#sorry that was my shock collar for every time i bad mouth the update

[tabooiart]

the biggest mistake starlight express ever made was de-butchifying wrench

[winterscaptain]

when you wake up.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader

a/n: i’m a sucker for protective aaron, alright? sue me. i have checked and double checked, but if i’ve messed up any gender-neutralisms, please let me know! i’d like to thank snow, the academy, and my welbutrin for their spiritual aid as i write these fics at an alarming rate rating/words: teen / 2642 warnings: canon-typical injury, swearing, kissing 

AO3 | Masterlist | Requests Open!

+++

“You know –“ you gasped, grimacing through the pain, “blood is a bitch to get out of a wool blend.”

Aaron pressed his lips together, his forearms flexing as he staunched the bleeding from the gunshot wound in your shoulder with his gorgeous navy pinstripe blazer.

That one was my favorite, you thought with a pout.

He had you propped against a wall, his shirt splattered with your blood. He had torn the collar of your shirt for better access to your wound, and your vest was entirely forgotten on the floor beside you. Emily called the paramedics about seven minutes prior, but the backroads of Montana were not conducive to prompt medical service.

The pain wasn’t unbearable, and surely you’d been through worse.

Shock is a hell of a drug.

Nevertheless, his concern was touching. It had been a while since either one of you were injured – long before you realized you had feelings for each other and did absolutely nothing about it.

It all happened so fast – you had your gun trained on the unsub, who was using the sixth almost-victim as a shield. As soon as Derek and Aaron threw the back door open, he’d shoved the frightened young woman toward Derek and moved really quickly.

Bang. Ouch. Fuck.

“Aaron.”

He didn’t respond and was dutifully ignoring your eyes, focused entirely on the blood gushing through his fingers under your shoulder blade. The hand attached to your injured arm wrapped around his bicep, your fingers clinging to the fabric of his sleeve.

“I’m fine,” you continued. “It’s through and through. Six weeks tops I’ll be back to my old tricks.” 

You brought your other hand to his hair, and he leaned into your touch almost unconsciously. Your thumb smoothed over the hair at his temple, where tiny silver streaks rested in the inky black. You were just teasing him about his greys last week.

“They make you look distinguished!” You insisted. You were behind him as he sat at his dining room table, helping Jack set the table for dinner while Aaron tried (in vain) to review a consult.

“They make me look old,” he retorted in a deadpan.

You raked your fingers through the hair at his temples, massaging his scalp all the way to the crown of his head. He leaned back, his hand relaxing around his pen. With a final pat to the top of his head, you stepped away and returned to the pasta sauce.

“No old man would cook as badly as you do.”

His withering glare made his son laugh out loud, and the look only grew darker as you offered Jack a high-five.

“You’re still losing a lot of blood.” His voice was low and tense, his jaw tight.

Derek hovered nearby, though Aaron had shooed him away minutes earlier. He was talking into the comm, likely getting status updates from EMS.

Offering Derek a weak smile, you let your hand drop to Hotch’s wrist. Your eyes were heavy, but you fought to keep them open. Falling unconscious now would only worry him more.

“Aaron, you need to breathe.”

He huffs, and it’s almost a laugh but there’s no humor in it. “You’re telling me to breathe?”

“I’m breathing just fine.” And you were, focused only on the feel of his hands on your skin and the slow, deep breaths you took to keep your oxygen levels high as your blood pressure dropped. “Breathe with me, please. It’ll make me feel better.” That was a low blow, but you were pulling every card you had to keep him from breaking his teeth with that clenched jaw.

God, you were just so tired.

Aaron’s brown eyes flickered up to yours and softened. He leaned forward, shifting his weight and wrapping an arm around you as sirens faintly wailed some distance away. “Lean into me. It’s okay. You can sleep. I’ve got you.”

You were cheek-to-cheek when you finally passed out, succumbing to the heaviness.

+++

When you woke up, your shoulder ached, and the lights were way too bright.

There was a weight dipping the mattress on your left side and a dark shadow on your right.

You lifted your head slightly to see Aaron fast asleep, his head resting on his arms. You smiled and redirected your attention to your right. The dark shadow was Emily, watching you with a soft smile.

“Hey, champ.”

“Hey Em.”

She gestured to Aaron with her chin. “He hasn’t left once.” There was an implication behind her words, something not-quite suggestive, but understanding.

You ignored it for now. “How long was I out?” You brought your hand to Aaron’s tense shoulder, relaxing there, your thumb tracing back and forth over his baby blue button-down. Your IV line pulled a little, and you retracted your hand to his bicep.

“About two days. Surgery went really well – they just had to patch up a couple of ligaments and set a few pins in your clavicle. Nothing shattered, and no fragments. All things considered, really clean shot.”

Not as bad as I thought.

“He’s been here the whole time? Are we still in Montana? What day is it?”

Emily laughed, smiling broadly. “So many questions!” She counted off on her fingers. “His ass has only left that chair to chase down your doctor and go to the bathroom like...twice. We are still in Montana. It’s Tuesday. We’ll be on our way home as soon as you’re discharged. We wouldn’t leave without you.”

You sighed, adjusting your position on the bed. “Thanks.”

She winked. 

Hotch stirred, and Emily stood.

“I’ll leave you two for now. We’re all out in the waiting room if you want to see anyone.” She kissed your forehead and slipped out, closing the door behind her.

You could see the exact moment he registered your hand on his shoulder. He startled, straightening faster than you could blink. His eyes still bleary from sleep, you watched as he took stock of your entire person, finally meeting your eyes.

“Hi, Hotch.”

“Hi.” He reached for your hand with both of his, careful of the IV in your forearm. He brought your linked hands to his lips - warm, relieved breath washing over your fingers.

You squeezed once, feeling the stress and worry in his grip. “I’m okay.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry I got shot.” Your voice was soft, but the humor behind it was unmistakable.

He huffed a laugh against your hands. “I should be mad at you.”

“You aren’t?”

Just then, a twinge in your shoulder made you wince. Your face crinkled up before you could hide it.

Hotch immediately reached for the call button, his body arcing gracefully over yours, pressing it twice. He looked down at you from under his arm. “No, I’m not.”

The nurse came in, said something about how nice it was to see you awake, and administered some more pain medication. She worked around Hotch, who never let go of your hand.

You had your eyes on him the whole time. His hawkish brown eyes tracked everything – the dosage, the IV drip – until the nurse left the room.

Right away, you started feeling heavy, your eyes slipping closed. “I don’t - I don’t wanna sleep,” you mumbled.

The back of Hotch’s hand traced the line of your cheek in a gentle caress. Your eyes fluttered closed, and you felt his touch fall down your good arm and wind your fingers together. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

“You should get s’m sleep.”

You weren’t sure if it was the haze of meds or not, but you could swear you felt kisses to each one of your fingertips before you slipped into unconsciousness once more.

+++

When you woke again, he was still there. He was kicked back in the recliner this time, a book in his lap and reading glasses perched on his nose. It was dark outside, and you surmised you’d been asleep for a couple of hours.

“Since when do you wear reading glasses?” Your voice was rough with sleep.

Hotch snatched the glasses in question off his nose and folded them into his collar. “I don’t, usually, but the fluorescents are hard on my eyes after a while.”

You nodded sagely before breaking out into a smile. He offered you one back, one of those sweet, crooked, closed-mouth tip-ups.

Those might be my favorite.

You shifted, scooting over in the hospital bed and raising the head with the remote so you could sit up with more ease. Hotch stood, and you could tell he was trying to give you space as you independently adjusted your surroundings.

You patted the bed next to your hip, and he gingerly sat beside you, crossing his ankle over his opposite knee. He probably didn’t realize, but his entire body was bowed toward you, from his toes to his shoulders. You had always been tuned to each other, like finely-made instruments.

There was so much to say, so much unsaid. This injury was pretty far from a near-death experience, but it was enough to screw your head on straight a little bit.

“Aaron, I --“ You stopped, not sure where to begin. You rested a hand on the knee within your reach, tracing absentminded circles on the grain of his jeans.

Almost three days in the hospital and he’s still wearing jeans.

Well...at least it’s not a suit.

“Why did you stay?” Your words left you without your permission, but maybe it was better that way.

His brow lowered. “It’s my job.”

Your lips tipped up in a small, wry smile. “Bullshit.”

He heaved a sigh. “Fine. I felt...compelled to make sure you were alright.” His eyes were cast down toward the heavy white blanket beneath him. “Every time I got up to leave, I couldn’t. I couldn’t leave you knowing you could wake up and I wouldn’t be there.”

You were acutely aware of the dopey grin on your face.

He looked up at you. “It doesn’t make any sense I know –“

“Aaron.” You stopped him with four fingers pressed to his mouth. It was the first time you’d actually instigated contact with his mouth. You felt the stubble that was rapidly turning into a proper beard, but you were focused on the softness of his mouth. You softened, letting your hand relax against him. “It makes sense to me.”

There was silence for a moment. You just stared at each other, your hand still over his mouth. You were glad your heart rate stayed steady, as the beeping was one of the only sounds in the room.

“Hey, Aaron?” Your fingers weren’t really tracing his lips, but they weren’t...not doing that either.

He smiled and spoke from behind your fingers. “Yeah?”

“The spot between my shoulders is insanely itchy.”

He shook his head, exasperated, and pulled your fingers from his mouth. “Lean up for a second.”

You did, and he pulled a pillow from behind you and put it in your lap. You wrapped your good arm around it and ducked your head down. His fingers massaged across your good shoulder and neck, releasing some of the tension there.

He laughed aloud when you made a (frankly) obscene noise when he hit a particularly sore spot.

“You’re giving my physical therapist a run for his money, Aaron.”

“Good.”

He moved down underneath the sling strap, gently running his nails back and forth over the skin peeking through your hospital gown. It was heaven.

“Okay, you can’t ever stop doing that.”

He continued, scratching lightly up and down your spine “I’m here as long as you want me here, sweetheart.”

The endearment made your heart feel all fuzzy, and you relaxed further into the pillow, your body relaxing as the tension melted out of your back.

He stopped after a few minutes, just smoothing his hand back and forth along the left side of your back. “Feeling better?”

“Much, thank you,” you said, leaning back against the pillows.

He brushed some hair away from your face and hesitated there for a moment. Your jaw fit a little too neatly in his hand. You licked your lips, finding your mouth suddenly dry.

“Y/N...” he said, still quiet.

You shook your head and leaned forward at the same time he did. You met halfway, and he captured your lips with a relieved sigh. He was so careful with you, considering your injury, one hand reaching from your jaw to the side of your head, the other resting on your thigh on top of the thin hospital blanket.

The faded smell of his cologne or deodorant or something very masculine swirled around you. It was a smell you could identify anywhere – something spicy and earthy and Aaron.

Your noses slid against each other as you pulled apart to grin at each other. He pulled you back toward him and your lips met again. Your breath caught as his tongue traced your lower lip. You granted him access, ignoring the embarrassing spike in your heart rate that sent the monitors into a frenzy.

A part of you absolutely wanted to jump him then and there, but between your shoulder and the big window facing out into the hallway, that was a no-go.

You settled for devouring him from where you were instead, taking his lips between your teeth until he was groaning into your mouth. His hands knotted in your hair and you twisted his shirt in your hand. You didn’t think too much about the fact you’d been asleep for two days and therefore had two days of morning breath. The only thing on your mind was the taste of coffee on Aaron’s tongue, the hand planted firmly on your thigh, and the surprising softness of his lips.

It’s not that you thought he’d be a bad kisser, but fuck he was good at it. Almost too good. You craved more and damned your shoulder (again) for keeping you tethered to this bed and unable to wrap him in your arms.

“God,” he whispered into your mouth. “I was so scared I was going to lose you.”

You laughed into him, nipping at his lip again. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

There was a desperate edge to his touch as he took your face between his hands and pulled back to look at you. He kissed you once. Twice. So gently you almost couldn’t feel it. “I’m never getting rid of you,” he said. “Not now, not ever.”

It took you a couple of seconds to open your eyes again. When you did, the warm brown of Aaron’s eyes sank into you, and you almost forgot you’d been shot less than 72 hours prior. “Am I nuts to tell you how much I love you when I’m hopped up on pain meds?”

He shook his head, a thousand-gigawatt smile eating up his whole face. You cupped his jaw in your hand, pressing your thumb into one of his dimples. He tenderly covered your hand with his and turned to press an achingly gentle kiss your palm. “Only a little,” he said. He guided you back onto the pillows, arranging them around you so you could sleep without jostling your shoulder.

The nurse bustled back in and asked after your pain level. You said seven (it was a lie, you’d give it a nine and a half if you weren’t trying to be a hero), and she administered another round of meds. She swept out of the room and your eyes started to close again.

“Aaron...” you whispered, clinging to the last dregs of consciousness.

A kiss to your forehead. Warm breath over your fingers.

If safety had a texture, it would be somewhere between the callouses on his hands and the cool cotton of his dress shirts.

“I’m here.” A pause. “Hey.”

You cracked an eyelid.

“I love you too, by the way.”

+++

tagging: @arganfics @quillvine @stxrryspencer @agenthotchner @hurricanejjareau @fics-ilike @octothorpetopus @ange-must-die @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @dr-reid-ismyspiritanimal @shrimpyblog @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @saintd0lce @good-heavens-chris-evans

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

Empires on the Horizon XVI

Jason is a CEO: Part XVI

okay wow it has been a hooottt minute since i’ve updated a multi-chap fic and an even hotter minute since i’ve updated this one. so here’s a recap:

jase and zoe broke up, because she is being forced by her father to marry someone else (who that may be is yet to be revealed). jason has finally had enough and at the insistence of his friends he packs up on a holiday to Panarea (in italy) where he is delightedly shocked to discover Percy Jackson is currently working, and oh no.....would you look at that......the hotel messed up their reservations and now they have to share the same room, and the same bed. lmao they’re dorks.

here’s how the last chapter ended:

“Let’s just stay together? We’re friends. We know each other, we trust each other, and it’ll be less hassle than trying to find a room for either of us.”

“But there’s only one bed?” His brain was short-circuiting.

It shut down altogether when the man before him smirked. “Well i can keep my hands to myself, if you promise to.”

“I-” What is stopping him from saying yes? Why should he say no?

“It’s totally okay if you don’t want to.” Percy’s expression was so gentle, and it turned every weathered rock in Jason to gemstone.

“Yes.” He said firmly. “Let’s share the room.”

It was only when they got back to the hotel did Jason realise they were still holding hands. He wondered if they’d find each other like that in their dreams too. They did.

masterlist; my links

Jason awoke to an arm slung over his waist and soft breaths fanning the bare skin of his back. Bright sunlight streamed through the windows, bringing with it the heat that was sure to get unbearable. He thought he’d feel uncomfortable with someone touching him in weather like this but Percy seemed to be cool, and gods did he look cute with his messy black curls, and brown skin that absorbed rays of light and turned it into magic.

They had promised each other that they’d keep to their sides of the bed and refrain from mauling one another in the night, but it seemed like they had gravitated together anyhow. And Percy was certainly a cuddler. 

A knock sounded and with groaning realisation he saw the clock on the wall read ten am. They were out later than either of them had realised. 

“Jackson,” He nudged the man gently, “I think you need to get up.”

A mumbled response sunk into his skin as soft lips brush against his back. Jason went completely still, the sensation running along his nerves like hot wires. 

“You okay?” Another mumble filtered through his delirium. 

“I’m fine,” He managed to choke out, “I think we need to get up though. Room service is already here.”

That sparked movement. Suddenly green eyes were wide open, and cheeks, streaked with the creases of the pillow, were red with panic. “What is the time?” 

“It’s ten am,” He pointed to the clock. 

“Fuck!” Percy practically leaped out of bed and slammed his shoulder into the door frame as he skidded into the bathroom.

Jason heard the shower go on, and an electric toothbrush whirr to life, and then he heard a multitude of curse words, a loud bang and some groans of pain.

“Er,” He should go in there and make sure his friend was still alive. “Jackson?” He stepped into the bathroom and was not at all prepared for the sight that greeted him.

There, tangled in his pants, toothpaste stains on his face, and the shower soaking the bathroom floor was Dr. Percy Jackson.

“Do you need help?”

“This is not how this morning was supposed to go,” The dark-haired man garbled, looking hopelessly at the mess he had created.

Jason hid a smile as he bent down to help tug Percy’s pants off him, “And how was the morning supposed to go.”

Green eyes clashed with his, the toothbrush still whirring in his mouth. “I was supposed to wake up early and order a buffet for breakfast and then as we stuffed ourselves-” he cut off, choking on the toothpaste. 

Jason couldn’t hide his amusement, and burst out laughing at Percy’s subsequent glare. Standing up and tossing the pants in the wash basket, he offered his hand to his friend, who took it gratefully before heading to the sink to finish brushing his teeth.

“What were we going to do while we ate?” He asked, leaning against the basin, one leg crossed over the other.

“I was going to feed you maple-covered waffles and answer some emails, and you were going to read that book I know you brought.”

“Are we an old married couple in this scenario?” He quirked a brow, lips twitching.

Percy frowned, stripping off his underwear and stepping into the heat of the shower. “I’m just trying to start our future early.” 

Jason watched those glorious back muscles ripple, as water streaked down, but he refused to follow its path, not daring to go lower than the small dip of that spine. He didn’t even know why he was still in the bathroom, why he was being such a creeper, but his feet were superglued to the floor. He couldn’t move even if a crowbar tried to pry him away.

“Are you not agreeing with my vision?” A muffled voice drifted around him.

He attempted to come back to reality but it was proving near impossible. “Uh no-” He stuttered, “I think it’s a solid plan.” His eyes traced the sharp angles of that jaw, and the strong-bridged nose, and black hair matted to beautiful brown skin. He was sure he was dreaming. There could be no other explanation for the surrealness of the moment.

“Jase?” Percy touched his arm gently, skin hot from the shower. “You okay?”

He startled into the world so fast he felt dizzy. Where on earth had he gone? To another dimension it seemed. “Oh gods i’m so sorry,” He groaned, dropping his face into his hands. “I just watched you shower like a complete pervert.”

His friend smirked, and then he was laughing. “Who says i didn’t enjoy it?”

The blush that raced across his skin was enough to dull rubies. He didn’t know where to look, or how to breathe, or what he was made of. He was simply an untied balloon barreling towards the nearest thorn bush. “You,” He managed to choke, “Are going to be the death of me doctor.”

“Good,” He heard the smirk like violins, “Maybe then I won't feel like I'm falling straight to the bottom of the ocean all by myself.”

Jason peeked through his fingers, watching as Percy finished up and flitted around the room, trying to still the heart that threatened to beat out his rib cage and into a drum set. It was an ache in his chest, how much he felt for this man. How much he wanted him.

“So i’m going to be in and out for the next few days but i’m going to work my butt off so i can have Thursday and Friday off. I’m sorry for being a terrible roommate but i don’t think i’ll make meals until then.” He could see the regret in the doctor’s eyes, turning that vibrant green a shade like dying leaves.

“No,” He shook his head, “Seriously it’s not a problem. You do what you have to.” He couldn’t believe his friend felt bad for leaving him, when they hadn’t even known they’d be here together. It said enough about Percy's character that Jason was trying very hard not to bundle the man up in blankets and kiss his cheeks until the guilt of the past stopped carving valleys between his brows. Instead he hugged him, accidentally letting his lips brush against Percy's neck, just above his collar as he pulled away. Accidentally. The squeeze at his waist let him know his accident was well received.

“Goodbye Jackson.” He smiled as he watched the doctor race down the hall. A ringed wave was the response before he disappeared around the corner.

Jason closed the door, leaning against it with an expression made from coffee foam and whipped cream. He couldn't imagine a morning as peaceful as that one, not in days, months, years? With a satisfied sigh he flopped back into bed, inhaling the ocean scent of Percy that lingered across the sheets like cool waters on a summer evening. The plan for the day was that there was no plan. Thalia had chosen well by booking this little place. He wouldn’t be distracted by touristy things ergo he couldn’t possibly do anything else but relax. So he snuggled into the pillows and stared at the ceiling and fell half asleep and listened to the wind and felt the heat creep across his skin and he just let himself be.

His thoughts were as wild as the tides and sometimes they spilled like ocean water across his cheeks. But then he’d drift off to a dream and wake up to the sound of people laughing and cars sputtering and footsteps stomping past his door and all of a sudden nothing felt too far away.

He was sad. He was sad enough to wonder if sadness was all he knew. His ex boyfriend, who he had loved like stars loved darkness, had broken down his dream and rebuilt it as a nightmare. He managed to wake up. His girlfriend, who he could have loved given time, had tied all the fraying parts of his heart to the wheel of a car and pressed accelerate. He managed to cut himself free. His girlfriend, who he had loved outright and bold, had danced him to the edge of a cliff and left him with one foot already going over. Had he managed to catch himself before reaching the bottom?

It was a question that kept him occupied through the day. Through the breakfast he ate slowly. Through the sleep he found restlessly when his mind wouldn’t focus on the book he’d brought. Through the very late lunch he gobbled down like his stomach would start a rebellion if it didn’t get it’s due. Through the golden sunset he sat at the window and watched.

But it was finally when he sunk to the floor of the shower, letting the water hit his back like welcome rain, that he had an answer; and with it the question of “What came next?” That answer, he knew, would come later. Clear and bright and ready to be grabbed with teeth and hands and love.

So he finished his shower, and changed into loose cotton pants and a shirt that he didn’t bother to button. A walk on the beach didn’t require formality.

The sand was soft on his feet, different to the way New York beaches felt. And the ocean was a richer blue, as if he were being introduced to colour for the first time and this was how water was supposed to look. He supposed places like this weren’t called paradise on earth for nothing. The last dregs of sunlight skittered across the water, as if playing with it. His fingers itched to paint the scene but with nothing but the sand at his fingertips he simply took in the view, and let his mind form the painting he couldn’t.

The air was cooler here, not as sticky, but that didn’t mean the heat wasn’t ever present, scorching the sand like coal hearths. His feet would be blistered if it weren’t so late into the evening. Any earlier and he may have been hopping around like a scared crab. The image was enough to make him giggle to himself. It’s a sound he misses, and one he loved enough to leave him smiling.

“Care to share, comedian?” A smooth voice called from behind him. 

He turned around, whipped faster than the wind, to see Percy walking towards him, a grin on his handsome face.

“I was picturing myself as a scared crab.”

Dark eyebrows raised in confusion, before rich laughter burst into the air. Jason swore it turned the night into magic. “Maybe I should have left you in peace.” The doctor shook his head. 

“Who says you’re disrupting it?” He tilted his head, before starting on his walk once more.

He didn’t see the look that crossed his friend’s face, like comfort turned to being.

“What did you do today?”

“Self reflection,” He said into the air, into the world, into himself. “How about you?”

“Oh you know, a little lab work here, a little analysis there.” Percy shrugged.

“Tell me more,” He prompted.

The look of surprise on his friend’s face made him want to throttle anyone who’s ever stopped this man from talking.

“You sure?” It was hesitant, it was heartbreaking.

“I can’t promise to understand everything so I may have questions but if you’re willing to indulge me I want to hear all about it.”

With a look that spoke of worlds beyond their comprehension Percy launched into a detailed play-by-play of his day. He answered every question with patience and sparkling eyes, and there were many questions. By the time they got back to their hotel the crescent moon was their only source of light in the inky blackness of the sky and his stomach was growling enough that he knew he couldn’t afford to snack for supper.

“Want to go to the restaurant for dinner?” He tilted his head to the opposite side of the lobby where grand doors opened and closed periodically. 

“I uh,” His friend winced, “I have some work today so i’m going to head to the room.”

“Okay,” He shrugged smiling, “I’ll meet you up there later.”

“Uh yea,” Percy’s face held an expression he didn’t quite know how to interpret. “See you then.”

“Want me to bring something up for you?”

“No, no, don’t worry about me.” Black curls bounced as he shook his head. 

They parted ways, Jason only slightly confused by the weird turn his friend’s mood took, and decided he’d bring back a chocolate brownie if nothing else.

As he sat down at a table, observing the grand balustrades and curtained windows he felt suddenly alone. It wasn’t a feeling he let himself be consumed by but just the fact that it was there had him reaching for his phone. With a few taps he was calling Leo, knowing it’d be early morning for them.

“Hello,” A cheery voice crackled through his earphone. It was enough to settle all the worried nerves hidden between his ribcage.

Their conversation was bright and energetic, Leo being a morning person; he even got a few grunts out of Annabeth, who was decidedly not. Everything was okay with his company and more importantly his friends were fine.

“I found a person we know here,” He mumbled, trying to keep his voice and excitement quiet.

“Who?” Leo was practically vibrating. Even Annabeth looked at the camera with blurry eyed curiosity.

“Uh Percy.” He scratched the back of his neck, shyness crawling across his skin.

“Oh,” His friend’s eyes widened. “What is he doing there?”

“Work,” This was fine. This was safe. Nobody was jumping to any conclusions.

“Are you sure you didn’t run away to get married?”

And there went all his hope of having reasonable friends. “No!” He hissed. “And besides I didn't run away, you guys forced me to go.”

“Well it’s done you good. I can finally see some colour in those pasty cheeks.” Brown eyes sparkled with mischief. 

Before Jason could respond another call was interrupting. “Zoe Nightshade” flashed across the screen.

“Uh Leo,” He frowned at his phone. “I’ll call you back.”

“Everything okay?” He heard the worry like tv static.

“I hope so.” The furrow between his brows didn’t disappear. 

And then he hung up on his best friend and answered the other call.

“Oh Jason,” Relief flooded in his ear like water in a drought. “Thank you for answering.” The smooth voice of his ex-girlfriend reached him.

“Zoe,” His nerves were bow-string taught. “What’s wrong? Why are you calling me?”

“I need your help.” She answered. She sounded desperate. “I can’t marry Octavian.”

Jason Grace nearly falls off the cliff.

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

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[p---ink]

Stark Contrasts: Chapter Three

Author’s Note: Hello all! For those of you following this series this is part 3 in my Tony Stark Fan-fiction. Part one is here, and part two is there. So sorry for the late update by the way. Writer’s block is a bitch. But I refuse to post something I don't at least like a little bit. That being said, I loved writing this chapter. Honestly if I can get just one person to read this and say they like it, I’ll be so grateful. It’s full of “angst”. I still use that word lightly, because to me it’s a drama instead of a story that makes you feel dread or anxiousness. Anyway I really hope you guys enjoy it, because this one took me a while. 

Summary: Upon finding about you and Tony’s romance, Edward Stark loses it. Pepper Potts steps in to help mediate the situation. 

Warnings: Angst, Language. No smut this time, sorry. :(

Song: Cry by Cigarettes after Sex. 

Word Count: 8.8k

Parts: one | two | three | four | five

Chapter Title: Mother Knows Best

 The concept of silence was made by man. We know this, because the world around us is never truly silent. You could argue differently though, because in this moment it felt like time stood still. You couldn’t even hear the sound of the clock ticking, as it rang loudly throughout the quiet room. Even the sound of your heart beating rapidly against your ribcage, fell on deaf ears. The one thing that was apparent to you however, was the rage behind Edward’s cool facade. Though it didn’t make a physical sound, it screamed louder than any noise had ever made.

You stopped embracing Tony and stepped away from him.  “By all means, please don’t stop on my account.” Edward chuckled. 

“I thought you were asleep.” Tony admitted, as if his thoughts helped the situation. He didn’t say it in an apologetic or shameful way, more so just stating a preconceived notion.

“Would that have made a difference?” Edward questioned, furrowing his brows inquisitively. “You know believe it or not, I felt guilty for leaving my girlfriend all alone in an unfamiliar town.” He stated, turning towards you and putting emphasis on the word unfamiliar. “When I heard your taxi pull up, I decided to come down and make sure you arrived safely. Can’t say I wasn’t surprised to see such a beautiful declaration of love.” He relayed his thoughts and actions as if he was telling a close friend a funny story. 

“Edward, we—” You start to explain. 

“We?” He interrupts, smile dropping for a second. But as quickly as it disappeared, it was back again. He began shaking his head in disbelief as he repeated the word ‘we’. “So you guys are a ‘we’, now? This is too fucking rich.” He laughed.

His grin was so wide, it almost looked genuine, and had you not known the story behind this reaction, you would of thought his joy made him look even more handsome. Right now, however, all it did was scare you.

“You know. I always thought it was weird how close you guys were.” He confessed, waving his finger in a playful ‘you-got-me’ kind of manner. His voice was sickeningly sweet, and it made your stomach churn. “But I told myself, that it was a good thing my dad liked my girlfriend so much. You know some people can’t say the same. Man was I foolish!” He exclaimed, looking between the two of you. While you gnawed at the inside of your bottom lip and averted your gaze away from Edward in shame, Tony rolled his eyes and scoffed at the display in front of him. 

“Dad tell me” He started again, pausing for a second to meet Tony’s eyes. “This is why you needed me at my desk right? So you could fuck my slut of a girlfriend?” If the words themselves didn’t make you wince, the tone they were laced in certainly did.

“Watch your mouth, when you address her.” Tony snapped through gritted teeth. 

Edward quickly threw his hands up  in defense before saying, “I’m sorry dad, you’re absolutely right. I should have said your, slut of a girlfriend. Please forgive me.” He smiled, watching his father’s fists clench. When you grabbed one of Tony’s hands, and whispered a ‘calm down’, Edward lost it. He focused on the way your chin rested on his father’s shoulder as well your hand on his a little too long. 

“How long has this been going on?” He asked coldly, abandoning the amused act. It stayed silent for a moment, and since he didn’t address a specific person, you took it upon yourself to answer. You felt you at least owed him that.

“A little over—” you try to answer, but your attempt is short-lived. 

“I was talking to my dad” He snarled, raising his voice and a hand to silence you. Turning his attention back to Tony, he repeated his question. “How long has this been going on?”

“Does it matter?” Tony quickly retorted, growing tired of the way Edward had been talking to you. 

“You know what, I think it does.” Edward challenged, eyes turning into thin slits as he looked his father up and down. “I deserve to know when this all started.” He said as if it was a matter of fact

Tony scrutinized him for a second, contemplating on whether or not he wanted to be mature or petty. He chose petty. “Fine. Since you insist on knowing all the juicy details: I’ve wanted her since the first day we met.” He revealed, shocking both you and Edward. “Now you do the math.”

  Now really thinking about it, Edward gradually stood from his seated position on the stairs. He tried piecing everything together, but it was hard because when he was home, he really wasn’t present. The evidence was still there, however, and even a blind man could see it. How could he have missed those longing stares from across the room? The lingered touches that Tony would press against the small of your back. He somehow even managed to dismiss the way the room would go quiet whenever he walked in. The way Tony whispered to you secrets that would make your thighs clench. What innocent thing could he be saying that would make your body react like that? As you two watched anger consume him, Tony gently pushed you behind himself before Edward spoke again. 

His nails had a grip on his palms so tight, you were sure they left blood, or at the very least dents. His chest, was rapidly rising and falling, as if he was having trouble keeping air in his lungs. His jaw produced a slight bulge, that was a direct result from the way he fastened it shut. “Dad.” He growled, his carefree demeanor now long gone.“How could you? She was mine.”

“See that’s your problem Edward. She doesn’t fucking belong to you, or anyone else for that matter.” Tony corrected, matching his son’s hostile energy. “And if you really cared about her, maybe I would have never had the chance to fuck her.” Your brows furrowed at his choice of words, and you gave him a sideways glare. He was purposely trying to evoke a reaction.

He got what he wanted, because as soon as he said it, Edward moved like a blur as he crossed the room to connect his fist with Tony’s face. He caused him to fall to the ground before catching himself with his palms. You gasped, and dropped to the floor beside the fallen Tony, who was now licking a busted lip. 

“I hope she was worth every minute.” Edward spat, kneeling down to clutch his father’s collar.

“Every second.” Tony teased, finding a smirk under the sting he felt from his lips. Edward delivered another punch, this one landing on one of his eyes, then another that found its way under the side of his chin, leaving only a few seconds between each blow. Had you not pushed yourself between them he would have left his father’s face a bloody and swollen mess. 

“Stop!” You shriek, holding your arm up to shield any further blows. He did stop, but you two held each other’s glares. His hand was still fixed in an attack position, and thats when you began to soften your features. You realized that he was seriously considering whether or not he wanted to hit you as well. Before you just knew he wouldn’t harm you, but seeing the look on his face now you weren’t so sure. Was that how bad you had hurt him? 

Edward decided against striking you. Though his father had been taking his hits like a champ, that would quickly change as soon as Edward laid a finger on you. Fire burning in his eyes and a serious conflict within, he stood to collect himself. “You’re dead to me, Y/N.” He stated, lowly. You wanted so badly to say ‘I’ve been dead to you for a long time now’ but decided that now wasn’t the time. 

He began straightening the wrinkles from his shirt and running his long digits through his raven black hair. “I’ll send for my stuff.” Was all he said as he took a step over both you and Tony, walking away in search of his keys.

“Better send someone quick, before they have to sort through ashes!” Tony shouted, rolling to his side to pick himself up with your aid. Edward neither spared him a glance, nor another word. 

When you heard the door click, you helped Tony readjust. Once he was put back together, you pulled your hand back as far you could to deliver a solid smack to his arm.

“Ow” he wailed, grasping the area you hit. “Haven’t I been hit enough today?” 

“No. Why did you have to act so childish?” You asked, demanding an answer.

Still rubbing the sore spot on his arm, he looked down at you with a blank expression.  “He deserved it.” Was what he said in an indifferent tone.  

You rolled your eyes, before saying “Even if that’s the truth, he was upset and he had every right to be.”

“No Y/N, he didn’t.” He said slightly raising his voice, and talking with his hands. “How he could even call you his girlfriend after all of this time, is beyond me. He doesn’t get to be upset.”

“Tony we violated his trust.” You cried, searching his frustrated face in hopes of finding a sliver of empathy for his son. 

“Edward is a self-serving jackass, who relatively no one can trust. Do you really think he holds weight in this matter?” He countered, raising a brow. In realization that his face was now forming bruises, you asked these next questions.

“You have all of the answers don’t you? Was this all worth the black eye and busted lip?” You ask, gesturing towards his face.

“Absolutely.” He answered referring to both questions. “I’d do it again if it meant seeing the look on his face.” He stated proudly.

“You’re impossible.” You grumble, as you walk away to grab a dampened rag from the bathroom. 

“Edward’s the one who’s impossible!” Tony shouted from the other room.

You rolled your eyes for what felt like the tenth time tonight at his comment. “Why is he being so immature?” You mumbled to yourself, before walking back to the foyer washcloth in hand. You found him in the family room instead, studying a younger photo of Edward. He did feel guilty, he was just to proud to show it. You sighed alerting him of your presence. He instantly reacted by sitting the frame back down on its floating shelf, clearing his throat and pretending that you didn’t just capture him longing for the days when Edward was at the very beginning of his youth. You decided to play his game, choosing not to mention his shame, but still acknowledging that it existed. That was enough for you. To you it meant he was a good person. 

“Come here” you quietly say. He sauntered over to you slowly, reaching down to take the cloth from your hands. You playfully jerk it back from him, before giving him a fixed look. Pushing him down on the nearest couch to stand between his legs, he holds onto your waist to keep you steady. The cool washcloth dripped water down your arm, as you reached up to nurse his bruises. Apparently Edward had been wearing a ring, because a cut had formed just above Tony’s brow. He winced when you pressed the cloth over the mark to clean it. You couldn’t help but feel guilty, feeling to be the cause of this all.

“Did you mean what you said earlier?” Tony asked breaking the silence.

“What did I say earlier?” 

“You said you love me.” You could tell he felt insecure, and your prolonged answer only made it worse.

“Of course I did silly.” You say, pecking the tip of his nose, literally kissing his worries away. “And what about you, did you mean it when you said you’ve wanted me since the first day we met?”

“Every word of it.” He smirked. You grinned back, finding comfort in his words. It didn’t last longs though, as tonights events kept replaying in your mind. 

“So…where do we go from here?” You asked softly, voice just barely above a whisper. Had you not been standing right in front of him, he would have missed it.

The cloth covered one of his eyes completely, so he looked at you with the free one. But even with no eyes, he would be able to sense the worry in your voice, and imagine the worry on your face. He cupped the hand that was on his cheek, and kept his other hand on your hip. 

“We just wait, The hard part is over now.” He assured,  leaning in to plant a kiss to your forehead, then your nose, before settling in on your lips, tugging your shirt to deepen it.

After you finished up his face you guys prepared to go to sleep. It was the first night since your being together where you weren’t afraid of being caught. You laid in bed, and thought of his words as you forced yourself to sleep. You wished you could believe them, but knowing the man that Edward was, you knew tonight was nothing compared to what was to come. 

__________________________________________________________________

“You slept with his girlfriend, and you have the nerve to tell me to calm down?” Was what you heard when you woke up. A few days had passed since Edward found out about you two. You were trying not to think about it too hard, but life had other plans. You wiped the crust from your eyes, and slowly sat up to yawn and stretch, focusing in on the conversation unfolding downstairs. 

“Tony, among all of the morally fucked up things you’ve done, this has got to be the worst! And Stark Industries used to cater to the advancements of industrialized weapons.” Pepper. That voice belongs to Pepper. You thought.

“Okay Pepper, you’re being a little dramatic. The weapons are obviously worse.” Tony said, in a fed-up tone. You carefully let your feet hit the floor to silently go eavesdrop from the top of the banister. 

“We both know that’s not the point.” She said bringing her voice down an octave. 

“Then exactly what point are you trying to make, Ms. Potts? Why are you here?” Tony retorted. He spoke in hushed tones, but the annoyance in his voice was clear.  

“I need to see Y/N, so—”

“No.” Tony quickly interrupted, but Pepper continued.

“—So we can figure this mess out.” She cried. 

“Hell no Pepper, I’m not letting you bother her with this bullshit.” Tony bit.

“Edward is really upset!”

“Unfortunately, I am all out of fucks to give about Edward’s feelings.” 

“Tony, look at what he’s threatening to put out.” You could tell she was showing him something, you just didn’t know what “If this reaches the public people are gonna start piecing these things together, and realize it has to do with you.”

“Pepper.”

“Let me speak to Y/N.”

“No.” At this point you began making your way downstairs, curious as to why she came all this way. You liked Pepper. You met her after meeting Tony. They had been separated for months. Despite Tony’s horror stories, she was always nice to you. Perhaps the divorce helped her find herself, because the Pepper you met was nothing like the one he described. 

“Y/N! Please come down!” You hear Pepper yell from the foyer. 

“Pepper, are you out of your mind? For crying out loud.” Tony cries upon seeing you descend. He was facing the staircase, hands on Pepper’s shoulders trying to urge her out of the door. Her back was turned, until she followed Tony’s line of sight, spinning to focus her smoky blue eyes on you instead. 

Her golden blonde hair was done up into her typical tight ponytail. Makeup light, consisting only of a simple peach colored lipstick and mascara. She wore a tan pencil skirt, white blouse and safe nude pumps. As per usual, Pepper was perfectly primped, not a gold lock out of place, save her bangs and a few intentional strands that cradled her face. If only her appearance could match her attitude.

She fully turned her body so that her attention was on you. “Y/N, please tell me this whole thing isn’t true.” Pepper pleaded.

“I’m afraid it is Ms. Potts.” You reply, sheepishly, suddenly feeling ashamed again. To have Pepper disappointed in you, felt worst than getting caught by Edward himself. 

“Jesus.” She sighed, closing her eyes shut and pinching the bridge of her nose. “You two, have royally fucked yourselves.  Take a look at this.” She stepped closer to you with an iPad in hand, dragging a skinny finger across the screen to reach the content she wanted you to see. She came to a stop and handed it over to you once she reached a page that looked like an article, or at least the rough draft of one. It was clearly about you and Tony, as the entire thing talked about Edward dealing with the betrayal of two people closest to him: a person who gave him life, and a person whom he gave his love. He was the victim, and though he did not put a name to his betrayers, they were clearly the decorated villains. It was very well-written. He even added parts to the story that not even you knew happened. 

Tony watched you panic. He watched the worry lines etch themselves in your skin. He snatched the iPad from your wandering fingers, and then he watched confusion take the place of worry. “You have to get ready for class. Besides, Ms. Potts was just leaving.” He firmly stated.

“What? No Tony. I don’t think it’s a good idea for her to go to school today.” She suggested as Tony handed her the device back. “We have to figure out what we are going to do about this.” Was what she said as he gently pushed her out of the house, and closed the door in her face.

He was really upset with her for upsetting you. Maybe he was also upset about Edward, but he felt his son couldn’t do any real harm. However, he knew you felt otherwise.

“Don’t worry about him.” He assured. “Eddy is just throwing another tantrum.” 

“Another?” You questioned, both worry and confusion working hard to dominate your features. “What are you not telling me?”

“Stop worrying. That’s what I am telling you.” 

“How can I not? Tony you keep telling me not to be worried, but you and I have seen what he can do when he’s upset.”

“Yea well I taught him how to do it. His ‘power’ comes from me, and I can assure you that. Everything will be fine.” He assured once again.

You blow out hot air threw your nose, frustrated with his naivety. He was really acting like the problem didn’t exist. “I have to get ready for class.” You stated, flicking your hands in the air as if to brush off his words before stomping away. 

“Baby?” He yells from the foyer, as you retreat up the stairs.  

“What Tony?” You yell back, once you make the bathroom. 

“Are you mad at me?” He whines.

“Yes!” You scream.

“Well, I love you!” You can practically hear the grin in his voice.

“Fuck you Tony.” You yell, mocking fake agitation.

 “Sure, but we have to wait until after you get home from school.” Well at least he learned his lesson from last time. You think to yourself, smiling as you get ready for the day. 

_________________________________________________________________

It felt like days had passed as you watched Professor Maxwell drone on and on about quantum mechanics. In reality, it had only been about 4 hours since you left the house. This was your last class of the day, so of course he had to drag it on.

You sat alone in his huge lecture hall, half-heartedly scribbling down notes. Though you were easy to get along with, and many people thought you were cool and nice, you found it hard to make real friends with your peers. You attended a prestigious university and most of them came from different backgrounds. Of course, for the most part, there was nothing was wrong with that, but it did make it harder to find common interests from time to time. It wasn’t like you didn’t have any friends though, just not in this particular environment. This fact alone helped you excel in your studies and passions. You found with no social distractions you could get more done. Right now however, you were more distracted than you had ever been.

You kept thinking about Edward’s article. You kept thinking about Edward. You really hurt him. But Tony was right, Edward had been hurting you since the beginning. It still didn’t make it okay for you to cheat, let alone sleep with his Dad. Preoccupied with your self-guilt, you didn’t notice the dings that sounded off around the quiet auditorium. Gasps, and soft whispers, followed, as people looked at you, but you were far too focused on your own problems to pay attention to theirs. You weren’t too focused to not hear the professor signal the end of class though. 

Shoving your laptop in your bag, you sprung to your escape. Bursting through the grand oak doors of your university’s science hall, you rushed to be the first in line at the school’s popular little cafe. Grabbing their pastry of the day became your favorite ritual. 

You leaned down to take in all of your choices. The warm yellow light of the display case illuminating your face. You could hear a faint buzz coming from it over the humming of the espresso machines, the overplayed pop songs, and the chatter from your fellow students and locals that frequented it. Coming here was peaceful. It was much like the library would be to someone who needed to focus. You found the busyness of the world relaxing, because no matter how many problems you faced, everyone else just kept moving.  

You thought about how you were gonna treat yourself. Maybe you would have an apple strudel today. Or perhaps a blueberry cannoli? Peach scone? You decide on the strawberry shortcake, it was a classic and to die for. You pointed it out to the pastry clerk, and he was happy to go and prepare it for you. 

“What, your sugar daddy not giving you enough sugar at home?” You heard a voice ask from behind you. You mentally groaned and rolled your eyes at the sound of Amber. She was a girl from Edward’s past that had a personal vendetta against you for reasons unknown. They were long done before you entered the picture, but Amber must of felt otherwise. 

You turned around to greet her, and as always you were astonished by her appearance. She had these catlike hazel green eyes that could burn a hole through steel. A strawberry blonde curly mane cascaded down her shoulders. She also had a natural sun-kissed golden tan, and she stood at a tall 5’11. She was gorgeous. Why she was still hung up on Edward, you would never know.

She had with her, Cassie, a faithful fan of hers who couldn’t form her own standing opinion . She kissed Amber’s ass so much you were surprised to find out she didn’t live in her toilet. She also brung Jasmine one of her new recruits, a petite mousy-like sophomore. Jasmine was okay, but she was a try-hard in constant need to of approval, hence why she hung out with Amber. 

“Hi Amber.” You smile, mustering up your last bit of fucks to give. You were too tired to acknowledge the meaning behind her comment, but not too tired to throw her a bone. 

“Hi Amber.” She mocked, slurring your words. “You had everyone around you eating out of the palm of your hands, but I knew your goody-two-shoes act was just that: an act.” 

“What are you talking about?” You asked, heart dropping to your stomach. You hoped she wasn’t talking about what you thought she was. 

“So you can’t read now? Let me say this slowly so you can comprehend.” She cleared her throat for a comedic effect before she spoke again. “Edward finally let the rest of the world know what a gold digging slut you are!” She smirked, throwing out her hand to Jasmine who wasn’t paying her any attention. “Jasmine!” Amber shrieked, causing the poor girl to jump. She quickly recovered from her incompetence, and scrambled to pass Amber her phone. Amber passed it to you, careful not to take her eyes away from yours. She didn’t want to miss the face of a girl who’s life was about to fall apart.

On the phone, was the same article Pepper had shown to you earlier, only this time it had been updated with even more lies spread throughout. Edward played the part of an unsuspecting, loving, and caring son/boyfriend, who was blindsided by the treachery of his beloved father and girlfriend. 

Again no names, but if it wasn’t already obvious, people knew it was you now. You looked up to Amber, a smug look playing on her features. It didn’t unsettle you as much as she wanted it to. What unsettled you though, was when you looked around the cafe. All the noise and chatter had all but come to a cease. The humming from the coffee machines, the overplayed pop song, and the buzz from the display counter were all that could be heard. They were waiting. Waiting for an answer. Waiting for your reaction. 

No. You thought. I am not gonna give this bitch or anyone else the satisfaction of my reaction. You tighten your jaw, and turn to pay for your pastry, now in a hurry to leave the shop. 

Amber was not having it. “So you have nothing to say?” She scoffed loudly. “I am clearly talking to you.” She harshly grabbed your shoulder to turn you around. 

You were ready to throw hands but before you could you were promptly cut-off by someone else.

“Leave her alone Amber, before I fuck you up.” They commanded. Everyone’s necks snap to investigate the source of noise. Eyes land on the pink-haired girl at the back of the cafe. She had chosen a cozy little corner booth, where she could kick her feet up to watch all of those around her. 

“Excuse me?” Amber sneered.

Nao, if you remembered her name correctly, swung her feet out of the booth to make her way through the crowd. She came to stand in front of Amber’s frame, before she addressed her again. “Let me say this slow enough so that you can comprehend” You smiled, as she borrowed Amber’s words from earlier. “I said: ‘Leave her alone Amber, before I fuck you up.’”

“What are you gonna do to me Nail?” Amber challenged, feeling quite good about herself for the joke she made. 

“It’s Nao, but you knew that already, and you don’t want to try me” She warned. 

“What could possibly be worse than sleeping with your boyfriend’s dad?” Amber asked a little too loudly for your liking, she earned an uncomfortable laugh from Jasmine, and a cackle from Cassie, who playfully tapped her shoulder in approval. There were also a few scattered snickers from other people in the cafe.

“I don’t know, maybe you should ask all of those married men, who you slept with over the summer.” Nao suggested, eyes wide mocking innocence. “If they don’t know, their children and wives might.”

‘Ooo’s’ and ‘ahh’s’ erupted throughout the quiet space of the cafe. Someone whispered, “Did she say ‘men’, as in plural?”

Amber looked like she had seen a ghost as Nao looked her up and down, daring her to spill another word. Cassie took the dare.

“Nao, that’s not true! And even if it was it’s none of your business you nosy little cunt.”

“Don’t get me started on you Cassie. We all remember that time you sucked off Bryson Kidd, for a bag of hot Cheetos and a kiwi strawberry Arizona.” She said as she twisted her neck to look at Cassie’s mortified expression. Then her eyes traveled, landing on Jasmine,  who shook her head as if to say she didn’t want any part of this. 

Nao let her be, then turned to address the rest of the room, “Anyone else?”  She asked, gruff voice now coated in honey. She continued her scan around the shop, trying to bait people. This was fun for her, she knew they were scared. They knew she was a revered tech major, at the top of her class. Her know-how with computers wasn’t the reason she knew about Amber though. She wasn’t invasive like people thought she was. She was just quiet and observant. 

Nao continued her rant, “Are we all forgetting that Edward Stark has slept with at least half the women in this room alone? Mind you while he and Y/N were still in a relationship.” She looked around, disappointed in her peers. She caused some of the women in question to avert their judgy gazes away from you, mumbling profanities about Nao being a snoopy bitch. Nao turned back to Amber, who was still hot from embarrassment. “Where were your words of judgment then Amber?” She said leaning in to whisper in her ear. “Oops my bad. I shouldn’t expect you to say anything to him while his cock is stuffed down your throat.” 

The light pink that dusted Amber’s cheeks, deepened to a crimson that spread across her entire face and neck. She huffed, and turned on her feet to excuse herself from the cafe, Cassie and Jasmine both hot on her trail.

When they were gone, the conversations around you picked up again as people tried not to stare. 

Nao, finally turned her attention towards you. The smile you sported throughout her entire show dissipated as you realized she was about to tear into you now. She stepped closer, and closer to you, instantly making you shy away. When she was close enough to examine the pores on your face, she took out a crinkled 10 dollar bill, that she handed to the cashier. “I’ve got this one.” She declared, smiling in reference to your strawberry shortcake. The clerk handed her the bag, which she handed to you before taking a step back. You could tell she struggled with personal space.

“Thank you” You start. “But why did you do that?”  

She knew you were referring to Amber. “You never bother anyone Y/N. You’re always so nice. If you ever need me, just give me a call.” She motioned to your phone, “May I?”

“Oh yea, sure.” You say, before handing her your unlocked device so she could type in her number. While she input her contact information, you took advantage of the temporary distraction to really survey her features.

She was Japanese,  you remembered that from the icebreaker you had in a shared class a year ago. Brown freckles, that looked like constellations were sprinkled along her rosy cheeks. Long lashes, fluttered every time she opened her eyes to blink. And as mentioned before, she had pink hair, a wavy pixie cut to be exact, that sat on her head like a fluffy cloud. She was tall, but not as tall as Amber. Lanky, with long limbs. Bushy black eyebrows sat above her honey brown eyes. Her nose was so small, you wondered how she could breathe out of it. She, like Amber, was very pretty, only in a “non-traditional” way. 

You had a girl-crush. You were giddy by the fact that a strong woman came to your aid, batting for you like that. When she looked back up at you, you realized you were staring, so you ripped yourself out of your daze of admiration. “Thank you again. Also thank you for this!” You exclaimed, lifting up the brown goody bad. 

“Its no problem. Enjoy it. It’s almost as sweet as you.” She smiled at you widely before turning to leave.

What a great way to start off your Monday. 

__________________________________________________________________

“Tony I’m back!” You called throughout the house. Your echo was the only thing to greet you back. Must not be home. You thought to yourself.

You sit your keys in the dish next to the door, kicking your shoes off, deciding to worry about them later. Grabbing yourself a bottle of wine, and a glass to pour it in , you drift into the living room. You take your seat in your favorite chair, ready to kick your feet up and relax. 

“Hi.” Pepper says behind you, making you spill your grown-up juice on the seat beside you, as well as on Tony’s equally expensive rug. You knew that neat-freak was gonna lose his shit. 

“Pepper!” You squeal, “Why didn’t you say anything when I called out earlier?!”

“I didn’t want to startle you.” She explained rushing to grab some club soda and a dish rag from the kitchen. 

“How is this any better?!” You yell, as she reenters the room, falling to the rug to clean out the stains. She threw you a spare cloth and handed you the soda to tackle the spreading splotch on the couch. 

“I don’t know! Give me a break for at least trying.”

“How did you even get in here?” You ask, vigorously scrubbing into the fibers of the couch. 

“Y/N, I used to live here.” You abruptly stopped as she continued. At the mention of it, you cringed at how awkward this might have been for Pepper. You were Tony’s new plaything, while she was his old one. Not to mention the fact that you also had been with her son. 

“I forgot.” You sigh, before apologizing. “I’m sorry for all of this Pepper. This must be really strange for you.” The spot on the couch was now faint, so you abandoned your previous efforts. 

Satisfied with the removal of her designated stain as well, Pepper stood from her knees to occupy the seat opposite to you. “Nonsense dear.” She replied, giving you a tight smile. “Sit, please.”

“Where’s Tony?” You ask as you do as she says. She must have some idea, since she was here but he wasn’t. 

“On his way to get this article pulled. I can imagine he’ll want to confront Edward as well.” Pepper informed you, crossing her legs to get comfortable. You let out a huff of air, seeing as the last time they saw each other, it didn’t end quite well. “Speaking of Edward, he’s the reason I’ve come to see you. We have to talk about this.”

“Not to be blunt Pepper, but what else is there to talk about? Everyone already knows about it, how much worse could it get?”

“That’s the thing. It will only get worse if you two continue your affair. Edward is talking about filing an injunction against Tony. He could lose his position as CEO of Stark Industries.” You eyed her in disbelief. You knew Edward was capable of being vindictive, just not this much. 

“Can he really do that? Is what I have with Tony that serious?” You were genuinely concerned.

“Ordinarily CEO’s don’t get removed because of their personal relationships, but because you and Tony have something different, I believe Edward has a fighting chance.” She paused to exhale as she surveyed your features. “Tony’s face is plastered everywhere in the world. He is Stark Industries, and a lot of his success comes from his fame. To be associated with such a scandal could prove very harmful to the future of this company.” She finished. 

Just like Edward worked hard to prove himself to Tony, Tony worked harder to prove himself to Howard Stark. He risked everything, putting his all into Stark Industries. Erasing the blemish of  its past with weapons of mass destruction, he had successfully turned it into a clean, and sustainable energy industry that had proven just as, if not more, successful than its predecessor. He also dabbled in AI, robotics, and non-lethal ways to disarm enemies. You would not be the reason that all got thrown away. Still you couldn’t help the sinking feeling in your gut.

“So I have to just stop seeing Tony?” You asked, internally pulling yourself together.

“I wish I could say it was that easy, Y/N. But we both know Tony won’t just stop seeing you.”

“So what do you suggest I do?” You asked her now slightly agitated. 

She sensed your irritation, but elected to ignore it, opting to continue her use of a soothing voice instead. “I understand you have an internship in France. I’m also sure that Tony, knows about it. Correct?”

“Yes. What about it?” You ignore the fact that she knows this despite not telling her. You had long given up on how Pepper acquired her information. Perhaps Edward had mentioned it, but you couldn’t see why it would be of interest to him. 

“Well Tony can’t know where you’re going. So how would you feel if I told you, I could pull some strings to get you an all-expense paid internship somewhere else?” 

“What’s the catch?” You ask sighing. This was all too much to process. 

“Instead of leaving in May, you’ll have to start preparing things now. You’ll need to leave as soon as possible so that you can get settled in by next week.” She quickly replied.

“Next week?” You gasp. “That doesn’t give me enough time to prepare. What about my course-load and credits? And my family, my friends? What would I tell them?”

“I already have everything handled.” She said raising her hands in a ‘calm-down’ kind of way. “Also, if you decide to leave you’ll need a place to stay for the time-being. I would offer my home, but Tony is too smart to not look there. You’ll need to stay somewhere he won’t find you until we can get you shipped out.” 

Is she for real? You thought to yourself. “Wait, you’re really serious about getting me to leave.” You say, through a pained chuckle.

“This is what’s best.” She simply replied, pursing her lips. 

“What do you get out of this Pepper?” You ask deciding now was the perfect moment to let your frustration boil over. “I mean, Tony is your ex, and I am the on who cheated on your son with said ex. You should be happy that Edward is about to ruin us. Why should I trust you?”

“Well first, let’s have the Tony conversation, it clearly makes you feel guilty.” She said drawing in a sharp breath. “His and my relationship was over before it even started. We were supposed to remain friends instead of lovers, but we ruined that with marriage. There are no hard feelings, so I don’t care who he’s with, even if it’s you. Now, on to Edward.”

She sat up in her chair to clasp her hands around her knee. “I am the reason he is the way he is. And for that, I apologize. In all honesty Y/N, I always liked you. I saw myself in you, and I still said nothing as I let him ruin you. I felt that you would be good for him. I ignored the fact that he wasn’t good for you. Guilt has consumed me, and the only way I see fit to redeem myself is to do my part in making sure he doesn’t ruin his father and you. I am trying to help.”

You wanted to believe her, but you still had your doubts. “How do I know this is all the truth? This whole injunction thing could be a ploy to get me out of the picture.”

Her patience was thinning. “If you want to risk it, then go right ahead. But don’t forget who you’re dealing with here. Edward has promised to stop if you leave. At least this way, everyone gets to keep what they worked so hard for. That article can do serious damage to your future career and Tony’s current one. And Edward will not stop until he’s satisfied.” 

At this point Pepper had said all that she came to say. So she stood to leave, but not before saying one last thing. “Tony doesn’t know I’m here. I’d like to keep it that way. Also, you don’t have much time to think about this one dear. The longer you stay, the more you risk. Contact me once you’ve made your decision”

You looked at her with your eyes full of sorrow. Pepper’s eyes could only offer you sympathy. You really wanted to believe she was telling the truth. But if she was, you had a lot to think about. You wished someone else could make the decision for you.

__________________________________________________________________

“Sweetheart!” Tony shouted, voice booming off of the walls. “Did you spill something on the rug?!Wait the fucking couch too!” 

How the hell did he see that, we scrubbed the shit out of those stains. You think to yourself, without answering him.

You could hear him as he stomped up the stairs, searching the rooms to find the one you were in. He found you in the laundry room, folding his and your clothes. “We have a housekeeper you know.” He reminded as he leaned against the doorway amused by the sight before him. 

“She’s a little weird, I saw her admiring my panties.” You answered weakly. 

He shook his head, as if you were the one being absurd. “That’s not weird, I do it all the time.  Anyway, did you spill wine downstairs?” 

“Yea sorry.” You reply. He could tell you were a bit off, since you didn’t laugh at his joke. You hadn’t even looked at him since he arrived. 

“Are you okay?” He asks stepping a bit closer. 

“I’m fine.” You responded, absentmindedly folding one of his shirts. 

“You’re lying.” He stated, pretty sure of himself. “If this is about the article, I got the publisher to pull it. It’s gonna be played off like a rumor.”

“It’s not about the article.” You sigh.

“So it is something. What is it?” He pressed, placing a hand over your folding ones to get them to stop

You knew he wasn’t going to give up, so you decided to just get it over with. “I had a talk with Pepper today.”

“Not this shit again.” He grumbled dropping his hands to exit the room. 

“Tony listen. She made a few good points.” You say following him as he strides away to his bedroom. 

“I don’t care about the points she’s made Y/N. I told you that you have nothing to worry about.” He countered, sounding exhausted. He had been exhausted since that night with Edward. 

“If that’s true then why did you go see Edward today?” 

“Who told you that?” He asked, spinning around to eye you suspiciously

“You just did.” You watched his face change from curiosity to awe. It was rare for you to outsmart him. “If you’re not worried, why were you there.”

He turned back around to loosen his tie, before saying “I don’t have to have this conversation right now.”

You exhaled loudly, frustrated with his stubbornness. “Either we have this conversation now, or we never have it.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” He asked in an amused tone. 

“It means, you should say all you want to say to me now, before I leave.” You answered. This got him to turn back around and face you. 

“Before you leave? What kind of bullshit has Pepper been spewing now?”

You pause and think before saying another word. You had already said too much. He wasn’t supposed to know you were leaving, let alone that Pepper was even here. If you were gonna do this though, you didn’t want any words left unsaid. That was your reasoning behind what you would say next. “She thinks it’s best if I leave.”

“Leave? For what?” He asked closing the distance between you. 

“Edward is calling for your removal as head of Stark Industries.

“Oh that? I'm not worried about that. Like I said, it’s another tantrum and it will blow over.” He stated, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“Your son throws huge tantrums Tony. And this one doesn’t seem like its gonna just blow over. This is really serious, and Pepper feels like he has a fighting chance.” You state, ignoring his fingers that wandered along your skin. He always tried to use sex to take your mind off of things.

“A fighting chance? On the grounds of what? That I stole his little girlfriend.” He teased, grabbing your lower back to pepper kisses along your neckline. 

“Quit it, this is serious.” You whined, shoving him off of you. 

Sighing from both rejection and frustration, Tony lowly replies “It’s really not.” 

“You know what, maybe not to you, but I will not let you throw away your entire legacy. I’m leaving so you don’t mess your life up.” You bite, frustrated with his indifference. You began making your way to your old room to go and pack your things.

You were almost in the door until Tony harshly gripped your wrist, whipping you around to face him. “Who are you to make that decision for me? Huh? You don’t know a fucking a thing about this.” He barked, tone getting more aggressive the longer he spoke. “Who cares about Edward and his little temper-tantrums. Even if he takes the company, at the end of the day, I’m still filthy, fucking, rich. And if I wanna have you, I’m gonna have you. You’re mine. No one else is gonna tell me different.” He spat. 

“Let go,” you said, flinging your wrist free of his grip. Once free, you immediately began to back away. Tony’s glare weakened once he realized how badly he overreacted. He had began to succumb to all the stress that this was all causing him. He took it out on you, which he immediately regretted. You would be a damn liar though, if you said hearing him speak that way didn’t make you sexually frustrated. But you had a face to uphold in that moment. He needed to think you were mad at him. “What happened to me not belonging to anyone? You think because you’re ‘filthy, fucking’ rich’ you can just make me yours?”

Tony let his guilt show, “Kitten, you know that’s not what I meant.”

“Goodnight Tony.” You say, as you slink in to your old room, the one you and Edward used to share.

“Wait, please.” He begged, taking a step forward. 

You slammed the door shut before he could reach inside, sliding down the cool wood until you reached the floor. He began knocking against the door, pleading with you to open it so that you could talk things out. Tony was not a man in need of much, so to hear desperation overtake his emotions left you wrecked. 

You immediately began sobbing into your shirt, doing your best to muffle your cries. You did not want to leave, but you could not be the reason his life’s work got flushed down the drain. 

He would be over you in no time. You would get over him as well. That’s what you had to keep telling yourself as you texted Pepper your decision to leave. 

__________________________________________________________________

Jerking awake after your fight, you realized that the sun had gone down. You checked your phone, and saw that it was almost time for you to leave. Pepper would be over to pick you up soon, so you quietly got up to pack, careful not to alert Tony if he was near. 

You packed light. Very light. Everything fit into a bag that you could carry over your shoulder. You were only taking the things you felt absolutely necessary, like your toothbrush, underwear, a few outfits, and anything else that you could fit into the small bag. Pepper insured that she would take care of the rest. You informed of her of your fight with Tony. She was disappointed that you let him know you were leaving but she expected it from you, which is why she never told you exactly where you were going. 

You had to stay with someone else until your departure, because it would be easier to keep the secret of your destination away from Tony among other things. Now the problem lied in where you would stay. He knew all of your friends. He had even met some of your closest family members through Edward. And as Pepper mentioned before, you couldn’t stay with her, because it would be one of the first places he checked. You thought of Samuel and Elise from your favorite restaurant, but decided against them because you didn’t know where they stayed, nor did you have any way of contacting them. 

Maybe Nao. You thought, before shaking the idea out of your head as quickly as it came. There is no way she would let me, we just met and she didn’t mean her offer literally. 

But if she didn’t mean it, she wouldn’t of given me her number. Plus, Tony doesn’t know her, so she’s perfect. You silently debated with yourself. You were desperate so you shot her a text pleading your case. You gnawed at the inside of your cheek. You weren’t one to really ask people big favors like this one, so you were nervous. 

Nao replied back not even two minutes later, offering you an invitation to bunk with her for as long as you needed. You immediately shot her a thank you and continued your packing. 

You had to move quickly before you changed your mind. Everything that Tony got for you would remain here. Not having much money to your name, you could have sold it and made yourself a pretty coin, but that wasn’t the type of woman you were. Besides all of it meant so much to you, everything had sentimental value, just because he had given it to you. You decided to display every single thing he ever got for you on the bed and floor. The shoes, the lace, the bags, clothes, etc. When you came across the jewelry that he got you, it proved to be a challenge. Every one he had purchased on very special occasions, like your birthday, Christmas…Valentine’s Day. You thought when you came across the destroyed remains of the Cartier bracelet he got for you that day. ‘My heart belongs to you, T.S.’  You wanted to take it. You desperately wanted to take it to have something that reminded you of him, but seeing as the small plaque itself probably cost him thousands you decided to leave it. Rubbing the cold metal between your fingers one last time, you set it down. 

You thought to leave your phone. Tony had it replaced it for you when you lost it in Italy  on one of your trips. You weren’t certain about whether or not he would trace it if he was really desperate. Okay now I’m being ridiculous. He doesn’t care about me that much, you thought, before placing the device back in your pocket now heading to the door. 

Even while touching the knob you were careful. Making the slightest sound could set him off to your presence. He was a pretty light sleeper unless he was blackout drunk, so you weren’t wrong for your caution. Turning it slowly, opening the door even slower, you slipped through it once it was wide enough.

“Y/N” you heard him murmur from behind you. At the sound of his voice you stifled a squeal of surprise. When you turned to confront him, determined to make your case for leaving, your eyes had to travel down to the floor where he resided. You saw him fast asleep, back against your doorway. Had he been there since your fight? Your thoughts were interrupted when you saw the flashing of lights outside, signaling that Pepper was there. You were starting to unravel. Tears did not threaten to leave your eyes, they promised. As they spilled down your cheeks you shook them away along with your weak thoughts. The sight of Tony at your doorstep almost made you drop your bags and forget all your previous worries. 

Almost.

  A/N: Please do not claim my work as your own. Please leave a comment, a like, and reblog, it honestly really means the world to me when I get comments. 

[random-mha-thoughts]

Bad Boy (Todoroki x Reader)

Pairing: Todoroki x Reader

Genre: Angst to fluff, and a lil spice ;), No quirk!AU

Summary: You finally get to see your childhood friend Shouto after years of being separated only to find out he’s completely changed.

BGM: “Younger” by Ruel

Word count: 2,781

Tags:  @yuki-osaki​ @liviitehe​ @iamsoftsodonttoucheume-blog​ @bunnythepipsqueak​

a/n: God this photo fucked me up good when I first saw it.

I saw this picture on my search for images for my last Todo post aaaaand yeah, pretty self explanatory. I got to thinking, what if this poor baby finally snapped one day and was like "FUCK ENDEAVOR AND HIS ENTIRE PROGRAM, IM NOBODY'S MASTERPIECE" and he went the complete opposite direction. So enjoy a little bit of OOC Todoroki and a bit of a longer post than my usual stuff!

I’m really really sorry about not updating in the past few days.  I was really swamped by college work and studying, and I was mentally exhausted and physically tired every day.  Today wasn’t my day and I almost had a breakdown because a lot of things piled up in me, but I had to pull myself together somehow.  Hopefully, after this week, I’ll go back to a somewhat regular posting schedule.  Thanks for being patient with me guys, I really appreciate it :)

When my mom told me Shouto will be going to the same high school as me, I was expecting the same buttoned-up, shy, good boy from elementary school.  Oh boy, was I wrong.

The boy I bump into in the hallway definitely looks like Shouto, but the only thing that's the same is his mismatched hair and eyes.  Everything else about him was much different.  His entire energy was different, even from the fraction of a second I focused on his face.

"Shouto?" I call when he's about to brush past me.

I don't think he's expecting someone to know him on the first day, pausing and looking down curiously.

The most shocking feature of all is the scar on his left side, a red blotch that covers the left side of his face, starkly contrasting his brilliant turquoise eye; a single ray of light in a scarlet sky.

As I'm gaping at the puckered skin, his eyebrows furrowing at my face as recognition slowly dawns on him.  "(Y/n)?"

I'm relieved that he at least remembers me.  "Yeah, hey."  I don't really know what to do now.  My first instinct is to hug him, but something tells me he isn't a fan of that sort of thing anymore.  There's a coldness between us that's thick as a knife.  "How have you been?"

"Fine," he answers curtly.  His hands are stuffed into his pockets, leaning back in a way that seems uncharacteristic of him and more like a ruffian.

Does his not want to talk to me?  I don't blame him, I haven't been in his life for a good eight years.  "How are your parents?"

His jaw clenches.  "Fine."

Oh.  I struck a nerve.  "Do you wanna catch up at lunch?  What class are you in?"

"1-A."  Overjoyed that we share the same class, I'm about to open my mouth, but he interjects, "But I don't think we should talk."  That was the last thing he said before he strolls past me.

I'm stunned, following his receding back through the sea of students.  I guess I shouldn't have brought up his parents when I know it's a sensitive topic, but I didn't know what else to say.  And it's probably awkward to see someone you used to be close to talk to you again, but the least he could've been is polite.  That's saying something, because Shouto was always the polite child.

Something is terribly wrong here.

Shouto has definitely changed since we were younger.  He's become a delinquent.

He never even shows up to class.  After our little encounter, he was slumped in his seat until the teacher finished role call, then he just got up and walked out in the middle of class and never came back.  In all the days after that, his seat remained empty even at the beginning of the day.

At first, I gave him the benefit of the doubt.  What if he happened to get sick and had to stay home?  Then I saw his signature mismatched tuft of hair walking back home in the school yard, and I knew he was skipping.

After a whole two weeks passed of him skipping, I had enough.  The Shouto I know would never cut class even if his life depended on it.  During lunch, I went looking for him in the group of other delinquent kids in the back of the school.

"Todoroki?" the ash-blond ringleader ruffles his hair and scoffs, "Idiot must be off somewhere by himself like the damn loner he is.  He picked a fight with me and I almost beat his ass into oblivion!"

I ball my fists up, more angry at Shouto than the group of boys eyeing me like a pack of wolves.  "You guys are useless," I mumble, about to turn away from them.

"Aww, is he your boyfriend, sweetie?" the honey blond with a black streak in his hair smoothly wraps an arm around me.  "He probably doesn't care about you, you deserve someone else who'll give you his time."

"Fuck off, who said you can touch me?"  I shove his arm away and step back.

"Calm down there," the red head with sharp teeth taunts with a smirk, "You're getting a bit defensive.  You sure you don't need help looking for your little prince?"

"I'm fine on my own, thanks," I huff, turning around to go look for Shouto elsewhere.

"Maybe I'll come with you," the overly-friendly boy blocks my way again.  "If he's not your boyfriend, maybe we can get together sometime?"

"Not interested.  Out of my way, Pikachu reject."  I try to side-step him, but the leader grabs the back of my collar and whips me around so I'm face to face with his bared teeth.

"You're a bit rude, aren't you?  Should I pull your head out your ass for you?"  His crimson eyes glare his murderous intent into me.

I hold my ground, the anger against my irresponsible friend more powerful than any fear of this hothead possibly hurting me.  "Don't act so tough if your talk is cheap."

He cracks his knuckles without breaking eye contact with me.  "I'll show you cheap talk.  Try waking up next week after I'm done with you!" he snarls.

I mirror his expression.  I don't mind throwing hands at this guy if I have to, blood rushing through me to prepare for the fist fight.  "I dare you-!"

"Enough, (Y/n)."

I can feel his presence right behind me even though he doesn't physically touch me.

Scarlet eyes shift behind me.  "Took you long enough, hot shot.  Your friend has just as much spunk as you, I'll kick both your asses!"

"I'd like to see you try, Bakugou," Shouto responds coldly.  "We both know who'd win."  Keeping his gaze locked on the aggressive male, he harshly grabs my arm and hauls me away.  "Let's go."

I'm fuming with anger when we're back inside the building.  I turn on him when he finally releases me, but he's already starting down the hall.  "Don't walk away from me!  We need to talk!"  I stomp over, following him to an abandoned classroom.  "What the hell is wrong with you?!  First of all, you were a real ass when I talked to you last week.  Second of all, you're not even coming to class like you should.  And now you're already picking fights with that idiot out there?  What's gotten into you Shouto?!"

"You were about to get into a fight as well.  You should thank me," he comments coldly, slipping into a desk with books open on top.

"I could've handled it just fine without you!  The only reason I was even there talking to them was because I was looking for you!"  I hover over him, glaring down so he can tell how angry I am.  "You'e skipped class all week, this isn't like you at all!  How are you supposed to catch-?"

One glance down the the open books shows all the material we've been going over in class.  He's already caught up to today's lesson, writing notes in his book and ignoring my presence.  The entire setup makes me angrier.  "I don't understand you, Shouto.  What kind of act are you trying to pull?  You're not a delinquent, why are you trying to act like one for everyone else?   Or is this all because you're just trying to ignore me?"

His pencil stops moving and it slams down onto the desk.  "A lot happened since you left, (Y/n)," the boy responds.  His quivering voice indicates restriction of intense emotion.

The hurt is apparent across his entire face, calming me down.  My gaze lingers on the left side of his features, over the eye that somehow looks perpetually sad.  "How did you get that scar, Shouto?"

The boy's eyebrows furrow.  "My father never let up on me after you left, and he got worse.  My mother couldn't handle fighting him on her own anymore.  One day, she snapped, told me how unsightly my left side was, and pouring boiling water over my face."  His large hand gingerly covers his reddened skin.  "And my bastard father put her in a mental institution after that.  He did this."

My heart aches for my childhood friend, the boy I took care of and listened to all his problems.  I can't imagine how much pain Rei was going through.  For her to have lost it, she must've held such a heavy burden.  When I had to move away, I felt so guilty about leaving him with all his troubles.  He had no one else to reach out to and it was snatched from him.  There wasn't a day I stopped thinking and worrying over him.  I reach to take his hand and offer comfort.  "Shou-"

Shouto bolts up from his seat, his taller figure hunching over mine, features screwed up in distaste.  "You weren't there when I needed you most."

I'm taken back, hurt more than anything.  "It's not my fault, we were so much younger, I didn't have a choice but to go with my parents."

A dark chuckle erupts from his lips, dismissing my excuses.  "It's fine.  It happened, I've learned to deal with it."

I'm about to blow my top with this kid.  "Yeah, you've dealt really well, haven't you?" I roll my eyes.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

My mouth gapes, letting out a sputtered scoff.  "You're kidding.  Just look at you!  You're pretending to be someone you're not!  You and I both know you were never the bad boy type when we were kids.  You're the slightly awkward, naturally smart, driven, hardworking-"

"I was only those things because my father forced them on me," he passes by me, crossing his arms.  "I don't want to be anything that bastard wants anymore.  And if you can't see that, then we were never friends in the first place."

That's a stab in the chest.  How can he say that we were never friends when we used to do everything together?  A surge of fury rushing through me, I grab his arm to keep him from moving any farther.  "You love watching superhero cartoons, your favorite was All Might.  Sometimes, you're so damn lazy that instead of doing homework when you came home, you would sneak in a nap before your dad came home to see you slacking off.  Your favorite food in the entire world is cold soba.  You don't like extremely sweet desserts.  You've always been insecure about how strange your mismatched hair and eyes look, but I always had to assure you that you're still the most handsome guy in our class."

Shouto halfway turns around to look at me.

"If we weren't friends, why do I know so much about you?"  I take another bold step towards him, softening at the underlying pain etched into his features.  "I know you always hated the way your dad expects so much from you.  The only thing you ever wanted in your childhood was to be normal.  The pressure finally crumbled down on you and your mom, and I'm sorry I wasn't there to help you through it.  But you shouldn't abandon everything that you are.  You took after your mom more than your dad; you're sometimes a sassy son of a bitch, but you're kind and have a deep respect for people you admire.  You have a natural sense of humor that you don't even know you have.  You care about the people you're close to, you only struggle with communicating how you feel sometimes."

His lips part slightly, processing everything I just showered onto him.  Guilt eventually creeps up on him, choosing to rub the back of his neck.  "You...always did know just what to say."

I smirk and engulf him into my long-awaited hug.  "Who else would put you back in your place?"

His arms hesitantly wrap around my body, the act of sharing body warmth strange yet familiar to him.  It's a small victory, but I'm relieved that we're back on speaking terms.  I'm ready to resume protecting him as I should.

Shouto shifts in our embrace.  "You said...I struggle with telling people how I feel...?" he mumbles sheepishly near my ear.

My boy perks with confusion.  "Yeah, even when we first-"

"Would it suffice if..."

Before I can turn to search his face for what he could be implying, his grip around me loosens as he pulls back to look at me, one of his warm hands resting against my cheek.  His face looms right in front of me, my breath catching in surprise, before he presses his lips to mine softly.  The weightlessness in my stomach is unmistakable.

As quick and unexpected as it came, it also left, Shouto's half lidded gaze resting on me from a small distance away.  All I can do is stare off dazed, still trying to process what just happened.

He leans back against the nearest desk in the front row.  "I guess I should've asked first."  I can see his cheeks and his ears turn almost as flushed as the color of his hair despite his hand covering half his face to hide it.  "But it was the only way I can think to get my point across without stumbling over words."

My heart still flutters trying to recover back to normal, my knees shaking as I lean against the teacher's desk for stability.  I resist the urge to touch my lips like a shocked schoolgirl, but I'm still trying to process the whole thing.  "You know," I cough, "We did already kiss when we were like...five, so this wasn't really our first.  But I don't usually count that-"

The intense color fades from his face almost at once, a darkness creeping into his gaze.  "Then," he pins me back into the desk, hands on both sides of the wood to trap me, "I shouldn't have any qualms about doing it again."

Contrasting from his strong setup, his next kiss is still shy and hesitant.  After exchanging a couple more tentative lip-caresses that still make my head spin, he's gotten his feet wet enough to go harder, establishing a rhythm between us.  As his kisses intensify, his hands reach up to cup both sides of my nape, fingers tangling in my hair desperately and tilting my head up for a better angle.  My own hands grasp the collar of his uniform, pulling him closer into the heat of the moment.

His body pushes me practically into sitting on top of the desk, moving one of his knees between my legs as he lets ones of his hands roam down to grip my waist.  The sudden tug elicits a minute gasp, allowing Shouto to nip at my bottom lip before tugging my head back to trail soft kisses down my jaw.  My fingers thread through his soft locks, letting him massage my neck with his mouth.

"W-Where did you learn all this?" I breathe out unsteadily, my breath refusing to return.

He straightens up and captures my lips in another slow kiss.  "You'll never know."  Another one.  "I've admittedly imagined this for a while."  The next kiss is much deeper, a hum vibrating from his chest as his fingers dig into my side again.  "You're special, so dear."  His mumbles between kisses become more incoherent as his kisses become messy.

"Shouto."  I finally manage to push him away for me to breathe and calm my dizzy head.  Both of us are panting.  His half-lidded eyes and flushed face tempt me, but the fear of someone walking by suddenly alerts in my mind.  "Someone might see us.  Besides, isn't there something you need to say?"

His brow lifts.  "I'm...sorry for being rude to you last week."

"That was needed, too," I chuckle, "But there's something else."

Confusion crosses his features.  "Have I done something else wrong?"

My hands slide down to grip his hands.  "Don't you need to ask me to date you officially?"

The tint of rose on his cheeks intensifies a shade.  "I thought it was clear already..."

Another chuckle bubbles from my lips and I lean up to kiss his warm cheek.  "I'll let it pass because I want to date you too."  His face begins to light up in joy, but I push off from the desk and tow him out of the room.  "But you have to start coming to class again."

Shouto catches up to keep pace with me and presses a kiss to my forehead.  "Done."

"And you need to see a therapist, Mr. Bad Boy."

He breaks out into a smile at that nickname.  "I'll think about it."

[seb-owns-these-tatas]

Sinners in a Pod (Chapter 1)

Updates for this will start posting after Witcher of the Night is finished. So, chapter 1 for this will only be posted right now and shall continue its updates soon. Currently, this is on hiatus. But, please do tell me what you think if you manage to read this! Thank you! 💞

PROLOGUE (Summary)

Characters:  Mob/Professor!Henry Cavill x small!stalker!reader (AU)

Warnings: 18+ Blood. Death. Psychopathic issues. The Mafia. Suggestive content and thinking. Stalker and manipulative reader. The word ‘Daddy’ used in different ways? (I don’t even know why this is a warning?) Y/L/N means Your Last Name. 

Words: 6.3k

A/N: Il babbo means Father and il compagno means comrade. Tell me if I’m wrong, I’m using google translate on this one. Sorry, if I’m making this on a hiatus. I wanna see how this will click for anyone. Also, the Geralt fic comes first because I wanna finish it. Hehehehe.

TAGLIST WILL BE OPEN FOR THIS ONE! Heehee! Don’t forget to REBLOG, COMMENT OR GIVE FEEDBACK IF YOU DID LOVE THIS CHAPTER! (I hope you would, bb!) IT’LL MAKE ME SMILE! Sorry for the grammatical errors and such because English isn’t my mother tongue!

Disclaimer: PNG’s and pictures used in edits are not mine even the GIF’s too. However, the edits and oneshots are definitely from moi.

MY WORKS ARE NOT NOT NOT NOT NOOOOOOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER WEBSITES. My official username in Wattpad is “TATATHEPOTATO” and that’s the only other site I have for writing aside from Tumblr. Thank you, Tater tots!

9:35 AM.

Mr. Cavill has been well-known in just his first day of becoming the substitute for your previous professor who has died due to an infectious disease that still had no cure. He has been the main topic of every person in the campus. Your professor in History was a complete hot-shot. An additional fact about him being attractive was his unconventional pedagogic style that can get students listening to every word that leaves his mouth, leaving you all wanting to hear more than just his educational discussions.

His presence definitely aroused each and every women's curiosity in your campus; hearing gossips about how they were willing to be the teacher's pet to have a piece of what your professor could offer like he was being treated as a play thing or some sort of food that they wanted to have a taste despite of how indecent it sounded. The hungry felines were willing and taking their chances, seeming to want and do it to also save their grades from their previous quizzes and special tests that they have taken from the deceased professor.

Until, You started to realized that you were even included in one of those students who was thoroughly affected by his presence; lately comprehending that he was being the main image of your filthy fantasies every night.

Especially whenever you notice how he tries to keep eye contact with you whenever he discusses. Your best friend can see how he kept on taking secretive glimpses without anyone noticing. Nonetheless, one person did and he was unlucky to have been caught by your best friend who promised to never lie and keep secrets when it involves you.

Though, there are certain situations that should be kept from her. Specifically the part about what happens every night with the idea of your professor fucking you like he'd never want you to walk for seven days straight.

That kind of fucking where you both can be considered as animals in a rut.

It took one look from your best friend to know that he was staring again. You could imagine his piercing ocean blue eyes that had a speck of brown drowning with it; observing every breath and move you make under those black spectacles of his. Curly hair gelled back looking professional but so tempting to be yanked hard.

You suddenly shook your head at the thought, blinking hard while you tried to keep focus on your paper.

Your best friend was done with her pre-test, but you weren't. She kept on silently but repeatedly snapping her fingers under her desk, giving you a signal that he was doing it again. You tried hard ignoring your best friend who was just clearly beside you; bringing you into a much more dangerous scenario by having your test incomplete or rather receiving a failing grade that would make you repeat this subject again.

Then, you'd remember the professor who could get you writhing under his gaze. He was also one of your fantasies---the one and only who could get you off every night---though, leaving you insatiable and craving for more.

Immodest thinking, but it was worth it every time you came.

"Daddy's lookin' again, hunny! Oh, teach me your ways, please! I would so let him fuck my ass raw, I tell you," She whisper-yelled knowingly. Only silence can be heard from around the four corners of the room, constant pages being flipped one by one, triggering you into panicking more than you should because you were still stuck on page one. You eyed the multiple choice that was written. 'Is it A? B? Or C?'

Your eyes narrowed on your test paper, struggling to think of an answer for the last question of the first page. The pen in your hand stopped on letter B, and in one quick motion. You encircled the whole letter before turning to the next page in a jiffy, never thinking whether your answer was right or wrong.

A small creak from your best friend's chair caught your attention, half on the test and half on your noisy best friend; seeming to be the person who was asking you answers when you haven't even finished the damned test yet.

"Psst! Bitch!"

You've sighed an exasperated one from being constantly distracted by everyone and especially from the penetrating gaze you could feel whenever Mr. Cavill tries to check on how everyone was doing from his desk.

"Ms. Rodriguez, I would rather like it if you try and keep your hands on your desk when you're done with the test,"

All together, the whole class turned their heads towards your best friend who had a panicking, shocked look written on her face. Her eyes seeming to tell she was guilty of trying to distract you while you answer the paper at hand. She evidently gulped, nodding silently and tentatively slipping her palms across her desk like a child getting a scolding. Embarrassment filling her body, the paper beneath her hands appearing to be more interesting rather than the gossip she ought to tell.

Mr. Cavill looked to be insouciant from her tricks, His eyes completely blank, cochineal lips forming a thin line from what he had in mind, "You all have thirty minutes left," the suave and sophisticated twang of his accent got you shifting in your seat. His baritone timbre that kept you up every night; never failing to give your core a throb whenever you get to listen to it personally rather than imagining it had you fidgeting with the sharp ends of your test paper.

He leaned back in his seat, the obvious bulk in his arms protruding once it was crossed. Your professor had always wore that extra tight, white dress shirt despite how it was popping out due to his sinewy biceps. The thatch of his chest hair slipping above the second to the last button of his clothing. You knew he was jacked in the flesh, the filament of his muscles straining out of his clothing which gives you images of what he could be like when he was stark-naked.

You had a bad habit of daydreaming in the wrong time.

Those Lapis Lazuli were brilliant under the morning sunlight that was escaping through the windows. Those eyes that you've been able to memorize landed on you, a sudden jolt in your insides made you feel warm and tingly.

"Please, do finish the test before the time is up, Students."

You were the first to break his gaze, the papers were an important matter and you didn't want to fail. Reason to that is because you didn't want to disappoint him by giving him a result that could make him think that you were never actually have been listening to his lessons and have just been daydreaming about his pretty little mouth on yours every day.

It was illicit of you to even think about having his mouth on yours or all over your body, exploring you till his curiosity would be answered and the same goes to yours. The devil was probably grinning in hell because of how risquè your thoughts have been.

Your soul was probably going to burn in hell.

Yet, on second thought; all seemed to be worth it.

Especially when you've been trying to stalk him for about two weeks already.

You haven't been caught yet; but, the idea of being collared seem to be a prize when you were a sinner.

10:05 AM.

"Time's up, everyone." Mr. Cavill's smooth, reverberant voice made you jump in your seat. You were only on the third page of your test and there were three pages left. The sheer frustration went to your head, emitting a vocal groan and a hard bite on your dried up lips. Every loud beat of your heart made your hand tremble in panic. Your eyes skimmed through every question, randomly circling any letter as long as you get to finish the damn test and not be left alone. Despite how anxious it made you feel, deep inside; you knew you were anticipating such a moment.

"Its time to pass your papers. Get your bags and you can go, I'll be seeing you guys tomorrow," He spoke in a monotone manner, his chair creaking once he stood up tall and lusty, grabbing onto the pile of papers, neatly stocking every test one by one with those hefty, streaking fingers of his as each student passed by in front of him. Some women slyly sparing him a glance, trying to check him out and that outstanding derriere of his as they smirked and quietly giggled on their way out.

Your tall, lanky but quite fit block mate stood along the threshold. His bright hazel eyes, tanned skin and dark red lips drawn with a grin as he held onto nothing but his pen; known to be a nerd but also a philanderer who had innocuous looks that appeared to be like he spends his time nose diving in games and books, "Have a great day, Mr. Cavill!"

"You too, Brent."

You could feel your breath shortening, grappling to answer your test urgently. Your breath hitched when somebody tapped your shoulder, you turned to look at the person you were expecting, but was left disappointed when you saw your best friend eyeing your papers; scrutinizing everything inside her head.

"Oh, you're doomed, Y/N." She inspected your answers and observed how her brows raise in an uncanny way, obtrusively telling that your answers were beyond incorrect. There were still students inside the room, slowly taking their time to leave before undergoing another set of lessons to be learned soon from their other professors.

"---I'll get going now, see you later, Chiquitita!"

She didn't even gave you a chance to ask some answers to your tests. What are friends even for?

Once the door was shut by her and others who left one by one, it was like every blood in your veins stopped cycling. No noise could be heard. You could feel an intense pair of ocean blue eyes began shooting you holes through your body that gave you the shivers.

Now, it was just you, him and nobody else.

You mentally gave yourself a slap for not reviewing for his test. It was quite embarrassing for him to see how you were struggling for a test that was undoubtedly easy for everyone.

"Ms. Y/L/N," Your professor started completely unfazed by your endeavor to get the test done in a minute. You breathed out a breath in utter frustration, closing your eyes and capping your pen closed. The time was up.

A large, warm hand gently clasped your shoulder, and you were sure you felt the imaginary sparks from it that also held a flush of shivers, creating a reaction that made your whole body go rigid.

"---Don't rush, you have all the time." Mr. Cavill surprisingly spoke in his calm, low voice. Warm, comforting heat gathered in a close proximity and before you could even realize what was happening; he was already hovering from behind, checking your answers for you.

His breathtaking face were inches away from you, his perfect side profile seen from your peripheral vision and his spectacles slightly falling on his tall, pointy nose. The dimple on his nose winsome for your taste and for every thirsty felines as well. Eyelashes long that can be considered as pretty, an exact length to beautify his eyes a lot more than it would. There was something mysterious about what lies beneath his bright azure eyes. Something dark was laying deep inside of it but it was a locked up window that nobody could ever get to see and understand.

Something about him was making you more intrigued for what his lifestyle is and the more curious you are, the more you were getting yourself at risk. Deeper. Intrusive. You were going to risk it all.

The deep scar on the top of his right eye brow distracted you from thinking anymore else. It looked like a battle scar that he once got from a fight, and it was quite interesting to see such a perfect face that held a flaw; telling you he was actually human after all and not a prince in your dreams.

"Ms. Y/L/N, I suppose you never listen to any of my lessons, am I correct?"

Oh, the way he says your last name always made you sin. Heat traveled towards your face, and some even had the audacity to travel down south. It was wrong.

You had to stop.

"I-I..I do, Sir." You struggled to keep your mind straight. Your eyes stared straight at the whiteboard in front of you, never giving him a glance.

Those heavy gaze of his fell on you; piercing and utterly inquisitive; giving your heart a chance to leave the curiosity before he would want to pry a lot about you that you couldn't imagine him to know, you could feel the disappointment within his eyes that crushed your hopes in making him proud.

"All of your answers are incorrect. It seemed like you've been guessing your answers the whole time,"

Shame and guilt was all you felt at that exact moment. The ends of Mr. Cavill's lips formed a tight thin line before languidly curving into a small, sinister smile that he never gave to any of his students. Yet, you were an exception.

"Must I say, do I sound uninteresting for you?"

An excruciating ring of your school bell rang loudly enough for you to jerk on your seat. You couldn't deny the intense attraction you were feeling towards your professor. The windows weren't locked anymore, and you knew for a fact that you've seen the treacherous glint in his eyes; giving you the key for you to decide if you wanted to enter. Deep down something diabolical lived inside and it left you curious enough to dig down whatever hidden darkness it could be.

"I..I.." You anxiously trailed off and stared into his eyes, feeling yourself get enticed by the gorgeous hues around his dark pupils. He was bold enough to stare back, his face too close for your liking.

"You think I don't notice it at all, do you? you're interested---curious even and that curiosity of yours will risk you a lot, sweetheart."

The words that came out of his mouth were utmost accurate, you felt your throat become dry from getting caught red-handed and from how he could read you with his eyes. Your professor was totally unbelievable and you didn't know whether or not he was just too conceited enough to say it straight to your face like it wasn't wrong nor indecent.

"I think...y-you got everything wrong, sir." you quickly scrambled out of your seat, books falling from your hands and you crouched down to get it, yet your professor was faster than you. He gathered those fallen books and stood undeniably tall, placing them on your opened palms. His eyes absolutely unreadable. You couldn't see what his emotions are at the moment, and it was terrifying to see that he looked like a sociopath for one second before playfulness have been replaced within his eyes.

He looked down at you, a small smile on show, "You think? No, Darling,---" Mr. Cavill momentarily paused with a smirk that got you swallowing the uncomfortable, heated feeling down your throat.

"---I know what's running inside those pretty head of yours and I assure you, it can be shameless and utterly unchaste as it can get,"

Without any second thought, you had everything around your arms; running out of the room. Never looking back at your professor who lowly chuckled to himself, seeing how he connected the dots with the right pattern. He knew you would end up walking with the same path as him, together and as one because of how you were hunting him down behind his back.

You were only acting. He could feel it.

Your unfinished paper was left on your desk, the ends of your test so wrinkly from the hard tugs while you tried remembering the right answers to those questions on his test. He remembered your face, he remembers every move you make all day and Henry knew you've been his shadow for the last two weeks like a canine he didn't remember that he has adopted.

Mr. Cavill had your papers at hand. He smiled to himself and with no doubt, he ticked every question correct despite of your wrong answers.

You passed his test and darkness was bound to happen soon.

10:20 PM.

The strange encounter you had with your professor didn't stop your undying attraction towards him, to be honest. It lured you into knowing more about him; becoming selfish to the point of being invasive, secretly following him around to find details about him and his life. All you knew was his name and that he was your History teacher.

William Cavill. That was his name. Other than that, there was nothing you ever did know except for where he lived. In a basic, plain rental apartments where everyone had one gate to begin with. You've noted that in your hidden diary made just for men who'd reach the point of being stalked by yourself. The kind of level where you plan on breaking inside his house to find more information because your lack of knowledge about him was frustrating you from the start.

You would try breaking into his apartment soon enough.

His place wasn't extravagant like how you imagined him to be, owning no car as he walks home and sometimes take public vehicles to arrive in your university like a normal human.

He wasn't rich. Though, his features could mistake him as a prince. Deserving more than to live in a ramshackle apartment.

You've lost track of Mr. Cavill and his whereabouts. One minute you were just following him in discreet, and now he was nowhere to be seen after turning at a sketchy street that made your feet stop from following him.

'Am I turning into a nutjob? No. I'm doing this to know him better, know what he likes or dislikes, knowing more about him that a typical woman would do. This is for the better and he probably will like it if he knew, I need to jot down things that will make him like me,'  You thought to yourself, your feet trembling with every step you took; the brisk, cold wind making it difficult for you to keep steady as you walked through the dark, strange street that your professor just walked in minutes ago.

There was finally light after walking through a dark path; feeling like it could've been a new beginning for your life if you were being metaphoric. You've seen a streetlamp beside a locked up door and a dumpster. It was the only light you could see. From your perspective, the end of the street was a dead end.

You were about to turn around, thinking that this might be a trap for being caught because your professor was no where to be seen. Up until, you've squinted your eyes at two men talking farther away from the lamp, hiding amongst the silhouette of the night sky. One voice quite foreign and the other recognizable by your ears.

The pitter-patters of your feet were stealthy, strolling closer and closer towards danger zone.

"Did the Rossi's hired you?" there was a hint of Italian from the stranger's voice, you managed to move and hide beside the huge dumpster, and it was the right hiding place because you could see and hear everything.

Everything including Mr. Cavill's features. Howbeit, without the black spectacles.

Why was he here and why is he interrogating a man? a man that also seemed familiar to you?

"You just don't know when to shut up, will you?" He curtly spat, the usual calmness whenever he talks in front of his students was now gone and replaced with a very ill-mannered tone. A tone you didn't expect to come out from him because he was pretty much a reserved and refined man.

"I am living a good life by being a professor in St. Hallmark Institute. But, you've come to try and ruin everything,"

"I've never ruined anything in the first place. It was you who made your own destiny. You've told secrets to other people that was meant to be buried deep in the ground, Henry. Finally, I found you---we were all looking for you,"

Henry? who was Henry? All you knew was that his name was 'William Cavill' and not the Henry that he was talking about.

Your hands began trembling with your back against the dumpster, eyes popping out of its eye sockets from all the scenarios happening.

The more you wait, the clamorous and intense their voices have become, "You're a Cavill, yes? I've known that unimpeachable but minatory gaze in your eyes. A family where everyone kills for a living, one of his son's best known hit man in Jersey; definitely the best out of the rest and people have been striving to find you---wanting to experience services that would definitely be worth the shot because you've struggled to learn everything---trained to become unstoppable. Although, there is one mistake that runs in the family,---" pause, "Your daddy never misses, yes?" The man dragged on and on, he was walking on a path of burning coal and fire. Hence, you were sure he was soon going to get a beating out of what gossips he was saying.

You closed your eyes, breathing quieter than normal; scared to get caught listening to their conversation. You heard a thud on the wall beside you, and it was because your professor boldly strangled the man around his neck, choking him to the point of taking his life out of it. His rage seen from how the veins on his temples were protruding and aching to burst from his anger.

Your fingers trembled from the sudden violence. Downright feeling frightened for what was going to happen with the pestilent man who wanted to get onto his wick, provoking to turn him into a savage animal who wouldn't deliberate for the kill. This man was bringing back memories that Henry wanted to avoid and forget after months of thriving.

But, it never happens because he was born to assassinate and the memories and guilt continued to haunt him forever.

"U-Until, he missed the part that your mother wasn't the target, but your weak, senile, clumsy il babbo aimed the sniper at her head," The man was trudging with fire, a fire that wouldn't be easy to kill.

You heard a cock of somebody's gun, and a deep hitch of breath from the stranger. He violently thrashed against his hold as he could see the gun tucked between the side of his pants. The barrel of the gun shiny beneath the moon light. The Italian clawed on Henry's large hand that was wrapped around his neck with a vice grip. Your professor didn't felt any remorse, nor guilt. Only amusement after trying to spur him on.

"It's quite a shame that you think of me that way," he smiled, a pure wicked beam that you haven't seen since then, cocking his head to the side as he gave him a frightening glare and a simple raise of his eyebrow, "---I'm definitely not like my father because when I hold a gun?" Mr. Cavill seethed through clenched teeth and a tight jaw, "---missing a target would be one of my greatest mistakes and I haven't had any blunders since then,"

"---I never risk to make any mistakes, Leo. I'm far different from my father. When I annihilate a target, I don't think twice and I know you've heard the gossips,"

Leonardo Bianchi desperately tried to fight off the hand that was slowly killing him. After a few more attempts, he have seen that there was no escape and that he'd click the switch inside Henry's head to become the lethal weapon that he was born to be.

The family has given him the go signal. Leonardo has only been a pawn for the family's success into whatever decision they had for the only Cavill that was left alive. But, he had hunt him down; catching the beast as to where it lived; hunting down its location. But, tonight will be the night he reaches his demise, and the man definitely knows it when he'd been given the order to stay close and find what they needed.

Leonardo was just merely their cat's paw.

He loudly laughed manically, breathing labored as the latter heaved to live for his family that was held hostage by the organization that he was in. If he wasn't alive before they get to track him down then his very own family---the real ones---will lose a father and a person who protects them from treacherous doings that he had been involved.

"I won't be the only one rotting in hell, Henry---" he deadpanned, "---you are too because revenge can be bittersweet and you're living for it,"

Mr. Cavill's smile turned upside down into a phlegmatic grimace, sliding the pistol out of his black trench coat that was tucked in between his pants before closely aiming the gun right in the middle of Leonardo's forehead, sweat began to roll down Leonardo's temples from the fear of being dead in the middle of a dead end street. Henry's eyes held no sympathy and just undying wrath for how his past was haunting him down no matter what he does. No matter what he does, they always crawl back like they have been hiding under his bed since then.

Leonardo Bianchi shut his eyes before death could even take him. He knew then and there he was going to die because whenever one does get to find the hit man that every familia wanted to get a hold to, they die in that exact day; complicating their trackers and showing them the wrong location until Henry decides to leave whatever life he created in his current one.

Though, he doubt that he'll be leaving this place for good today. Maybe, fate was about to take its turn and play the wild card.

"Let's share hell together then, il compagno."

It didn't take two seconds before you've heard the blaring sound of a gun going off; never thinking twice about pulling the trigger. He was dead, just like that; leaving his family in the past of his sins.

An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.

Everything was gory. The bullet punctured the wall where Leonardo's head was roughly pushed with his dreams and faith that has been crushed in just a single bullet and because of one malefactor that you didn't expect to see.

Mr. Cavill killed a man with his gun and he wasn't just any man; the Italian man was his co-worker, a fellow professor too who went with the name 'Aaron Anderson' who also hid his Italian accent with a rough southern intonation of his tongue.

He was your new Physical Education professor last week ago and now Mr. Anderson was laying on the cold, hard ground on a dead end street.

Henry slipped the gun in his trench coat for safety; audibly sighing for a sight that he never knew would happen again. However, they took three months before he was found again rather than those weeks that they've taken for him to be hunted down. He didn't need another re-location of his life in another country or place; the latter was pleased to be a professor in your university, living in a secluded and a slightly run down rental apartment which was needed for his bolthole; so he would hardly be found.

Crimson blood pooled along the ground, he crouched before Leonardo; his eyes wide opened to tell that he was fighting to live with a gun on his head. Yet, Henry apathetically stared at his pale, bloody face, showing no ounce of pity for the whole situation. He took his white handkerchief tucked in his coat pockets, expunging the blood that coated on his thick fingers before bluntly throwing it on Leonardo's face. Once his rue was clean and forgotten, he firmly stood on his feet like this has been a daily occurrence for years end.

Curiosity killed the cat and care was too obsessed over the Cheshire cat. Now, she was left to deteriorate for letting her other professor be killed by his own co-worker.

Your hands began trembling and your breath was getting the best of you. Hence, it added more panic when the rough, relaxed sounds of footfall started to echo closer and closer before it ceased before the dumps that was behind you.

A faint click of a button has been heard before hearing his low, satiny timbre of his voice nearby; feeling as if eyes were boring into your head while you have been rooted, crouching beside the dumps.

"Blind alley. East side. You know where I am because I know you track me down, Huntsman. Go check your fucking tracker---yeah, yeah. Another bullshit of a carcass. Shot in the head, mate. Got blood on my hands again---it was the first time for the last three months though,"

He sounded like he was just talking dinner with the caller on his phone. Too stolid for what he has done after the shooting. Thus, you've heard soft tapping of his foot on the ground, nearer than it ever has been.

"---I want the whole fucking alley pasteurized in less than ten minutes, got it?" he brusquely ordered around, giving a moment for the caller to finish whatever he or she was saying before you've heard Henry scoff from above your head; making you audibly hitch your breath, "---Don't act like you aren't following me around and that you live nearby,"

You were caught. The cat was captured from her sheer curiosity. Cats have seven lives based on the sayings. Nevertheless, you only had one left for tonight.

It felt as if a bucket of ice was thrown on your head. The eerie, tranquil silence for waiting whatever it is that his friend wanted to say was killing you alive. You began to breathe fast, hyperventilating in your space as your nails scratched the clothing of your knees, panic was rising through and becoming uncontrollable.

Sure, you were a stalker. But, did you deserve to die in the same place where your P.E professor has been killed? will you accept the fact that you'll be perished by the man who was worth the obsession before you knew he was a convict?

If so, then why was your core still throbbing to be caught like it was giving you thrill and excitement to be lured in?

"---Might have caught a witness this time," Henry bluntly confessed, his tone quite exuberant from the expected emotion you imagined him to be in; sounding like he caught the biggest fish in the sea as he went on to talk.

"---Don't worry. This one's mine. I'll do all the interrogating tonight,"

Then, you've heard the shuffling of his clothes, thinking that he'd tuck his phone inside his pockets before you've felt him crouch beside you; slowly and painstakingly.

Warm set of thick fingers clasped onto your fretful ones, his touch sending sparks and probably knives from how tender yet threatening it felt; like his softness had a trade of contract with the Grim Reaper because he didn't seem to be like a person whose heart was delicate, virtuous and guileless like how you've imagined him to be.

His face can trick you into imagining him to be the opposite of what he actually was. An unfortunate disguise that he had which infatuated you to the core. Literally.

He pried those hands away from fidgeting over your knee, his eyes burning you alive as it felt so heavy on the side of your face.

"You shouldn't have followed me, sweetheart."

His presence was near. Too near for you to handle the bad omen lingering around. Your heart stopped beating from the moment those thick, rough, calloused fingers reach out to lightly clasp around the width of your soft, silky neck. The loose grip more frightening than to receive a rougher one because it was giving you mixed signals that you've hit a nerve and your death was just being postponed for minutes.

You've unconsciously swallowed, "You've seen the murder. I know you were a smart one no matter how you were always misbehaving---but, this time; you behaved like the good girl that your parents have always believed in," Henry whispered in your ear; his fiery, hot breath fanning the side of your face in ways that got your heart pounding in such crazy exhilaration. Shivers began to shake your spine, leaving you scared and thrilled for your life.

His thumb grazed along the edge of your jaw, your primal focus on his hand ghosting over your neck like he was planning to choke you alive. Henry could have it, he could do just that with how you've easily submitted to the murderer of your night.

Those cobalt eyes were cryptic. An enigma that kept you insane and wanting for more because of how secretive he was that got you following him around. But, you obviously couldn't deny the tremor of being caught by the man himself.

Your professor forcefully turned your head to look straight into his face. Thus, there you notice splotches of blood has painted his face; such perfect canvas that has been ruined by the blood of the person's life that he has taken. Henry was almost perfect, too perfect that it leaves you thoroughly intrigued for what flaw he had because you knew, deep down; there was something more.

His nose nuzzled upon yours, the dimples of his nose slightly grazing as he lowly seethed with spite and utter sophistication, "If you were any normal person, you should have left me alone since the last two weeks,"

He knew.

Mr. Cavill knows he was being followed by you and nothing was more frightening than a smirking devil who hid behind a picturesque face that would make you kneel before him like his Acolyte. Though, you were just thinking about it that you haven't even realized you were already glorifying him before you even know it.

His breath met your mouth. Your veins were flowing faster than it ever does before, much more than your orgasms could ever take. You lightly scoffed, sounding a little more shakier than how you imagined it to be, worried about everything you've done for the last two weeks. Your actions thoroughly inconspicuous.

The stalker title taken seriously like you have done it for a long time.

"But, I'm far from sane, Sir."

You knew you were. Saying it out loud was so bold in your part. But, if you were being honest it felt like this whole shaken girl that he was seeing has just been all an act that you wanted to manipulate.

Manipulation was just the icing on the cake because you could do more than that for the man you love. The facade that everyone sees was just merely a veil that came with your fancy dress, drinking wine as you let all the plans go through your head that was written inside your secret diary that was buried under the Sycamore tree that your mother loves to disregard because of how high maintenance it was, close to reaching its death as you noticed the leaves falling every day like bad-omen was coming. Hence, she didn't like how ghastly it appeared to be like; making it a better spot for your secrets to be kept under the pile of shattered dreams and bones.

If your mother wouldn't love the horrible ones, then you were willing to appreciate its natural beauty despite of how hideous it was for everyone.

Once you love someone or something, you never let it go that easily; reaching to the level that you would do everything in your will power to get and have what you want.

Henry's grip tightened in a way that got you grinning like a Cheshire cat, he was playing a game where he was trying to let you run for the hills. Mr. Cavill was mindlessly telling you that your life wasn't useful nor significant to him; though, you knew he didn't have it in him to place the gun on your temples because if he did then you should've been dead right now.

Deep within the waves of his ocean, you've seen something valuable that can be useful for you. Your lips curled wider as you've read his eyes that secretly tells you that he was more than interested for the poker game because of the cards he set beneath his palms; confidently assured that he would win.

He had a three of a kind.

But, you hold out a straight flush.

"---I doubt you're sane for stalking me around like it is a normal thing for a student like you,"

You quietly giggled beneath being dominated within his reach. Your tongue slipped out of your mouth, the wet muscle sticking out to lick the cupid's bow of his lips which made your crime-filled professor growl from the sudden action. He harshly huffed out of his mouth, giving you a menacing flicker of his Cobalt eyes which made you laugh out louder as the pungent, metallic scent of blood wafted through both of your noses.

Tag, he was it.

Now, you had more reasons to pry into his life more than how you were invited. Howbeit, Invitations weren't needed because your strong determination was enough to trespass into his dangerous world.

FEEDBACKS ARE VERY MUCH APPRECIATED, BB! (Strikethrough means I couldn’t tag the user. Please do check your settings, dollies!) PLEASE DO REBLOG! 🥰

Taglist for Sinners in a Pod: @amirahiddleston​, @iloveyouyen​, @godohammers​, @uncoolcloudyhead​, @marvelousell​, @boundtomyfate​, @evansislife​, @rahdaleigh​, @justine-en​, @agniavateira​, @maan24​, @fangirl-inthe-us​, @mary-ann84​ @snatchedbylele​

[lizaloveslevihan]

Wherever You Will Go

Summary: She was a coffee stained, shitstorm of crumpled paper whose idiosyncrasies surprisingly complimented his well. She opened his eyes to the beautifully cruel world they lived in, and he found himself never wanting to leave her side.

Even when they were separated far apart. 

A levihan modern AU in which their entire story together plays out as Hange’s life is left hanging in the balance after a fatal car crash.

Chapter 3/? (Ao3 link here)

Chapter One // Chapter Two 

Notes: Thank you to @tundrainafrica​ for helping me proofread this chapter! You’re awesome and I really appreciate it <3

It was fortunate -- incredibly fortunate, that Levi Ackerman had his fair share of misfortunes. If that weren’t the case, then perhaps he would have found himself in a similar position as her. 

He had a better reign on his emotions than most people. However, that didn’t stop him from running a red light in an empty street. It didn’t stop him from gripping the sides of the steering wheel, knuckles almost white as paper. It most certainly did not stop him from exceeding the speed limit -- just by a few fractions.

And of course, it didn’t stop the tears that were pooling, ever so slowly, behind his eyes.

The hospital was twenty minutes away from his apartment. He had made it in ten. 

He didn’t remember stopping the car. He couldn’t remember, for the life of him, parking and shutting the door. He didn’t remember running -- running as fast as he could to the wide, gray building. What he did remember, what he so painfully remembered, however, were his last words to her. 

It had been such a simple conflict. A simple conflict with such a simple solution. 

He ran past patients and doctors and took the staircase instead of the elevator, climbing two steps at a time. Erwin had told him which floor he had to get to but didn’t elaborate on the details of the accident. All he knew was that it was a car crash. And that it was bad.

The fluorescent lights were unforgiving. The white walls were screaming. The cool, vinyl flooring was endless. His feet pounded against them, body narrowly avoiding the faceless. 

The object felt heavier in his pocket with every step he took. He almost forgot it was there with him. But now, it rattled and shook and taunted him with his failure. He wanted nothing more than to throw it away, forget it existed, and so that maybe, just maybe, the argument wouldn’t have ever happened. 

He sprinted, head throbbing. Adrenaline never ceasing. Not even when he found him. 

Dress in a long-sleeved shirt and slacks with blonde hair slightly ruffled, Erwin Smith had seen better days. He looked as though he had abruptly woken up in the middle of the night and had hastily thrown on clothes without a second thought. All of which, he had, of course. Levi had never seen him so clearly unfocused and uncollected. Another slap to his face. 

Standing next to him was a man with the same predicament, but was handling the situation in a vastly different way.

With shoulders incredibly stiff, he had still managed to make multiple and outlandish gestures with his arms. His voice, both stressed and fearful, desperately fired question after question towards the doctor who stood impassively in front of them. 

He only stopped when he noticed Levi fast approaching.

It was then Levi witnessed yet another thing he had never thought would happen in his life.

He felt a large fist connect to his right cheek, knocking over his balance which made him stagger to the floor. He could have gotten up and retaliated faster if he hadn’t been so shocked at what just happened. 

“What did you do?” Moblit Berner growled slowly, his cold, hazel eyes sneering down at him. Levi’s eyes narrowed in surprise and embarrassment as he tentatively touched his cheek. The curses and exclamations he was so used to delivering died down in his throat when he saw the tears pooling in those hazel eyes. The same eyes that pleaded with him to keep her safe. From the same person who protected her countless times. He was about to grab Levi by the collar when Erwin finally intervened, firmly placing a hand on the man’s arm. 

“Moblit.” Erwin said in his usual authoritative tone as he regarded Levi blankly, “Don’t.”

Levi carefully rose from his position. Never in his life did he feel as much terror as he did at that very moment. It had nothing to do with Moblit Berner, but rather, the implications of his actions. The implications of his anger. He wanted to ask, no, demand the answers to the questions forming in his head. What happened? Why was he so angry? He barely spoke to Moblit, but he knew that under any normal circumstances, he wouldn’t be capable of doing such a thing -- especially to Levi out of all people. 

However, for some reason, all of those questions had clogged in his throat, refusing to come out of his mouth. It was a terrible defense mechanism, really. 

Ignoring the stares of those faceless around them, he placed a hand against the wall to help balance himself. His gray eyes sharing the same intensity as those hazel ones. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Berner, but I’m going to have to ask you to step out of the building,” the doctor spoke up firmly, causing Moblit to tear his gaze away from Levi, “I know we’re all feeling very emotional right now, but I cannot allow you to cause any more disturbances.”

Moblit’s face hardened as he shook off Erwin’s hold on him. The people who had witnessed the scene slowly started dispersing and going about their own business. Levi had to admit, if they had been in a completely different situation, he’d consider Moblit’s actions to be rather impressive. No one could ever get away with what he had just done. 

Which caused another shiver of terror to run down his spine.

“I understand.” Moblit said, even though his tone indicated that he didn’t, “But before I do, I want your complete assurance that you will double-check all her head injuries.”

“Rest assured, Mr. Berner, my attendings know what they’re doing,” the doctor said carefully. It was clear she was done with this argument but had no choice but to retain her professionalism, “I understand your concerns, and I’m telling you that they have aptly looked at all of the patient’s injuries and are doing their best to stop and prevent any more bleeding.”

Moblit didn’t look all too convinced about that statement, and before he could argue, even more, Levi finally found his voice. 

“What exactly happe--”

He wasn’t able to finish his sentence as Moblit tackled him to the ground, knocking the wind from his lungs and pinning his shoulders. 

“You happened! If you hadn’t argued with her, maybe she wouldn’t have wrapped herself around a tree goddamnit!” Moblit heaved, his eyes red. Ignoring the gasps and protests of those around him, he continued: “You killed her! You could have stopped her! You’ll go to hell for this.”

“We’ll discuss this tomorrow,” Hange said angrily, her figure already by the door as she threw on her jacket. “Maybe you wouldn’t have a stick up your ass by then.”

“What’s so wrong with wanting to go with you?” Levi gritted his teeth, eyes narrowed as he crossed his arms. The hurt he felt was seeping into his voice. “It won’t be a problem for me. Unless there’s another reason why you’re doing this--”

“I just want what’s best for you! Can’t you see that? We’ll still be together--”

“You don’t understand!” Levi argued. But he was wrong. He knew Hange did understand, and as much as he didn’t like it, Levi understood where she was coming from as well. But how could he tell her that as much as he understood, he still wanted to go wherever she went? To be by her side always?

Hange opened the door with surprising calmness, a contrast to her emotions. “We’ll figure it out in the morning,” she said in a clipped tone. Their eyes didn’t meet as she walked out the door. “Later, Levi.”

He didn’t even feel the man’s punches. He barely comprehended how Moblit was pulled away from him and escorted outside by a man in a security uniform. He didn’t remember Erwin grabbing his hand and pulling him up, forcing him to sit on a chair in the hallway. He didn’t even notice how the doctor knelt at his level, asking him questions about things he couldn’t hear. The angry words uttered to him that night successfully numbed his senses, and he felt as though he was no longer living, but rather, just existing. 

“He’ll need some ice for his cheeks,” the doctor said as she rose, facing Erwin. “I’ll let the nurses know. I think it’d also be best to call any other remaining family and friends for support. We will update you once the surgery is over, and the police should come soon with a much more detailed report of the accident.”

“Thank you,” Erwin said, nodding as he shook the woman’s hand. “We appreciate it.” he pursed his lips and shook his head, “I’m very sorry about the actions of my friend. This was all too sudden for us.”

The woman nodded in understanding, glancing at Levi briefly. “I assure you, everyone is doing their absolute best to make sure the patient comes out fine. We do have the best there is. In the meantime, all we can do is wait and support one another. Now, if you excuse me, Mr. Smith.” 

She made her way past them and disappeared at the end of the hall, leaving the two tense men alone. 

Erwin stared at her disappearing figure before sighing. He rubbed his temples and took out his phone, pressing it next to his ear. After a couple of seconds, he spoke up: “Sorry to have woken you up, but you and Nanaba need to get to the hospital now. It’s Hange.” Erwin’s tone was a little more relaxed -- just by a tiny fraction, compared to his tone earlier with Levi. However, it still displayed the same sense of fear and urgency. “I’ll explain more later, but she got into a car crash around an hour ago. No, wait -- Mike -- calm down. She’s still fine. She’s in surgery right now.”

He ran a finger through his messy hair as he listened to the other end of the receiver. “Yeah, Levi and Moblit are already here. You’ll probably see Moblit outside -- there was some conflict and -- yeah, actually, that’d be great. I don’t know how long it’ll take but we’ll probably be here until the morning. Yeah, okay. Drive safe.”

After he ended the call and slipped his phone back into his pocket, he finally looked down at Levi. The latter still didn’t move, choosing to stare at the wall in front of him instead.

“She almost did,” Erwin said as if reading his mind. He sat next to his friend and crossed his arms, staring at the wall as well, “It happened around a little after twelve. She didn’t see the other vehicle until it was directly in front of her. She swerved just in time but,” Erwin paused, choosing his words yet again despite being known for his eloquence, “almost cut off a tree with the force of her impact. According to Moblit, the best we can hope for now is that she goes into a coma. The worst is brain death. Even death itself is a little more merciful than that if I’m being completely honest.”

“Later, Hange.” he spitted out after she shut the door behind her. He took out the object from his pocket and slammed it on the coffee table in frustration. He swiftly went to the kitchen and grabbed his cleaning supplies from under the sink and started scrubbing every single surface he laid his eyes on. 

Stupid four-eyes, he thought as he scrubbed violently. Don’t you realize that I’m the happiest when I’m with you? Wherever you’ll go, I’ll follow.

Hange Zoe was life itself. She was the breath of fresh air he didn’t realize he needed. She was the force that turned his life upside down and taught him how to live. He didn’t want to, but he found himself clinging onto that rope of hope, the hope that she was still alive. All they needed to do was fix the brokenness he caused, and he’d be there, welcoming her back into the world with open arms whether she wanted to or not. 

But he remembered, oh why did he remember now? 

He saw her kind eyes and her soft raven hair. He saw how she desperately held him close in her frail arms that night, whispering how it would all be okay, how she’d always be with him no matter what. As if, as if she already knew what was going to happen to her. 

He was a child, back then. He didn’t understand what she had meant. All he knew was that his mother was sad and that he wanted to take that pain away from her. He wanted to see her beautiful smile and hear her laugh. She held him tight as she closed her eyes, and he stared a little longer at her sleeping face -- not doubting her words that everything would be okay. 

He woke up the next morning. She didn’t. 

He finally met Erwin’s eyes. Those blue orbs held an overwhelming amount of emotions -- from fear to disbelief and even to anger -- but there was one thing that had tied them all together. And Levi hated it. 

It was resignation. 

“She’ll be fine,” Levi whispered, no, declared. Erwin studied him carefully, and although he didn’t look too convinced, he nodded. “I hope so.” 

He tore his gaze away from his old friend as a nurse approached him and handed him an ice pack. He grasped the object in his hands, letting the cold numb his fingers even more. It flashed back to him -- those hazel eyes and those cruel words. Hange was still alive. She was still in surgery. She was stable. But why, why did everyone around him act like she was already dead?

You killed her. You’ll go to hell for this.

“Why…” Levi choked out, his voice unrecognizable. “Why did..?”

“Why weren’t you called first? Why Moblit was so...” Erwin trailed off, pursing his lips. He let out a scoff and shook his head. “It was because Moblit had been on the phone with her when it happened,” he breathed in deeply, those blue eyes meeting his gray ones once again, “He had heard everything.”

[thescatterbrainedwriter]

Your Stupid Smile

Word count: ~6,100

Pairings: oc x canon

Warnings: fluff and shenanigans

Sup! I’m actually running out of stories to post. Didn’t think this through too well. Curses to writers block and the fact I write long stories. Even so, do hope you enjoy! 🥔🎨

**Note, Emily is my personal character. I just like to stick her places. I also still have no idea how to do a ‘short click for full’ post.

———

Irritating, simply irritating. Everyone was having a good time, sure, but Nash was having a hard time joining in on the fun. Every time he got close to truly relaxing and enjoying the company around him, he would hear it, that laugh. Of course, once he heard the laugh he had to see where it originated from, and it was always the same face. That stupid face and that stupid smile. He couldn’t stand that smile, and he didn’t want to admit to himself the reason why it bothered him so much.

The team was in the lounge enjoying the company of each other after a long day. Cisco was telling a story, Barry and Iris adding tidbits here and there, and the more elaborate and ridiculous it became the more laughs rang out. By the end of it everyone was rolling and roaring with laughter which only intensified after a stray loud squeak sounded. Emily covered her mouth in embarrassment before folding over the bar counter in laughter again. “I’m sorry!” She breathed trying to apologize between laughs. “I don’t know where that came from!” She covered her face in an attempt to wipe away the tears now rolling down her rosy face. “Oh no, my face sprung a leak!” Everyone continued giggling and Ralph stretched his hand over to her to deliver a tissue. She took it with a mousy thanks wiping her face. Nash was trying his hardest to keep from looking at her, he already made the mistake of just glancing over and he scowled to himself about the flush slowly spreading up his neck.

“Hey Estrata,” Cisco called after composing himself a degree. “You got any stories to share?”

“Yeah,” Ralph agreed. “You almost never share anything. Think you could drop the mysterious facade for a night?” Emily had one arm draped over her head and held her cheek with her other hand as she thought. “Hmmm..... I dunno,” she teased. “I’m not exactly good at sharing, things about me anyway.”

“There’s room for only one queen of ice,” Frost defended. “Quit giving the cold shoulder and fess up would ya?” Emily gave a growly sigh as she seriously considered the plethora of things buried within. “Ok fine,” she relented. “You make a good case, and Ralph has a point. I’m just, I’m really hesitant to share much. Seeing as I could find myself stranded somewhere else, it gets tiresome re-explaining.” Everyone gets quiet and Emily scratches her head realizing she killed the mood a little. “Eh, I think I have a solution though. Tell me,” she smiled. “What you wanna know? Besiiiides, my name,” she cut Ralph off before he could ask. Everyone chuckled and Nash just smirked.

Frost stared her down thinking intently, Emily actually got nervous with the holes being drilled into her soul with the stare, before she decided on a question. “You don’t look like the type to, but are obviously capable of, doing some not so desirable things. So have you?”

Emily squinted at her before straightening her back and clearing her throat. “Just, just gettin riiiiiiight into it huh?”

“I don’t make a habit of pussyfooting around,” Frost dismissed smirking. Emily patted her cheeks trying to think of a good story to tell while everyone turned 100% of their attention to her, excitedly waiting for whatever secret would come up. “Ok, ok, I got one,” she said smiling. “Believe it or not, but, I’ve had to break out of area 51.”

“You were taken to area 51?!” Barry asked shocked. “How? Why??” Emily flashed another, albeit awkward, smile. “Well, I am a wanted woman back where I come from.”

“Wanted huh?” Frost asked somewhat impressed. “What’d you do to earn that target on your back?”

“Exist,” she said plainly. “What I am, is a very valued product to a group of people. I’m one of a handful, if not the only person, with my genetic makeup.” She sighed making everyone become glum. “They really wanted to study me, poke and prod and see how they could use me and duplicate what I am.”

“Estrata, I didn’t—“ Frost started before Emily waved dismissively. “No, no, it’s fine,” she assured with a smile. “After learning that I decided to make myself the biggest most obnoxious target ever,” she waved her hands in front of her to illustrate as she giggled reminiscing. “I thought to myself, that if they wanted me that badly they’re gonna have to work for it. So I made it my mission to piss them off and kick their collective ass,” she flashed a big smile. “Besides, if they’re busy chasing me and my friends, they can’t go looking for anyone else.”

“Guess that explains all the injuries Caitlyn found,” Frost commented thoughtfully. “And the fact you gave Dr. Wells such a hard time about just coming to the lab in the beginning.”

“Yup! Broken ribs, arms, legs, fractured skull and fingers, I’ve had my stomach punctured straight through at least twice, and my shoulder. Think that one actually broke my shoulder blade to be honest.....” Emily rambled.

“Jeeze....” Ralph said stunned.

“And that’s not counting their penchant for causing neurological damage with all variations for shock collars and tasers,” she listed with a smirk. “I really shouldn’t be smiling but honestly, they’re some serious badges of honor so why not?” They all softened their faces though she could tell they still felt bad. “So anyway, “ she continued, “there I am in the bowels of area 51, strapped to a chair in some interrogation room when two guys in suits come in.” Everyone changed their tune as she gets back into the story, Nash admiring her resourcefulness and determination. As she rambled and gesticulated enhancing the story with her hands, complete with illusions and little animations, Nash couldn’t help but stare even when she smiled bright. Cisco noticed his staring and bumped his arm jostling him enough to break his gaze. He wiggled his eyebrows causing Nash to grumble and avert his gaze from everyone but still listened attentively.

~~

“Soooo, there’s a whole facility underneath?” Barry asked once she finished. “And what we all think is area 51 is just a cover?” Emily nods with a smile. “There’s quite a lot buried underneath. I think the whole desert lot actually.”

“And no one knows about it?” Ralph asked.

“Lots of people know, but the government makes them seem crazy. That’s one of the reasons I didn’t like Eiling all that much, reminded me too much of them.”

“So this, Quazar, or Quinton, was there too?” Frost asked. “Why was he there again?”

Emily paused trying to formulate the sentence as coherently and short as possible without rambling again. “He was the one who gave me my powers. Well, not really gave but, reactivated dormant genes so I could do what I do. It’s how I got the monicker ‘half breed’.” She drifted off in her memories. “We grew close, and I must admit I didn’t handle learning he was an alien well but. We protected each other, and came to care a lot about each other.” She smiled thoughtfully. “He’s my anchor to home. Him and Oliver and Flaer and Jimmy.” Bringing herself back to the present she cleared her throat. “He was there for leverage I guess. Most likely for added study being a pure blood. As long as he was there I would be too, even if I got out I would come back to try and get him out. So I just broke him out right away and messed up their plans.” She flashed a smile lightening the mood of the room.

“Boy, you are just full of mysteries aren’t you?” Ralph asked with a smirk.

“Eeeyup! And I am 100% telling the truth too. I also gave yooouuuu..... three mysteries? Three mysteries an explanation,” she said standing with a stretch. “No more.”

“Just, one more question?” Cisco asked. “Do you miss him? Quinton?”

Emily paused looking at him. “Well yeah, ‘course I do. I get homesick sometimes. I miss everyone back home.” She sighed deeply as her mind wandered a bit. “Sometimes, my relay picks up messages he sends. Takes quite a long time to decompress the file because of barriers and reality changes but, he asks me how I’m doing, gives me updates on what’s going on, tells me to hurry home. But....” She rubs her cheek thinking. “He said..... he said if I ever get stuck somewhere, not to worry about them back home. He would keep everyone safe, and that he wanted me to be happy wherever I landed.” She smiled softly. “So... so I try. I try real hard, to be happy. And make other people happy. And, I guess I do a pretty good job.”

“You do,” Nash commented without thinking. Everyone turned their attention to him, Emily raising an eyebrow and smiling softly. “Huh?” Nash cleared his throat averting his gaze. “I-I mean I’ve noticed, that, everyone enjoys your—your company and. And they, like, having you around.”

“That include you?” She asked. Nash snaps his head to her and makes eye contact, his words momentarily caught in his throat as he begins to panic having been put on the spot. “Speak,” Harry says manifesting beside him. “You need to speak, say something.”

“I mean yeah, I guess,” Nash coughs out. “I certainly don’t find you all that annoying anyway.”

“Probably not the right response....” Harry comments.

Emily frowns a little. “Hmm, well I suppose that’s something.” Nash turns away from her again, Emily cocked an eyebrow noticing his ears turning rather red. She was sure he felt them burning but decided not to press him further.

“She noticed that you know,” Sherloque said manifesting by the bar behind her. Nash looked at him curiously. “What?” He asked.

“I didn’t say anything,” Emily responded taking her seat at the bar again. “Oh, sorry,” Nash apologized. “Thought I heard something. Guess it was nothing more than an auditory hallucination or something.”

“She’s not as oblivious as you think she is,” Sherloque continued. “I guarantee she already knows how you feel, and is just waiting on you to do something about it.” Nash turned away from the bar trying to ignore him, in addition to keep his flush from getting worse. He didn’t want to acknowledge it but it was rather difficult to keep from staring at her or subconsciously follow her around. He grumbled to himself trying to get his mind on something—anything—else. Cisco noticed and smiled mischievously having gotten an idea. “Hey, I remember you saying you attended a spontaneous karaoke session with Harry at one point,” he started. “Think you could sing something?”

“Wait, you sing?” Ralph asked in surprise.

“As a..... hobby.....” Emily said shyly. “I don’t really.... sing in— in public. Much....”

“Why not?” Barry asked. “Caitlyn said I sing pretty well and I never sing in public.”

“She gets carried away,” Nash says still not looking at her. “Least that’s what Harry said. Though, I’m not sure if it’s her or the crowd she sings in front of.”

“It’s, uh, it’s a little of both....” Emily half confirmed.

“How’s that?” Ralph asks intrigued.

“Uhhmmmm.... well.....” Emily fidgets a little. “I’m a bit on the theatrical side. I like my special effects, people like seeing all the flashy stuff and, well, I can get lost in the music. Sometimes.”

“All the time,” Harry comments. “Tell her to sing So Soft by that Carrie woman.”

“Why So Soft?” Nash asks out loud. Emily stiffens and blushes slightly. “What?” she squeaks. Harry smirks. “That’s why.” Nash looks over at her, smile threatening to crack onto his face as she sat there with her cheeks slowly getting rosy. Cisco notices her posture change as well and smiles wide. “I think we may have a winner for song choice.”

“Nu-no, not that,” Emily stammers. GP flies over to her whirring what seemed like a suggestion which only served to make Emily beat red. “I am NOT singing that one!” She near yells. “You should know better than to suggest that.” The drone whirrs again. “That one’s worse, no!”

“I kinda like the idea of worse,” Ralph teases. “What was suggested anyway?” Emily casts her gaze down making her hands into fits and pressing them into her knees. “GP always try to suggest two songs he knows will make me uncomfortable,” she explains. “They’re...... uhm..... they’re.....” Emily pauses before rolling her head and deciding to just get it over with. “They’re called ‘Do You Think I’m Sexy’ and...... ‘Sex bomb’......”

Everyone’s interest had been piqued with Cisco and Nash both staring at her with raised eyebrows. Emily covered her face in embarrassment floating above her seat a little. “I shouldn’t have said anything,” she near whines. “What about Talking Body?” GP whirrs in intelligible english tones. “Preferred over those, but still no.” Emily responds still red in the face. “No, I.... hmm.... I think I... h-have one. It’s called Collide.” Emily straightened her posture and cleared her throat. “Oh this is embarrassing......” she muttered under her breath after a pause and cringing. Taking a breath to calm herself she began, GP providing the background music.

*Lately, I feel like I’m pushing you away*

*Acting moody for no reason*

*And even though you know I'm always gonna stay*

*I've been talking like I'm leaving*

*I don't know why I keep playing these dumb games*

*Love is not a competition*

*And no one's winning when I'm pushing you away*

*Sometimes darkness is a prison*

The lights seem to dim a little before returning to the normal ambient light. Taking a breath to steady her nerves further, Emily continues.

* Turn the lights on, honey, honey, I don't wanna hide*

*Turn the lights on, honey, I'm surrendering tonight*

*Although I'm not perfect, I feel perfect in your eyes*

*Turn the lights on, honey, I don't really wanna hide, not tonight*

*Come and crash into me 'cause I want us to collide*

*Collide, collide, collide*

*Collide, collide, collide*

Emily smiles becoming more relaxed even beginning to move in rhythm with the music and providing small effects such as orbs of lights and dimming the actual lights at times.

*Look into my eyes and tell me we're okay*

*And we both can be forgiven*

*Kiss me gently, say the things you wanna say*

*You don't need to ask permission*

*I'm a stormy ocean, but you're steady*

*And I'm a commotion, but you get me*

*Too many emotions, but you let me*

*Let me blossom in the dark*

The lights dim and brighten to the beat of the song, the orbs of light change color and seem to twinkle and multiply. Emily smiles wide as she sings and looks around in amusement at the display going on. Everyone else is distracted by the lights but Nash was fixated on Emily. He smiled as she smiles happier than he’s ever seen feeling as though this was her unfiltered.

*Turn the lights on, honey, honey, I don't wanna hide*

*Turn the lights on, honey, I'm surrendering tonight*

*Although I'm not perfect, I feel perfect in your eyes*

*Turn the lights on, honey, I don't really wanna hide, not tonight*

*Come and crash into me 'cause I want us to collide*

*Collide, collide, collide*

*Collide, collide, collide*

The lights slowly begin to dim as Emily, having decided to stand, took slow strides toward the center of the group. She begins to float the closer she gets and takes a modest cross-legged ‘seat’ in the air. Everyone looks around curiously and Nash fixates on her again.

*I'm a stormy ocean, but you're steady*

*I'm like a commotion, but you get me*

*Too many emotions, but you let me*

*Let me blossom in the dark*

Emily darkens the whole room by creating a field that prevented any light to show through. She then made it look like she was glowing, her suit had appeared, her hair was snow white with the unique holographic shine, and she still kept the rest of them in utter darkness as she continued toward the song’s end.

* Turn the lights on, honey, honey, I don't wanna hide*

*Turn the lights on, honey, I'm surrendering tonight*

Emily snaps her fingers and flicks her wrist in front of her causing an explosion of stars appear in the room making it look like they were in the deep of space. Still glowing, albeit softer, she smiles wide. Nash watches noting she seemed to feel at home in such an environment almost looking free, maybe even exited to share the wonder of the void she knew so well with people she cared for. She looked dazzling in that moment.

*Although I'm not perfect, I feel perfect in your eyes*

*Turn the lights on, honey, I don't really wanna hide, not tonight*

*Come and crash into me 'cause I want us to collide*

*Collide, collide, collide*

*Collide, collide, collide*

*Collide, collide, collide*

*Collide, collide, collide*

The room fades back to black and Emily brings the normal light back into the room gradually so as not to blind everyone. They watch in stunned silence as she takes a few steps back toward her chair, suit disappearing and hair returning to her usual red tinted brunette, and she smiled shy and awkwardly. “So.....?” she asked.

“That was—“ Nash began.

“Amazing!” Cisco interrupted causing Nash to snap out of whatever trance he fell into. Emily smiled placing a hand on her cheek as she blushed. “Hobby my ass,” Ralph scolded. “You’ve put in some serious work to sound that good.”

“I’ve, had a few years of practice,” she teased.

“Well, whatever it is you just stunned us with, I wish I had a talent like that,” Iris commends. “That was..... wow!”

“Sing something else!” Wally said enthusiastically.

“Yeah, that was great!” Joe agrees enamored.

Emily laughs waving a hand. “No no, I would be singing all night. Do you know what I would sound like tomorrow if I did that?”

“C’mon, just one more?” Frost asks surprisingly invested. Emily sighs with a reluctant smile tilting her head toward Nash a little. “Again, Harry, this is why I don’t sing in front of people.”

Nash chuckled in amusement with Harry smiling next to him. “Three. Three ‘one more’ requests that night,” he explained. “I was worried she would kill me by the end of it. If it weren’t for Jessie changing the topic when we left she may well have.” Nash looked at him curiously. “I was......responsible for two. She wasn’t enthused when I got the whole room going,” he said reminiscing. “By the way, if that wasn’t an obvious tell, I don’t know what is.” Nash’s gaze fell upon Emily again as she grumbled placing both hands on her cheeks considering indulging their requests. “No, no. It’s going to turn into karaoke night all over again if I don’t stop now,” Emily determined. “Only one tonight, but maybe another some other time,” she smiled raising a finger with a wink.

Casual conversation carried for another hour or two before Emily began to yawn, followed by a few of the others present. Half an hour after the first yawn, everyone decided to call it a night. It was well into the evening at this point and no one wanted to risk sleeping in too late. Emily stretched winding up leaning all the way back, about 90°, over the bar. She stayed like that taking a deep breath and complained about not wanting to move. “I think I’m just gonna.... sleep here. Like this. Yeah, this is comfy....”

“Thaaaat doesn’t *look* comfortable.....” Cisco commented looking confused at how she could even *do* that.

“Must not be a fellow human rubber band,” she replied grabbing her elbows keeping her arms above her head. “Being super bendy sure comes in handy.” She smiled lazily and turned her head to face the person she heard moving to her side, seemingly tripping over a chair. Her eyes met Nash’s, who’s cheeks immediately turned rosy, and lifted her head. “You ok?” She asked.

“Yeah, no. I’m f-fine,” Nash coughed out. “Stupid chair, got tangled in my feet....” He kicked it nearly getting tangled in it again.

“Yeeeesaahhh,” Emily said tiredly. “They always seem to like ankles and toes, huh? Just.... always in the way, at the worst times.” Her eyes closed again and she sighed half falling asleep right there. Nash averted his gaze awkwardly and Cisco smirked at him, Nash gave him a face instigating a silent argument between the two about him saying something before GP flew over and whistled at her waking her again. “Hmmm?” she said tiredly. GP whistled again and Emily groaned. “Nooo, don’t waaaanna move,” she said with another stretch. GP bonked her head and she sighed. “Ok, ok. Fine. I’ll go to bed.” With a huff, she pulled herself into a sitting position before hopping off her seat and heading out. Various farewells and well wishes were exchanged as they left one by one leaving Emily alone with Nash and Cisco. They stood awkwardly at the elevator door waiting for it to come back up, Cisco flicking his eyes in the direction of Emily trying to encourage Nash to say something and Nash refusing.

“Good night guys,” Emily said with a yawn when the elevator dinged. “Travel safe, ok?”

“Make sure nothing blows up, alright?” Cisco joked. She smiled tiredly. “Aww, no fun. And I was gonna try to make a star tonight.” Nash smiled recognizing a similar joke he made with Cisco. “I’ll make sure to hold down the fort,” she assured rubbing her eye as they stepped in. “I’m pretty good at keeping people out of places.” They waved as the doors closed, Nash watched as she turned, flicking her finger like you would a switch, and the lights going out one by one as she advanced down the hall. Cisco turned to face Nash with a disappointed look. “What?” Nash asked doing a double take.

“You need to tell her you like her already,” Cisco scolded.

“I don’t... like her,” Nash said attempting to brush off the accusation. “Why would you even think that?” Cisco’s face dropped unamused. “Yeah, ok. You are literally dripping in tension when you’re in the same room as her.”

“I am not!” Nash protests. “I’m chill.”

“You stare at her, you follow her, you ears get red when she looks at you.”

“I.... do not... What?” He turned to face Cisco as the doors opened. He rolled his eyes as he left, Nash close behind. “Pretty sure everyone knows. Well, maybe not Barry. But Wally does, Joe asked if you two were a thing, Iris knows....” Nash went quiet still following him. “I think Ralph may have a thing for her too but so far hasn’t had any luck.” He spun to face him and pointed a finger in his face. “Say, something. Anything. The awkward is getting unbearable.”

Nash stared at Cisco for a minute before the latter turned to leave, Nash took a long look back at the lab with a sigh. *I really should,* he thought. *But what do I say?*

——

The next day was business as usual, Emily had decided to get some practice in before everyone came in and had just finished when she passed Nash in the hall on her way to change. “Oh, hey Nash!” she greeted with a smile. Nash felt that familiar flush start to run up his neck when he saw her. He closed his eyes and muttered the only word he could think of. “Don’t...”

“Hmm?” Emily asked tilting her head to look him in the face. He opened his eyes making eye contact and used as much self control as he could muster to speak. “Don’t.... smile. At me.”

Emily paused in confusion. “What?”

“Don’t smile at me,” he repeated slowly beginning to regret his sentence choice. Emily blinked a few times just staring at him as she tried to understand. “Why...?”

“Because it’s stupid and makes me uncomfortable. And it’s annoying. Remember when I said you weren’t all that annoying? I lied. You’re more annoying than Ramon,” Nash blurted everything out before he realized what it was he was saying but fought to keep a straight face. Emily’s face was blank, shoulders dropped a little, and she stared confused at him. “Oh.... well..... ok.” She said softly. Nash felt his heart constrict in his chest. What had he done? She took a breath and looked him in the eye again, her facial features betraying hints of mischief. “Alright Nash, I’m sorry. I had no idea my smile could do that to you.” She placed a hand on his shoulder in mock concern making Nash a little suspicious. “I’m so glad you told me.”

“....You are?” Nash asked.

“Yes, yes, I am. From now on I won’t smile at you.”

“You.... won’t?”

“Nope. I’ll just smile at everyone and everything else instead,” Emily said fighting a smile. “Rest assured you’ll never see my troublesome smile again.”

“Ah...... good.....” Nash said trying to sound satisfied.

“See you later then,” Emily said before continuing on her way. Nash watched her go mildly panicking. “What just happened?” He asked no one in particular.

“You messed up, big time,” Sherloque answered from behind him. “How so?” Nash asked spinning around.

“Well, you heard her. She’ll still smile, just not at you,” Sherloque smirked. “But oh, she knows what you said wasn’t true. Not all of it anyway. She still may be a little concerned you find her annoying.”

“So, what will she do?”

“Exactly what she told you she would. Clever woman,” Sherloque mused. He smiled at Nash who still looked concerned. “She will, continue to smile, at everyone and thing other than you. And in doing so, knowing you don’t really find it uncomfortable, she will frustrate you.” He stands close to his face continuing to smile. “My, what a mess you’ve made. I do wonder how you’ll fix it.” He disappeared leaving Nash alone in the hallway again, completely and utterly uncertain about what to do now. “Oohhhh no....” he muttered to himself.

The rest of the day went on as normal, no one but Nash really noticing her slightly altered behavior though they did note he seemed a bit more frustrated than usual. She really did keep her word, taking care to never smile directly at him though that didn’t stop him from getting the smallest of glimpses. He found himself staring at her more often, and after three days he had nearly had enough.

He had found himself in the cortex, Barry was out and about as the Flash leaving Cisco, and Ralph there with him. He was tense and on edge knowing Emily could come in at any moment. He was too preoccupied to remember where she said she was going which only served to amp his anxiety. He tensed when he heard the familiar light tapping of footsteps drawing closer.

“Hey, I’m back!” A familiar voice called out. Nash refused to turn to meet her even as she walked over. She was wearing an oversized tank top, sport shorts, knee high socks and sneakers with her hair tied up. *Training,* he thought to himself. *That’s right, she wanted to practice for a while.* “Hey Cisco, Ralph. Hi Nash....” She smiled at Cisco and Ralph before dropping the facade to look at Nash. He clenched his jaw but kept his composure. “So, what are you up to?” She asked.

Cisco’s eyes darted from her face to Nash’s, before giving Ralph a look. “Not much....” he said. “Barry’s just doing his patrols, hasn’t come up with anything yet,” Ralph added walking awkwardly away.

“Hey, uh, Estrata,” Cisco called from the control desk. “Could you do me a favor?”

“Yeah sure, what’s up?” She asked cheerfully.

“The, satellites could use some maintenance. I can do general software updates from here but it’s difficult to do physical repairs. Could yoouuuu.....”

“Go check it out?” She finished for him. “My pleasure. I’ll take Tinker with me in case they need specialty parts.” She said smiling at the small drone flying into view. “Good idea. Yeah. Take.... take what ever you need and stay however long to. Fix things...” Cisco replied trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. “Be back in a jiffy!” She said with a grin before dropping it to look at Nash as she walked by. “Later.” They all watched and waited for her to leave the room before the two shot daggers at Nash with glares. “What?” He asked when he turned and saw their faces.

“What do you mean ‘what’?” Cisco asked near shouting. “She has been acting weird for the last few days,” Ralph added. “I don’t .... know..... what you mean,” Nash tried to dismiss. “You said something to her, didn’t you!” Cisco accused. “What did you say?!”

“I—I.... didn’t ......” Nash stuttered trying to avoid the unwanted confrontation. They stared each other down for a while before he relented. “Alright fine. I..... I did.... say something.....” he said rubbing the back of his neck. “Probably not the.... greatest thing...... in hindsight.....”

Cisco took a few steps forward still glaring. “Spill it.”

“I.... may have told her that..... she, uh, was..... annoying.....” Nash answered sheepishly. “You.... you what?” Cisco asked in disbelief. “You said what to her!?”

“You told me to say something to her. Anything, actually,” Nash tried to defend.

“Not that! Oh my— guh...” Cisco yelled throwing his hands in the air. Nash scratched his head like a child might when in trouble, being under all that scrutiny made his scalp really itchy. Ralph just stood there shaking his head. “You messed up, so bad,” he said.

“You don’t think I know?” Nash snapped back. “I got a lecture from a Wells as soon as she walked away!”

“You need to fix this,” Cisco said pointing again.

“How, Ramon? How?”

“I don’t know! But you have to do something! Smart, this time,” he glared, Nash glaring back at the ‘smart’ comment. “Because this?” he gestured around him, “This tension, is worse than your repressed tension. It sucks!”

“Hey Cisco,” Emily called over the relay. “Hey Es,” Cisco called back. “What ya got for me?”

“I’ve fixed a few cosmetic things, just scratches and dings from space debris, aaaaand I gave you a few new toys.” Cisco’s face lit up with a smile. “Ohhhh, new toys? Estrata, you spoil me.”

“Only cuz I like ya!” She responded with a giggle.

“Can’t imagine what you’d do for a special someone in your life,” Ralph commented shooting a look over to Nash. Nash clenched his jaw glaring back unenthusiastically. “Hmm, yeah. I’ve been told I get scary when I get serious or protective. Like, Mama Bear mode on steroids. So probably break a mountain in half. Or bake, I like brownies,” Emily rambled.

“.....Wait..... can you do that?” Ralph asked concerned. “Break a mountain?” Emily paused. “You know, never tried. But I did obliterate an asteroid one time.”

“Really?” This time Cisco asked.

“Yeah, but it was a small one. Like, maybe half a football field. And it was made out of a material similar to sandstone.”

“Thaaaat’s still pretty impressive,” Ralph stated impressed and a bit wary. “I know I could never do that.”

“Sure you could, you just gotta put your back into it!” She giggled, Ralph chuckling in return.

“So you gonna come back now?” Cisco asked glancing at Nash.

“Nah, not right now,” Emily replied with a sigh. “Been a while since I’ve just hung out in the deep black of the void, think I’ll chill for a while.” Nash’s shoulders dropped a bit hearing the news. As if he needed another contributor to his tension, now he had to wait for who knows how long. “Ok, take as much time as you need,” Cisco said still looking at Nash. “We’ll be here when you come back.”

“Ok, see you later then,” Emily said before closing the connection. Cisco crossed his arms and Ralph gave him a look, Nash stood stiff lost in thought. “Well, least now you have plenty of time to think of what to say,” Ralph commented before leaving. “You better make it good too,” Cisco warned before exiting as well, leaving Nash to stew for a while in uncertainty. *What to say....* he said to himself.

——

It was well into the evening when Emily made her way back to the lab. She casually strode down the halls humming to herself when she came across Nash and nearly bumped into him. “Oh! Oh, hi Nash,” she said looking up at him.

“H-hi.... Estrata,” Nash smiled awkwardly. “What brings you skulking around here so late?” She asked putting a hand on her hip. “I uh, I.... have something...... I’ve been meaning to, tell you....” he said trying to figure out the words as he went. “Oh? You do?” She said sounding intrigued. He nodded his head looking at his feet. “Uh huh, yeah.” He paused still staring at the ground and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I lied... earlier.... wheeeen I said you were..... annoying......” he started. “You did?” She asked relaxing a little. Nash nodded again. “I did. I actually don’t, find you annoying that is. I uh, really like your company. A lot.” He peeked up to look her in the eye, the flush building like before. “Well then, why did you say that?” Emily asked, face softening as he spoke.

“I don’t..... I don’t know..... I....” Nash ran his hands through his hair in frustration and started pacing around. “You..... don’t know?” she asked in confusion. “I..... I don’t, have the words...” Nash said pausing and rubbing his chin. He stood quiet for a moment before turning to look at her again. “Maybe.... I don’t need words.....” he muttered to himself.

“What was tha—“ Emily’s sentence was cut off by Nash, who took three quick strides toward her, cupped her face and nearly rammed his face into hers with a kiss. Emily stood stunned, clearly not expecting this turn of events at all, and could only stare wide eyed into space. Once he broke the kiss he looked her in the eyes, thumb gently running over her cheek. “Wha...?” Emily started to ask. “Truth is, you make it incredibly difficult not to do that,” he says with a smile. “Especially, when you smile.”

Emily’s lips slowly pulled into a soft smile before mischievous tones bled in. “Hmmm, I’m not sure I got all that.” Nash raised an eyebrow smirking at her before placing another kiss on her lips. Emily chuckled after he broke the kiss again. “Gee, I dunno.... if I understand..... you may have...... to repeat.... that......” she said with a giggle, Nash taking the obvious opportunity to kiss her over and over while she spoke. They stood for a moment, smiling at each other like idiots, when they heard someone walk around the corner.

“Oh my god, FINALLY!” a voice said loudly from behind them. Emily gripped Nash’s shirt pulling him close as she tried to bury herself into him in embarrassment. Her face was beat red and eyes wide as Cisco briskly walked by. “Now if you two could do something about the other obvious tension you have, that’d be perfect,” he said pointing a finger first at Nash, then Emily who was trying very hard to hide her face. Cisco smiled at Nash, who gave him a wink, before walking away to a lab somewhere. They stood quiet for a minute before he rubbed her back and drew her into a hug enveloping her petite frame. She relaxed nestling into him a bit with a deep sigh. “So....” she began looking up at him. “What’s this ‘other tension’ Cisco was on about?”

“Oh, uh, I uh....” Nash coughed. “Not sure, actually.” She pouted suspiciously at him raising an eyebrow, keeping the stare made his ears rather red. “Mhmm......” she smirked. “Then I guess there’s nothing to ‘take care of’ and no real reason for a sleepover or anything....” she said slipping away. “I’m tired anyway, should probably just go to be—“ her words were cut off by Nash grabbing her from behind in a tight hug causing her to squeak. “Ok ok! I’ll stop teasing” she giggled. “But you’re kinda cute when you’re frustrated.”

Nash raised an eyebrow. “So are you telling me, this was a bad idea?” He asked close to her ear. “Noooooo.....” she said trying to hide the goosebumps. “Just..... think of it as an adventure. You do like adventures, right?” She asked grinning at him. He paused looking thoughtfully at her. “You know, now that I think of it. This might be one of the better ones.”

————————••••••••————————

~Fin~

[willow-salix]

Isolation update and this was based on two prompts by @eirabach and @cloudkicker09 for the irrelief challenge by @gumnut-logic. Big thanks to the amazing @avengedbiologist for the art collab!

Day 83 of Isolation on Tracy Island and our poor Virgil is still feeling a little tender . His back is a lot better but he’s still having to be careful how he’s sitting and so we’ve banned him from doing anything remotely strenuous. For Virg, this is hard. He’s usually quite happy to chill out for a few hours and do nothing but that’s when it's on his terms, not when he’s been ordered to stay put. Then he needs some bribery.

“OK,” I started, “what do you want? What’s gonna get you to stay put?”

He thought about it for a moment or two and then he dropped his bombshell.

“Couch day. If I have to stay put, so do you all.”

I glanced around at everyone else who nodded. They could do that.

“On one condition,” Virgil threw in. “You know those special things we ordered online a few weeks ago and were saving for Christmas?”

My mouth dropped in shock. “Oh, ohmigods! Are they here? Did they arrive?”

He nodded, grinning evilly. “Picked them up last supply run and hid them in my wardrobe.”

“Yessss! Can I go get them?”

He nodded again.

“Woohoo!” I ran off like I had Thunderbird Three up my butt.

“Why do I get the feeling that we’re going to hate this?” I heard John sigh as I left the room.

***

“I feel ridiculous,” John groaned, looking down at his outfit in obvious disgust.

“Nooo,” I assured him. “You look gorgeous!”

“Well I love mine!” Alan grinned, spinning around to look at his reflection in the window.

“Me too,” Gordon agreed, checking out his backside in another window. “Look at my little fin!”

“Mines a tad too short,” Scott pointed down where he was showing a good six inches of ankle and hairy calf below the cuffs.

“Mines so comfy,” Virgil moaned, snuggling deeper into the warm material.

“Mines actually kind of cool,” Kayo admitted. She looked as awesome as always, curled up like a cat in one of Alan’s bucket seats, her black and silver onesie fitted her like a glove and she was clearly revelling in the soft warmth it provided.

“I’m not putting the hood up,” John stated, thumping down on the couch and crossing his arms in protest.

“Oh come on, it’s so cosy,” Alan wheedled, having already tugged up the hood of his red onesie, the pointy top forming the nose cone of his Thunderbird.

Virgil and I had been rather bored, it had been late and we had stumbled across a fan site that had made its own International Rescue merchandise. A few clicks later and we had purchased one of every onesie they possessed and then found me a cute little halloween bat onesie so I could join in. I loved it and was currently flapping my wings excitedly.

Virgil's was, of course, big and green, the yellow trim and red cuffs looked great on him. His hood was rounded like Two’s nose and his arms had flaps of material that attached down to his sides to give him wings. The large lettering of Thunderbird Two straight down his sides completed the look.

Gordon’s was bright yellow with a red stripe around the middle and midway up his calves and he had a fin that started halfway down his back and reached right down to his butt, flaring out wider the lower it got. His also said Thunderbird Four down the sides.

Alan’s had a grey striped strip around his belly and back, a white collar and white cuffs and was just the cutest thing ever with Thunderbird Three running down his chest in white and with a white three on each ankle.

Scott’s was simply glorious, his hood sported a pointy red cone, two dark grey stripes circled his upper chest and back and his arms also had wings like Virgil’s. The lower legs (which was more just below the knee for him) were blue and the ankles and cuffs were the same dark grey as the stripes on his chest. Thunderbird One was written in white on his chest and he looked amazing. Clearly he thought so too if the poses he was striking were any indication.

John’s was a little more elaborate than the other boys and honestly I don’t completely blame him for his reaction. His hood had a soft, bendy circle hovering above it like a weird angel halo, made to represent Five’s gravity ring and was grey on the outside and red on the inside, which also had International Rescue written on it in white letters. His chest area was a puffy ball where the monitoring station would be, making him look like he had suddenly developed a massive beer belly. The legs were yellow and his ankles (it was a little short on him too) had two stiff panels that stuck out. I thought they were adorable, he hated them with the fiery passion of a thousand suns.

“Stop being so grumpy,” I told him, dropping down next to him and attempting to snuggle the bad mood out of him as we all prepared to watch Virgil’s movie of choice, La La Land, another musical but this was his day so we weren’t going to complain.

Drinks were gathered, snacks were shared out and everyone got comfy as the movie started. Surprisingly enough it wasn’t one that I’d watched before and I found it quite enjoyable although Alan and Gordon were clearly not impressed, come to think of it, neither were Kayo and Scott.

As soon as the movie ended all four of them made their escape, leaving John and I to keep Virgil company.

“This was not part of the deal,” Virgil yelled after them, they ignored him. “You have to at least keep your onesies on!” he ordered.

“Sorry about them,” I said, getting up to fetch him another drink and at his request, his sketchbook and pencils.”You just can’t trust family.”

“What am I, invisible?” John asked, batting at one side of the gravity ring that kept getting in his way.

“No, you’re awesome,” I answered.

“Suck up,” Virgil laughed, then winced when his back twinged.

“Will you sit still!” I ordered, plumping his pillow and settling him back.

“Is she always this bossy?”

“Hard to imagine, given how quiet she usually is, but yes,” John answered dryly, picking up his abandoned book. I smacked his shoulder in retaliation but still used him as a pillow as I located the magazine I’d been reading and went back to the article about vampires in Scotland.

We chilled quietly for around half an hour before a voice broke the silence.

“John, I’m bored.”

“You don’t get bored, EOS,” he replied, glancing over at her portable drive which he’d left on the coffee table. “At least you’re not supposed to.”

“It feels like I am. You told me that when someone has nothing left to do they get bored, that’s why you keep sending Alan out to collect space debris.”

Virgil sniggered.

“I have finished all the tasks you set for me and I have downloaded today’s statistics to your comm so now, I believe, I am bored.”

EOS had been brilliant in keeping Five running smoothly in between John’s daily visits in which he spent a few hours with her checking in on the world. Sometimes I went with him, or one of the others, but she had been alone for the majority of the time. We had grown used to checking in with her at night too, talking to her before we settled for the night and she often popped up with a question or two during the day.

With so little to do for International Rescue in the way of actually rescuing people she had taken to it upon herself to work her way through every encyclopedia that had ever been uploaded to the internet, to familiarize herself with customs and cultures around the world and, weirdest of all, pop culture and slang words. That had made for some interesting conversations, especially when the younger two got involved.

“What are you all doing to relieve your boredom?” she asked.

“Reading,” I answered, lifting my magazine to show her.

“Reading,” John answered, displaying his book.

“Drawing,” Virgil answered.

Her lights flickered for a few seconds.

“Reading I understand, if one wishes to gain knowledge then reading is an acceptable way to do so. But drawing serves no purpose.”

“Uh oh,” John muttered, ducking into his hood.

“Serves no purpose?” Virgil gasped, shocked to his very core by her words. “Of course it does.”

“It has no function.”

“It does!”

“Can we not argue about this?” I asked.

“I’m not arguing,” Virgil insisted. “I’m educating, is that OK?.”

“Anything that will keep her occupied,” John shrugged. EOS had taken to playing with the comms and the fire alarms when she had nothing to do, so we needed more to amuse her.

Virgil reached for the drive but groaned, his back protesting. I got up and fetched it for him, handing it over. He settled back against his cushions and set the drive on his shoulder like a weird parrot.

“Art,” he began, “can’t be broken down into functions and reasoning, art is about feeling.” He sketched a few lines on his pad. “Humans are complicated creatures; they all have different likes and dislikes, things that they love and things that they hate. Art, above all else, makes us feel, even if it's a negative emotion.”

Virgil had a lovely voice to listen to, soft and warm, you just couldn’t help but pay attention to everything he said. I put my magazine down and snuggled closer to John, settling like it was story time.

“Art comes in many forms, music, literature, photography, sculpting, cooking, anything and everything that is creative is a form of art. For as long as there has been humans, there has been art, humans have an inherent need to create, to make things, to leave their mark on the world in some way or another. Look at you.”

“What about me?” EOS asked, having been listening silently, her lights flickering thoughtfully.

“You evolved from game code that John created, you yourself are a form of art. And you yourself create things every day.”

“How do I?” EOS had been learning to emulate tone and expressions, putting them into her voice whenever she thought it was appropriate, it could be pretty hit or miss, but this time she sounded genuinely puzzled.

“You form pictures, you create charts, you correlate data and display it. That’s a form of art.”

“But that art has a purpose, it's to display information.”

“And so does all art, it can be pretty, it can be ugly, you might not understand it, but it will still make you feel something. That’s it’s purpose.”

“I still don’t understand.”

“People like to see pretty things, they make them feel better when they feel bad. Pictures can remind them of good things, paintings of people they love make them smile, pictures of places they have been to bring back memories of good things.”

“Why do you draw when you could just take a photograph? Drawings and paintings are not accurate, they are filled with inaccuracies.”

“Because some things can’t be captured with a photograph, they may not exist anywhere but in your own mind.”

“I cannot picture something that I have no reference for. If it does not exist it cannot be pictured.”

“Of course it can, things can't be simplified to if they can be referenced or not, you can paint emotions, you can play feelings, you can bake love. If what you are making makes you feel, or when you look at something, hear something, taste something or smell something, it can trigger emotions within you.”

“I’m not sure I understand, because I cannot feel.”

“Of course you can, you feel love, friendship, loneliness, you feel a lot and you’re learning more every day,” John assured her.

“But they are not art, I cannot picture those things,” EOS argued.

“I’ll show you what I mean,” Virgil assured her.

Virgil turned to a fresh sheet of paper and picked up his pencil.

“It’s human nature to create faces and pictures of things that we cannot see but that we interact with,” Virgil continued, his pencil flying over the page. “How do you two picture EOS?”

“I see her as a small girl, not too young because they are annoying,” I started, ignoring John’s snort of amusement, I can’t help it if I’m not a kiddy person. “Maybe around ten, eleven years old, a tween that can swing between moody and loving in an instant.”

“Accurate,” John agreed.

“I picture her with hair down to her shoulders maybe, sometimes in pigtails if she’s in a bratty mood.”

“I’m never bratty,” EOS argued petulantly.

"I beg to differ," John whispered to me.

“I see her hair as maybe a strawberry blonde, maybe somewhere between John and Gordon’s hair colour,” I continued, getting into my stride. Having had no part of her creation and no understanding of how code or computers of any kind worked all I had been able to do was assign her a face so I knew who I was talking to. Virgil was right, us humans always had to put a face to a voice. If we heard someone on the radio we would get an impression of who the voice could belong to, what the person speaking would look like and I had done exactly that.

“I’ve never really thought about it before, but I think she’d have green eyes,” John added, his eyes closed as if he were picturing her in his mind.

“With a cute little nose and a smattering of freckles just like Alan has,” I added.

“I sound quite pleasant,” EOS said thoughtfully.

“What clothes would you choose?” Virgil asked, still sketching.

“Since I live in Thunderbird Five, if I had a body to clothe I would need a suit like John’s.”

“Makes sense,” Virgil agreed, frowning slightly as he concentrated on his work.

“I think I would like a hairband like Kayo has,” EOS mused.

“Hairband, got it,” Virgil answered her, pencil moving back and forth in soft strokes a few more times. “OK, finished.” He turned his pad around for us to see.

“Oh, she’s adorable!” I squeaked. “She’s just how I pictured her.”

“She’s very cute,” John smiled. “Can I keep that?”

“Sure, I’ll colour it later for you.” Virgil turned the pad for EOS to see. “That’s you, EOS.”

“That’s me?”

“Well, it’s how we picture you. See, your body doesn’t exist, this face doesn’t exist, but it’s still in our heads. It’s how we see you and when we look at this, we feel happy and we feel love, because it’s you. Do you understand art now?”

“Yes,” her tone had changed from thoughtful to confident. “Yes I think I do.”

[xmxisxforxmaybe]

Decryption_Error: “Angela”

Summary: The cyberattacks haven’t stopped, and Y/N is struggling to make sense of them as she worries for her father, for herself, and for the future of the company; however, it’s nearly Halloween, and Angela has invited Elliot, Y/N, and Darlene to a costume party. For the first time, Y/N wonders if she’s really the only woman Elliot wants. 

A/N: I needed some time to process the end of Mr. Robot before this story would let me continue. I finally feel reenergized and ready to update regularly, MUCH in thanks to @alottanothing​ for prodding me along. This chapter wouldn’t exist without her, so thank you, my friend! 

Story Summary,  “The Server Room, Part I”,  “The Server Room, Part II”  “The Long Weekend, Part I”,  “The Long Weekend, Part II”,  “The Aftermath”,  “Undecided”,  **“Decided”,  “Spooked”,  **“Fourth of July, Part I”,  *”Fourth of July, Part II”,  *“Darlene”

Word Count: 5000

Tags: @sherlollydramoine @rami-malek-trash @teamwolf2411 @limabein @txmel @alottanothing @ouatlovr @backoftheroomandnotbelonging @moon-stars-soul @free-rami @ramimedley @hopplessdreamer @sweet-charmie @polarcrystall​

If you want added, removed, or if I’ve missed your request, let me know : )

Warnings: Mild sexual content/language, description of a panic attack, let me know if I missed something!

GIF: @s-k-y-w-a-l-k-e-r​

I couldn’t breathe.

I was too hot, way too hot.

Too hot. Too hot. Too hot.

My eyes shot open in the dark, and I clutched my chest as I felt the thudding of my heart against my fingertips. With a gasp, all traces of sleep were gone as I flung the covers off me with such force Elliot jumped awake.

I was already in the bathroom, pacing, my hand resting on my chest as I chanted the same thing in the same song-like cadence every time I had a panic attack.

“It’s alright, it’s okay, it’s alright, it’s okay—”

Elliot opened the door slowly, his eyes vigilant as he worked to figure out what was happening.

I took a few noisy breaths, in through my nose, out through my mouth, as my lips continued to recite that it was alright, it was okay.

Elliot approached me and when I didn’t bolt, he reached out to place his hand over mine. I knew he could feel the pounding of my heart, and I felt ashamed he was watching me fall apart.  

“You’re okay,” he said, his voice still raspy with sleep. “You’re okay.”

I couldn’t do anything other than stare at him, the hammering in my chest continuing as I took up my mantra again. Elliot’s lips moved along with the words, his eyes so focused on mine I couldn’t have diverted my gaze even if I wanted to.

“It’s alright,” Elliot said gently. “It’s okay.”

This time, I was able to nod. The thudding of my heart was subsiding, and my breathing was slowing, steadying in the now too-bright light of the bathroom while Elliot’s too-intense eyes bored into mine.

After a few more minutes, I found my voice.

“I’m okay—really, El. I’m sorry you had to see that.” I stepped back, embarrassment taking the place of panic.

But Elliot didn’t let me retreat; instead, he pulled me into his arms, his hand twisting into my messy hair as he held me tightly against his body.

I sighed and let him hug me as the last waves of panic subsided.

I shifted, still embarrassed, and Elliot relinquished his hold.

I glanced at his face and saw that it was filled with concern, but I needed to get out of the light and out from under his gaze.

“Back to bed,” I muttered, and Elliot followed me out of the bathroom, flicking off the light.

We settled into bed, and I pulled the comforter up to my neck as I faced away from him. I did back up enough to be touching him, just needing to feel he was there, but when I shivered, cold now that my body was returning to normal, he rolled onto his side so he could press against me and wrap his arm around my waist.  

“Please don’t feel ashamed,” Elliot whispered as he slid his arm up and over my chest, pulling me close. “You’ve seen me. . .”  

Elliot’s pause hung in the air and I didn’t say anything, afraid I’d start to cry.

“You’re still the strongest, best person I know.”

Well, that did it.

Hot tears fell down my cheek and across the bridge of my nose as I tried not to violently sob in the dark.

Elliot stayed quiet, his fingers twitching lightly over the skin on my chest as he held me.

“It’s the attacks,” I began, frustration mounting as I swiped at my face with the comforter. “If it had just been Colin, I think I would’ve made my peace with it and moved on. But it was Bill Baxstone and then Kurt Landley. I feel like someone close to us is trying to hurt my father—or me.”

“They were all bad people, Y/N. Don’t you think they deserved to be found out?”

“But who decided they were bad people?” I said, moving away from Elliot and rolling onto my back, swiping at the last of my tears. “Bill Baxstone raised millions of dollars to help during the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina—he took me with him when his church went down to clean up. He held my hand, hugged me, when I stumbled across the month-old body of a little boy. Who decided money laundering was bad enough to erase every good deed he had ever done? I feel like someone’s playing god with other people’s lives—someone’s taking the grey and coloring it black. I—I can’t make sense of it.”

Elliot was silent for a long time as I continued to blink into the darkness, a sense of hopelessness settling over my chest and threatening to overwhelm me.

“What if Dad’s next? What if I’mnext?”

“You’re good people,” Elliot said softly.

My laughter was a bitter bark in the dark. “Sure—to you! Who knows how the hackers see us. Bill was a good person who did something stupid. If he’d been given the chance, I know he would’ve made reparations. He just did something really fuckingstupid. His entire family is devastated, horrified—once the media gets through with Bill, they’ll have to change their names.”

Elliot was quiet.

“I didn’t know you knew him so well.”

“Yeah, well, memories can’t be hacked. I’m sure the people that did this only saw what they wanted to see.”

“You have nothing to worry about. You work, every day, to protect your dad’s company, and by protecting his company, you’re protecting allthe people who work for him, especially the hardworking, average people who are just trying to survive.”

I looked over at Elliot in the dark, the outline of his face just visible thanks to the slight peek of the city lights that filtered in through a space in the blinds.

“I’m just another rich bitch who’s had life too easy. How long before they stop caring about anything other than people’s bank accounts? How long before they stop offering justification and just start fucking with anyone they want to fuck with?”

“They won’t—I mean, that’s not what drives black hats. You know that.”

“Why can’t you find them, Elliot?” I sighed, turning my eyes back to the ceiling. “If anyone could find them, it’s you.”  

“They don’t want to be found. Hackers leave a mark, something for attention because that’s what they all crave. This one—doesn’t leave anything.”

“I’ve checked myself. Again and again. Nothing.”

“Nothing,” Elliot repeated.

* * * * *

Halloween was fast approaching; it had been a warm October, and until today, the chill of fall had evaded the city. Walking into CIStech, I pulled my coat tighter as a gust of wind swept through the streets. I smiled as I thought about picking out some pumpkins and talking Elliot into carving them, maybe bribing him with the promise of sugar cookies.

I felt normal, happy again for the first time since the latest hacks. It had been quiet for well over a month, and I became convinced the hackers moved on. Analytically, I knew most black hats had short attention spans; the quicker they moved and the wider variety of targets they chose, the less likely they were to get caught by forming a predictable pattern.

Black hats, like the ones who tried to hack Dad’s company on the Fourth, were easy to catch. The perpetrators of the individual attacks were in an entirely different league and all I could hope was they lost interest.

My morning was filled with meetings, so when I finally had a minute to check my phone, I was happy to see Elliot had texted.

E: Angela is having a Halloween party. She wants to meet you. I’m sure we have Darlene to thank.

Y/N: Costumes?

E: Probably.

Y/N: Could be fun—What if I let you pick my outfit?

E: Ok

E: : )

I laughed, knowing that was about as flirty as Elliot got over text. I was intrigued, though. Between Darlene and Elliot, I heard enough about Angela to feel like I knew her.

Elliot and I mostly hung out with my friends and Darlene. I asked him once about his hesitancy when it came to spending time with Angela, but he never gave me a straight answer. I suspected it was because he didn’t like her boyfriend, and Darlene felt that was it, too.

I figured I’d find out soon enough, so my thoughts quickly returned to wondering about the costume Elliot would choose.

Never, even in my wildest imaginings, could I have guessed.

* * * * *

I adjusted my long, honey blonde wig, happy with how it fit so naturally. I spent far more than I should have on it, but I think it was due to the shock of Elliot’s request.

“I still can’t believe this is what you find sexy,” I said eyeing my bright red dress and adjusting the sleeves.

Elliot only hummed in response as he wrapped his arms around my waist and looked at us in the mirror over my shoulder. We both watched as his hands splayed across my stomach, flexing as they played with the silky fabric before moving up to cup my breasts.

I leaned into his body, smiling as I watched his black-clothed head turn toward my neck. He kissed the skin of my collar bone and made his way up my neck, slowly with torturous, tiny licks and nips.

My eyes slipped shut and I sighed, relaxing into his kisses. When Elliot’s name fell from my lips, that pulled a grin from his.

“Sexy,” he breathed, his mouth so close to my ear his voice made me shiver.

“Elliot. Stop teasing.”

“It won’t be teasing if we skip the party.”

Elliot’s teeth had captured my earlobe so I ground my ass into his crotch, delighted to feel his cock pressing into my backside.

“Definitely skipping,” Elliot mumbled just as the buzzer sounded.

“Darlene’s here,” I said taking a step forward and detangling myself from Elliot. “I’ll let her in while you—deflate.”

Elliot narrowed his eyes at me as I laughed, “You started it! Don’t look at me like that, farm boy.”

“As you wish,” Elliot quietly replied, a small smile on his face.  

I shook my head, knowing my grin was bordering on ridiculous as I walked out to buzz in Darlene, but who could have ever guessed Elliot Alderson considered The Princess Brideto be the perfect romantic film?

After Darlene knocked lightly on my door, I laughed with delight as I took in her costume. She was a dead ringer for Stevie Nicks.

“You look exactly like the goddess herself!”

“Too bad I can’t sing worth a shit.”

“You’d be too powerful, Dar. The universe just can’t allow it.”

Darlene fixed me with one of her wide smiles, and I offered to make her a drink before we set out.

“Oh, hell yes. Whatcha got, Buttercup?”

“Did you know this would be your brother’s idea of a sexy Halloween costume?” I asked over my shoulder as I pulled down a bottle of rum from the cupboard.

“I had a general idea, yeah,” she said with a smirk.

I rolled my eyes and plopped ice into her glass and mine. Just as I was cracking open a can of Coke, Elliot came into the kitchen.

“Hey, Zorro,” Darlene deadpanned.

“Stevie Nicks?” Elliot replied with a quirk of his brow. “Predictable.”

“At least I’m not one half of a lame couple’s costume—no offense, Y/N.”

I chuckled and shrugged my shoulders as I finished pouring the soda before sliding Darlene’s drink across the counter.

“I’m amazed myself,” I replied as I moved to Elliot’s side and placed a kiss on the edge of his jaw near his ear. “But how sexy does he look as the Dread Pirate Roberts?”

“All black—huge leap for Elliot,” Darlene said, her eyes dancing over the rim of her glass as she took a long drink.

“Got some cocaine in your boot, Stevie?” Elliot shot back at his sister. “No suspension of disbelief required for you either.”

“Fight nice, children,” I said as I finished my drink much quicker than Darlene, suddenly realizing I was quite nervous to meet Angela.

“So where is this party?”

“Angela just moved into a place with her boyfriend. Gramercy Park, I think. Do you have the address, El?”

Elliot dug his phone out of his pocket and nodded after he scrolled through a few messages.

“Well, shall we?” I asked, watching as Darlene downed the last of her Rum and Coke.

“Let’s,” she said, adjusting her top hat.

I took a deep breath, and Elliot, sensing my nervousness reached out to take my hand.

“You have everything?” he asked, his eyes examining my face like they always did. Sometimes, I felt like he was reading me, scanning me like a barcode.  

“Yup—did you remember your mask?”

“I put it in your bag,” Elliot said as he handed it to me.

I smiled and moved to shrug into my backpack, but Elliot stopped me, his voice low as he said, “We really don’t have to go.”

“I want to,” I said earnestly. “I’m just a little nervous. Probably how you felt before meeting my friends. Plus, I’d never let this ‘lame’ couple’s costume go to waste.”

Elliot gave me a half-smile, “Darlene’s such a witch.”

“I heard that,” she called over her shoulder, causing me to laugh as I shut the door to my apartment.

* * * * *

Darlene was kind of right—I did feel a little lame with my modest costume as we walked up with a few people I assumed were also party guests. We were following a bouncy Playboy bunny and a rather risqué bee as we ascended the stairs, so when we were greeted by a very sexy angel who turned out to be the hostess, I wasn’t surprised.

“I should’ve known you’d eventually rope someone into playing the Buttercup to your Westley,” Angela said as she smiled and introduced herself.

“I’m Y/N,” I said with a wave, again wondering why I felt so damn nervous. I was confident, successful, attractive woman. What was it about Angela that made me feel—

“Heyyyy, Elli-man! It’s great to see you again, bro!” interrupted a boisterous devil who I assumed was the other half of Angela’s costume.

I cringed as Angela’s boyfriend thumped Elliot on the back and attempted to shake his hand. I watched, as if it were in slow motion, as Elliot took a full step back and almost knocked the bouncy Playboy bunny into the wall.

“Shit, dude. Forgot about that whole no-touching thing.”

Angela looked mortified, and yanked Ollie back, his beer sloshing over the side of the bottle.

“Ollie, this is Y/N. Elliot’s girlfriend.”

“I kinda thought you were a myth,” Ollie said, his grin reaching buffoon-like proportions. “Do you do the whole no-touching thing, too? Cuz I’m sure that would make for a—”

As my mouth dropped open, Angela interrupted who I could now definitely call her idiot boyfriend for the second time.

“Let’s get you some drinks,” she said, ushering us inside and leaving Ollie to greet the next batch of people.

“He’s pretty drunk,” Angela said by way of an apology as she glanced at me from under her long lashes.

I said nothing. I wasn’t about to make this easy on her since she just let her idiot boyfriend accost Elliot. Angela, of all people, should’ve made sure that hadn’t happened. All it took was one conversation with my family to make sure they didn’t make Elliot uncomfortable.

Angela weaved through her party guests and I glanced to see if Darlene was following, but she was long gone. Come to think of it, she ducked inside the apartment as soon as we arrived, completely avoiding Ollie.

Smart witch, I thought.  

I felt Elliot’s light touch on my lower back as we reached the kitchen. He seemed to be on high alert, and my gut told me it had more to do with Angela than with the throngs of people in her apartment.

“Beer’s iced in the sink. Mixers and liquor are on the counter. What can I get you guys to start?”

“Beer’s fine for me,” I said, and Elliot nodded.

Angela dipped through two girls, a slender black cat and a vibrant peacock, and returned with two, cold bottles.

“Thanks,” I said with a tentative smile. “Nice place!”

“It feels small with all the people, but it’s like a palace after my studio. Where do you live?”

“15 Cliff—in the Financial District,” I said.

“Well, I hope you spend more time there than Elliot’s place.”

“My place is a lot closer to CIStech, but El’s apartment is cozy.”

“CIStech. My boss, Gideon, who I love, talks about you guys from time to time. He’s really down with the business within a business model, but he’s also trying to make it independently. He’s got some great ideas—we just need to land a big fish.”

Elliot must have read something into what Angela said because he stepped closer and asked her who they had in mind.

“I’m not sure I should say,” she said with a quirk of her brow and a glance in my direction.

“I’ll let you two catch up,” I said, taking the hint and feeling relieved I could walk away.

“I’m glad you got him to come out,” Angela said, a genuine smile turning up the corners of her lips.

I glanced at Elliot, who, in a move that shocked both Angela and me, leaned over to press a soft kiss to my lips.

“She’s good for me,” he said, his voice just audible over the din of the party.

I gave his hand a squeeze before I shuffled out of the kitchen in search of Darlene.

I ended up bumping into a guy I knew from school and while we chatted about the smallness of the world, I glanced around for a hint of stark white next to a void of black.

Elliot and Angela had moved out of the kitchen and were talking in a recess of the narrow hallway. Elliot’s back was to me, but I could tell from the way Angela looked at him that their conversation was intense. After a few minutes, she rolled her eyes and took Elliot’s wrist, yanking him farther down the hallway and out of my line of sight.

“So, seriously—what’s it like dating Elliot?”

Ollie’s obnoxious voice yanked my attention away from the spot Elliot and Angela had just been occupying as effectively as if he had reached out and taken my wrist, too.

Fuck me, I thought as I took in his bleary eyes.  

As I fielded his questions and realized that Ollie talked far more than he listened, I focused on the feeling in my gut that had been preoccupying me all day. I wasn’t the jealous type—I always figured if I was with someone who wanted someone else then they weren’t worth my time.

Elliot was so complicated I just assumed I’d never have to worry. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy who would thrive off of juggling more than one girl at a time; in fact, I assumed his anxiety would eat him into an early grave if he ever got himself into a situation like that.

You know what they say about people who assume! my own anxiety cheerfully reminded me.

I returned my attention back to Ollie who was still talking about a party from his sophomore year of college and interrupted him.

“Have you seen Angela?”

“Huh? Oh, I haven’t in a while,” he said, his brow furrowing as he glanced around the room.

“She and Elliot must have gone off somewhere,” I suggested.

“Those two are kinda weird. Every time she’d hang with him, she’d come back all sad and mopey. I was glad when you came into the picture because they don’t talk as much.”

I looked at Ollie and the expression on my face must have prompted him to realize he’d said yet another stupid thing.

“Listen—I know how important Elliot is to her, childhood mom and dad death shit and whatever, but sometimes the past needs to just, like die, ya know?”

I figured my paranoia had gotten the best of me because what Angela’s idiot boyfriend said actually made sense.

“I think I do know what you mean, Ollie.”

“Cheers, babe! Let’s get you a refill,” Ollie said as he thunked his empty bottle against my own before leading me into the kitchen.

Four beers and a shot later, I was standing with Darlene, listening to her verbally eviscerate a cute guy who had made the mistake of saying that Flame was the best rootkit written in the past five years, when Elliot found us.

“Are we taking bets on when she makes this guy cry?” Elliot whispered, his breath disturbing the strands of my wig that hung around my ear.

I smiled and turned into Elliot’s body, leaning in to quietly reply, “I think he’s getting off on it.”

Elliot chuckled and joined the conversation, playing devil’s advocate until Darlene grew frustrated and snarled, “Who asked you anyway? Come on—let’s get me a drink,” she said as she pushed the cute guy toward the kitchen.

“Ready to go?” Elliot asked, his features schooled into a practiced indifference.

“Are you? You’re wearing that face I can’t read.”

Elliot’s lips quirked into a nanosecond smirk.

“Let’s go.”

“That’s better,” I said. “I should say goodbye to Angela and thank her for the invite.”

“She’s in the hall. We’ll catch her on the way out.”

Angela was preoccupied with a few people Elliot said were from Allsafe, the company she worked for, so we said a quick goodbye and made our way out to the street.

I took a deep breath and my body practically vibrated from the feel of having space to stretch without bumping into a body and from the chilly, fresh night-air.

“There’s nothing like space and cool air after escaping from a crowd,” I said as Elliot looked at me, his eyes filled with a happiness that only came when someone understood something that you thought only you understood.  

Elliot waved for a taxi after he assured me for the third time that Darlene would be fine. I sent her a text, just to be sure, and she replied immediately.

D: I’m fine MOM. Go home and bone DAD so he learns to have some fucking chill and not be such a dick when I’m working my mojo.  

Y/N: You two have very different ways of flirting lol—be safe! Text me in the am.

D: : )

As we slid into the taxi, I smiled at my phone thinking how alike and how very different Darlene and Elliot were.

“Where to?” the driver asked, his voice curt as he wondered just how drunk Elliot and I were considering our costumes.

I answered with Elliot’s address and the driver relaxed as he realized we weren’t shitfaced.

I quietly said to Elliot, “Figured you’d need to go home to your space after all of . . . that.”

“Thank you,” he answered just as quietly as he gave my knee a quick squeeze.

The rest of the cab ride was silent, which gave me time to consider how and where Elliot had spent most of the party. I did tell the driver to take us to Elliot’s because I knew he’d want to go home, but I also had an ulterior motive. I wanted him to be in his most secure place in the hopes he would be comfortable enough to answer the questions I had about Angela. Watching them interact and my conversation with Ollie did nothing but heighten that feeling in my gut.

As soon as we stopped in front of Elliot’s building, I slid out of the cab and let him pay the driver. I waited at the top of the stoop before following Elliot up to his apartment.

As soon as the door shut and I dropped my backpack onto the kitchen table, I spoke up.

“So . . . you and Angela?”

Elliot turned to look at me, his mouth dropping open a bit as he decided whether to reply or to wait for me to go on.

“You have history. That’s evident. I’m just curious about how much history you have . . . and if any of that history is not so . . . past tense.”

I couldn’t look at him when I said it, dropping my eyes and feeling ashamed for even implying he still had feelings for her. But I had to know.

God I didn’t want to know.

“Forget it,” I said quickly, opening Elliot’s drawer to yank out a t-shirt before I went into the bathroom and shut the door.

I pulled off my wig and relished in the feeling of shaking out my hair after it had been confined inside the wig cap.

I undressed, leaving my costume in a rumpled pool on the floor, and got ready for bed, slowly, hoping Elliot would be asleep or pretending to be asleep by the time I finished.  

I pulled my hair into a messy bun, unable to meet my own gaze in the bathroom mirror. My stomach was still clenched in a weighted ball of anxiety as I opened the bathroom door and sent one more prayer to the powers that be that he would be in bed.

No such luck.

Elliot was on his computer when I came out of the bathroom, and as soon as he heard the door open, he swung around and said, “Come here.”

He stood up and waited for me to find my feet. I took a deep breath and crossed the room, slowly sitting down in his computer chair. I turned to face the screen, wondering what it was he wanted to show me.

Elliot opened a file and a sweet picture of Darlene, Elliot, and Angela popped up. Elliot and Darlene were grinning widely as they each had just clearly smashed a piece of cake against Angela’s cheeks, her blonde hair clinging to her face in sticky strands, the smile on her face priceless. Despite my dread, I found myself smiling at little Elliot.

Elliot’s arms were around me on either side, one hand resting on the desk while the other clicked the mouse as he showed me more pictures. I watched the three of them age until there were just a series of pictures of Elliot and Angela that stopped on the day of their high school graduation.

“She’s been my best friend for as long as I can remember,” Elliot said quietly, his face next to mine, his eyes locked on the image in front of us.

“You love her,” I stated.

“I thought we’d never be separated, but she went to college in the city and I didn’t. She wanted to get out of Washington Township even more than I did.”

“Is that why you broke up?”

“Angela and I were never really together like that—like weare,” Elliot said as he closed out of the pictures and turned his monitor off.

He turned and faced his bed, leaning on the computer desk as I swung the chair around so I could look at him.

“You never dated?”

“Not . . . exactly.”

“You’re not making this very easy to understand.”

“I’m sorry—it’s hard to put a label on it. I don’t think I can.”

“Try.”

“We had sex, but it was more because I trusted her. And she trusted me. You get to a certain age. Everyone’s talking about it, so you just do it. And I thought, maybe that was all there was to it. That Angela and I would get married someday. That I could have a life with my best friend.”

“But?”

“Angela has a flaw. She never loves anyone who loves her. I knew that, and when I was young, I accepted that. I figured I could still be happy even if she never really loved me back—loved me like that, I mean.”

“What changed your mind?”

Elliot ran his hands through his flattened hair as he struggled to say something he knew was too heavy, too much of a burden to place on someone else.

“You did,” he said, still looking at his unmade bed.  

The weight of Elliot’s statement settled over me, the silence in his apartment feeling oppressive as I waited for him to continue.

“You loved me first. And after you knew me, after you knew my . . . abnormalities. I never thought anyone would love me first.”

Months ago, I had known Elliot would never be the one to admit his feelings first, but now I knew why—he had already been in love with me, but he didn’t want me to love him like Angela, to love him only because he loved me first.

He wanted—needed—to know I loved him all on my own, without obligation.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, determined not to cry as a desperate, emotional ache filled my chest.

“I don’t think you give yourself enough credit, Elliot. Anyone who could see your heart, would love you.”  

“I don’t exactly make it easy.”

“True,” I said, finally drawing his eyes to meet mine as I smirked.

“I love you, Y/N,” Elliot said with such straightforwardness that the smile fell from my face. “Please don’t ever doubt that.”

“I won’t,” I answered softly, rising from the chair to stand in front of him.

Elliot’s hands came to rest on my hips as I cupped his face, my thumbs lightly sliding over his cheekbones as we looked into each other’s eyes, both of our vulnerabilities laid bare.

A frantic, daunting thought flashed through my mind as I leaned in to kiss him and I wondered—no—somehow I knew the same thought flashed through Elliot’s:

Please don’t break my heart.

[kjimagine]

Behind the scenes - Sweet Pea

Request: “Hi there!! I was wondering if you could do a sweet pea imagine where the reader is Josie’s understudy in the musical and sweet pea never really noticed her because he was too focused on Josie and after he hears her sing “fight for me” to him in the musical he falls head over heels for her and keeps trying to be nice and protective of her because she’s small and quite..? Sorry I know that’s a lot”

Pairings: Sweet Pea x reader

Warnings: small panic attack and Reggie Mantle being a creeeeeppppppeeeerrrrrr

Summary: Sweet Pea can’t help but take notice of you when he catches you singing “fight for me” in the role of Josie’s understudy in the musical. Over the next few weeks, you take notice of the lingering stares you can never seem to catch and the significant disappearance of trouble around you

N/A: its literally like they just said “serpents”? “Sweetpea”? don't know her, and threw my boy out the window. Also, i might edit this later and add to it UPDATE: I EDITED AND ADDED MORE

Despite your role of leading understudy in the Riverdale Highschool musical production of Heathers, you still attended every practice. Of course, that decision was influenced by Kevin and Fangs. In the chance that something went wrong, which would certainly not be an absurd occurrence in Riverdale, they needed you to be prepared.

You spent most practices sitting on the floor by Kevin and Fang's table, catching up on classwork and playing stupid games on your phone that made the time pass faster. The last 30 minutes of practice, were always designated for you. That was your time to shine.

Josie didn’t really deserve the leading role, at least,  that what your parents had told you many many times over. There were certainly people who agreed, Betty Cooper for example. Others would soon come to this conclusion too.

“(y/n), when the basketball guys get back in 10 minutes, you’re up,” Kevin smiled down at you. You smiled back in confirmation.

The start of the musical season, at Riverdale, always interfered with the end of the basketball season. And thus, all basketball players were late to musical rehearsals. Fangs still managed to be around for some musical practices, this was actually the first he had been able to attend in two weeks.

“Kevin, I don’t see the point in her practicing, no offence, y/n, if she’s not performing,” Josie complained.

“Why don’t you focus on yourself instead of worrying about y/n, God knows you need the practice,” Cheryl scoffed. Putting a hand over your mouth, you tried to hide your laughter. Josie scoffed and rolled her eyes at Cheryl in response. Cheryl sent you a wink from across the room.

Cheryl and you had never been more than friendly to each other, a few hellos’s in the hallway, helping each other with a few questions and equations for class occasionally. Her desire to defend you against Josie was a surprise, weren’t the two of them friends?

Kevin sighed and shook his head the interaction between the two girls. “Alright, take five. When we come back (y/n)’s up.”

Right on cue, in walked Sweet Pea and Reggie. The two of them definitely didn't seem like the musical type, but none the less, here they were.

Reggie scanned the group of theatre kids and when his eyes met yours, a smile grew on his face.

Reggie mantle was like the plague. Nobody wanted him to be there, but there he was; He was behind every door you opened, around the bend of every corner, he was in every class you have had since freshman year.

Reggie Mantle didn't know what the phrased “go away” or “leave me alone” meant.

An audibly loud sigh left your mouth when he started toward you. Sweet Pea chuckled lightly at this, the annoyance present in your body language. 

“How’s my favourite girl?” he grinned wrapping his arm around your shoulders. 

You shrugged his arm off and took a step backward, “Not your girl, Mantle; not even your friend.”

“Ouch,” Reggie winced, holding a hand to his chest in mock hurt. Cheryl and Toni laughed from beside the two of you. You and Toni made eye contact briefly, sending each other a small smile.

“Give it up, Reggie. You’ve been chasing (y/n) since freshman year and she doesn’t even want to touch you with a ten-foot pole,”  Cheryl snapped. Wow, she really did have your back today.

“She’d touch me, isn't that right, (y/n)?” he grinned taking another step toward you. You grimaced at the pearly white teeth poking through his menacing smile, a chill travelled down your spine.

“Your doctor doesn’t even want to touch you, Mantle, give it up,” Toni snarled.

Kevin let out a puff of air in frustration, “Alright, back to work,” he redirected the group. 

With a small sigh you made your way up onto the stage, Josie stomping her feet on the way to her seat behind you.

You were never one for creating drama, Riverdale surely had enough of that, but if Josie continued to complain about your involvement in the play, there was going to be a problem.

“Alright, (y/n),” Kevin clicked his pen four times, “Fight for Me.”

You watched as Ms. Grenvell reached her hands out and started playing the introductory beat on the piano. Taking a deep breath in, you were ready.

Why when you see boys fight Does it look so horrible Yet... feel so right? I shouldn't watch this crap That's not who I am But with this kid… Daaaaamn

Josie rolled her eyes at you from her seat in the front row. Her legs kicked to sit over each other. Her arms crossed in annoyance.

Hey, mister no-name kid So who might you be? And could you fight for me Hey, could you face the crowd Could you be seen with me and still act proud Hey, could you hold my hand And could you carry me through no man's land It's fine if you don't agree But I would fight for you If you would fight for me

The serpents had never been around long enough or even interested enough to learn your name, but they certainly were now. The rise and fall of your voice was angelic, your articulation exquisite. 

Toni’s face held shock, Fangs’ held admiration, and Sweet Pea’s held a smile. Pea may have not known much about Riverdale High or the people who attended it, but he certainly wanted to now.

                                                       ∘  ♔♔♔  ∘

The halls of Riverdale High had been quiet all week. The absence of Riverdale’s very own Mantle the Magnificant’s presence really put into perspective how little interaction you had with your fellow students. You had friends, but with the amount of Reggie Mantle that usually hung off your neck, they chose to keep their distance. 

Reggie Mantle hadn’t tried saying anything to you in two days, he hadn’t even looked at you. For the first time in 2 years, you didn't live in a constant state of uncomfortable. And while Reggie’s lingering eyes had stopped, they were replaced with a new pair. Only this time they weren’t bad, they belonged to Sweet Pea.

You have never had a conversation with him, maybe a few head nods and small smiles here and there. When you heard that the Southside Serpents would be attending Riverdale Highschool, not even your greatest and wildest dreams could have brought your current reality to life. 

Sweet Pea, arguably one of the toughest Serpents of his age, despite what his name claimed, took a liking to you. As cliche as it sounds, you were so painfully oblivious.

Sweet Pea spent months scaring the scoundrel’s of Riverdale High away from you. He spent months trying to figure out how to talk to you. He spent months trying not to fall deeper in love with you.

You spent months, for the first time since freshman year, hanging out with your friends and enjoying yourself. You spent months unbothered by the chaos of Riverdale. You spent months blind to Sweet Pea’s excessive starring and attempts to talk to you.

That was until one fateful day in January. Everyone had just arrived back from the break. And teens out of school surely meant trouble in Riverdale. The rivalry between the Serpents and the Bulldogs had been brewing, things were getting tense.

Slamming the door to your locker shut, there he was, Reggie Mantle, in all of his ignorance. With the roll of your eyes and sigh, you turned to look at him. Reggie slowly pushed you against the lockers, a smirk played on his lips. Your breath hitched in your throat at the unwanted contact.

“Miss me?” he grinned, hot breath fanning your face.

“Definitely not, Mantle,” you groaned. You tried pushing him off but to no avail, he still stood uncomfortably close.

This interaction must have been enough to push Sweet Pea over the edge. The next thing you knew, Sweet pea’s fist was hitting Reggie's face and Reggie’s face was hitting the floor. Your hand flew to your mouth, eyes wide.

Toni and Fangs stood nearby, along with a few Serpents who stood at each end of the Hallway to watch for teachers. A few students cheered as Sweat pea’s fists reconnected with Reggie’s body again and again and again.

“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, Mantle,” Sweet Pea yelled pulling Reggie up to his face by the collar of his shirt. “You bother (y/n) again and I’ll beat you to a pulp,” he spits. With that, he drops Reggie’s collar, the boy’s head hitting the ground harshly. Sweet Pea looks over to you, but when the two of you make eye contact, he freezes like a deer in the headlights.

Someone yells out that Weatherbee is coming, but with all the yelling in the hallway, and the bulldogs emerging from god knows where, you get lost in the commotion.

Your back hits your locker as your eyes try to make sense of the scene in front of you. Your chest tightens and your breathing shallows, you wrap your arms around yourself.

A warm hand grabs yours, and you’re pulled away from the loud fighting crowd in the hallway of Riverdale High. The hand is large, it incases yours entirely. You can’t see much as you’re lead through the crowd, but you’re able to make out the slicked greasy hair and the worn leather jacket of the serpent in front of you.

[jjmaybankx]

WHY DO I STILL » STILES STILINSKI » EIGHT

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✧☾✧

HAVEN RACED TO THE HOSPITAL, SLIGHTLY ANNOYED WITH STILES.

When Jackson had called her in the dead of the night saying he was at the hospital, she really didn't care. It was when he said it was because he was dropping off Lydia that she sprung out of bed.

"Stiles told me not to tell you," he had told her over the phone when she asked why she was just hearing about it. "But I couldn't get ahold of Allison, and you're definitely more liked by Lydia right now than I am."

"Is she okay?" Haven asked as she grabbed her helmet to her bike, running into the garage.

"They're going to assume it's an animal attack, but we both know it wasn't," replied Jackson.

"Is she bitten?" Haven asked, her heartbeat quickening. Everyone around her was changing.

"Yeah."

✧☾✧

She looked around, seeing an elevator opening and Jackson walking out with a few deputies behind him.

She walked towards him hurriedly, calling out, "Jackson!"

The normally hotheaded jock turned to face her, panic stricken across his face. He rushed to her and surprisingly pulled her into a hug.

He pulled away from her, holding onto the back of his neck as he looked around frantically.

"Where's Lydia? Where is she?' he asked.

"Hey, hey!" Sheriff Stilinski called, grabbing Jackson's shoulder and making him face him. "What the hell happened to that girl?"

"I-I don't know," Jackson replied, his voice shaking. "I went out looking for her."

"W-what, you just happened to wander into the middle of that field, and you just found her there like that?" Sheriff asked, getting agitated. "Don't lie to me son."

"No, I—"

Noah grabbed his collar, angry, and Haven moved between them until the sheriff let go.

"Dad..." Haven said softly, keeping herself in the middle of them. "He's not lying to you. Lydia came by and told me she was going outside to look for him, and he passed me later, not outside so I told him Lydia was looking for. Whatever happened to her, he wasn't there."

"She's his girlfriend, it's his responsibility."

"No, she's not, okay!" Jackson replied. "She didn't go to the formal with me."

"Then who'd she go with?" Noah asked.

"Do you really wanna know?" Jackson asked, looking at Haven, who looked down.

This wasn't going to look good for Stiles.

"She went with Stiles," Jackson admitted.

Noah looked at Haven, his facial expression falling, "He didn't go with you?"

"Stiles took her," she replied, not being able to meet his eyes. It wasn't like she could tell her what she knew: Peter had done this.

"Somebody better find my son," Noah muttered, looking specifically at Haven as he said it.

✧☾✧

"Stiles!"

She peddled faster when they came into view at a parking lot structure. She wasn't even sure how she had found them, but she just thought about it, and there she was, making her way to a specific location. She left Jackson with Lydia, telling him to text her updates.

Peter rolled his eyes when he saw her while Stiles looked worried, eyes full of concern.

"How did you—" Stiles asked as she got off her bike, unclipping her helmet.

"Jackson told me about Lydia," she said, walking over to him, and he pulled her into his side.

"I told him—"

"Not to? I know," she finished for him, pulling away from him.

"Don't tell me your username and password is Haven," Peter said to Stiles.

"Excuse me?" Haven asked, bewildered.

"Ignore him," Stiles said. "Why are you here?"

"Your dad has the whole sheriff's department looking for you," she replied, crossing her arms. "Thought it'd be better I found you first."

"Are you a werewolf?" Peter asked her, and she shook her head. "Peculiar than you knew just where to find us."

There was howling, and Peter told Stiles, "Give me your keys."

Stiles sighed, tossing over the keys to Roscoe. "Careful, she grinds in second."

Stiles asked, "So, you're not gonna kill us?"

Peter turned around, and Stiles stepped back, making sure to keep himself placed in front of Haven. She snaked her arms around his, holding herself to his side.

"Don't you understand yet?" Peter asked him. "I'm not the bad guy here."

"You turn into a giant monster and bite my friends," replied Haven, shaking her head.

"With red eyes and fangs," added Stiles.

"Are you sure you're not the bad guy here?" added Haven.

"The finishing sentences thing you two do," Peter said, pointing between the two of them. "It's so... adorable it's disgusting. But I like you, two, Stiles, Haven. Since Stiles has helped me... and Haven seems to be smart enough to randomly find you... I'm going to give you guys something in return. Do you want the bite?"

There was a silence as both teens processed what the alpha was offering them.

"What?" asked Stiles.

"Do you want the bite?" Peter repeated. "If it doesn't kill you—and it could—you'll become like us."

"Like you?" Haven said warily, and she looked down at Stiles's hand, intertwining it with one of hers as she kept the other arm wrapped around his arm.

"Yes, a werewolf," replied Peter. "Would you like me to draw you a picture? That first night in the woods, I took Scott because I needed a new pack. It could've easily been you, Stiles. You'd be every bit as powerful as him. No more standing by his side, watching him become stronger, and quicker, more popular, watching him get the girl. You'd be equals. Maybe more."

Stiles looked down at Haven, gulping. She tried to silently tell him to say no, but she had a feeling he wanted to say yes. Peter grabbed Stiles's hand, bringing it up to his face.

"Yes or no?"

When Stiles didn't answer, Peter opened his mouth to bite it. Haven closed her eyes, squeezing Stiles's hand, but when she opened it, Stiles had pulled away from Peter.

"I don't wanna be like you," Stiles said.

"Do you know what I heard just then?" Peter asked. "Your heart beating slightly faster over the word 'I don't want.' You may believe that you're telling me the truth, or maybe you're just saying it for her sake, but you are lying to yourself. Goodbye, lovebirds."

When Peter walked away, Haven let go of Stiles's hand and pulled her entire body into him, the boy wrapping his arms around her in a hug.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, running his hands through her hair. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" she asked, pulling way.

"I wanted tonight to be the night you get to be normal," Stiles admitted, placing his hands on her face, stroking it endearingly. "You looked so happy with Isaac... I... I just... I didn't want to ruin it for you."

"We're in this shit together," she replied. "C'mon, let's go figure out what to say to your father when we get to the hospital. And I need to call Allison again, she's still not answering any of my calls."

✧☾✧

They stormed into the hospital and Sheriff Stilinski pushed his son back.

"You know what? It's good that we're in a hospital because I am going to kill you," Noah said to his son.

"I'm-I'm sorry," Stiles scrambled, scratching the back of his head. "I lost the keys to my Jeep. I had to run all the way here," he lied.

"Stiles, I don't care!" Noah yelled.

"Is she going to be okay?" he asked, peering over his father at Lydia's room.

Mrs. Martin was brushing her daughter's hair.

Noah sighed, "They don't know, partially because they don't know what happened. She lost a lot of blood, but there's something else going on with her."

"W-what do you mean?" Stiles asked.

"The doctor's say it's like she's having an allergic reaction. Her body keeps going into shock."

Stiles started to breath heavily at the information, and Haven rubbed his back.

"Did you see anything?"

Mrs. Martin looked out her daughter's window and saw Haven, sending her a smile and beaconing her forward. She had recognized her from the few times Lydia had her over.

"I'll be back," Haven told them, squeezing Stiles's arm before she apprehensively entered the room.

"Hey," she said to Mrs. Martin, her voice small.

"Hi, sweetie," Lydia's mom said to her.

"I... I saw her go outside... I didn't..." Haven tried to form a sentence, but she couldn't, tears forming in her eyes as she looked at her friend. "She's only ever been such a good friend... I should've gone after her..."

Mrs. Martin stood up and pulled Haven into a hug, and said, "It's not your fault you didn't go outside with her. I'm glad you didn't. I wouldn't want both of you hurt."

Haven walked outside and stood next to Jackson while Stiles talked to his dad.

"Hey, I know I'm mean to your idiots a lot..." Jackson started, looking down at the shorter girl. "And that you don't exactly like me..."

"Jackson..."

"But I hate feeling this helpless for her, while your nerds are the only ones who can help her," he admitted. "And maybe if I hadn't gone outside looking for the Alpha, Lydia wouldn't have came outside, too."

She rubbed his back, surprised at this new perspective on him as he looked inside the window at the strawberry blonde, fear written on his face.

"I thought that if I had the bite, I wouldn't have to count on McCall to be the only one who can protect any of us. I was helpless at the high school... even Lydia was a bigger help than I was."

"Trust me, everyone around me seems to be trying to keep me out of this world," Haven admitted. "I know how you feel."

"They're not trying to keep you out," Jackson shook his head. "Stiles is trying to keep you from ending up like that."

They both looked forward at the unconscious strawberry blonde, and she leaned her head against Jackson's arm.

"So... you and Cemetery boy? You know he's my neighbor?" Jackson asked, causing Haven to laugh for the first time she he had called her, and she shook his head at him. "C'mon, let's go get coffee from the cafeteria. We might be here a while."

She nodded and he extended his elbow out for her. She looped her arm with his, peering over her shoulder at Stiles as they left. He looked at them with furrowed eyebrows, his lips tight, but she just smiled at him before looking in front of her.

✧☾✧

"Where are you going?" Jackson called after Stiles.

Both boys had now loosened their lies and untucked their button ups. Haven was rushing behind them, still in her sweatpants and t-shirt, glad she had the chance to shower and change before Jackson called her. She moved furiously, trying not to spills her coffee as she trailed behind the two boys.

"To find Scott," Stiles replied.

"You don't have a car," reasoned Jackson. "What are you gonna do? Find him on Salazar's bike?"

"I'm aware of that. Thank you."

"Here, I'll drive," Jackson offered, grabbing Stiles's shoulder. "Come on—"

Stiles smacked his hand away and said, "Just because you feel guilty all of a sudden doesn't make it okay, all right? Half of this is still your fault."

"Look, I have a car, you don't. Do you want my help or not?" Jackson asked.

Stiles looked at the pleading expression on Haven's face then back to Jackson.

"All right, did you bring the Porsche?" he asked.

"Yeah," Jackson said, pulling his keys out.

"Okay, I'll drive," Stiles said, snatching the keys from him.

Before they could take another step, Chris Argent was in front of them with two men behind him. Stiles and Jackson both stepped closer to one another, shielding off Haven.

"Kids, I was wondering if you can tell me where Scott McCall is," he asked.

"Scott McCall?" Stiles questioned. "Um... haven't seen him since the dance."

"Hmm," Argent said, obviously not believing Stiles, even though it was the truth.

"Jackson, you?" Stiles asked.

"Uh... I uh..." Jackson shook his head.

"Oh, for the love of God," muttered Stiles.

"How about you, Haven?" Argent asked, looking past the boys at her.

She put her hands up and shrugged, letting them fall back down to her sides. "As you can tell from my attire, I was about ready to fall asleep before I heard one of my best friends was in the hospital. I didn't even have the chance to change, let alone go see Scott."

✧☾✧

"Watch it!" Jackson and Stiles both yelled at Argent's men when the three of them were thrown into a hotel room, glaring at them for how they handled Haven.

"Is that really how you treat a girl?" Jackson scowled as Stiles wrapped an arm around her shoulder, bringing her closer to him.

"Let's try this again," was all Argent said. "Where is Scott McCall?"

"You really think it's a good idea to hold minors against their will?" Haven asked, crossing her arms and glaring. "Especially the Sheriff's kid? Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"Haven, I love you, but shut the fuck up," Jackson mumbled to her.

Stiles scowled at Jackson's statement.

Chris grabbed Stiles by his collar, slamming him into the wall while Jackson grabbed onto Haven protectively.

"Let go of him!" she yelled, and when Argent's men turned to look at her, Jackson stood in front of her, shaking his head at them.

"Let me ask you a question, Stiles," Argent said. "Have you ever seen a rabid dog?"

"No," Stiles replied. "I could put it on my to-do list if you just let me go."

"Well, I have, and the only thing I've ever been able to compare it to is seeing a friend of mine turn on a full moon. Do you want to know what happened?"

"Not really. No offense to your storytelling skills."

"He tried to kill me," Argent continued with his story anyways. "And I was forced to put a bullet in his head."

He hit Stiles's forehead as he said that, which irritated Haven.

"The whole while that he lay there dying, he was still trying to claw his way toward me, still trying to kill me, like it was the most important thing he could do with his last breath. Can you imagine that?"

"Obviously you guys weren't that close of friends," snarked Haven. "If you weren't able to help to an anchor to him, your connection just wasn't strong enough. And it's probably because you're the type of person to hold three teenagers hostage and practically assault one."

Argent glared at her while his goons stepped closer to her. Jackson, who was scared out of his own mine, stepped to be in front of her more, trying to shield her.

"Can you imagine that?" he asked again, directing it back to Stiles.

"No. And it sounds like you need a little bit more select—"

Argent was irritated with the snarky commented from the kids, and he smacked the wall behind Stiles. "Did Scott try to kill you on the full moon? Did you have to lock him up?"

"Yeah, I did. I had to handcuff him to a radiator. Why? Would you prefer I locked him in the basement and burned the whole house down around me?"

There were tears forming in Stiles's eyes and Haven tried to move forward, but Jackson was content in keeping her safe behind him.

"I hate to dispel a popular rumor, Stiles, but we never did that," Argent said, finally moving a bit away from Stiles, but keeping a hand on his shoulder.

"Oh, right," Stiles said. "Derek said you guys had a code. I guess no one ever breaks it."

"Never," Argent replied.

"And what does your code say about holding three teenagers hostage?" added Haven, still on the topic of the fact that three grown men wouldn't let three teenagers go, which was probably illegal.

"What if someone does break your code?" Stiles asked, and Haven rolled her eyes as her question was ignored again.

"Someone like who?" Argent asked.

"Your sister," Stiles replied.

✧☾✧

"Seriously?!" Haven yelled down the street, watching as Stiles sped away in Jackson's porsche, dropping her off at her house before going to find Scott.

The door to her house opened, her mom stepping outside with crossed arms. "You have some explaining to do."

✧☾✧

She had finally fallen asleep when there was a ruffling in her sheets. Her eyes opened and her breath became heavy as she felt panic kick in, but it was overridden by the familiar smell of the deodorant on the person next to her.

"Stiles?" she said, calming down as she looked up at him. Both of them kept their arms to their own sides. "What're you doing here?"

"I, um... well I woke up your mom, first off," he said. "And then I told her I had a rough night and wanted to see, and she said you told her about Lydia being in the hospital, so I could stay here if I wanted."

"She said that?" Haven asked, confused.

"Well... she said for me to stay on the floor," Stiles said. "But... after the night we've had... I just... I want to be right here, if that's okay."

She nodded. She turned around so that they weren't facing each other, a blush on her face.

"What happened after you dropped me off?"

"Derek's the alpha now," he said solemnly.

"That's good, right? W-we like him?"

"I mean... yeah... but... the cure for Scott would've came from the one who turned him," Stiles said.

"So we're never going to be normal again?" she asked, her voice small.

"No," Stiles said from behind her. "But I promise to do whatever I can to keep you safe. We'll figure this out."

"Goodnight, Stilinski," she said softly.

"Goodnight, Hav."

next chapter?

NINE >

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[devnny]

CHAPTER EIGHT.

JTRM — THE “R” STANDS FOR RECOVERING!

PREVIOUSLY.

lots of plot development in this chapter blaugh, i hope it’s not too fast. oh well. ONWARD TO DOMESTIC BLISS!

[•/•/•• :

This is… stupid. This is so, so stupid. What am I doing?

Johnny’s still killing people. And here I thought we were making progress in ridding him of that fourth voice of his.

He doesn’t tell me much about ‘Reverend Meat’. I hoped that had meant it was quieting down, but I bet it’s fucking not. Nny just hides things from me that he knows will piss me off. BASTARD.

I brought up him… moving in. To the apartment. With me.

I have to be going insane again. I’m not AFRAID of him anymore, but does that mean I want him living in my house? No.

But I don’t know how else to control him. He said they were spur of the moment attacks, so does that mean I have to constantly keep tabs on him? I have to know everywhere he goes, and what he’s doing there, and when he’s going, and when he’ll be back? I don’t CARE about any of that.

…Well, I guess I do. But only because I’m trying to keep him from getting crazier. Fuck, this sucks.

I haven’t lived with someone else since community college…]

--

The dry, patchy grass crumpled under Johnny’s shoes while he strode across his lawn, only the dull light of the lopsided moon available to guild him through the dark. He didn’t mind – after all, his eyes were fairly well-adjusted to lurking around at night. He came to a stop at the first story window of his next-door neighbor’s house, and climbed up onto the windowsill. He used that as a makeshift stepstool, and settled himself down before springing up the additional six feet or so, his thin fingers quickly latching onto the window directly above it. Johnny pushed the pane open as he crawled upwards, propping himself up and half-inside the home as he moved forward.

“Hey Squee!” His teeth gleamed in the dark. The little lump in the bed to his right stirred, and a pair of eyes peeked out at him.

“Oh, hello.” Todd mumbled. He wasn’t having any luck sleeping as it was, and his scary neighbor man never made that any easier.

“How’ve you been? It’s been a busy couple of months for me – I’m home now, by the way. Sorry, I forgot to stop in. One of my old friends is, er, back in my life, for the time being.” Johnny admitted, and hauled himself up over the sill to lay more easily on his ribs.

Todd’s curiosity was peaked from that comment, and he pushed his comforter down to properly greet his uninvited visitor. He wiggled down off the rather steep drop that his bed had for a Squee-sized child, and moved cautiously toward the window, Schmee hugged close to his collar.

“A friend?” His lower lip tucked out. “Is he living with you? Is he… scary?”

Johnny blanched, and quickly chuckled the comments away with some embarrassment.

“No, she’s not at the house with me.” He said, then paused. The talk he had with Devi the previous day about potentially moving into her apartment was still very much on his mind. It was one of the reasons he had stopped by tonight, having felt the need to disclose that to Todd, since that would mean he would again be unavailable if the boy needed help.

“Err, I might be… living with her soon, though. It’s kinda up in the air right now.” He confessed. Todd’s mouth opened slightly in surprise, but he only continued to stare at Johnny, unwilling to pry.

Johnny felt some heat crawl up from his cheeks to his forehead as he watched Todd’s inquisitive, almost accusatory, face. He was a little kid! He didn’t want to be a bad example – children should have good examples from the adults in their lives, especially Todd, who was severely lacking upstanding role models with his parents being such lousy people.

From what he gathered, most children had the understanding that a man and woman lived together when they were, well, married! The situation happening otherwise was booed by old people as being devious in nature – he shivered a little.

“Don’t worry – we’re just friends. Promise.” Johnny squeezed an anxious smile out. “It’d just be a roommates sort of situation.”

Todd looked surprised that Johnny had guessed what his curiosity was about, and thinned his mouth into a flat line, tiny teeth poking out while he tried to find something else to look at besides the man flopped over his windowsill.

“ANYWAYS.” Johnny cut in. “She’s been helping me with drawing stuff, and uh, some… other stuff. So I won’t be cramming anymore corpses in the tunnel between our houses. Shouldn’t take more than a couple years for the ones in there to either degrade into bones, or mummify. It is kinda musty down there…”

He failed to notice Todd’s horrified expression.

“—They’re probably already halfway there. It has been almost six months since I was last down there… maybe I’ll go check it out.” Johnny mused with a set of scratches to his jaw. “Aw well, point is, if I do move out, you could use the passage to sneak out at night! Wouldn’t that be cool?”

Todd only continued to stare in shock.

“I’ll keep ya updated. Things are changing so fast these days.” Johnny smiled, then adjusted to slither back out the window. Before he dropped down, he offered a blaring, “GOODNIGHT, SQUEE!”, only startling Todd further.

Todd hurried back to bed and burrowed into his sheets, trying with all his might to unimagine the spooky images of mummies living below his house.

--

WITHIN THE WEEK:

A trial run, that’s what this was.

She and Johnny talked it over, and then she talked it over again with Tenna, and then once more with much more yelling, and then cursed God with every foul word she knew, and then yielded to her hideous fate.

Johnny would stay at her apartment, for now.

Just until he didn’t need to be monitored like the horrible, man-baby he was, Devi told herself.

Her neck lowered further and further, until the crown of her head was almost level with her shoulders. She hated this so much.

Johnny was only going to take two boxes worth of clothes and crap with him, seeing as his new living situation was temporary, but he needed her slightly larger car for the only piece of furniture he intended to bring to her apartment with him; his drafting table.

The desk was old-fashioned, mostly metal, with a heavy wooden surface, and was very, very difficult to lift. Devi leaned against her car door and watched with a sour expression as Johnny attempted to move the table down the driveway with little success, swearing all the way. She grumbled a sigh, and made her way over to help him.

With much less difficulty, the two wobbled down his driveway, screeching the desk’s metal legs along the concrete every so often when their grip slacked too much. They heaved it up over bumper of Devi’s sedan, and the car shuddered under the added weight as the table thudded into its trunk.

“I don’t think we’ll be getting that closed.” Johnny commented, in regard to the trunk door. Devi grunted.

She instructed him to get her some rope, or something, to tie the back shut with, since she outright refused to enter the house herself. Johnny returned with a myriad of different bindings, ranging from thin twine to chains, and Devi did her best not to think too hard about why he had so many options.

“Those are… unused, right?” She pointed to the chains that he was winding around the desk, but got distracted by the rolling sound of plastic wheels a small ways down the sidewalk. A little boy with black hair slowed his trike to a stop beside the car.

“You’re moving after all, Mister Nny?” Todd asked with a wobbly smile. He still didn’t really know how to address Johnny.  

“AH.” Johnny stumbled back from the task at hand with an excited smile. “Hey, Squee-gee!”

Devi watched with a befuddled expression as Johnny trotted around her and to the curb. He squatted down to Todd’s eyelevel, still smiling wide.

“Yeah, but I’ll be back in a little while. I’m just staying with Devi until I’m, uh… feeling better!”

“You’re sick?” Todd asked. Johnny looked off and laughed at nothing as a response.

Todd’s mouth squirmed, and he turned his attention to Devi’s towering figure – from the point of view of a little Squee – a few steps away. She had such an intimidating presence, even though she was mostly just staring incredulously at the scene in front of her, but Todd still got the feeling that she was more anchored than his crazy neighbor was.

“You’re Mister Nny’s friend?” He asked. Devi’s mouth slanted; she wasn’t great with children.

“Uh, yes.” She responded as casually as she could. They way this kid said it, Johnny must have mentioned her to him before. She wasn’t sure if that made her uncomfortable or not.

“I’m glad you stopped by, Squeeg’!” Johnny piped up again. “I was going to leave you a note otherwise – I never know what you’re up to during the day.”

He stood up and tucked his hands behind his back politely.

“You be a good Squee while I’m gone, okay?” His sharp shoulders perked up in a shrug. Todd nodded, and Johnny returned to his work of securing his ever-valuable drafting table to Devi’s car.

Devi watched Todd’s smile inch wider, then watched him peddle his tricycle in a circle and back toward his house. He didn’t seem too broken up that Johnny was leaving, she noted, but they certainly seemed to have some kind of relationship – bizarre.

“You’re friends with that little kid?” She asked.

“Yeah, I kinda took him under my wing.” Johnny answered from the bowels of the trunk. “He needs someone to watch out for him – he’s such a scared-y, tiny kind of Squee, and his parents are… uninvolved. That’s putting it nicely.”

Devi’s mouth pinched up into a small frown. The topic of inattentive parents wasn’t unfamiliar to her – not in reference to her dear old dad, of course, but rather to her perpetually absent mother, who never made even the most minute of efforts to stay in contact with Devi after so-kindly giving birth to her. Her titas warmly referred to her as a ‘crackwhore’.

As heavy as that was, Devi hadn’t been bothered by it much after her hormonal pre-teen years passed, but it still left her with a rare soft spot for sad, neglected children. Or maybe it was a hard, angry spot for shitty parents – yeah, that suited her better.

“How uncharacteristically kind of you, Nny.” She teased dryly, and Johnny responded with a tittering set of giggles.

“HEY, I’m kind!” He popped up and set his foot on the edge of the car’s bumper for leverage as he pulled the bindings tight. He tied the rope and chains together with a gnarled looking bow, and inched back to review his handiwork with Devi.

“If this thing falls out while I’m driving, I’m not stopping.” She said.

“That’s fine, it’ll just go through my windshield and I’ll drive it the rest of the way.”

Both burst into a quick fit of hysterical laughter at the image. As it tapered off into chuckling sighs, Devi gave Johnny a jostling shove on the shoulder to urge him into the last leg of today’s endeavor.

“Alright. You ready to go?” She asked, moving to look at the house with him. Johnny regarded his residence of the past four years with a distant expression for a moment, but not nearly long enough to shrug off all its hellish nightmares and everything it represented for him as casually as he did.

“Yep!” He grinned at her. “Let me lock up, and we can leave.”

Devi held in the urge to scowl at the domesticity of it all.

--

SOME NIGHTS LATER:

It was really starting to hit him that he lives with Devi.

The first night had disoriented that fact, with the majority of the day and evening spent unpacking his things and trying to find places for them to go amongst all of Devi’s things. She was kind enough to empty one section of drawers in her art room as a makeshift dresser for his clothes, which was functional enough for him. He was going to spend most of his time in there anyway, and it wasn’t like he needed a bedroom, and he was not going to ask to mix his clothes in with hers. He had still only been in her bedroom once, and that was because the only bathroom in the apartment was connected to it.

After Johnny had finished unpacking, they drew for a while, and then ate and watched TV, and after that Devi bid him an awkward goodnight. It wasn’t very different from the one night he had spent over before, so it didn’t settle in how different things were going to feel now.

When she got up, and he was… still there, it still felt the same. But then he spent all day watching her paint while he drew, in her art room, which was now sort-of their art room, and he was there every time she left to get a drink or scrounge up something to eat. And he was there when she took breaks, and had dinner, and watched a movie.

Johnny couldn’t remember the last time he had spent a full 24-hours with someone; not even any of the poor bastards he’d strung up in his basement were ‘company’ for him for that long in one sitting.

It was… strange, but nice… so very nice.

Every time Devi left the room they were in, there was a comfortable, unconscious knowledge that she would be back. Whether it was in a few minutes, or in a few hours, he would be in her presence again shortly, and that made him feel a little safer, for whatever reason. There would be no more waiting for days to pass until he could see her in person again, just a mild handful of hours.

And it made him completely manic!

He wanted to draw more now than he ever had in his entire memory of his life. It was compulsive, uncontrollable. Every time Devi left him to sleep, Johnny would take up the same sketchbook and draw, and draw. Fast-paced, frantic swirling and squiggling of ink that dried up his pens and cramped his hands – but he persevered with the kind of persistence he hoped would make Devi proud, ushering forward whatever it was exactly that his brain demanded his fingers create.

So far, it just looked like a mass of churning, scratchy lines, but he was confident that there was a something meaningful there somewhere in-between the rows of indecipherable nonsense. The lines would look wrong here or there, and he would tear away strips of the paper and continue on to the next page, letting the ruined part lay atop it as though they were one singular piece, revealing new and different shapes as the mix-matched directions of the lines tried to work together.

It had been a week’s worth of nights that Johnny had committed to this ‘personal’ project so far, and he felt as if tonight he may actually bring it to its much-desired finish. He was excited about that, seeing as he had so far refused to share any of its progress with Devi – or its existence, for that matter. Each time he would hear her rouse from slumber, he tucked the sketchbook away into one of his designated drawers, and lied about how he’d preoccupied himself while she slept. Devi was not one to be so easily fooled, but she had allowed him to keep whatever he was working on a ‘secret’ from her, curious to see the end result if it was that rigorous of an exercise for him.

--

ONE SLEEP AFTERWARDS:

Devi rustled her hair with a yawn, still sitting in bed. After a couple of passes with her fingers to ‘comb’ it, she tied it back into one sloppy ponytail. She would do it up in her semi-usual pigtail style after breakfast.

The first few days of waking up and knowing that Johnny was in some unknown part of her apartment was very odd, and a little unnerving, but now she was forlorn to say she was getting used to it. Soon she feared she would be accustomed to sharing a space with him, or God forbid, content with it. The thought made her spine shudder.

She undid the lock on her bedroom door, and poked her head out to survey the area. Usually Johnny was on her couch by this time in the day, eating chips or something. He sure ate a lot of her food for a guy that didn’t ‘eat much’ – fucking freeloader.

This morning, however, he was unusually absent from his preferred sofa cushion. Devi’s mouth curved down suspiciously, and she ventured further out into her apartment. She didn’t hear anything besides the casual passing of cars outside, which only made her more wary. Johnny was very rarely quiet. She moved towards her drawing room, her first guess on where he might be.  

Devi was shocked to find him asleep on his drafting table.

She would have sooner thought he was dead, if it wasn’t for the slow rising and falling of his chest, and the intermediate twitching of a finger now and again. Johnny had boasted that he hadn’t slept in months, and she certainly believed it after a week of waking up to find him still up and about.

She stood and watched him a while, unsure of how to approach the situation – it was the same apprehension one might feel in waking a dog that they don’t know the temperament of well, fearful it might snap at them. She had no intention of waking him up, but she was very interested in the tattered looking notebook lying under his forearms.

With a push of stubborn bravery, she grabbed the sketchpad and slid it away from Johnny’s sleeping form, with no resistance on his part. The metaphor about him being akin to a vicious, snoozing guard dog was inaccurate, apparently. Her pilfered goods in hand, Devi retreated to her living room to inspect Johnny’s ‘work’.

From what she could see, it just looked like a torn-up mess. The open page, the one he had assumingly been working on last night, was the only one that wasn’t ripped. The rest all had pieces missing, some of them off to the sides, the other’s random chunks out of the middle. The first one was hollowed out, making it look like the discarded crust of a sandwich.

Devi frowned, uncertain what to make of this massacre of paper and pen marks. Maybe it was just some vent art, and she was expecting some grand project out of this molehill.

She flipped the pages carefully into their ordered places, and began the motion of closing the book’s cover when her eyes caught the vague shape of something amidst the tattered pages. She opened the cover fully again, and pulled one of the dangling pages more to the left. It was eerie how the lines seemed to shift and take form of something different as she did so – kind of cool, she admitted, if it was meant to be an interactive piece. Devi adjusted another loose page, and sucked in a sharp gasp at what she saw.

It was the figure of a person. All of this chaos was made to overlay and frame something, and that something was… Devi, it seemed. The figure showing amongst the damaged and chaotic penwork was her. She could certainly make out her scythe-like pigtails that protruded from the top of the slim subject’s head, however vaguely.

Devi’s chest clenched. There was such an uneasy feeling that came with seeing herself in Johnny’s work. Her brain immediately imagined that this was the result of some unhealthy obsession, maybe infatuation, with her, and that made her nauseous. Johnny couldn’t be living with her and dreaming up weird, neurotic, pseudo-romantic crap about her! Next he’ll be writing her poetry and other delusional bullshit, and that would not be acceptable in the slightest.

She stopped herself, letting the trail of disgusting thoughts leave her for a moment. Perhaps she was being too hasty in assuming that this was a symbol of his desire for her, or something equally gross. Devi wasn’t exactly narcissistic, but she absolutely credited herself and her efforts for guiding Johnny into a better state of being, and she knew Johnny did too. Maybe he put his gratitude toward his creative muse, and this was what popped out.

The shadowed eyes of her paper-self stared at something off the page, unknown to her, and Devi’s mouth twitched at how calm she looked. Sullen, but unbothered by the tumultuous nothingness around her.

Ugh. There better not be some kind of meaning behind this.

Devi closed the sketchbook and returned it to its sleeping owner, who only snorted a bit at having his arm prodded. She chuckled at the response, and shook her head fondly in disbelief of her situation. At least as far as art went, it was a pretty damn good piece from a one, maniacal, Johnny C.

She’d give him an ‘A’ for effort, this time. And maybe interrogate him later about his intentions. Yeah.

--

NEXT.

[mydarlingvioletine]

Just a Puppy Crush - Chapter Thirteen Ship(s): Violet/Clementine, Louis/Aasim, Ruby/Brody Media: The Walking Dead Game (Season 4)

author’s note: finally introducing one of my favorite boyos into this au!! sorry for the late update i hope you like it!

Just on the outskirts of the school, there was a patch of land that Violet had always overlooked, chalking it up as nothing.

        Turns out it was the community garden.

Clementine had pointed it out to her on their way to the corner store, and abruptly remembered that she had to check on her bok-choy and spinach plants.

       Violet waited patiently at the entrance, not noticing Clementine’s expression turn from tentative to mischievous. She turned her head just in time to see Clem reaching over a small fence, plucking a flower from another garden plot.

“Dude, isn’t that someone else’s?” Violet stammered, as Clementine rose to her feet and tucked the red flower behind Violet’s ear. “Can’t you get in trouble for that?”

      Clementine pursed her lips, tugging at the collar of Violet’s jacket with a smirk. “You’re the one who has a shirt that literally says ‘Be gay, do crime’.”

Still bashful from Clem adjusting her collar, Violet huffed and crossed her arms. “Never said I was a role model.”

        Clementine beamed before shutting the gate behind them, and interlocking her fingers with Violet’s. “Don’t worry, they’re Javi’s brothers’ flowers. That guy is kind of a dick, so I don’t feel bad. Child support dodging asshole.”

With a weak smile, Violet walked alongside Clem beside the road, kicking the occasional pebble that she saw.

      “Plus, I don’t think anyone could be that mad if they saw how cute you look.” Clementine chided, happily humming when she saw the deep pink flush across Violet’s face.

Fighting every instinct to bury her face in her hands, her smile became wobbly. “I’m not - I’m not fucking cute. Cute is for puppies and... babies.”

        Clementine huffed, swinging their intertwined fingers back and forth between them. “Fine. Beautiful, then.”

Violet groaned with exaggeration, trying to throw the attention off of the blush she couldn’t control. Being pale sucks when it comes to stuff like that.

      Clem held the door to the front of the shop open for Violet, and a cool breeze met her, along with some borderline emo pop music.

“Benny boy! How’s your shift going?” Clem hoisted herself up onto a bar stool beside the counter top, and swung her legs as she smiled at the lanky teenager at the cash register.

        “Well, this fucking terrifying lady just left about five minutes ago. Textbook definition of a scary soccer mom.” Ben murmured, pushing back his mess of shaggy back hair to glance at Violet. “She was even taller than me. Like, nobody’s taller than me.”

“Glad to see your ego is still intact.” Clementine giggled, patting the stool next to her for Violet to sit down on. Ben smiled wearily, eyes dancing between the two girls. “Did you get Larry to fix up the milkshake machine?”

         Ben softly shook his head, and took two large glasses from table behind him and set them under the spout. “Cheap bastard didn’t do shit. I got it fixed out of my own pocket. So, what can I get for you guys?”

“Two taco bags, puh-lease!” Clem sang out, digging the twenty dollar bill out of her pocket and slapping it on the counter. “Oh, Vi. What flavor do you want?”

       “Flavor?” Violet scrunched up her nose at the question, and Ben pressed a couple of different Doritos bags towards them. “Oh, uh... the best flavor.”

“A woman after my own heart,” Clem swooned dramatically, leaning back in her seat. “That’ll be two bags of Cool Ranch.”

     Violet guffawed and shook her head at the notion. “What? No. I said best flavor, Nacho Cheese.”

Ben beamed, and grabbed the bag from a shocked Clementine, who then crossed her arms. “At least one of your friends has taste. That kid who almost broke my jukebox by sitting on it went for the Supreme Cheddar. Fucking nasty.”

     “It’s Louis-“ Clem interjected, as Ben rolled his eyes and turned the corner to the kitchen.

Violet tugged her knees to her chest, and focused her gaze on the cheesy cat clock in the corner with big yellow eyes. “You take all your dates here?”

     Clementine blinked rapidly, and went to say something when there was a bang in the kitchen, followed by a “FUCK!”

A disheveled Ben rubbed the back of his head with embarrassment as he came back into the counter area, holding two bags of Doritos with chunks of taco meat and lettuce and cheese in them.

        “Bon appetite.” Ben dramatically bowed, passing the bags to Clem and Violet along with a fork. “Is that it?”

Clementine’s eyes landed on Violet, and she pursed her lips while contemplating. After a couple of seconds, she slammed her hand enthusiastically on the counter.

                   “One chocolate milkshake, please.”

Her eyes landed on Violet, and she cocked an eyebrow, her lips curving into a lopsided smile.

                  “Two straws.”

Violet scoffed to herself as they left with arms full of Gatorades and Doritos. Clem held the milkshake tightly in her hand, the water droplets from the sunlight making it slippery.

      “Louis dragged me along after one of our games. He asked Aasim to show up and watch him, and I guess he really didn’t expect for him to actually show up. But, he did and Louis got all flustered and had me be a third-wheel while they were doing all their mushy gushy shit. Definitely was not a date.” Clem confided.

“Oh,” Violet mulled it over in her head before giggling, letting a vulnerable snort slip out. “I can’t believe Louis is really trying to slip into my relationship shit when he can’t even handle his own. He’s.. so dumb.”

        “Relationship shit?” Clem cooed with curiosity, bumping her shoulder against the taller girls’. “Do tell.”

A rush of heat hit Violet’s face at the feigned obliviousness, and she ducked her head to take a sip out of the red straw from their shared milkshake. “It’s nothing..”

      Clementine was about to press further when the calamity of adults screaming hit their ears. With an eye roll, they quickened their pace back towards the ball game, which had just started.

The chanting from the green team was incoherent until they got closer. The time the words were said, and the wires in Violet’s brain short-circuited, Louis and Marlon had dropped their attention from the game, and looked worriedly at the two.

“Let’s go, Delta Destroyers!”

Violet froze in her tracks and scanned the field. Her eyes landed on an uninterested kid who was crouching down and playing in the grass.

        The kid with the burn scar across the side of his face.

“Vi, you good?” Clementine picked up on her change of mood, and brushed against her to snap her back into reality. “Violet?”

     “I’m okay. I’m - yes. Good.” Violet stammered, her eyes dancing nervously across the crowd that had accumulated around the Delta’s side.

She slumped herself down beside Carley and Lee on the bottom bleacher, and tried to channel her focus on cheering for AJ. But she couldn’t fucking stop looking, checking.

    With a concerned frown, Clementine sat herself down next to Violet, and placed her hand on top of hers. Relaxing at the touch, Violet let out a deep, shaky breath. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Violet gave in, her hands wrapped around the milkshake as if it could soothe the racing thoughts in her mind.

       “The private school, Delta.. I’ve got history with a girl from there. Her brother’s out there. Fuck... I hope she’s not here.”

Confirming her suspicions, a shout from the other side rang out that Violet knew too damn well. She flinched at the familiar tone, and tugged her knees to her chest. “Shit.”

      “Hey, we can ditch this if you want,” Clem offered, tightening her grip on Violet’s hand. “I’m sure Ben wouldn’t mind some company.”

Violet shook her head, and pulled the straw towards her lips. “I’m good. Just haven’t talked to her since the whole thing went down. Was kinda hoping it’d stay that way.”

         Clementine rolled up her sleeve and dramatically flexed, bringing an involuntary smile to Violet’s face as the dork next to her kissed her bicep. “Don’t you worry, my darling. You won’t have to. Let me know if I need to kick some ass. Take some names.”

“Clem,” Carley groaned, reminding them of her presence relatively close to them. “Javi can only let so much pass before you get kicked out again.”

          “Again?” Violet softly elbowed the pouting girl beside her, intrigue in her smile. “What’d you do?”

“I didn’t do anythin-“

        “Threatened to shove a foam finger up the ref’s nose and had to be physically held back by Javier.” Lee interrupted, a glint of pride as he smiled down at his daughter.

“That call was bullshit and you know it.” Clem huffed, crossing her arms and shoving a forkful of taco meat and Dorito chip crumbs into her mouth. “Let’s not forget when you got so mad at a call and you accidentally spilled the entire ice bucket.”

      The domestic moment that she got to be a part of brought a sense of peace to Violet, and she let her shoulders relax with a happy hum as Lee and Clem bickered. She shared a glance with Carley, and they burst into a giggling fit at the sight of their sweethearts squabbling passionately over the dumbest things.

A sharp ‘crack’ interrupted their arguing, and everyone’s eyes landed on AJ, who was holding the bat in disbelief, looking at the ball he’d struck almost over the fence.

       Clementine and Lee pushed up against the fence, cheering incoherently and yelling for him to run as the shocked kid just blinked. He tossed the bat aside, and booked it towards second base.

Looking at the kids mindlessly fucking around in the outfield, his velocity was definitely unnecessary but she’d be damned if it wasn’t adorable.

       “Go, AJ!” Violet rose to her feet, raising the foam finger above her head and cheering as the flustered kid made it to third. “You got this!”

The kid beamed at his fans, and sped towards home, letting himself get low to the ground and slide dramatically on the base.

       Carley and Lee’s cheers were quickly cut off by groans as AJ stood up and dirt and dust was absolutely covering his baseball uniform.

“Not it for laundry tonight!” Clem pressed her finger to her nose, and Lee and Carley followed suit. Confused, Violet glanced between them and reluctantly raised her finger to her nose.

     “Technically, Vi was the last one. She’s on laundry duty.” Clementine beamed, slinging her arm around Violet. “Don’t worry, my dirty underwear will not be included.”

Clementine’s willingness to let her in on family outings and secrets and all that stuff meant so much more to Violet than she let on. When she started catching on to inside jokes and eventually creating ones of her own, a sense of belonging just overflowed all of her senses.

       Lee rolled his eyes, and scoffed. “You really need to take a class or something on the proper way to ask someone out on a date.”

He earned simultaneous punches in the arm from both Clem and Carley.

    Clementine huffed, and sat back in the bleachers, watching as AJ high-fived his teammates. “I volunteer James, then. Bastard ate my Cocoa Pebbles.”

The rest of the game went by pretty quickly. Turns out Delta is all bark and no bite. From her past experiences with their students, Violet would’ve never guessed that they couldn’t back up their smack talk.

      The Delta kids - besides Tenn - begrudgingly shook the hands of the home team, and the players dispersed back to their families.

Violet watched as Tennessee slung a backpack over his shoulder, and hopped over the fence to embrace his older sisters.

         It happened too fast. Minerva’s eyes raised up to meet hers, and she seemed thrown off, standing stiffly before she turned her attention back to her little brother, who’d attached himself to her leg.

Her thoughts were cut off by Louis running up to her and squeezing her tight, even lifting her a couple inches off the ground. Over his shoulder, she saw Clementine beaming, and her face went numb as she shoved the tall dork off of her.

        “I can’t believe you came all this way to see little ol’ me,” Louis feigned a Southern accent that would make Ruby turn in her grave. “You really do love me!”

Violet discretely flipped him off.

     “We still going to the diner? I can give you guys a ride.” Louis offered, eyes flickering down to his watch.

“Oh, fuck yea.” Clem squealed, tugging on Violet’s arm. “I’d take late night pancakes over a fucking casserole any day.”

       “Pancakes sounds amazing right now,” Violet agreed, shuffling her hands into her pockets. “I’m in.”

The four of them walked back to Louis’ car after Clem said goodbye to everyone, and sneak-attack tickled AJ. Marlon glanced at Violet with his bottom lip pursed, and the weight of the flower on her ear suddenly occurred to her.

         “People are really stupid if they eat anything other than breakfast food.” Clementine chirped, earning a collective sigh of agreement from everyone else in the car.

“Onward! To pancakes!” Violet lightly kicked the seat in front of her, causing Louis to twist himself around and wag his finger at her.

            “I will turn this car around, Violet. Don’t you test me.”

“You kinda have to anyway, to get to the diner...” Marlon noted, earning a stern glare from Louis.

      The cheer of the three passengers crying for pancakes was drowned out by Louis aggressively turning up the volume, and shouting along to the Britney Spears lyrics.

[karkatvantasistrans]

Hey, guess what! I only took like. 8 months to update my Rosemary fanfic. You can also read it on my ao3, here!

Everybody enjoy!!

Be Karkat, in the middle of something. You are now Karkat, and you are in the middle of something. You are moving a thick chunk of hair out of your moirail's face, watching as it brushes through the outer layer of his grease paint and pulls a thin layer of white off his forehead. You run your hand back through his hair, pushing the lock back far enough to stay off of his face. You then repeat the process, with your left hand, on the other side of his face. A rumble lifts out of his throat as he leans into your hand, periodically clicking his tongue on the backs of his teeth. It's a soothing process the both of you are intimately familiar with, and it's one you used to pretend you were keeping up with to pacify his potential murderous urges. You've long since dropped that pretense -- past Karkat is such a fucking idiot -- and you now have the maturity to understand you're doing this for the same reason you always have. Pity.

Your hands now dug into the hair on the back of his head, he leans his face into your shoulder, the low rumble now sinking into the rhythm of your body as you hold onto him. You're now so used to the feeling of his grease paint, you can feel the areas where salt has pulled it from his face. It's not a communication based relationship, morailship, so you don't ask him what moves him to tears, and he doesn't offer an explanation in return. It's the nature of pacifying highbloods to receive screams and vague sentimental wailing as the only explanation for their agony, so you have pieced together his sources of pain using agonized snapshots alone. Loss is a big theme in highblood pacification, if only because they're trained to be above the concept for a lot of their upbringing. The shock that they care can be just as painful for them as the loss. You inhale deep into his hair and reflect on how comfortable this is. The familiar pre-determined patterns, this understood undercurrent of resentment, the extreme feelings of pathos: it's all perfectly familiar. It's comfortable coming here, you admit, face buried in hair as if it could hide the admission. It's so, so familiar and safe, head pressed into Gamzee's neck as his nails drift along the back of your shirt, lazily pulling in circles and loops as he uses you to calm himself down. Your face, just like every time before, is resting on the dried blood of an old friend, caked on the collar of his shirt as you dig your head deeper into his embrace. You can taste it, blue and hot between you, as the moist air from your mouth brings it back to life -- inhale -- back to life on the piece of fabric between you. There is a persistent rust smell always around you, here, and you're sure there's some piece of Tavros hidden in a pile of debris because of the times you've caught Gamzee hunched over and cooing into a corner where the air is thicker, hotter with salty humidity. You try not to look for signs of pooled mahogany, but you catch it on his lips when he returns -- on the soles of his feet, peeking up with every step. Be Kanaya You hold your hand along the wall as you walk, guiding yourself with the hum of light from your face and the faint smell tacked on the walls as you draw closer. The bolts in the meteor walls interrupt the tips of your fingers every four, six, five steps as you lurch unevenly down the hall, faint wisps of colour peering out when your light hits certain angles. The colour is mahogany. Continue being Karkat. You breathe him in: breathe in the grease paint and the leftover stench of Equius on his collar and the blood of Tavros aging, coagulating, fermenting on your tongue as it sits under blankets and horns. You lick your lips and you still tast him, rusting the floor and thickening the air and dripping down Gamzee's temple and onto your cheek as it becomes the tang of his sweat. You hold one of his hands in yours and as your lips settle on his fingertips you can still taste Nepeta, clinging to his unwashed nails after so much time has passed, and you keep sighing it in, over and over, every time you're here. The lack of remorse fills him out, extending out over his body, his posture, and the air is suffocating you with the stolen lives of your friends, and as you hold the sides of his face and brush your lips over his forehead, all you can think is how much safer you feel here than when you're with Dave. Be Rose It's the middle of the morning. Theoretically, anyway. The meteor has pushed far beyond the point of absurdity in establishing that it is always, and forever will be, the middle of the fucking night. But there's a parallel to the mid-morning hours, burning with prohibitive radiance and expunging the halls of all promise of life as they close in and force their hands around you: push you, paternal, into your rooms and blocks. The density of the air, a tinny exchange bolstered by uninterrupted communion of walls accross walls, hums up and down the corridors as the meteor establishes itself, once again, as an entity. It's an entity restrictive in its permissions, and you fall obediently beneath its pressure and evacuate its core.  Under the thumb of unseen and quiet omniscence, your doors close and you are spared from the disquiet of hours communally unwitnessed. It's the perfect time to meet Karkat. He is sitting, just slightly out of view, dipping his finger methodically into his coffee before licking it clean: one finger at a time until he's already emptied half the cup by the time you arrive. "Karkat," His head bobs up, curls flouncing, eyes wide: "UH. HI," clears his throat, "Hi Rose." You breeze past him, skirt wind-swept, and prepare a cup under the spout that allegedly produces coffee. You're still not entirely convinced after a year, you muse, slap of liquid braying out and around the ceramic floor of the mug. You can hear Karkat's claws softly tinkling against his cup behind you. He clears his throat. "Gamzee said it was nice seeing you the other day." His eyes are already on you, head steady, when you glance over your shoulder. You spin excitedly around. "Karkat! Dispelling with all pretense of innocence so soon? Resisting the delicious tug of intrigue and coded language? Shared innuendo with an unlikely cohort? Or-!" You chuckle into the back of your hand, "The potential for deception! Lo, you sit, absorbing arbitrary accusations as amiably as anticipated, unannounced ambitions awaiting as I lambast you, all atwitter with my admissible antagonisms, admonished for all appearances with absolute argument, and THEN--" Your arm sweeps up and you almost stumble, fall into the counter, "Cutting out from the grass, serpentine, you retord -- retort -- in defiance of such ill-conceived, one sided assault: "Gamshee said it was nice seeing you the other day"! Are you not predicated on such duplicitous impulses, Karkat?" Your hands clap together and you hope he missed the ill-placed slaps of your tongue on the wrong teeth, "You disappoint me!" Karkat stares at you, hair wild, expression wilder and moves his mouth, ever so slightly, around his teeth. "I-uh," he falters, "I'm Really not interested in you that way at all, honestly, and I'm sorry to say so because from what I've seen you definitely put a lot of thought into this and would almost definitely be able to handle kismessitude fairly astutely it's just, not something I've felt for you personally? I haven't given it much thought, I mean, sure you've had a consistent veneer of antagonism towards a lot of us on this meteor, but I never really felt it was especially pointed towards me? And this -- wow, Lalonde, I mean, I'm impressed, seriously -- the delivery, that either took some rehearsal or you really have it bad for me but, uh, what about Dave? I mean his familial status and proximity to me would pose some problems, right, plus he's -- he's such a handful already with his thankless commitment to redrom sabotage I've been honestly wondering if he's been forcing antagonism just to test the waters or, I don't know, maybe humans fulfill the quandrants all as a packaged deal? So I'd be adding blackrom infidelity on top of potentially throwing more that he could handle all on his nutrition plateau and, uh--" He finally looks up from his neurotic monologuing to realize your face is twisted into the widest smile you've ever sported uslessly hidden behind your hand, cheeks stretched so painfully your eyes are beginning to hurt from the pressure, and his expression falters. "Do you want to...talk about it, Karkat?" The falter lasts only for a minute before he launches, diarrhea verbalized, into another outpouring of information, "Oh, great, just fucking great, forgive me for daring to take something as serious as romance into consideration during a fucking mysterious midmorning rendezvous, great beast of trusting burden that I am, Troll Atlas with his monstrous fucking life sphere of genuine interaction pushing ever forward through a mire of insincere Strilonde bullshit -- the great overseers of paradox space are mirthful in their malevolence and I'm fucking strung up as en effigy to the last honest communique in a mire of feckless gabble --" you are holding in laughter as he bolts forward, knocking his chair back as his coffee cup sloshes around in his hand, "Well, behold! A martyr to the cause of fucking unobtuse conference on this godforsaken meteor for once, punished for the sin of attempting to have a fucking heart-to-heart with one of only six possible emotional receptacles on this hunk of rock--" his head throws back and his coffee hits the ground so hard it bounces, and you know it's time to stop him. "Karkat," He pauses, out of breath and slack-jawed, and looks at you as if he just remembered you're in the room with him. "...do you want to talk about it?" He pauses, considers the almost-empty coffee cup in his hand and the chair on the floor, before picking the latter up and dropping himself back into it. He shuffles forward a few inches for good measure, and the look he gives you is characteristically open and earnest. Bug-eyed, he leans in and tells you: "Dave doesn't know he's out of the fridge." Kanaya: Give in to temptation Hunched over, the wet sounds of your teeth and tongue sliding against vein and muscle reverberate against the walls around you. You are drenched in shame and holding down his hair with one hand, the base of his horn with the other, and you breathe it in so deeply you choke as it flies up your nose. The blood is stale, fetid, alkaline on your tongue and as it hits the back of your throat, and still you gouge a wider and wider hole for a neck that no longer remains as you drink from him, deeper than necessary, too deep to excuse. You are starting to come up for air, finally, choking on blood or a sob -- you're not sure which -- and feeling the pulse in your arms as he runs up, down, into your heart and out. It should have been where he was all along, right? But here he is instead, splayed open on your lap as you skirt drenches in his decerated remains. Coming down off the high: mournful, disgusted, you hear a nose behind you that swivels your head fast enough to hurt. A meandering step and a deep, soft hum hits you right in the gut -- freshly regenerating! -- and adrenaline pulls you to your feet so hard you almost slip in Tavros, bare feet slapping the floors as you make Gamzee a blur in your peripherals, a quickly fading impression. The noises you hear behind you send chills down your spine, down your freshly forming gut, and into your legs as they continue to slap, slap, slap the cold and quaking floors. The chill -- the feeling -- isn't from fear. The sounds you hear aren't ones of aggression. Your heart thuds on your throat and tears prickle at your eyes as you're forced to confront your reality: You are hearing a monster cry. Be past Karkat As Gamzee sobs quietly into your shoulder, you feel your phone buzz softly in your pocket, and catch yourself praying silently that it isn't Dave. Future Kanaya: Reluctantly accept culpability

– grimAuxiliatrix [GA] began trolling terminallyCapricious [TC] at 13:54 –

GA: I'm Sorry.

– grimAuxiliatrix [GA] ceased trolling terminallyCapricious [TC] at 13:54 –

– grimAuxiliatrix [GA] began trolling terminallyCapricious [TC] at 13:59 –

GA: I'm Starving.

==> Kanaya: Stop being Kanaya ==> You are now The Mayor. Looking down at the cans layed out before you, you place a soft hand on the lip of one of the surrogate buildings, weaving around the outer rim one, twice, but no more. The thought appears to you, often, to try and tap things out on these cans like you once did at home, but you don't hold faith in it. Rare are the instances when even the humans and trolls pick up on your efforts at communicating, and rarer still that they understand the connection with your nails hitting their township, your arms -- the shouty one's horns! -- and this effort. Despite yourself, though, you find your hand tapping out a "hello" on the can lid, silently hoping for a response you will not recieve, just in case a wandering dream floats in at just the right moment. You know that's where they should be, in theory: the citizens of dreams shared among the humans and trolls rightfully belong where they wander in sleep and after, but each bubble is in such a way unpopulated. You know the dream selves have fused, and you picture derse thinning out, spacing out of existence as the dream and flesh selves meet. Still, though, you hope for a bubble. As if a wayward troop might remain, unhindered by probability, and clack happily down their chest with an, "imagine the luck!" or a "here of all places, shit!" or a glib "always in charge of something, huh?". Something jovial, unrehearsed, tinged with nerves and unearned reverence as they can finally experience one another outside of a battlefield, if only for a moment. It is lonely, you resign, lording over empty villages as the dark kingdom's defector. Did your comrades not dream?

[techieoliver]

Yes, Mister Walsh || Coliver (HTGAWM)

Note: -flings self out of the dark abyss that is a working life-

This fic is long overdue. A friend sent me a prompt a while back based on one of those late night text meme things. It was something akin to "I accidentally sent a sext meant for someone else to my boss."

AO3

Summary: All of that expensive bourbon was going straight into the sink when he got home. Or maybe he would sell it to try and keep himself afloat during the horrible weeks of unemployment he was about to face.

Oliver stared at his phone, eyes wide in horror. The pull-up screen still had the airplane mode icon highlighted, but he knew when he would swipe it back down that the sent icon would still be glaring back at him from just below the photo. The image had been sent the previous evening to Thomas - a sweet guy he had just met a few weeks ago at a bar down the street from work. When he woke up in the morning, however, he realized that somehow his drunken brain had managed to select "Connor Walsh" instead. The same Connor Walsh that he was going to have to work with - that he had to send corporate e-mails to on a daily basis. No amount of turning airplane mode on and off would get rid of the image of Oliver's cock in his hand, and he wasn't sure the color would ever fade from his ears.

He was also fairly certain he would never get rid of the queasiness in the pit of his belly. Would Mister Walsh think the image was sexual harassment? Would Oliver lose his job via a trip to the HR department? Would it be such a bad thing if he did?

Oliver was tempted to never return to his place of employment ever again, but the company had treated him incredibly well, and paid him far more than a lot of other environments deemed him worthy of. Besides, if he did ghost on the company (and subsequently his boss) he would be left with a guilty conscience that would plague his attempts to sleep.

Maybe Connor wouldn't have seen the image. There were rumors that the man liked to go out himself - maybe he would understand that it was a mistake? It was thoughts such as those that motivated Oliver to get into his car and make his usual morning commute. More ideas as to the various ways he could still be in the clear were what forced his legs to take him up the stairs to his third floor office space, and what helped him keep his focus on menial coding in the morning. By the afternoon Oliver had actually managed to work his way into forgetting the incident entirely - until, of course, he was summoned via the company Skype to meet with Mister Walsh after his lunch.

That lunch went completely untouched right next to his third cup of coffee. It was rather difficult to eat when one was certain they were about to be fired and charged with whatever misdemeanor fines one could be hit with in response to unsolicited dick pics in the work place. His overly terrified brain even went so far as to convince him there was potential jail-time headed his way, and by the time he actually made it to Mister Walsh's secretary he was one wrong move away from retching.

After what felt like an eternity of bouncing his leg and squeezing his own fingers, the secretary beckoned Oliver in to meet his demise with a kind smile and bright eyes.

If only that secretary knew he was a sexual deviant.

"H-hi...Mister Walsh." Maybe there was still a chance this was about something else. Oliver had been working on a pretty huge project, after all.

"Oliver." Connor greeted with a rather unreadable expression. "Have a seat."

Oliver's stomach felt like it dropped right down into his kneecaps, his legs buckling when he practically fell back into the chair.

"Do you know why we're having this meeting?" Connor asked, fingers steepling in front of his lips.

The tirade of words started shoving one another out of the way to be the first out of his mouth before Oliver could even process what he actually wanted to say. "Mister Walsh I...the picture...I didn't mean, it was...it was. I'm so sorry I didn't...it was meant..I mean." It took a few more minutes of frantic stumbling and panicked eye movements for him to actually squeak out "it wasn't meant for you!"

The din of silence that followed felt heavy in his ears.

"So the text message about wanting my dick in your mouth wasn't meant for me either?"

Oliver felt his heart actually crumple behind his breast bone. "Oh god. No. No, did I send that too?" He groaned and hid his face in his hands. He was going to lose his entire career and what little dignity he'd managed to retain into adulthood...all because he got a little too drunk.

All of that expensive bourbon was going straight into the sink when he got home. Or maybe he would sell it to try and keep himself afloat during the horrible weeks of unemployment he was about to face.

"That's a pity." The words felt like several icicles breaking across his nose. It took his brain quite a few seconds to muddle through the cacophony of his own thoughts to work out what exactly Connor had said - and it took even longer to fully understand the man's three words. Oliver ended up gawking at his boss.

"...you...wanted those messages to be for you?" Years of unrequited pining surged up from the depths - having violently been shoved away and tied up in thoughts of  'he's your boss' and 'he will never want you'. Maybe his drunken self hadn't been such a horrible person after all. "Is this a joke?" Oliver couldn't help but ask despite knowing how unattractive his lack of confidence must have been.

"Because I would. I would understand. If it was. I mean if you want to tease me for eternity that's fine as long as it means I'm not about to get fired or put in a prison cell with some giant muscled jerk who's looking for a bitch. Oh god. I said bitch in...I'm just gonna. Is that. Are we. Is that my punishment? Can I go die in the bad bathroom?"

Connor had tilted his head, watching Oliver through heavy-lidded eyes and sporting an amused smirk. He cleared his throat very deliberately before patting the edge of his desk. "You know what would help you stop babbling?" The man asked it with lifted brows. "Making good on your promise. I'd really like to think that message was intended for me..."

Bad idea. Bad, bad, horrible, terrible idea. That was the boss he had tried very hard to get over throughout their professional careers and those texts weren't even meant for Connor. Then again...would it be so hard to pretend they weren't? Thomas hadn't exactly been very kind to him after their first date...and this would be making several of his suppressed, heated dreams come true.

That was probably why Oliver ended up on his knees, tucked under the desk and trying to avoid hitting his head as he fumbled at the expensive leather of Mister Walsh's belt. He was determined to give the other man the best blow job that he could, and judging by the boss' sharp inhale as soon as Oliver placed his lips around the head of Connor's cock, it was off to a good start.  

Oliver pressed his palms against each of Connor's inner thighs, wrists being dug into by the edge of the other's slacks, which were scrunched just below his knees. The small space was rapidly warming and caused Oliver's hair to curl slightly, sweat dampening the collar of his shirt. Oliver was maybe a little too eager, sliding his mouth along the length of Connor's dick over and over until his chest burned and he had to pull off for a gasp of air. Whenever he did the shock of cold that hit Connor made his stomach ache in the best way.

Eventually, though, the man grew tired of the tease and he wrapped his fingers messily in Oliver's tie and cinched it tighter around the base of Ollie's throat. Connor's other hand dug into dark hair and forced Oliver's mouth back down onto his cock. He knew Oliver had been doing it on purpose as soon as the man adapted and started breathing through his nose as if he knew he could do so all along.

"Fuck," Connor swore after a few seconds of panting filled the room. Connor's knee hit the inside of his desk as he allowed himself a few small thrusts into the heat of Oliver's mouth. The other man accommodated those movements like a champ, and just as he started to take Connor deeper - Oliver grazed the very tip of his tongue under the defining ridge of the head, and Connor didn't even have a chance to warn Oliver before he was coming a lot sooner than he intended.

Slowly Connor relaxed the grip he'd held on Oliver's tie, coaxing the other man off with a few well-placed brushes of his fingertips along Ollie's jaw and throat. "S-sorry..." Connor apologized sheepishly. It was jarringly adorable and Oliver felt a little twist in his chest in response, his lips still parted as he tried to drag in the air he had been denied.

"It's okay," Oliver finally rasped before wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. His whole body was still sparking with sensitivity, muscles twitching in his arms every time the sleeves of his shirt moved against them. Ollie leaned his ass back against the heels of his shoes to roll those sleeves up as he tried to relax himself, still trying to breathe properly. "S-so...uhm..." Oliver didn't even realize he was tucking Connor back into his boxer-briefs, and pulling up the man's pants. The motions had come simply, as if he was on auto-pilot as he tried to adjust to everything that had happened so quickly.

"I'll expect you to keep me updated with more photos of that project, Hampton." Connor put things into perspective so easily that it made Oliver wonder if the man could somehow read his mind. "And." A certain gentleness came into the other's tone, setting a different meaning than the coy one Connor had just been using. "I'd like to meet for dinner this evening. I think we have a lot more to discuss."

Oliver could only fight against the huge grin threatening to take over for so long, his eyes crinkling at the corners when he finally lost that battle. His response came with an adorable sort of playfulness behind it.

"Yes, Mister Walsh."