She does really want to see Jihyo though.” Dahyun giggled. “Anyway, you two are being particularly clingy today.” “They are always clingy.” Chaeyoung pointed out. “No they are partially on top of each other now.” Dahyun gestureed to how Sana was basically in Mina’s lap. “They haven’t been this bad since they were in their honeymoon phase.” 

“Hyun I’m going to have to go with Chaeyoung on this one. Those two are always on top of each other.” Jeongyeon agreed with Chaeyoung, the younger giving her a high five for agreeing with her instead of her wife. “Hey we are allowed to be affectionate.” Sana piped up. “No it’s not allowed.” Jeongyeon joked, Mina sticking her tongue out in response and holding Sana closed. She had one hand on Sana’s stomach, trying to be discreet about it as she adjusted their position. When they heard the door open followed by screaming sounds, they knew their group was finally complete. “Aunt Chaeyoung!” Kazumi burst into the living room. “Is Emi Unnie upstairs?” “Yup.” Chaeyoung giggled at the look on Kazumi’s face. Kazumi grabbed her brother’s hand before pulling him up towards Emi’s room, Haneul sticking back with her switch in her hands. “Sorry.” Momo apologized for her daughter as they joined the others. “They had some sort of bet and I think Zumi won.” “Nah Hansol did the same thing.” Jeongyeon laughed at the apology. “Now the other clingy couple is here.” “We aren’t that clingy.” Nayeon pouted. “You're holding hands right now.” “And?” Nayeon asked, not seeing the issue. “Whatever.” Jeongyeon sighed exasperatedly. “Does Tzuyu need any help?” “Jihyo’s been in there helping her for a while, but I can go check.” Chaeyoung nodded, standing up from where she had sat on the floor and went off towards the kitchen. Haneul took her spot, all of her attention on the game in front of her. 

“Hey Haneul.” Haneul let out a little hey as a greeting, not even looking up at Dahyun as she spoke. “Hey Haneul what are you playing?” Mina asked.

“Breath of the wild.” Sana immediately knew when her niece said that her wife was going to leave her side for the game. Mina squatted next to Haneul, and watched the game. “Momo said you guys had something to tell us.” Nayeon started a new conversation once everyone was settled. “Oh yeah.” Sana nodded. “Is it as good as I’m expecting?” Nayeon hinted with one raised eyebrow. 

“I don’t know about that.” Sana giggled. “But it is pretty big.” “Good, than I look forward to hearing it.” xx 

Lunch is served not much later. They are able to convince all the kids to come down and while they were eating someone had come up with the plan to start a super smash tournament in the middle of eating. Since the kids usually ate in the living room and the adults ate in the dining room, they didn’t notice this at first until they heard screaming and Jihyo went to check on them. 

They tell them on the rare break the kids were taking from their tournament after all their parents had told them to eat before they played. Most of them weren’t paying attention, all of their attention was on each other as they talked. They were at the age where hanging out with other people their own age was infinitely better than interacting with adults, so they weren’t paying much attention to them.

When Sana finally tells them, the room goes quiet right before they are bombarded with questions and congratulations. They are barely able to keep up with them as everyone talked at once, but once they get through them the overall mood of the room seems happier. Everyone seems happier. Well, except for one person. 

Seoyun was off pouting while her parents were excitedly talking to Sana and Mina. They were offering them old baby stuff they had in storage, asking about her due date, and talking about stuff like that when Jihyo went off to check on the kids, who had moved back to the living room for the smash tournament. Seoyun was sitting off to the side, her attention focused on Tzuyu and Chaeyoung’s dog butter. “Hey Seo.” Jihyo sat next to her. “What’s up? Why are you playing by yourself.” “I don’t like smash.” Seoyun pouted. “Oh that’s okay. I don’t love it either.” Jihyo smiled, reaching one hand out to pet butter. “Is something wrong?” “Auntie Jihyo is having a baby.” Seoyun said, curling herself into a ball as she continued to pet the dog. “That’s a weird thought.” “Oh yeah?” Jihyo asked. “Uh-hum. You haven’t had a baby before. It will be weird for you too.” Seoyun commented. It didn’t take long for Jihyo to pick up on the signals Seoyun was putting down. “Hey Seoyun… You know I will still have time for you right?” Jihyo asked. She took Seoyun’s silence for an answer. “Seoyun I’m still going to hang out with you. Just because I’ll have a baby I won’t suddenly not have time for you.” Jihyo explained. “Are you sure?” “Of course Seo.” Jihyo smiled at Seoyun. “I’ll always make time for you.” “You promise?” “I swear Seo.” 

And Jihyo meant it. Even if Seoyun wasn’t her daughter, she had always loved Jihyo. And Jihyo had always loved her back.

[blossom-hwa]

Light the Pyres |Light| - SUNGYOON

Don’t know how I'm still alive after posting that last chapter but I appreciate the whole not killing me thing guys

Pairing: Sungyoon x gender neutral!reader

Genre: angst, bits of fluff, apocalypse!au

Triggers: cursing, death, implied suicide of a side character (no suicidal thoughts), semi-graphic depictions of blood

Word Count: 5.7k

As the world burns its last goodbyes, you find a jewel amidst the ashes.

Previous: Strike >> Light >> Next: Rise

Golden Child Masterlist

You wake up to silence.

Blearily, you blink once, trying to clear the inky darkness from your vision. It doesn’t leave – it’s still night.

You blink again, confused. Why are you awake…?

Silence. No second set of breathing, no shuffling in sleep.

Daeyeol?

Your head whips to the side so fast that your neck almost cracks. No one’s in the passenger seat. Where –

Oh.

Right.

You sink back into your seat, pressure beginning to pound behind your eyes again. Right. He’s dead. Even though he was here just hours ago, he’s dead. He’ll never be here again.

Blinking away the tears distracts you from the uneasy silence, but when they’re gone, the quiet settles again. Daeyeol’s absence makes sense. It should explain the lack of sound other than your breath, but…

Oh, fuck.

Fuck.

You whip around. The previous lump of mystery boy that used to be in the backseat is gone.

Oh my God.

Is he stupid?

Digging around your bag produces a flashlight and your gun. There’s only one bullet left – you curse yourself for not reloading earlier – but you grab the bag, shove open the door, and step into the night.

Warm night air curdles against your cheeks. You can already feel sweat beginning to bead on your forehead, sticking your dirty hair to your skin, but you quickly lock the car door and set off down the empty highway.

He can’t have gotten far. Mystery boy’s leg was fractured or something, and even though he was able to walk, you know that the injury means he can’t have gone more than a few miles. It’ll be a pain in the ass, especially since there are at least a few hours before sunrise – more opportunity for zombies to jump out of nowhere when you can’t fucking see, which makes you wonder again just what this mystery boy was thinking when he left – but. Well. You can’t just leave him, can you?

You could, an unhelpful voice in the back of your mind says. You could just ignore him and go on alone.

You stop walking. You could do that, couldn’t you? Wasn’t that what you wanted earlier, anyway? For mystery boy to just be gone?

But Daeyeol would never approve. He’d be upset, angry, disappointed, even, if you didn’t go after him. It’s what he would’ve done.

Even if it came at the cost of his own life.

Fucking Daeyeol. You sigh, stepping forward even as a tiny, tired smile curves your lips and tears burn in your eyes. Still your friend, still someone you look up to, even in the grave.

Besides, this is Daeyeol’s life that mystery boy is living on. The thought twists your stomach, but you keep walking forward. Hell if you’re going to let him waste it with some stupidity like this, even if you hate that the exchange was made in the first place.

Ten minutes pass. You take out a box of (dwindling) ammunition and begin to reload your gun. Twenty. Thirty. The slightest sound makes you flinch, though you don’t dare turn on your flashlight for fear of giving yourself away to predators, zombie or human. Forty. Fifty.

At the hour mark, light glimmers on the horizon, and you’re about to give up. Either mystery boy started out too early or he has some superhuman reservoir of strength that let him outstrip you even on an injured leg.

Or he’s dead.

With that depressing thought, you stop, contemplating turning back. You still have half a country to cross. You’ve walked back at least three miles, which means three miles to make up when you finally get on your way. And if that boy is dead by now –

A darker shadow in the distance catches your eye. It’s upright. Looks like it’s moving forward, away from you.

Maybe not dead, then.

It doesn’t take too long to catch up. Mystery boy hears your footsteps and turns around in evident surprise, eyes widening visibly even against the still-dark sky.

“Idiot,” is the first thing you snap when you finally catch up. He’s stopped walking – thank God – and you motion impatiently for him to sit down. He doesn’t at first, but when you gesture more insistently, he complies with what looks like an expression of almost relief. “What were you thinking, leaving at night?”

He doesn’t answer.

You sigh. “Look, I’m not the smartest person in the world, but even I wouldn’t be caught dead in the middle of an empty highway, walking on a possibly injured leg, essentially acting as a slowly-moving target for any straggling zombie or desperate survivor.”

“You didn’t exactly seem to want me around.”

Not his fault.

Not his fault.

Not. His. Fault.

You take a deep breath. “I didn’t,” you say truthfully, praying that a bite doesn’t find its way into your words. “But I’m not heartless.”

A small scoff. “Could’ve fooled me.”

Not.

His.

Fault.

“If I was so heartless, you think I would’ve come after you in the fucking dark?” you snap. “You’re going in the complete opposite direction I was headed in and I still came over here to fucking find you.”

“You didn’t have to,” mystery boy replies, now staring you right in the eyes with a disturbed gaze. You see a lot of emotions swirling around in the dark – confusion, anger, resentment, sadness.

Emotion rises in your own throat and you turn away, teeth gritted. If you look at him any longer, you’re pretty sure you’ll cry, and you really don’t need that. “You’re right.” You shrug, still not meeting his eyes. “But Daeyeol would have hated me if I didn’t.”

It takes a moment to realize you’ve just given him the name of the boy who sacrificed himself for your escape. You curse yourself. How could you have given up his name, Lee Daeyeol, the only thing you have remaining of your best friend besides your memories?

From the slight intake of breath, you gather that mystery boy has made the connection, too. “Was that… was that your friend’s name?”

You swallow hard, pointedly still looking away. No sense in lying. “Yes,” you get out, tears beginning to press behind your eyes. “And you’re living on his life right now, so I’m also not going to let you throw it away so easily.”

“So my life wouldn’t be worth as much if he hadn’t given up his for me?”

“Daeyeol was my friend for over twenty years,” you snarl, turning back to stare him in the eye. “The only person who knows me better than he does – did –” your voice cracks – “was my mom. So you ask me.”

He holds your gaze for half a second before dropping it, the fight draining out of his expression. “Fair enough,” he murmurs, barely loud enough for you to hear. And when his words do finally register, you think you’ve heard him wrong. ‘Fair enough?’ What kind of response is that?

“What?”

Mystery boy doesn’t reply.

After several moments of silence, you break it again. “Okay.” You fix your gaze on mystery boy again, even if he doesn’t look back. “What were you trying to do when you left? Where were you going? As far as I know, the city I found you in had a horde of zombies, and even if Daeyeol cleaned most of them out before – well, you’d have to be pretty much suicidal to go back.”

Silence. Then –

“My sister.” Mystery boy swallows hard. You can’t tell in the darkness even though it’s getting a little lighter, but his eyes look a little shiny. “And her boyfriend.”

Oh.

Oh, shit.

You turn away, trying to disguise your emotions. This is why you can’t deal with people, for fuck’s sake. This is why Daeyeol handled most of the human interaction over the past couple of months. The second you hear a sob story, the second you hear about the people others have lost…

Too late. Your heart aches, even more so because now you understand. Firsthand.

Your voice is barely a whisper. “Are they alive?”

“I don’t know.” He raises his head. “I left to find them.”

Jesus Christ.

Fine. You get it. Half of you wants to go back too, to find Daeyeol and give him a proper burial instead of being left to rot with flies buzzing over his body. But it’s dangerous. Possibly suicide. There were at least several zombies that Daeyeol didn’t manage to pick off before he had to use his last bullet on himself. You have no way of knowing whether or not there are more.

Daeyeol would tell you to keep going, to forget about his body and just focus on staying alive. If you hadn’t walked back several miles already, you might’ve taken that advice. But you did, and he isn’t here to talk sense into you anymore, isn’t here to be selfless.

And you need to do something, anything, for the friend who gave up so much for you.

You stand brusquely, hold out a hand. “Get up.”

Mystery boy’s eyebrows furrow. He doesn’t take it.

You sigh. “You’re trying to find your sister, right? And her boyfriend? Last time you saw them was in the city?”

He nods. “Yeah?”

“I’m coming with you.” Impatient, you reach down and pull him up. “If you collapse on that leg, at least you’ll have someone to carry you elsewhere.”

Mystery boy looks at you with dubious eyes that make your hackles want to rise. “That can’t be the only reason you’re coming.”

“Caught,” you snap, letting go of his hand. “You’re right, I’m not selfless enough for that. I want to bury my friend, even if it means going on a possible suicide mission. Sue me.”

For a moment, there’s silence. Then, an expression that almost looks like a smile widens his lips. “Doubt there’s a lawyer left in this country to sue you, even if I wanted to.”

He made a joke. He made a joke, and though it wasn’t even that funny, the corners of your lips twitch. “Come on,” you say, starting off so he won’t see it. “Let’s see how much that leg of yours can take before you collapse.”

. . . . .

According to the highway signs, mystery boy makes it another five miles before he needs a break. Though the sun’s gone up and you’re impatient, you give it to him. It’s slightly alarming, really, how far he got with an injured leg, and besides, there are only a couple miles left. In ten minutes, he’s up and you start off again.

Too late and too soon, you arrive at the highway exit that leads to the town where you found mystery boy. The silence between you two grows thicker, heavier with bloody memories as you keep slogging forward, the hot sun beginning to creep up the sky.

“Here,” you finally say, breaking the quiet. You recognize the junction in the streets, the mess of cars and broken glass at the end of this small alleyway between two buildings. “Where did you last see them?”

Mystery boy swallows hard, eyes flicking left and right. “They went into one of the buildings,” he says quietly. “We got attacked and I drew the zombies away so they could…” He trails off.

You really don’t have it in you to imagine what happened. “Which building?”

He points a glass-walled building. Most of the windows seem intact, at least on the first floor. Lettering on the glass spells out CAFETERIA. “I think it was that one.”

Well. At least you might be able to find some food or water. Assuming you don’t get killed.

“Watch my back” is all you say before entering the empty square.

Bodies litter the ground, mostly pale-skinned with tiny pupils and black veins. Dried blood powders the bottom of your shoes as you walk forward, gun at the ready.

You almost step on another gun. A very familiar one. Which means…

Bile rises in your throat as a mop of brown hair enters your periphery. You have to force yourself not to look that way, not to stare at the pool of blood that you know is his, not to follow the red stains until you see the body, the shell of Lee Daeyeol, your best friend basically since birth –

Your head snaps away and you take a deep, shuddering breath. Mystery boy has stopped walking too, staring at the empty bus where he was stranded less than a day ago.

“Come on.” Your whisper is a little harsh, but he jerks his gaze away and nods, following you over blood and glass towards the building.

And immediately you back away as the faint but sickening sound of groans fills your ears.

Behind you, mystery boy looks stricken. You understand. If there are zombies in the building, they could very well have caught his sister and her boyfriend already.

“Your call,” you whisper, back to hiding behind a wall. You can’t see any zombies in the cafeteria area, but the faint sounds indicate they’re deeper in the building. “You still want to find them?”

Dark eyes take in the scene. Mystery boy’s jaw sets. “You don’t have to come.”

He’s right. You don’t have to. You could just drag Daeyeol’s body away and find somewhere to bury it and ignore this boy whose name you still don’t know.

But it’s Daeyeol’s life he’s living on. And what the fuck was the point of Daeyeol dying if mystery boy only lived one more day than he would have?

“I walked ten miles to get here, and you’re living on Daeyeol’s time,” you reply, flicking the safety off your gun. Eighteen bullets. Each one needs to count. “What would be the point if you only managed to live one day extra?”

Something curdles in mystery boy’s gaze, but he nods. “We should see if we can figure out where the zombies are,” he says. “Better if we avoid them. Or are at least ready to face them.”

You can’t argue with that. So you carefully follow him around the building, slowly, quietly. No one pops out, but the groaning grows louder as you approach the left side. “Right,” you mutter, jerking your head in that direction. Wordlessly, mystery boy follows your steps.

A locked door, easily picked, seems to lead underground. The emergency lights are miraculously still on – if there’s a generator and it runs on gas, you might be able to siphon some off and hotwire a car, which you note – but they make an eerie glow against peeling paint as you walk deeper into the building.

Every sound echoes on the walls. You try to muffle your footsteps but the echoes don’t die, only soften slightly and not nearly enough to stop you from wanting to bolt with every sound. Behind you, mystery boy’s breath has grown slightly harsher, more labored. His leg can’t be doing well. If you keep walking down these stairs, it’s only going to get worse.

But this was what he wanted. And from the look in his eyes outside, you’re pretty sure he’d rather die than try to run.

The staircase finally ends, leaving a smooth pathway to walk on. You pause for a moment to see if mystery boy wants a break, but he keeps moving forward, even though he’s almost hugging the walls at this point. You fall behind – you’re in more shape to keep watch than he is, anyway – and then you hear the groans.

Mystery boy stops. You swallow. “Let me in front,” you say, edging forward. “I have the weapon and I’m uninjured. Watch my back.”

He doesn’t protest, doesn’t say you two should just leave like you kind of want him to. So you keep walking through the eerie glow, groans filling your ears as the pathway opens into a large, empty room. Several machines line the walls with various warning signs, cables running over the floor. But that isn’t what catches your attention, what elicits the gasp from mystery boy’s throat.

At the far end of the room, two zombies are tied to a machine, rubber cables around their ankles keeping them from lunging across the floor. One has short white hair, a boy. The other, with long, dark hair, is a girl. They look like they tied themselves standing up, but since then, they’ve fallen to the floor. Snarling mouths and shrunken pupils fixate in your direction.

Mystery boy collapses against the wall. Wide eyes fill with shock, with fear, with loathing and self-hatred and despair as he stares at the groaning girl and boy, gaze unable to leave them.

Sister and boyfriend. You don’t know who turned first, but at least one had enough sense to tie their legs up before they fully transformed. Your chest tightens, bile rising in your throat as they struggle to crawl across the floor, trying to get to flesh, human flesh –

A loud, scraping noise sounds as the machine keeping the boy in place groans, the boy himself trying to scrabble forward on clawing hands. You whip your gun around, training it on his head.

“Don’t shoot.”

It’s barely a whisper, but mystery boy’s voice keeps you from pulling the trigger. You look at him, one eye still focused on the scrabbling zombie. “You want to just leave them?” you ask, unable to keep the incredulity out of your words.

Anger flashes in his eyes as he stands. “You try killing someone close to you,” he snaps. A tear slides down his cheek.

He’s upset. He’s scared. He’s desperate and horrified and probably still can’t process everything right now. That knowledge alone keeps you from screaming about Daeyeol and how he’s dead and how this boy right here killed him with his inability to keep the zombies at bay.

A groaning screech. Both of you jump. The girl’s machine squeals against the wall as she tugs, whitened arms outstretched toward your bodies.

You raise your gun again. “You have one minute to make the call,” you say, words shaking with grief and anger even as you try to steady your voice. “I can leave them here and go. Or I can put them both out of this misery and we can carry their bodies out and we’ll bury them with Daeyeol.” Your finger twitches on the trigger, but you don’t pull. “Unless you have good aim and want to do it yourself, but it’s easier for someone unattached. One minute and I make the decision. You know which one I’ll pick.”

Sixty. Fifty-nine. Fifty-eight. Fifty-seven…

Mystery boy doesn’t say a word.

Forty-four, forty-three, forty-two…

You grit your teeth. “Thirty seconds.”

Twenty-two, twenty-one, twenty, nineteen…

“Ten seconds.”

Nine, eight, seven, six…

Cracked, broken words spill from equally broken lips. “Do it.”

You take a breath. Pull the trigger.

Bang. Bang.

The groaning stops, two silent bodies slumped on the floor. You lower the gun, two fewer bullets in the chamber. Blood oozes onto the ground.

You don’t look at mystery boy as you step forward, flicking the safety back on the gun. “Help me carry them out before other zombies find us.”

. . . . .

Blind luck leads you safely out of the building and back into harsh sunshine. Blinking against the bright light, you heave the boyfriend’s deathly white body into the open air. Mystery boy follows behind with his sister.

His sister. You swallow down the bile stinging your throat. If it hurts as much as Daeyeol’s death did…

There’s no tell-tale sound of groaning as you heave the two bodies into the square, careful to keep the mouths turned away from your skin. You look around instinctively, blinking sunspots out of your eyes as you look around for silent zombies, lurkers that might have escaped your ears.

Instead, your gaze lands on Daeyeol, his brown hair, the dried blood pooled around his head. His gun lies next to an outstretched hand. A few bugs buzz around, but he hasn’t been dead quite long enough for them to have fully taken over.

And his eyes are still open.

Oh, hell…

You swallow hard, blinking back tears as your nonexistent breakfast threatens to leave your lips. Don’t lose yourself. Don’t lose your mind.

As if on autopilot, you lay down the boyfriend’s body, enough sense left to use some care. Your feet take you to the dried blood, to the gun on the ground, to Daeyeol’s empty husk of a body, face a bit paler than you remembered, veins darker than you would have liked. Or maybe it’s just in your head – not enough time passed before he shot himself to make even a quarter of the full transition. None of that should be visible.

It’s better. It’s better. It’s better this way, you repeat over and over as you kneel down. At least you died before you turned.

Batting away bugs with one hand, you reach out trembling fingers to rest on his blood-stained hair, carefully avoiding the bullet hole in the side of his head. It’s longer than you remembered. Either he didn’t cut it as short as you originally thought or he’s shrunken in death and it just looks longer.

Death.

Dead.

He’s dead.

He’ll never wake up again.

Your fingers tighten in his hair even as the reminder of death flips your stomach. You card through the brown mop once, twice, trying to mimic the way you used to when he sometimes got sick as a kid and you would keep him company. Your hands move in practiced motions, slowly, smoothly, but it feels unnatural even though your muscles remember how to move. Maybe because Daeyeol’s scalp isn’t warm beneath your fingers, maybe because he doesn’t shift and sigh in relaxation and tell you he feels better already.

Tears burn in your eyes. Too bad you couldn’t have done it in his last moments. Couldn’t have given him the slightest bit of comfort after he had to turn the gun on himself for your stupid safety.

I’m sorry.

One tear escapes and rolls down your face. A lump rises in your throat and you swallow painfully hard, blinking fast to release the tears and calm yourself. Your fingers shake uncontrollably as you drop them from his hair, tracing down Daeyeol’s cold skin to slide his eyelids shut, one after another. You shiver when you let go. The sun lends a bit of warmth to his face, but it can’t fully chase away the chill of death.

You close your eyes. Take a breath. Hair flecked with blood and bits of brain stains the backs of your eyelids.

It’s okay.

You’re okay.

But Daeyeol isn’t.

Shoving away that traitorous thought, you stand unsteadily and turn back to mystery boy, who looks about as good as you feel. He doesn’t stare back, only keeps his eyes fixed on the two bodies laid out in front of him, face ashen and tears running down his skin. At some point during your little grieving session, he also knelt down beside the bodies, brushed their hair out of their faces and closed their staring eyes. You almost say something about getting up and moving on, but his expression and the tears racing down his face silence your voice.

You just shot his sister and her boyfriend, two people he clearly held dear. Even if they were essentially dead anyway, it wouldn’t – still won’t – be easy for him.

And you were kind of callous about it, too. One minute to make a decision, one minute before you made it yourself, one minute to decide whether or not to kill his zombified sister and her boyfriend…

Your eyes lower as shame burns in your chest. You go to turn away but Daeyeol’s body is right there and you have to turn back but then mystery boy is on the other side –

With a shuddering sigh, you sink into a crouch, hands over your eyes. You don’t speak, even though you can now feel mystery boy’s gaze on you, sharp, probing, probably hateful and angry and for good reason. You don’t look back. He’ll turn away soon enough, to go back and grieve for the people you forced him to let you kill.

The least you can do is give him some time for that.

. . . . .

A small, abandoned house in the town provides welcome shelter after burying the bodies in sweltering heat. Not even a few bloodstains on the floor and door deter you. Your hands are still caked with dirt and runny blisters from digging in the only soft ground you could find, an overgrown green park, but you don’t have enough water to justify washing them off. Instead, you find a towel hanging in the bathroom and pat most of the dirt clean. The white cloth comes away streaked brown and red.

In the empty living room, mystery boy lies on the couch, injured leg outstretched over the cushions. His gaze is blank, unseeing until you extend your half-empty bottle of water in his direction. Wordlessly, he grasps it. Takes a few swallows. Hands it back.

Two gulps of water soothe the sandpaper feeling in your throat while half a granola bar stops the grumbling in your stomach. You put the other half on the coffee table next to him and leave the room to look for anything useful. When you return, a box of band-aids in one hand and several towels hung over your arm, it’s gone.

You go back to work on your hands. Silence stretches. When you finish, you turn to him. He doesn’t look back for a good few minutes, but when he realizes you’re looking at him, he meets your gaze with blank eyes.

You motion to his palms, hold up the box of band-aids. Words would explain your purpose more comprehensively, but they stick in your throat. It doesn’t feel right, speaking.

His eyebrows relax and slowly, he reaches out his hands. You clean them probably with more care than you gave your own, even pouring out a tiny capful of water to soothe some of the larger blisters. The Hello Kitty band-aids you found in the bathroom cabinet look comical against his skin and yours, but nothing really makes you feel like laughing. Not now.

Silence stretches into the afternoon and then into evening. Taking advantage of what natural light you have, you walk around the house some more. Several clean sheets makes their way into your bag along with the box of band-aids. A few bottles of water are still in the kitchen, as is a box of stale crackers. You debate whether or not to open those – you need food, but crackers are dehydrating, and you can’t tell if they’ve gone bad – before stuffing them in your bag anyway.

At some point, you hear muffled crying behind the walls. You crouch down, hold your hands over your ears – you can’t leave the kitchen until it stops but it doesn’t stop, just keeps going on and on and on and you want to scream, it hurts, it hurts –

The sobs finally stop. It takes at least five minutes for you to stand up on shaking legs and another five for you to work up the courage to walk back into the living room.  

Mystery boy hasn’t moved an inch since you fixed up his hands. He shifts when you come back in, though, bag on your arm. His eyebrow raises over reddened eyes. “You’re not going to be an idiot, are you?”

It takes several seconds to register the insult, you’re so surprised he even spoke. “Sorry?”

“You called me an idiot for walking out in the dark.” He shifts again, pulling himself into more of a sitting position against the armrest. “Don’t tell me you’re planning to do the same.”

Oh, how the tables have turned.

“Uh.” You look at the bag, the weight hanging heavy off your arm. “No. I was… I was just seeing if I could find anything.”

Something relaxes in his expression. It makes you frown. “Are you planning to leave?” you ask. The weight of your bag feels even heavier as you shift from leg to leg, waiting for a reply. “In the morning, I mean.”

Silence. Then –

“I don’t have anywhere to go.”

His words are soft. Airy. Sad, desolate, but more like a sudden thought than the dark realization they really are.

You flinch anyway. Even if he doesn’t purposely hide knives or needles in his words, you can feel the unconscious ones nonetheless.

You’re the person who killed his last family. You’re the one who left him alone.

You’re the one who caused this.

“Oh,” you say lamely. Your bag slides down your arm, almost dropping to the floor before you catch it tight in one hand. The strap digs into your skin, stinging the cuts beneath pink Hello Kitty band-aids.

He looks at you. “Where are you planning to go?”

You swallow. It feels like a slap in his face to even say it, to show the thread of hope that you have but that he doesn’t. “Home,” you get out. “My mother.”

Another eyebrow raises to meet the first, though he turns away before you can see the resulting expression on his face. “She’s still alive?”

That makes you flinch again, though this time it’s at the possibility that she isn’t alive, that you’ve gone all this way and lost Daeyeol for nothing. “I don’t know,” you reply, voice barely a whisper. “But… before everything…” You swallow. “I told her to wait. And that I’d come and find her.”

“Must be nice, having a purpose in life.”

You brace yourself, waiting for the words to hit and cut through flesh and stab your chest. But to your surprise, they don’t.

There’s no resentment in his tone. Muted anger, yes, and grief. But his hunched figure speaks of no blame, no bitterness – at least none for you, not yet. You remain silent for a moment, trying to understand.

The words slip out before you realize you were even thinking them in the first place.

“You can come with me.”

Mystery boy freezes in his position. You can see his muscles tighten, feel the tension radiating from his prone figure on the couch.

You panic.

“I – I mean –” you swallow, trying to explain – “if you want to. And you probably don’t, because of what I did. It won’t mean much, but I’m really sorry. I was rude and callous and I should have realized how hard something like… something like that would be…” You trail off. “But, just… if you want to, you can.”

He stays still. Then the cushions shift as he turns to face you, eyes piercing into yours. Even though you’re the one standing and he’s the one sitting with an injured leg, you feel like you’re the one trapped here. Less power. Less control.

“Why?” he asks, voice suddenly sharp. You flinch. “Isn’t it hard enough just being here, knowing your friend died trying to save me?”

Why, indeed. You have no idea. The words just spilled from your tongue without thought – you didn’t even realize you were thinking them before you spoke. They don’t make sense, like he said. You were at his throat just a day ago. Less than that.

But still, you meant it. You didn’t just say your words as an empty invitation. You meant it.

“It wasn’t your fault,” you whisper. The words sting in your throat but they’re the truth. They’re the truth. “It’s not your fault Daeyeol… not your fault Daeyeol died for you.”

“You don’t sound sure.”

The monster of anger and grief tries to rear its head in your chest, but you’re too tired to give it reign. “It’s true,” you say, staring at the floor. “Even if I still need to convince myself, it’s true.”

Mystery boy opens his mouth again. This time, his words sting less, but they still seem to deepen the cuts on your palms. “Wouldn’t I just be a burden on you with my leg? Especially if you’re trying to get across the country as fast as you can?”

You shift, right leg to left. “It’s what Daeyeol would have offered,” you murmur, voice barely audible. “He would have thought it was the right thing to do.”

It’s true. And as much as you’d like to say otherwise, you think it’s the right thing too. But that isn’t the only reason.

The other reason?

You’re afraid. Afraid of traveling alone. Terrified, even. The mere thought makes you want to hurl on the floor. Setting out with no one to keep quiet company, no one to watch your back, no one to just be there, even silent, no one to keep you from going insane with the thoughts that spin relentlessly in your mind…

Mystery boy’s voice breaks into your spiral. “Is that what you think is the right thing to do?”

Your gaze returns to his, sharp, unyielding. And you nod. “Yes,” you say, because that much is true. You don’t even need to convince yourself of it. “I do.”

Something breaks in his eyes, but not in a shattered glass type of way. It’s more like the snapping of tension, a fear or worry finally dashed away, replaced with relief. He doesn’t smile, not quite, but the room feels a little more comfortable. “Okay.”

You blink. “So… yes?”

He nods.

A little burst of warmth fills your chest, subtle relief pulsing through your body. Like mystery boy, you don’t put on a smile, but if you wanted to, you probably could. “I’m Y/N,” you say quickly, ducking your head. He’ll probably want some peace, but your name is the least you could give him before you start off together to the other side of the country. And if he needs something in the middle of the night, he’ll know what name to call.

You don’t expect him to reply. But as you begin to leave the living room to find another place to sleep, you hear him speak.

“I’m Sungyoon.”

A pause. Then, softer –

“And thank you.”

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

(1 reblog = 1 prayer for this budding relationship bc god they’re going to need it)

[ladyhallen]

Never Count the Cost

Read on AO3| FFN

It was hopeless.

The Death Eaters numbers weren’t going down. And maybe they were, but not visibly, not enough. Kill one Death Eater, and five more would take their place.

Hermione had given people new, more destructive spells and Ron’s strategies were getting more and more geared towards mass destruction. But it wasn’t good enough.

It shot down morale and everyone was getting desperate.

Harry was getting desperate.

She’d asked Kreacher, which was the start of a series of bad decisions.

Kreacher knew the Black Library better than anyone, and gave Harry a book bound in questionable leather.

Harry took one look at the book, and felt her skin crawl. She decided not to ask the house-elf questions.

“Thank you, Kreacher,” she said.

She read the book when it was supposed to be her turn to be sleeping, and lost her appetite at the horrifying and terrible rituals that the book had. She was pale and unhappy reading the rituals.

Still she found one. One ritual among hundreds that suited her purpose. A ritual to “Summone a Moste Powerful and Chaotic Monstere.”

Harry read it dozens of times, memorized the words and knew the sacrifice.

Desperation and bad decisions led her to the forest with a stone floor. She had left a note with Dean, hopefully, it would stall her friends.

Her hands remained determinedly steady even as she carved the damned sigils on the floor with an enchanted knife. Her hand slipped at one point and bloodied the runes on the floor. She paid it no mind, bandaging her hand and continuing again. She didn’t dare use magic until the ritual was complete and she broke the circle. She endured her throbbing hand and at one point forgot about it, she was so focused on getting it right.

She took a deep breath and started the chant, just as Hermione and Ron sprinted into the clearing.

But Harriet had already started, the words coming out of her mouth frosty and hot in turns, some words tumbling out as heavy as a boulder, others coming out quickly and speedily like an eel.

Ron stopped Hermione, more aware than her about the dangers of interrupting a ritual.

“…in sumptus vitae meae,” she finished with a shout, slamming her hands on the sigils firmly, smearing it with blood. At one point, she had started to bleed from her injured hands.

“Harry, no!” Hermione screamed, held back by Ron’s hands on her shoulders. Of course, her friend could understand the Latin.

Smoke started rising from the blood and sigils, and from that smoke, something with tall with horns emerged.

Harry would be panicking, except she had gone so far from panic that she’d circled around to glassy calm. She’d be hyperventilating later.

If there was a later.

“At the cost of your life, huh,” a lovely, deep voice said inside the circle. “That’s a very interesting payment.”

The smoke cleared, and standing inside the circle was a man. Or as close to a man as a demon could get. His horns were long and curled back, the points curling at the tips and shining a dull red. His eyes shone yellow and his teeth were very sharp. His feet were cloven hooves and covered in shaggy fur, with a tail that flicked as he stood.

And his face. Harry instinctively shied away from looking at his too perfect, too beautiful face.

“Whatever is your trouble, lovely summoner?” the demon asked.

“Me and my people are at war,” she said, as boldly as she could manage. “And I am willing to pay anything for you to help us win.”

The demons beautiful face started to smile, a slash of a terrible smile on an otherwise inhumanly beautiful face.

“Break the circle, dear one. And I will seal the contract with you. You’ve already given me such lovely blood,” he whispered, a hypnotic ring in his voice.

Harry found herself moving despite Hermione and Ron’s shouts in her ears. She broke the circle with the knife still in her hand and the demon stepped out.

As he did, there was a ripple in the world like an invisible curtain, and the goats feet, horns and tail vanished. In his place was a man.

Still beautiful, but no longer inhumanly so. Enough of a change that she could look at his face without feeling that otherworldly aura.

“I am a chaos demon,” he declared. “And we seal these things with a kiss.”

The glassy calm broke, and Harry managed to squeak out, “What?” before the demons lips were on hers and she was consumed by the best kiss she’d ever had, all heat and passion.

After a minute, he pulled away and smiled at her dazed face.

“Stay here, my bride,” he said.

Harry crumpled to the forest floor and her best friends rushed to her, holding her hands and touching her shoulders. Hermione looked seconds away from crying. Ron looked like he wanted to wrap her up in bubble wrap.

“He just called me bride,” Harry managed weakly. “What just happened?”

Ron gave a tired huff into her neck, hugging her almost desperately.

Hermione gave an exhausted sigh.

“Harry,” she began slowly. “I don’t know how to tell you this, but I think a chaos demon just propositioned you.”

When Harry whined pathetically, Ron started to give little huffs of hysterical laughter.

.

.

The three of them staggered into Hogwarts, holding onto each other for support as well as comfort.

For Harry, she needed the help. The ritual took almost all of her magic. If she were a weaker witch, she would be dead.

“Ms. Potter,” Professor McGonagall said grimly. “Something has changed the battlefield.”

They looked into Hermione’s Seeing Mirrors, and Harry tried not to cringe at the sight of the stylishly dressed demon just. Walking and causing immense destruction with just a gesture.

It was one thing to know you’d summoned a monster, and another thing to see said monster in action.

“Oops,” she managed. “I guess he was more effective than I thought.”

That caught everyone’s attention.

“You did this? At what cost, Harry?” Neville asked.

Harry gave a wan smile, and he inhaled in understanding. Before he could open his mouth, the chaos demon came strolling back, hands in its pockets and a very cheery smile on its mouth.

“My bride,” he said. “I have killed all the leaders and destroyed their souls and happiness. I will, of course, wait for a week to see if they reform. After that, we will marry.”

“Ex-cuse me what?” Seamus said loudly. The noise of a couple hundred students causing chaos was defeaning.

The demon picked her up like she weighed like nothing and carried her off.

.

.

Harry thought the demon would eat her soul. Or even just eat her, she hadn’t thought demons were picky about corporeality.

Nowhere does cuddling factor into it. Or hand feeding her grapes while making encouraging noises. Somehow, her fear just…went away when he was holding fruit to her mouth.

“You are too skinny,” he said, looking at her critically. “You must eat more.”

Uhm, no? They were at war…had been at war. Rationing was a thing. Still a thing while they solve the food issue because the first thing the Death Eaters had targeted were the Hogwarts Farms.

“If I eat more,” she explained to the demon currently holding her in his lap. “Then the children will eat less.”

He pouted. “And these….children…are important to you?” At her nod, he added, “then I will get you more food.”

He vanished for an hour, and returned with an entire freaking passel of pigs. Harry felt her mouth drop open.

“You will eat more?” he asked, like he hadn’t just solved their food problems for the next few weeks. If the keep some female alive and one or two boars, they can even keep some pigs for livestock and feed the entire school for years.

“Sure,” she said weakly. “I’ll eat.”

He looked so immeasurably smug that she wanted to hit him.

.

.

Outside the repaired grassy knoll beside the Great Lake, Harry enjoyed the rare sunshine and the lovely view of the lake.

Well. She tried to.

“Harry,” Hermione whispered. “Can I see the ritual you used?”

Harry had no qualms about that. Just. There was a chaos demon sleeping on her legs and she couldn’t move, or make much noise.

“Ask Kreacher,” she whispered back. “I don’t think I’m moving anytime soon.”

The chaos demon, who still hadn’t given his name – that was bothering her, hugged her thighs tighter, his face on her stomach. Harry oofed, leaning back to be more comfortable.

“Get me a book?” she asked her friend. “I’m stuck.”

Hermione looked bemused and handed over The Hobbit.

Harry, who actually hadn’t read the book yet, found herself combing her fingers through the demon’s hair as she read. Eventually, the heat of the sun and the cool wind combined with the firm weight on her stomach made her fall asleep, the book falling on her face.

Unseen to her, the demon’s tail flicked with pleasure.

.

.

A week filled with trials and burials later, she finally broke.

“What’s your name?” she asked. Hermione, opposite her in the sofa, crossed her arms frantically. Well, too bad for her, but Harry was tired of these unsaid things.

“It’s Reborn,” he rumbled. “And you are Harriet.”

Something about the way he said her name made her shiver.

“Yeah,” she said. “Why didn’t you eat my soul?”

He slow blinked at her. “That was not what you offered. You offered me your life. Not your death, or your soul, or even your blood and bone. Just your life. Obviously, in order for me to partake of your life, you have to be alive.”

“You are…feeding off me?” she asked.

“No,” he huffed. “I am experiencing it with you.”

Ron choked. “Isn’t that just marriage?” he coughed. His face was red. Harry’s own face was steadily going red.

The de – Reborn nodded. “I know! It surprised everyone too. It was so forward.”

Harry covered her beet red face and groaned.

.

.

Reborn had to leave on some business. According to him, paperwork originated in hell and it was needlessly complicated. If he delayed further to log his contract with her, he’d have to fill out an extra fifty forms.

He kissed her very thorougly, rendering her stupid for a minute, before leaving.

Hermione then pounced, explaining what went wrong. Thank Merlin for Hermione, the lack of explanation reason was driving her crazy.

“You read it wrong,” she said. “And a good thing you did. Though how on earth you read ‘animae’ as ‘vitae’, I wonder. It saved your life.”

Harry blinked at the horrific ritual book and sighed. “I was reading it sleep deprived and at one point, I think I was starting to hallucinate?”

“You and your luck, Harry,” Hermione said. “And did I scold you yet for summoning a chaos demon?”

Harry felt her everything tense up. “…No,” she cringed.

She prepared for a lecture mostly done in yelling. She was braced for it.

Except Hermione hugged her tightly instead. “Thank you,” her dearest friend whispered.

Harry felt unintentionally teary. “For you and Ron? I would do it again,” she said into the bushy mane.

They both took a moment to compose themselves.

“So,” Hermione said in that tone that by long association, made Harry feel dread. Hermione only ever used that voice when she was being a little shit. “The chaos demon didn’t proposition you. You propositioned him first.”

“Oh my god,” Harry groaned. “You’re never gonna let this go, are you?”

She gave Harry such a look of mischief. “Never. I thought you were going to die, Harriet Potter. I’m going to say this to your wedding, and to all your birthdays.”

Thank Merlin that she was still alive to have birthdays.

She complained to Hermione just for the spirit of it, but was just as glad.