#tell me if this is incoherent i rarely make posts reading deep

[swamprat]

Dennis fantasizes about Dee offering to take him to the beach/ his friends caring about him ( whether it's through simply needing dennis there because he's "smart"). Then he fantasizes about being alone and without them and pushing them away.

Could be seen as Dennis just seeing the gang as an annoyance to him BUT I believe this is his way of coping with the fact that he cares about them and WANTS to help them and be there for them. Despite it all he cares about them and punishes himself for the perceived vulnerability

[starkeyisthelastname]

OHHH ANOTHER THOUGHT!!!!!!!

idk how the porn community works HALSJKS but if its a thing to like ….. ship them ig??? … how would rafe react to r’s video with another dude being posted on twitter (maybe the first vid she’s made since her vid with rafe) and everyone’s in the comments being like “omg yas this is so hot!!!” “omg this is so much better than her and rafe!!” BALJEKS IDK

the first time someone’s talked negatively about him and it’s actually effected him 😅 he doesn’t like this ego being bruised

It was rare that Rafe checked social media, he just didn’t care about what people thought. He was pornstar and was used to being judged for his career choice and especially for the brutal way he fucked his costars. It was the Twitter notification he got though, with his name and your name tagged along with someone else’s who he didn’t know that caught his attention.

He opened the video, his blue eyes darkening as soon as he saw what it was. It was some nobody with a dick half the size of his, trying to make you cum. He could tell by the moans you were giving that it was all an act, and it ignited something in him he didn’t like. Watching another man fuck you, even if it was your job wasn’t something he particularly was a fan of. He had always loved pussy and money, and never once thought of ever quitting his rather successful porn career for anyone, until you started occupying his mind all day every day. He just couldn’t bring himself to end it yet, his addiction to sex and money way too deep.

As he went to exit out the app, a comment caught his eye. “Wow. She’s a pro at taking dick.” He scoffed as he read it out loud. What dick were you takin? That clown was the size of a pinky compared to him. It was the next one down that had his head raging in a way he had never experienced. ‘Her and @therafecameron video was weak compared to this. 🤣’ He seethed, these stupid idiots comments getting to him and bruising his extremely high ego. His knee bounced rapidly, thumb at the edge of his mouth as his mind raced wildly.

It was the phone, turned into landscape mode as Rafe’s long arm aimed it down to let it capture you taking dick. His free hand was wrapped in your hair, yanking your head back as he drilled into you at a brutal speed. The makeup you had on was smeared, tears streaming down your sparkly cheeks as he had some point to prove. He didn’t exactly say what, but it was a chance to get fucked by the man you were becoming obsessed with.

“Who’s fucking dick are you takin?” Rafe asked, his voice dripping venom as he yanked your head to make you look at him. His blue eyes, peered down at you in a predatory manner as he forced you to give him an answer.

The answer you gave was incoherent, your words coming out in babbles as an insane amount of pleasure was taking over your body. Your eyes rolled back, his huge dick tearing you apart as he wrapped his fist around your hair even harder. The phone that was recording the raw homemade scene was now shoved in your face, his hand on your head forcing you to look at the lens.

You were still so pretty, completely cock drunk off his monstrous ways as you were being his good personal whore. He leaned down, mustache brushing over your ear as he looked at the camera. It was quite a sexy sight to see his wild hair and striking blue iris’s making eye contact with the phone. “Tell them who’s dick your fuckin takin.” He spoke lowly, eyes watching your face through the screen. “Don’t make me repeat myself, I swear you’ll fucking regret it.” He gritted out, toned hips slapping against yours.

You cried out, his hand removing itself from your head to force your chin to look at the camera. You had no choice but to let out a loud whine, screaming the man’s name that you just wanted as yours. “Rafe Cameron! I’m t-takin Rafe Cameron’s dick!” Your voice cracking as you clamped down onto his cock.

As soon as heard that, a smirk came to his face and his nuts tightened. He tilted your chin towards him, sloppily kissing you with his tongue as the camera caught something Rafe never did with anyone. If the kissing wasn’t enough to make people a little shocked, it was that he posted it to his Twitter account, caption reading ‘The only dick that can get her screaming 😱 remember the fucking name bitches.’

[insaneoldme]

Can you rec buddie fics? Pretty please?

OMG it's my time to shine, bitches!!!

Sorry if I went a little nuts, but this fandom has some of the best writers I've ever seen. I have 186 Buddie fics bookmarked in my AO3,

I'll link here if you are interested in taking a look cause if I put them all here it would be too long. Also, I tried to show here some fics I very rarely see recced, and a little bit o the classics. This fandom has some very underrated authors, everyone in my bookmarks is worth taking a look really.

Please take a look at the warnings before reading, enjoy!!!

I Hate Accidents (Except When We Went From Friends to This) by morganofthefairies (Rated E )

Buck and Eddie had always been unconventional. Neither of them gave it much thought – they were just them. Buck and Eddie - partners, best friends, co-parents – just as entangled in each other’s lives as any actual couple in the 118.

Or, the story of how Buck and Eddie went about their relationship in entirely the wrong order.

My Heart's Been Borrowed by ElvenSorceress (Rated E)

aka the one where Taylor gives Buck his ultimate fantasy and uncovers far more than either of them expected, forcing him to confront his long held feelings for Eddie

Half Awake in Our Fake Empire by HMSLusitania (Rated E)

Buck 1.0 fathered a child and Buck 4.0 comes into custody.

Love and Bullets Both Shatter Hearts (But Only One Can Put You Back Together) (Rated E)

Agent [Redacted] Diaz is the best at what he does. Usually. But lately there's this real pain in the ass* who's been ruining his missions: Code Name "Buck."

Keep It On by R_E_R6 (Rated E)

When Eddie walks in on Buck, bent over in nothing but a hoodie, their plans for the night immediately change. Buck's outfit though? Well, Eddie requests that it stays the same...for reasons.

Heart of Flowers / Heart of Gold by ElvenSorceress (Rated T)

Buck nearly loses everything and Eddie has to follow his heart

hungry for your love by evcndiaz (Rated G)

prompt: "who’s gonna write a fanfic where chris is not cooperating with buck and eddie accidentally says “listen to your dad”?"

or; breadsticks are a metaphor for love and boning

keep your eyes on the road by iriswests (Rated M)

A glimpse into buck and eddie’s developing relationship, told through ten moments stopped at a traffic light

when things fall into place by woodchoc_magnum (Rated M)

In which Eddie asks Buck to move in with them during lockdown to help look after Christopher, which leads to certain unresolved feelings being resolved.

Carbon Date Me, Excavate Me by extasiswings, letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Rated E)

Evan "Buck" Buckley has made a name for himself as the independent bad boy of archaeology. At least, until Professor Eddie Diaz shows up with his fedora and good looks and starts beating Buck to the punch more often than not.

Buck hates his stupid six-pack covered guts.

Except for how... he might not.

Objects in the Mirror by SevenSoulmates (Rated E)

The voice had always been around, Eddie remembers it, like a stream of consciousness that babbled incoherently to the point where Eddie just tuned it out.

But then the voice started speaking directly to him. Conversing like he was a whole person standing right in front of him. Like he could see what was happening around Eddie.

Eddie shook his head. No one was talking to him, and Eddie most certainly was not talking back.

He wouldn’t talk to the boy in his head ever again. There was no boy in his head.

ripples all the way down by iriswests (Rated M)

christopher partakes in some parent trapping

dream of some epiphany by extasiswings (Rated M)

Evan Buckley is lost.

It’s happenstance that he wanders into the navy recruiting center—he’s been in San Diego for a few weeks, bartending late nights and weekends, living in a house with three other guys not because he needs the roommates but because he doesn’t want to be alone, and the military is…respectable. Stable. So Buck thinks maybe and opens the door.

Buck leaves ten minutes later with a set of printed instructions for sending his first letter, assured that he can drop it off whenever he’s ready, and a name.

Staff Sergeant Edmundo “Eddie” Diaz.

Relationship Advice from Complete Strangers Online by HMSLusitania (Rated T)

Hi, I’ve never made a Reddit post before and I’m not 100% sure what I’m doing but I need advice and can’t ask anyone in my real life. So, I [30M] have this best friend [34M]…

Leading with the Left by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Rated E)

When Buck said he was a "bartender" in "South America" what he actually meant was "stripper" in "Mexico."

And when Eddie said, "What's your problem?" what he actually meant was, "Is this about the time you gave me a lap dance?"

In other words, there's a few things the 118 doesn't know about Buck. Or Eddie. Or Buck and Eddie's relationship.

fireflies where my caution should be by littlesnowpea (Rated M)

“You never talk about your parents,” Eddie says, which is not even remotely what Buck expects Eddie to say. He frowns, tilts his head, but it isn’t a question, as evidenced by Eddie charging on. “I never asked because I figured it was your business, but the look on your face any time they’re brought up tells me you don’t get along.”

Buck swallows hard, against a lump in his throat. His parents? Eddie’s right, he never talks about them, for good reason. He opens his mouth, then closes it again, not sure what he’s even going to say.

Eddie takes it as the answer Buck is trying to make it out to be. He squeezes Buck’s wrist again, takes a deep breath, like he’s on a call with someone who’s panicking. Buck finds his breathing slowing to match Eddie’s, and Eddie nods as Buck gets it under control.

“There are people on the porch,” Eddie says, voice even. “Saying they want to meet their grandchild.”

Asked, Offered, Given, (He's) Taken by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Rated E)

People like to flirt with Buck on calls. It kind of makes Buck uncomfortable.

And that makes Eddie frustrated.

I Hit the Accelerator (But the Car was in Reverse) by extasiswings, letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Rated E)

When Buck is forced to confront the truth about his breakup with Abby, having casual sex with his hot new coworker seems like the best rebound idea.

Unfortunately, that hot new coworker turns into his best friend. But best friends can keep having sex with each other, right?

There's no way this could possibly go wrong.

Memorable by JessicaMDawn (Rated T)

Six times Buck got recognized by people he saved during the tsunami, and how his team realized he was a hero.

All Bets are Off by NobodyKnows_U (Not Rated)

Or, the five times the firefam realized Buck and Eddie were in love, and the one-time Eddie finally did something about it.

fire on fire by extasiswings (Rated T)

Or: Buck and Eddie get in the habit of sharing a bed while living together during quarantine. It's platonic until it isn't.

Better Together by Randomfandombloggs09 (Not Rated)

5 times Eddie sees Buck wearing his last name and 1 time its not just his

Daddy and Pops by EdithBlake (Rated M)

When Christopher calls Buck 'Pops' things get a bit confusing. Buck and Eddie have a talk with Christopher that ends up with both of them being even more confused by how right it sounds.

the meaning of the words you see by florenceandthemachine (Rated E)

unknown sender: Hi!

unknown sender: Just wanted to say thanks for letting me buy you a drink, and for your number. Sorry I had to run.

unknown sender: I’m Eddie by the way.

sent: hey um

sent: i don’t want 2 be this guy but

sent: i think u mayb put the wrong # in ur phone

the dream you wish will come true by woodchoc_magnum (Rated M)

In which Christopher Diaz cannot understand why his father would want to date his former teacher when Evan Buckley is right there.

vienna waits for you by mottainai (Not Rated)

Eddie doesn't deserve a soulmate.

Work Husband by hideeho (Rated T)

“What...what have you done with Buck?” Eddie is going to kill him for messing with his phone. No, that’s too extreme. He’s going to maim him. Just a little.

“Check under H,” Chim offers helpfully, shooting a look over to Hen with a smirk.

Why the hell would he be under—

Then he sees it.

Husband.

Bad Neighbors by firstdegreefangirl (Rated E)

Eddie's new neighbors are keeping him up all night. He calls on his best friend for a little taste of their own medicine.

Cross the Line by Sirencalls (Rated E)

Eddie laughs, short and quiet and almost to himself. “No. If you want to learn, then I’m gonna be the one to teach you.”

Buck is pretty sure his brain stops working. “What? Why?”

Eddie turns to look at him and steps closer, their chests only a few inches apart. “Because there are people out there who will take advantage of how naïve you are. They’ll hurt you, and I won’t.” Eddie’s eyes are so intense that Buck doesn’t have any choice but to believe him. “If you want someone to do this for you, to—to dominate you, it has to be me. I don’t trust anyone else to do it right.”

pretty in pink by dykeevans (Rated E)

Buck forgets that he and Eddie made plans to hang out until Eddie shows up and Buck's in the middle of laundry day.

His laundry day outfit consists of a small pink crop top and grey sweatpants.

Eddie loses his damn mind. Me too, though, me too.

the distance to the stars by cloudydaisies (Rated G)

“Didn’t know you were seeing someone.”

Buck just laughs. Like, honest to god giggles. Eddie is stuck fighting off doubly massive waves of butterflies and confusion, all while Buck just gazes down at him.

“That’s cute,” he hears Buck mumble, just before climbing into the truck, calling Eddie after him.

-or, everyone knows eddie is dating buck except for eddie, literally.

Something Old, Something New by dumbhuman (Rated E)

“Damn, I love weddings!” Buck’s face lit up as he closed the door.

If asked later, Eddie wouldn’t have been able to explain what came over him in that moment to make him ask the question. Or, at least, he wouldn’t have wanted to explain. The exhaustion was an easy excuse, but he knew deep down that it wasn’t a real one.

“Why don’t you come with me?”

one of the few things by thatnerdemryn (Rated G)

five times that Eddie tells someone else that Buck is Christopher's legal guardian plus one time he finally tells Buck.

I Didn't Know I Was Lonely 'Til I Saw Your Face by HMSLusitania (Rated T)

Total strangers Buck and Eddie go to couple's therapy together to get out of the therapy requirements their captains have placed on them.

things we shouldn't do by Ingu (Rated T)

“Why is everybody taking my relationship status so personally? Can’t I be fine with being single?” Buck said.

“Hey, you don’t have to say yes, be sad and alone if that’s what you want,” Josh replied. “But, I’m just saying. I’ve seen photos and this guy is volcanic levels of hot. Also, single dad, super cute kid. Saves lives for a living like you. I think you should give it a go.”

(the one where Buck and Eddie accidentally get set up on a blind date with each other, and everything snowballs from there)

Keeping It In The Family by Wolves_of_Innistrad (Rated T)

A young man shows up at the firehouse looking for Buck. Turns out Javier was a Bartender with Buck in Mexico. He’s back in LA, looking to reconnect and very flirty. Cue Eddie realizing Buck is not as straight as he thought.

kiss me (like your ex is in the room) by rebeccaofsbfarm (Rated E)

Eddie Diaz gets drunk and protective and signs up for a fake double date to get back at his friend's ex.

Leave the Light On (I'll Be Coming Home) by HMSLusitania (Rated M)

An accident on a call leaves Buck with custody of Chris after Eddie is… missing presumed.

While they navigate their new family circumstances -- and fight to stay together, despite Eddie's parents' best efforts -- a John Doe wakes up in a coma ward with no memory of his own life beyond the knowledge he has a son named Christopher and, somehow, he needs to get home

All my Buddie AO3 bookmarks

As I said this fandom has some very talented people, some of my favorite Authors's Tumblrs below, I recommend all the things they wrote and their blogs are very good.

@elvensorceress, @hmslusitania, @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels, @extasiswings

For gifs:

@arrenemris, @skylessnights (very lovely AU gifsets)

@from-nova(good gifs & content)

For Podfics: @mistmarauder everything she ever read is amazing, her podfics are high quality and she has a very lovely voice and her presence calms me down lol I recommend it

I'm sorry there are a lot more people but I'm kinda in a rush haha most of the people I follow are amazing, but the ones I mentioned here are enough to get you started or entertained for a while.

Buddie fics are amazing, this pairing has spoiled me so much, everyone I met because of it is nice and so active and talented.

Sorry mutuals if I forgot someone! 

I hope I helped Anon, have fun!

(Tell me if any link is wrong please, thanks)

[gwendolyn02]

For Him - Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary:  Reader would do anything for Spencer to be happy even if she doesn’t think her feelings are reciprocated, and when Maeve’s life is on the line she proves that. Plus reader and Spencer are able to talk effortlessly and have a deep connection not Maeve and Spencer. Also kind of inspired/based on Yellow by Coldplay

Word Count: 1985

Content Warning: Blood, guns you know normal criminal mind things :/

A/N: This is my very first fanfic I have ever written. I don’t really know what i should put as warnings and such so I’m winging it along with all of this. Also I don’t know what to classify this but I’d guess angst with a happy ending. Like I said this is my first fanfic so bear with me. I also did not proof read this because I was so excited to post it so it might have spelling or grammatical errors.

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

Spencer and you have been the best of friends since a month after you joined the team, and you’ve had feelings for him just as long, little did you know the feelings were mutual. The whole team could see the longing looks when the other wasn’t looking, they even have a bet of when you guys would get together. You were always there for each other comforting and consoling the other when a case hit a little too close to home for either of you. You’d distract yourselves if you didn’t want to talk about why a case had upset you; You’d read to each other, watch Doctor Who, play chess, or even go on walks late at night to look at the stars.

When Emily “died” Spencer would come to your apartment crying his eyes out and you stayed strong for him as he has had so many people leave him, he needed comforting more than you, and that made your heart ache even more. You decided to take him to your couch, lay his head on your lap, and run your hands through his hair. It would calm him so much that he’d fall asleep. He looks so peaceful well he slept with his head on your legs you couldn’t help yourself to lean down and kiss him on his forehead and whisper, “Do you know, you know I love you so.”

It’s been a while since then, Emily is alive and in London, and everyone has gone back to normal, well everyone except for everyone’s favorite genius. He was happier than normal, but also more secretive. The team thought that you guys must have finally started dating until one day you came in to work looking a little down, and your longing looks towards Spencer also had pain in your eyes. That was the day after you found out about her. You were having one of your normal hang outs with Spence when you noticed he was spacing out a lot and he had this look in his eyes, a look you knew well. It was the same look you’d get when you thought about him. You didn’t like it, you almost denied it but you had to ask him if your suspicions were right.

“Who is she?” you blurted out. He jumped your sudden outburst blush started to creep up his neck.

“Who is who?” he asked hesitantly.

“Spencer I’m not stupid. You've been extra happy and more secretive lately, and you were just spacing out with a smile on your face. You never space out when we’re watching Doctor Who. So, there is only one reason, you’re seeing someone. What’s her name?” you ask hoping he’ll deny it meaning it’s not too serious or that you were somehow wrong.

He’s hesitant but he says, “Maeve, her name is Maeve.” Your heart drops at this, and you tell him your happy for him. You were happy it was getting late so it wasn’t suspicious when you said you were heading home after that episode. As soon as you closed your apartment door behind you, you leaned against sliding down to a sitting position finally letting your tears fall.

When he walked in late the day after that wearing your favorite outfit of his you realized you couldn't go through with your original plan of slowly distancing yourself from him even if you wanted to, because his happiness was more important to you than your shattered heart. So, you continued to be his best friend even if it ripped out your heart every day and you now had to listen to him gush over her.

It was all good until one day at work he told everyone about her and how he was sure she was missing and how because of that he couldn’t focus on anything for more than four seconds making him the dumbest person in the room and needing the team and your help. You have never seen him like that, it hurt you in more way than one, he loves her, it's clear in his voice cracks along with how much pain he is in, and at that moment you promised yourself you’ll do anything to bring her back to him alive.

*Time Skip to outside Diane’s loft*

Diane knew your feeling for him, and that you’re his best friend, how she found out your unsure, but she did, and she wanted you both there. If you had to guess it was to raise the stakes for Spencer.

“Take your guns and vests off.”

You and Spencer followed her orders.

“Now just you two come in.”

You guys got to the top of the stairs and she opens the door with gun in hand, “Put the blindfold on him and lead him to the chair,” Diane says to you. You do so very carefully as she has her gun pushed into your back as she follows you.

Spencer asks if he can take the blindfold off and gets told no. He and Maeve swap hellos as Diane is putting her hand down Spencer’s shirt and complimenting in his brain and looks until he mentions her thesis, as you watch a little confused on what you're supposed to be doing so you start to mouth to Maeve that everything will be okay.

Spencer is trying to trick her into thinking her thesis is valuable enough to keep her save and out of jail, as you are trying to run through all possible outcomes of this situation in your head. He is trying to convince her he loves her not Maeve, and to let Maeve live with her irrelevancy. She makes sure to make Spencer say he doesn’t love you too, which confuses you, he doesn’t love me anyways you think, but he hesitates for a quick second and you and Maeve catch it but somehow Diane doesn’t. She then kisses Spencer and when he doesn’t reciprocate, she knows he’s lying. He grabs her gun and it fires into the air and then Spencer’s arm, it happened so fast you weren’t able to help him in fact you were knocked onto the ground. The rest of the team was in the room now as you hear Spencer repeatedly saying to stay back. Your standing back up when Spencer is telling her, “There is still a way out of this. Diane, I offered you a deal and you can still take it. M-”

“Me for her,” you interrupt him.  

“Why should I do that?” she asked.

“Because he hesitated in saying he didn’t love me, if you kill her you wouldn’t kill who he truly loves. You’d still have the real competition for him left,” you lie for the second half of this, but you aren’t looking at Spencer whose eyes got even wider in fear as what you were saying was actually true, and Diane sees that and aims her gun towards you. As she does that the team all have their guns pointed at her head. You hear two guns go off and Spencer screaming “WAIT!” you and Diane are on the ground now. Your stomach was gushing out blood. Diane his down a few feet away from you a bullet hole right between her eyes. Spencer rushes over to you and applies pressure to your wound as he tells the others they need medics, now, your vision as blurring and everything you hear is incoherent. Then everything goes black.

You hear movement around you and even though your eyes are closed you can see how bright the lights are in the room you’re in. You open your drowsy eyes to see Spencer pacing the room, he seems to be a mixture of worried, nervous, and stressed. It also looks like he’d been pulling at his hair some too.

“Hey Spence,” you croaked out. He immediately turns to you and lets out a sigh of relieve.

“Y/N, you’re awake, thank goodness. How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Like I’ve just been shot, but other than that perfectly fine,” you chuckle. He doesn’t laugh back, instead he gives you a very stern look.

“Why’d you do it Y/N, why’d did you trade yourself for her?” he questions. You look up at him and think what the hell, might as well tell him the truth.

“Do you know Spence I’d do anything for you, I’d even bleed myself dry,” you tell him in all honesty. He looks at you completely flabbergasted. Then he flushes pink and looks extremely nervous.

“There’s uh... something I need to tell you,” he mumbles and you look at him intently, telling him to continue with your eyes, “I’ve got to tell you this now, I can’t hold it in any longer, especially after almost losing you, you know, you coded on the operating table twice? I almost lost you, twice. So, you need to know Y/N I'm in love with you and I have been for four years six months ten days eight hours twenty-three minutes,” he glances down to his watch really quick, “and fifteen seconds, and I broke up with Maeve, she knew when I hesitating in saying I don’t love you that I really did, and sure I loved her but nowhere close to how much I love you, I only started dating her because I knew there is no way you’d return my feelings, but that was unfair to her,”  he exhales loudly as he rambled forgetting to breathe in between sentences. You look at him in awe, mouth gaped open, and when you realize he staring at you waiting for you to say something.

“I love you too Spence, I have for a long time now, but I thought a genius like you would want another genius, not me,” you say blushing. He moves closer to you leaning towards to you and you lean towards him and gently brush you lips against his. He takes in that you want to kiss him too and smashes his lips into yours for a passionate kiss. You were so caught up in the kiss that you didn’t hear the doors to your hospital room open as the team walks in, you only realize when you hear Derek wolf whistle and Penelope squeal.

“My man,” Derek says slapping Spencer on his shoulder.

“Congrats,” Rossi and Hotch tell you guys, Hotch even wearing one of his rare smiles on his face.

Alex just smiles. While JJ pulls Spence into a hug before carefully doing the same to you. Penelope is so excited she hyperventilating a little bit in the corner with Derek now trying to calm her down, he looks over his shoulder at you two and say, “We’ll give you lovebirds some privacy” leading Penelope out as the others follow. You and Spencer just look at each other and smile contently.  

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

Bonus Scene

As the team are outside of your room with a finally calm Penny G, JJ calls Emily and puts her on speaker, while the other each hand Rossi a twenty.

“Hey Em guess what just happened?” JJ says, and Emily doesn’t know so she replies with a what with a chuckle as she could hear the smile in JJ’s voice so she knows it's not a serious call. “Y/N and Spe-”

“You owe me twenty bucks,” Rossi cuts in.  

“Are you for real?” Emily asks knowing exactly what he was talking about, the bet the made when you first joined the team that they updated every so often and started going by months instead of days or weeks since you guys took so long. They had updated it right before Emily left and when Alex came, she decided to join it too. Rossi had this month.

“Yup,” JJ confirms, “we walked in on them kissing.”

“Well it took them long enough,” Emily says, and everyone laughs in agreement. Even though you were shot it ended up being a happy day.

[ververa]

“Everyone Finds True Love Or At Least A Dancing Partner” part 2

Part 1

A/N: Thank you for all the comments and reblogs!! Your kind words motivate me to keep writing and make me really really happy. So, please don’t stop <3

Sorry if this is boring or bad. I didn’t rewrite this part - this is the first and the only version of it that I have. But I decided to post it without making corrections or any changes, mainly because I feel kind of guilty for taking so long finishing my works. Hopefully it’ll do. 

Also this whole story is going to be longer than I’ve initially planned, but I regret nothing. 

@misssmephisto​ once again THANK YOU SO MUCH for helping me with everything!!! <3 

Hope you enjoy it!!

Cordelia Goode x fem!reader

Word count: ~4,000

Cordelia might not have realized how loud her thoughts were. But you did. For you they were as loud and clear as if someone had been whispering into your ear. As a matter of fact, you were sure Elliot was talking to you, though you obviously were wrong. Much to your dismay it was Cordelia’s mind that you heard. You tried hard to make it stop, to get the control over it and somehow shut it off. But nothing worked.

It was disturbing and made it hard for you to follow the music. If it hadn’t been for years of practice and the proficiency  you acquired, you most likely wouldn’t be able to keep dancing. It was hard to finish the performance and Elliot could tell you were struggling for some unknown to him reason. Yet you managed to do it. You managed despite your mind being derailed by the other woman’s alcohol intoxicated subconsciousness. 

It made you confused. You were a witch, of course, and it shouldn’t surprise you. Though it had been years since you had used your powers to the fullest. You had almost completely stopped using them and you were quite content living without them. You didn’t necessarily appreciate the fact of you being a witch. Of course, it wasn’t the end of the world and you would be lying if you said that they weren’t useful at times. Yet still, you wished to be just like everyone else and not have any supernatural powers. You wished there was some cure, but you were aware there was none. Whether you liked it or not, you had to withstand it. And so you kept pulling through no matter what, except you had never even considered meeting the Supreme, the most powerful of all witches and you definitely hadn’t thought of what it could do to you.

But there you were - at work, in the middle of the performance, struggling with figuring out what was actually going on and what was the reason for the sudden awakening of your gift. You tried to act as natural as possible, while you were discreetly looking for the person whose thoughts kept flooding your already crowded mind.

You scanned the room and finally spotted her - the stunning blonde stuck in the crowd with one of very few people you actually despised. If you were being honest Adam’s company was the only thing you didn’t like about her. He just didn’t match with her. She was the embodiment of elegance. A walking poem, a perfect beauty. Her skin was flawless and pale. So pale that against the light it seemed as white as porcelain. And there was that glow. As if all the magic was floating around her enclosing her in some kind of halo. You had never seen anything like that in your whole life. Probably no one had, it appeared to be just you - the privilege of being a witch, one would say. And maybe this one time, you would be willing to compromise with them and admit it was a positive trait.

You didn’t know her at all, but one look was enough for you to be able to tell she wasn’t like the others. If you’d have to compare her to anything, you would definitely compare her to a butterfly. She was like one of those rare butterfly species. Surrounded by all those rich and second-rated people, she truly seemed flawless. A butterfly among moths.

But even though your eyes were blessed, your mind was still burning. All her thoughts added to your worries and problems were like a lethal mixture. It was a lot to take, yet still something was dragging you to her. You kept watching her out of the corner of your eye, wondering why she had such a strong impact on you.

You didn’t mean to interfere or do anything about the whole mind reading situation - hoping it would solve itself, praying for it to stop and for your powers to subside again, so that you could come back to your normal life. Though you couldn’t just watch Adam trying to walk away with her. For some odd reason you felt incredibly protective of the woman. Was it the unexpected access to her mind that made you feel obliged to help her? Or maybe the fact that you knew Adam well enough to know what he was capable of? You didn’t know. It was an instinct.

You escorted her to her room. You made sure she was safe. And that was it. You didn’t plan on meeting her ever again - for your own good.

She was absolutely perfect and adorable and funny, especially in her drunk state. But meeting her was overwhelming for your mind. Your powers were all over the place. You thought that maybe it was just her presence. Though ever since your meeting you were unable to make it all stop, you couldn’t shut your powers off no matter how hard you tried. Whatever she did to you wasn’t fixable. Apparently, she was a gasoline to your fire. And as much as you wanted to, as tried as you might have - it was impossible to ignore it. It was impossible to just like that ignore and forget the fucking Supreme Cordelia Goode.

 _

Cordelia with no doubt was a master of organizing things. Order and neatness - the governing principles, were supposed to bring nothing, but peace and quiet. And she never went against her principles. Not until that one evening. Not until all those drinks she had. 

It was truly incredible she didn’t have a hangover. In fact, the only malfunction her disheveled self could register in the morning was that... she didn’t remember.

Cordelia put her hand on her head and closed her eyes trying to focus, trying to recall the events of the previous night. But everything was so blurry and confusing. She couldn’t say what was for real and what was just a dream. It felt as if half of her mind faded to oblivion.

Cordelia liked things to be crystal clear, but at that very moment it wasn’t even close to comprehensible. Nothing made sense as her mind was full of incoherent images. She was a mess and it caused her a lot of distress. She knew very well that she was far from innocent and flawless, but for God’s sake it was only the beginning of her stay there and somehow she already made it even harder and more complicated.

She really tried to remember, but no matter how deep inside her subconscious mind she thought she managed to reach - the only things she could recall was sitting at the bar and dancing with Adam. And that was the kind of stuff she wished she could forget.

The thought of his hands wandering on her body made her sick. She wanted to rub it all out, but she knew there was more than that. Something more had happened the previous night and she could feel it. She found herself longing for something she didn’t even remember. But she knew it wasn’t just her mind deceiving her. It was real and she was desperate to find out what it was.

Cordelia kept thinking of all the options she had. She was getting ready for another day, which - she already knew, was going to be hard. She started with cleaning, collecting her clothes, when suddenly a vivid vision, of a man with a beard carrying her, hit her. It lasted only a few seconds, but made her remember, not everything, but definitely the presence of someone that affected her. She looked down at the material in her hands - her dress. She smelled it and a distinct scent of cigarettes mixed with female perfume overtook her for a moment.

You were there with her - she established. Yet the memory of you was more like a wind. She couldn't see it, but still felt it. And her intuition was telling her that you were closer than she thought.

Cordelia made up her mind rather quickly - she was going to find you and figure everything out. Considering how her powers worked with the dress, she decided to use them around the hotel, hoping they would help her find the answers she needed. Though it wasn’t all that simple. She spent a few hours wandering around the hotel and nothing happened. Well, except for people looking at her as if there was something terribly wrong with her. Yet she wasn’t going to give up. There was still one place left - the restaurant.

Cordelia wasn’t happy going there. She really didn’t feel like meeting Adam again, but that was the only option left. She walked to the bar. The place full of people, was now empty. Cordelia sighed with relief. She was about to touch the counter, when a male voice drew her attention.

“They’re still closed” he stated

“Excuse me?” Cordelie turned to face him and almost immediately recognized him - the man with the beard “It’s you!” she exclaimed standing up

“Me?” he asked confused 

“You carried me to my room yesterday”

“Ooooh. Yeah, I did. I mean I carried you to the hotel and Y/N took you to your room” he shrugged

“Y/N…” Cordelia repeated after him “And where is she now?”

“Look, don’t get me wrong… but I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to tell you. You caused her enough problems. You know, you did that thing to her head…”

Instead of answers she needed, there were only more and more questions. What problems? What thing…?

“Wait. I hurt her?” Cordelia asked already worried

“No! I mean not physically… I don’t know. You’re a witch, you should know such things…”

“That… That makes no sense”

“I’m sorry. I wish I could help you, but I really can’t, Miss Goode”

Cordelia just nodded, making her way back to the hotel. She was frustrated even more than before. She was so close, yet so far. 

She could use her powers to make him do whatever she wanted - just like Fiona had done. But was she really able to do it? Could she use her powers in such a way? She was nothing like Fiona. She was nothing like any of the previous Supremes. Or maybe she was? Cordelia still didn’t know it. That was something she still hadn’t figured out. Where were the limits? What were her limits? And were there any limits at all? Any boundaries or certain rules? Any guidelines she was supposed to follow? You either were or weren’t the Supreme - that was a fact. And as the Supreme you were supposed to take care of the Coven and protect the witches. That was it. All that she knew. But there was no one to tell her if she was doing all of it the right way.

 “Miss Goode!” Gerald’s voice brought her back to earth “Are you enjoying your time?”

“Yes” she lied offering him a small smile

“I’m glad. If you need anything, you know where I am. Just ask and I’d be more than happy to help”

“Actually, there’s something…”

“Yes?”

“Yesterday, there was the performance at the restaurant. There was a couple dancing there”

“Yes. Y/N and Elliot. And what’s with them?”

“Well, I want to know where I can find Y/N”

“Ahhh, Y/N. Our sweet Y/N” he chuckled sitting down next to Cordelia “I know her since she was a little kid. I watched her growing up. Her grandma - Helen. She’s absolutely amazing. She brought Y/N and her brother up and taught them how to dance. She used to be a dancer herself. And let me tell you, when she was dancing… watching her was a pure bliss”

Cordelia couldn’t help the smile on her face. Listening to Gerald was probably the nicest thing that happened to her that day.

“She’s gifted”

“What do you mean?”

“She’s like you…”

“You mean she’s a witch?”

Gerald nodded.

“And where is she now?”

“She died a few years ago and ever since then things seem to keep falling apart, especially for Y/N. Now she’s the one who takes care of everything and everyone. She’s our star. People come here just to watch her…”

You seemed so mysterious and Cordelia kind of liked it. You were a mystery woman, almost like a phantom. Her own enigma. 

“And to think she almost became one of the Castle’s. Ahh, memories… Anyway, what were you asking about?” Gerald’s voice brought her back to earth

“I… I was asking where I can find her”

“Oh, she should be in her studio. I can ask Adam to take you there”

“No, no, no” Cordelia protested, repulsed by the idea “I’ll find her on my own, but thank you”

“Whatever you need, Miss Goode”

-

Cordelia managed to find the studio quicker than she thought she would, but she didn’t enter. She stood in front of the building suddenly engulfed by uncertainty. Why was she even doing it? Why did she want to meet you? Maybe she didn’t really want to know what happened? If only she knew what was that something dragging her to you, maybe then she could just walk away. But she didn’t. She didn’t know what it was and so she didn’t walk away.

She could hear a music coming from inside and noticed a slightly ajared window. Taking a look wasn’t a crime, right? She thought to herself coming closer. Peeking seemed to be just slightly inappropriate and maybe a bit disturbing. But only a bit. Just one look - it wasn’t that much. It wasn’t any invasion of privacy. It wasn’t illegal either. It was just Cordelia’s inner curiosity, that you awaken. Whether it was reasonable or not, Cordelia was standing there, unable to walk away.

There you were - laying on the floor with a cold pack on your head. 

“Uhhh. Shut the fuck up!” you growled standing up

Cordelia watched your every move. You slowly came to the stereo and turned the volume up. You closed your eyes taking a deep breath. It seemed to be your way of tuning into the music, because soon you began moving to the beat. Cordelia watched you dancing again, though this time she was sober and you were there alone. You looked tired. You were a bit sweaty, your top was sticking to your body and a few strands of your a bit damp hair were sticking to your face. But despite it you were still dancing.

Cordelia felt like she could watch you like that for a whole day. Only then Gerald’s words hit her for real. He was talking about your grandma, but apparently it was something that run in your family - watching you was a pure bliss. 

Watching you swaying with your hands above your head - one could think that dancing wasn’t hard at all. You made it seem so easy. And she was entranced. It felt as if her mind was spiraling. Sinking in the temptation to know you, to feel you, to touch you.

Cordelia wished she could stay there just to admire, but more and more people started appearing - as their course with you was about to start. And so the Supreme made her way back to her room. She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t notice Elliot. Cordelia bumped into him and was forced to come back to not so delightful reality.

“You really want to meet her, huh?”

Cordelia nodded looking at him. And if Eliot did pay attention he would probably notice a little blush on her cheeks.

“You’re quite stubborn, but that’s good. It’s not easy to get to her”

“Any advices?”

“Don’t disturb her while she’s working and if you want to keep her, you better know how to dance”

“Okay. I’ll keep that in mind. So, when does she usually end work?”

“That’s a good question. Listen, we’re having dinner tonight… Y/N will be there, so you can come and talk to her if it’s really that important to you”

“Thank you”

“Oh no no. Don’t thank me and forget this conversation happened. She’d kill me”

“Then… why are you doing this?”

“Do I know? You just seem nice and already have that effect on her. Who knows maybe you’re the one”

-

Cordelia couldn’t help the smile that remained on her face for the rest of the day. She was filled with the kind of excitement she hadn’t felt for a long time and she couldn’t say why she felt that way. She didn’t know you and yet she was longing for you. Longing for that power you were supplying. The kind of magic she couldn’t even name. All that she knew was that you made her recall the thing that was gone from her. She was moved. Moved in the ways she had never been before. It felt funny, but it would be a lie if she said she didn’t like that feeling, that thrill. It was divine.

She didn’t know what to expect and if she even could expect anything. But despite it she made sure she looked presentable. She definitely failed to make a good first impression, she did realize it, and so she wanted to at least try to make up for it. Cordelia was sure all her nervousness was gone, but as she made it to the given place the feeling of uneasiness was back. But she was an open-minded woman. She was the Supreme and there was nothing she couldn’t take, right?

The place wasn’t as fancy as the whole hotel, but it was its crowning glory, the biggest asset. It was so cozy and had that nice aura, that made her relax as soon as she entered. She walked down the long corridor, towards the sound of conversations. She made it to a big room, but before she made her entrance she heard your voice.

“What is she doing here?” suddenly all the eyes were on her, everyone stared at her - everyone except for you. You sat there, among a group of people, your friends probably. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath.

“Well, I guess she’s here for you, bug” Elliot stated

“You don’t say!” you rolled your eyes at him and put down your knife and fork

The Supreme was frozen in her place. She didn’t move even a bit, waiting for what you’d do next or just any sign at all.

“We’ll leave the two of you alone” Elliot said standing up, giving the others a signal to follow him “We’ll see you later, at the party”

You nodded looking at your plate. Cordelia waited for the rest to make their leave, before approaching you and sitting opposite. You didn’t say anything and neither did she. You just sat there in complete silence. 

Cordelia watched as you began eating again, completely ignoring her presence. A small grin appeared on her face. She wasn’t used to watching girls close to your age eating, not like that at least. They all seemed to have really tiny appetites and rarely eat together, almost as if they were ashamed of it. And you - you weren’t even slightly bothered by her presence and kept chewing on your food. It was such a simple thing, but she found it absolutely adorable. She watched you for a moment, before taking a notice of your mug. There wouldn’t be anything extraordinary about the vessel if it hadn’t been for a teaspoon in it. The teaspoon that was stirring the beverage itself. Cordelia smirked at that small sign of your powers. 

“So… you’re a witch” she stated and watched as you swallowed hard before replying

“I don’t know what you’re talking about”

Instead of arguing and giving all her reasons to proved her point, Cordelia only glanced at the mug - drawing your attention to it. You immediately placed your hand on it, making the teaspoon stop. You straightened up and looked at her.

“What do you want?” you asked examining her face

Cordelia already knew that you could see right through her and that made her even more nervous.

“First of all I want to thank you for helping me yesterday. And... I want to apologise"

"What for?" 

“My behaviour?”

“What kind of behavior do you mean? Your attempt to flirt or creeping earlier this day?”

Your response definitely wasn’t what she had expected. 

“I…” she couldn’t even find the right words. She didn’t know what she should say. How was she supposed to explain her spying on you? As she sat there and thought about it, she realized it was kind of disturbing and pretty weird actually. Cordelia began nervously playing with the rings on her fingers. She looked everywhere, but your eyes. Could things get even more embarrassing than that? Well… yes. They could and they did.

“Where did that bold Supreme ready to help me with getting laid down go, hmm?” you teased standing up and moving towards one of the windows.

Cordelia’s eyes widened. She had absolutely no idea what you were talking about.

“I… I guess I was just curious” Cordelia gulped watching as you lit a cigarette 

“Don’t you know that curiosity can get you in trouble, Miss Supreme?” you asked pulling at your cigarette

Cordelia slowly stood up and followed you to the window. She stopped right next to you - leaning against a windowsill.

“I couldn’t help myself. You just seem to be quite interesting person”

“As a matter of fact, Miss Supreme” you starter pulling at the cigarette again “I’m exactly the kind of girl you would not be interested in” you finished letting out a puff of smoke

“I beg to differ”

You raised your eyebrow as she moved closer. Your eyes locked with hers, as Cordelia leaned in -  dangerously close to your face. Your gaze shifted to her hand, when she took the cigarette from you, her delicate fingers gently brushing against yours. She brought it to her lips, your eyes followed the movement of her hand. Cordelia put the cigarette in her mouth, glaring at you - still focused , intently observing her actions. She was waiting for your reaction, but your face remained unreadable. You seemed so stoic… until she pulled at the cigarette. Her eyes filled with tears as the smoke tickled, irritated her throat. She tried to hold it back, she couldn’t. Cordelia choked. She began coughing abruptly. A few tears escaped her eyes and flew down her cheeks - breaking the tension. That didn’t go as planned.

You chuckled watching her the tears with her palm. It was hilarious, but also kind of adorable. The way she tried to get your attention and impress you so badly. And why? What for? You were nothing special. There was nothing you could possibly offer her. She probably already had everything anyway.

Cordelia took a few deep breaths - trying to ease the weird feeling, to get rid of that kinda bitter, awful taste in her mouth. So embarrassing. She looked down, refusing to meet your eyes.

You pretended you didn’t hear her thoughts and smiled sympathetically. You felt bad, maybe even a bit guilty - knowing it was her attempt of getting your attention. You slowly leaned in, the same way she did before. Cordelia looked at you again. She glared at you expectantly.

“Smoking is not your thing, Miss Supreme” you said taking the cigarette from her

Cordelia crossed her arms across herself once again watching you exhale a puff of smoke, before you stubbed the cigarette on the ashtray.

You moved ready to walk away and get back to your routine, though something made you stop. You couldn’t stand seeing her so perplexed, biting on her lip nervously. She got so shy around you that you couldn’t help and wanted nothing more, but to take care of her, embrace and hide from the whole world as if she was the most precious thing you had ever seen.

“If anything...” you spoke up drawing her attention back to yourself one more time “it was adorable. Yes, maybe a bit embarrassing, but still cute as fuck” you winked at her, seeing a small smile forming on her face.

You mirrored her smile and for a moment, just a few seconds her eyes lit up.

“Come on, you still owe me a dance, Miss Supreme”

Tag list: @midnight-lestrange​, @natasha-danvers​, @stopkillinglilyrabe​, @welshdragonrawr​, @saucy-sapphic​, @yang12e​

[gryffindorcls]

More Than Just a Friend:  Chapter 1

——————————————————————————————

Hello, lovely readers!  Thank you for taking the time to read!

This fic was inspired by @gale-of-the-nomads ‘s chat post.  You can find it here.

——————————————————————————————

After patrol, Adrien face planted onto his bed and groaned.  Plagg watched as his holder mumbled incoherent ramblings into his comforter.  There was only so much a Kwami could take, and he was really close to reaching his limit.  This kid needed help.

“Adrien,” Plagg called out in a sing-song voice.

“Hrrrrmmm,” his chosen responded without removing his face from the bedspread.

“You okay there, kid?”

“HRRRRRrrrruuuuGH!”

“So...is that a no?”

Adrien breathed deeply and pushed himself up into a sitting position.  “I’m frustrated, Plagg.”

“Yes,” Plagg responded, nodding his head, “That much I can tell.”

“I JUST DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO!”

“Are you going to make me listen to you talk about it all night?”

The visibly distressed teen ignored the Kwami’s question.  “It’s just...why couldn’t Ladybug be someone I know?  It would make all of this so much easier!”

Plagg shook his head and sighed.  “I will take that as a yes.  I guess I should get comfortable.”

“You don’t understand.”

“To be perfectly fair, I rarely understand you.”

“She feels so unreachable and yet strangely...close?  I don’t know anymore.  If only she was someone like...Marinette...you know?  That would be great!”

Plagg choked on air.  “Woah...wait?  Why bakery girl?  What’s so special about her?”

Adrien scrunched his face in thought.  “Well, I guess it’s because she’s already an everyday hero.  She’s always standing up for others and making sure that everyone feels included.  Marinette may get nervous sometimes, but she’s also brave, smart, kind, and helpful.  She’s pretty and super talented.  It would be great if Ladybug was someone like her...or even if it was her.”

“Are you sure it would be great if it was her?  Didn’t you tell me that she liked Luka?”

“Plagg, I’m not saying that Marinette is Ladybug.  I’m saying it would be nice if Ladybug was someone close to me like Marinette.”

“Kid…”

Adrien walked over to his window and gazed off into the distance.  He rested his head against the glass and released a shaky breath.

“Regardless of Luka, it would never work if she was Ladybug.  I can’t date Marinette...she’s just a friend,” he said softly, keeping his eyes glued on the Parisian cityscape.

“I’m going to be completely honest with you,” Plagg began, “You sounded pretty sad when you said that just now.”

His chosen turned around and looked at his Kwami with a befuddled expression. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Adrien,” Plagg cleared his throat, “hear me out.  What if...and stay with me on this...what if she wasn’t just a friend?”

“I still don’t understand.”

“Okay...let me try to explain this differently.  You are miserable all the time because you can’t capture Ladybug’s heart.  How am I doing so far?”

Adrien rolled his eyes.  “You’re not completely wrong, but I would like to point out that I’m not miserable all of the time.”

“Kid, that was a yes or no question.”

“Just continue explaining.”

“Fine.  You wish that Ladybug was someone you knew in real life, and you just gave Marinette as an example, and not someone like...angry sword girl.”

“Kagami?”

“Yeah, that one.”

Adrien huffed.  “You and I both know that Kagami definitely isn’t Ladybug.  She was Akumatized and we fought her...twice!”

Plagg threw his paws into the air.  “Still, you said you wished that Ladybug was someone like Marinette.  You never said you wanted her to be someone like Kagami.”

“I’m still not getting your point.”

“What if you tried going out on a date with bakery girl?”

Adrien’s eyes grew wide.  “No!  I can’t date Marinette!”

Plagg crossed his arms.  “And why not?”

“Because she’s just a friend!”

“You obviously have a crush on her.”

The black Kwami carefully observed his holder’s reaction to his last statement.

Adrien’s cheeks were bright red.  “No, I don’t.”

“The fact that you’re blushing tells me otherwise,” Plagg pointed out.

The teen buried his face in his hands.  “I can’t have a crush on Marinette!  I like Ladybug.”

“Did you not just say to me that it would be great if Marinette is Ladybug?  Why not give it a shot and see if you’re right.  Even if she’s not your partner and you wind up falling for her, would it be the worst thing in the world?  You might even be happy for a change.”

“But Marinette is just a…”

Plagg cut him off.  “I swear, kid, if you say ‘just a friend’ one more time, I’m going to lose it...and the last time that happened Krakatoa erupted.”

Adrien fell silent and sat down on his bed.  He hung his head low and folded his hands in his lap. 

The Kwami decided to try a gentler approach.  “Look, for just a moment...I want you to pretend that there’s no Ladybug and you’re not Chat Noir.  Just imagine that you’re a normal boy with a normal life.  Now, think about what it would be like to date Marinette.  She’s nice, and she smells like bread.  I know she enjoys making things, and her parents seem to like you.  You’ve told her that she’s amazing on multiple occasions, and you just told me that you think she’s pretty.”

Adrien looked up and stared off into the distance.  Plagg could see the wheels turning in his chosen’s brain, and he really hoped that something would click this time.  Suddenly, the teen groaned loudly and doubled over onto the couch.

“Adrien?” Plagg asked after watching his holder moan in anguish for a solid minute.

“No!,” he exclaimed, “I can’t have a crush on Marinette.  I CAN’T, BUT I DO!  Why did you have to point out all that stuff to me!  She’ll never agree to go out with me.  She hasn’t started a relationship with a single person who’s shown interest in her all year, and I’m pretty sure half the class has a crush on her.  AND NOW I DO, TOO!”

“I hate to break it to you, but I think you’ve liked her all along.”

“Oh my God, Plagg!  I can’t like Ladybug and Marinette.”

“Sure you can.  You were still in love with Ladybug when you took sword girl out on a date...right?”

“I HAVE A CRUSH ON THREE GIRLS?  What is wrong with me?”

“Nothing,” Plagg shrugged, “You just have a type.”

Adrien sat down in a huff.  “I can’t ask Marinette out on a date.  She doesn’t think of me that way.  She likes Luka.”

“Does she have a boyfriend?”

“No.”

“Then you are more than welcome to ask her out.”

“I will be humiliated.  I don’t think I can handle rejection from Ladybug and Marinette.”

“Isn’t it worth exploring though?”

Adrien shook his head and started walking towards the bathroom.  “I can’t do this right now.  I’m going to get ready for bed.”

The tiny, black being chased after him.  “Can I at least have some cheese before you go to sleep?”

“PLAGG!”

“What?  Giving life advice makes me hungry!”

***

Two hours after Adrien fell asleep, Plagg phased through the window and flew into the night.  He zipped down the quiet roads and around the corner towards his holder’s school.  If memory served him correctly, bakery girl was right across the street.

Once he found the bakery, he flew to the top window and phased into the attic room where Marinette lay sleeping in her bed.  Plagg scanned the room until his eyes fell on a small red mass curled up in a heap of fabric on a desk.

“Tikki!” he whispered loudly from the other side of the room.

Plagg zoomed over to his counterpart and tapped her with his paw.  

“Tikki!” he said with more force while still maintaining an appropriate volume.

The red Kwami began to stir in her sleep.  Plagg poked her again, and she finally opened her eyes.

She gave him a confused look.  “Plagg?  What are you doing here?  Are you okay?  Is your holder okay?”

“I did something,” he said plainly.

Tikki glared at him.  “What did you do, Plagg?  Don’t tell me another species went extinct.  First, it was the dinosaurs.  Then, it was the dodo birds, and you completely crossed the line when it came to the unicorns.”

“You and I both know that those unicorns were a bunch of lying thieves.  They had to go.”

“They were cute.”

“They were monsters.”

Tikki took a deep breath and massaged her temples.  “We’re getting off topic.  Please just tell me that the squirrels are still okay.”

Plagg rolled his eyes.  “Yes, the squirrels are fine...for now.”

“Just explain to  me what you did.”

“I may have convinced my boy that he has a crush on your girl.”

“Chat Noir has never been quiet about liking Ladybug.”

“No,” Plagg said, making eye contact, “I made him realize that Adrien likes Marinette.”

“Oh,” Tikki responded.

“That’s it?”

“Does this mean that he figured out Ladybug’s identity?”

“No.  He came home from patrol and started going on about how he wished that Ladybug was someone he knew ‘like Marinette’.  I then questioned him on why he chose her out of all his friends, and then I told him to try asking her out.”

“How did he take that?”

“He had a full-blown existential crisis.  Adrien thinks that Marinette doesn’t like him romantically and that she’ll turn him down if he asks her on a date.”

“Are you kidding?  The girl is obviously in love with him.”

Plagg shook his head.  “He’s going to need proof.  He’s that kind of guy.”

Tikki paused before answering.  “The Valentine.”

“What about it?”

“Marinette wrote it.”

He curled his lips into a smile.  “I knew it!  But we don’t have any concrete evidence that it’s from her.  I’m telling you, he’s not going to believe me unless I have something irrefutable to show him.  Not even a sample of her handwriting will be enough.”

Tikki formed her own mischievous grin.  “Do you really think that the Valentine he got was the only draft?”

The red Kwami zoomed over to the trunk on the opposite side of the room.  She phased through the top, cracked open the lid, and slid a slightly crumpled paper onto the floor.  Plagg flew over to the chest and began examining the paper.  He saw that it had three different drafts of the Valentine poem, “Marinette Agreste” scribbled in the margins, and a drawing of a smiling hamster.

Plagg looked up at his counterpart.  “This is perfect.”

Tikki gave him a serious look.  “Now, I have nothing against them finding happiness and starting to date each other, but we will need to make sure that they are careful when it comes to their identities.  They can’t know.”

“What if...just try to follow me here,” Plagg began, “what if they did?”

“What do you mean?”

“What if they knew each other’s identities?  Would it be that bad?  Fox Girl and Turtle Boy learned each other’s identities, and they’re doing great.”

“But Master Fu…”

He cut her off.  “Doesn’t have to live with them.  He doesn’t see what I see.  You asked me if my holder was okay when I came here tonight.  You want to know the truth?  No, he’s not.  His dad sucks and he’s always alone.  Here we have two kids who love each other and they don’t even realize it!  Do you know how much better their relationship will be?  They’ll become better partners and heroes.”

Tikki softened her expression.  “You really care about him.”

“I always care about my cats, but that doesn’t mean that I won’t have fun with them along the way.”

“Maybe...maybe you’re right.”

Plagg grinned.  “What was that, Sugarcube?  I didn’t quite catch that.”

Tikki rolled her eyes and sighed.  “I said that maybe you’re right.”

“Finally!  You admit it.”

“I’m not saying that you’re always right.  You just so happen to be right this one time.”

“Come on!  There were plenty of other times that I was correct!  I was right about Archduke Franz Ferdinand.”

“No, you weren’t.”

“Oh, yes I was.”

“You started World War I.”

“Agree to disagree.”

“Fine,” Tikki said, making a dismissive gesture, “So, what are we supposed to do now?  Are we just going to let them figure it out on their own?”

“No, we nudge them.  They need help,” Plagg explained, “I will give this paper to Adrien tomorrow morning, and I will try to convince him to ask out Marinette.”

“How is that going to help them figure out each other’s identities?”

“We’re just going to have to improvise when opportunities arise.  It’s not like we haven’t done that before.”

“Okay.  I’ll do my best with Marinette.  I’ll try to figure something out.”

“Just think, once they’re a couple, we’ll get to spend more time together.”  Plagg nuzzled Tikki as he spoke.

“I’ve missed you, too, Stinky Sock.”

With the paper in hand, Plagg flew over to the window that led to the balcony.  Tikki followed behind closely.

Before phasing through the glass, he turned to the red Kwami.  “Just one more thing.  Adrien feels like he can be himself when he’s Chat Noir.  There are very few people in his civilian life who see that side of him.  Ladybug has turned him down more than once.  I have to ask...how does she really feel about her partner?”

Tikki smiled as she responded.  “She values his friendship and cares for him deeply.  While she gets frustrated by his recklessness and when he jokes around during a fight, she has a soft spot for the cat.  She won’t admit it, but I think she’s starting to fall for him.”

Plagg beamed.  “Good.  We might just be able to make this work.”

Next ----->

AO3

Fanfiction

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Thank you to everyone who has been reading and following my other stories.  Now that “Chat for a Day” and “Please Tell Me I’m Awake Right Now” are both on their last chapters, I have started to write new fics!  Let the fluff-train continue!

Any feedback is greatly appreciated.  Seeing all your responses fills my heart with joy!  You are all wonderful!

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[singeramg]

Tired Of Hiding: Part 2

Pairing: Henry Cavill/ Black! Reader

Rating: E

Chapter: 2/2

Warnings: Mild Anger, Slight manipulation (if you squint your eyes, reader is okay with this), Oral (Female Recieving), Fluff

Summary: You deal with the fallout of Henry’s Announcement...

Part 1:

A/n: Here’s a lil something for all those who have dirty minds like me... :)

You were pissed! To say you were anything less would be an understatement. You weren’t mad because Henry had told the world there was someone special. In fact you were low-key pleased, You were more pissed that he didn’t give you a heads up. The fact he didn’t even tell you after he did it. 

You two were laying there in bed, you laying on his chest, not bothered by the thick, dark hair there, him playing with a lock of your hair with his finger, watching a movie.

You turned your phone off shortly after arriving to where Henry was filming. Kal had gone crazy upon seeing you, jumping on you, then Henry had set his sights on pleasantly distracting you. You never cut the phone back on, having left it on airplane mode, therefore you did not get your notification when Henry posted it. 

You pulled away from him to get up so you could grab a bottle of water.You picked up your phone from the bedside table, cutting the setting off as you started drinking. The phone began dinging as various things came through.

Twitter, Facebook, Snapchat (that you rarely used, and last but not least instagram. Then multiple text messages came through

Mom: So you and Henry decided to go pub...

Best Fren: Bitch is this you singing in the bathroom???? Told you long ago to take the act on the road...

Auntie: I swear you song just like aunt fee when you sing

Friend 1: I knew y’all would make it...

Best Fren: Call me

Best Fren: Get off Cavill’s dick and call me! 

You looked confused and went to Instagram.

Henry’s post was first due to your settings, you listened to his post, surprised to hear your voice coming through the phone.Henry didn’t move as you choked lightly on the water in your mouth. You felt your heart begin to race, and you kept scrolling.

Instagram was having a field day

Shaderoom’s headline read: Is Superman down with the swirl?

BallerAlert: Henry Cavill’s new gf shows off her pipes.

TMZ: Has Geralt found love?

Begrudgingly, you clicked on the comment sections and half of the women were crying, others were wishing him the best. Some comments were semi-hilarious. 

“That’s definitely a black Queen”

“She broke out the Anita Baker. @HenryCavill keep her.”

“That voice 😍”

“If I had a woman to sing to me like that I would be making her hit the high note.”

“Yeah pipes after pipe down”

“Watch Henry show up with a Boosie fade and a beard. Hairline ‘bout to be boss af.”

There were various comments either praising or hating and honestly you could give two fucks about either.

“Henry what in the hell?” He paused the tv, looking at you, confused as to why you were mad.

“I was tired of lying to the world. I love you Y/N. I wanted everyone to know it.”

“So you couldn’t give me a heads up that you would post this?” you say putting one hand on your hip and look at him as he sat up in the bed, but not getting out of it.

“You always overthink anything you post. I didn’t want to stress you out.”

“No you didn’t want me to say no.” His eyebrows furrowed and he got out of the bed. 

“ You honestly think that?” 

“Henry we know each other too well to play like this. You knew I would have wanted to wait.”

“Are you ashamed of us?” He would ask you, clearly hurt.

“What??? No. I’m just pissed because I just wish I could have prepared.”

“Y/n it’s not like I showed your face or tagged you. This is just been weighing down on me. We deserve to show the world that love is possible.”

He had reached you by now, taking the phone out of your hands, then pulling you closer to him. You wanted to give in to the puppy dog eyes he was sporting, but honestly you were still pissed. 

Henry knows you too well however. He chooses to kiss your forehead, then your cheekbones his hands long since cupping your face. 

You felt soft ™️, but didn’t uncross your arms.  

“Darling you know I hate it when you are mad at me.”

“Well you shouldn’t have pissed me off.”

He pulls you impossibly closer. 

“I am sorry that I didn’t tell you, I promise not to share anything about us without talking to you first.”

“Honestly that’s all I want. I love you too, still a little pissy but I’ll forget it soon. Maybe in a day or so.”

Henry smirked.

“Let me make it up to you.”

You will look at him confused, but only for a moment because that’s all you had time for before being picked up and hoisted over his shoulder in a fireman carry. Surprised by the sudden move, you yelped and seeing you weren’t far Henry was over to the bed in seconds. He sat you down, before hovering over you, kissing your neck. 

“Dick doesn’t fix everything Cavill.”

He chuckled, the deep sound of it, making you vibrate down to your toes and back up again before settling in-between your legs.

“Good thing I am not about to give you the dick.”

He said sliding his hand up your exposed  thighs as you had only been in his shirt.You feel his fingers brushing against your exposed core. You trembled lightly in anticipation of his touch.

Henry dove in, feasting upon you like you were his only source of moisture, the only food he  would receive. Your eyes start to roll back as the pleasure mounted.

“Fuck Henry”

Your thighs will try to close around his head, but of course he was stronger than you. He ended up just hoisting them over his shoulders which put you in a different angle slightly and unable to close them.

You were practically jumping off the bed, but he was holding you against his mouth. Despite the desperate cry’s and incoherent babbling, Henry did not let up. Adding his deliciously long fingers to hit that spot that made your toes curl and try to push his head away. 

He merely chuckled again and kept going, swirling his tongue around your clit. Pulling away to say

“Come on y/n, cum for me.”

Then he went back in. You had no choice but to take it, he sucked and that was all it took for you to feel that rubber band of tension pop in your stomach, your vision goes white for a moment.You rode out your orgasm on his tongue. He drinking up the efforts of his hard work. Once your vision comes back. Henry is looking at you smug.He comes back up and you kiss him not shying away from your taste.

“Am I forgiven?” He asks you, pulling you into his chest again.

“Did my screams of pleasure give you any other impression?” you ask him still trying to catch your breath slightly. 

“Just checking. Can’t have my boo mad at me.”

You will shudder at the slang being used with that accent and burst out laughing as he tried to use the term you always used on him. He was laughing with you knowing how it sounded coming from him.

All was good again...

A/n: Be gentle with me this was my first time writing Henry Cavill smut. You know I just feel like he knows what he’s doing in this department. Well actually the whole department, but yall know what I mean...

If you don’t ask me! my inbox is open for headcannons and imagines...

Thank You for reading!

[toutorii]

Broken Pieces: Chapter 1

Okay so when I started this blog, I thought, “Oh I’ll just reblog a bunch of things, post some art and maybe some fanfics.” And I realized that I haven’t published any fanfics yet... oops. SO. This is the first chapter of my Percy Jackson OC insert story, its my first writing piece like this, so criticism is greatly appreciated! And let me know what you guys think. You can also check out the second chapter on Wattpad. Just look up Broken Pieces or my name, TouTorii! And if you want to be put on the taglist, just ask! Anyways, without further to do... I hope you guys enjoy!

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Disclaimor: I don’t own any of the characters in this story other than Phoebe, Rick Riordan owns most of the plot and all the other characters.

Warnings: Some Language, terrible grammar, and spelling errors.

Broken Pieces Masterlist

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Pain flooded my senses. The weapon impaled my gut, right below my heart. It took all of my remaining strength to look at the man I once considered my brother and choke out, "Gods damn it. Fight." And that's when numbness took over my body and the darkness flooded my eyesight.

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I woke with a start, my breathing was labored. It was dark, but not pitch black like my dream. I sat up and scanned my surroundings. Dozens of demigods were packed in the little Hermes cabin. Mostly undetermined stayed here. I grabbed my dagger and slipped out of the cabin. It was about three hours until breakfast so I walked to the tree on the hill. Even though bloodshed and horrors have seen this camp, it had an amazing view. I dont know how long I sat there, it could have been hours, it could have been a couple of minutes. But after awhile I heard footsteps approaching me. I turned my head to be greeted by Connor Stoll. He has a lopsided smile plastered onto his tan face. He wordlessly sat down next to me. We sat in comfortable silence, until he broke it, saying,

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"And I'm the queen of England."

"Yep, I know you are."

"Phoebe..."

I sighed and closed my eyes.

"How'd you know somethings wrong?" I asked.

"You're wearing your baby blanket."

I looked down, sure enough, it was wrapped around my shoulders. When did I do that?

"The only time you wear it is when you're upset, so please, tell me whats w-"

"I had the dream again." I said. He looked up.

"The one where you.... You know.."

"Yeah..."

"Did you see who stabbed you?"

"No." That was a lie.

"Well, are you okay?"

"Yeah." Another lie.

He looked at me with worry plastered on his face. He saw right through my facade. Just like he always did. But instead of saying anything he just engulfed me in a hug. I clung to his shirt like my life depended on it. Tears threatened to break through but I shoved the feeling down. We stayed like that until breakfast. That's when we got up and walked to the dining pavilion.

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When Breakfast was over we all went to do our daily training. Everything was normal. No one trying to kill me, no one trying to kill each other, all was going great. The Hermes cabin was currently sparring. I was paired up with Luke Castellan, my cabin leader. We were even for the most part, both getting in hits every once in awhile. But eventually I disarmed him and took the victory.

"You did good, but not as good as me, Luke." I said as I helped him up.

"I wish I could slap that smirk off of your face right now." He grumbled.

"You still love me though." I said with a wink. He blushed and said something incoherent.

"You gotta speak up pretty boy." He mumbled something again.

"I said, you wish." He finally said at a normal volume.

I mocked offense and put a hand on my chest.

"How dare you! I am loved by everyone and almost everything!" I said with the utmost confidence.

"I have to disagree with that!" I heard Connor yell while he was sparring against Travis.

"I could whip your ass too." I yelled at him.

"Kinky!" He slyly smirked.

"Connor! There are children!"

"Says the chick who said ass.''

"Whatever"

When I turned around, I was met with Luke red in the face from laughing.

"Shut up."

"I never said anything."

He raised his sword toward me and said, "I declare a rematch."

"Sure your knighthood." I said with a bow. And we went at it again.

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It was late at night, a storm raged around camp.

"Who the hell ticked off the drama queen?" Thunder boomed louder, I decided to stop before Zeus incinerated me. I was just outside the border getting soaked in the rain when I turned around and saw a horrific sight. A child was fighting a giant bull while someone else was knocked out cold. When did they get here? How could I be so blind?The wind and rain was deafening, but I ran and tried to make my way over there. But before I could help, the little kid stabbed the Minotaur and it evaporated. The kid nearly passed out so I ran to grab them before they hurt themselves even more.

"Just hold on kid." I said. They looked confused but let me carry them passed the border.

"Grover..." The kid said. I was confused, Grover? Then it clicked, this is the kid that Chiron was watching at Yancy. I turned around and saw Grover covered in mud. I picked him up and carried them both to the border. I saw Chiron and Annie come with worried looks.

"Is this him? The one from the p-" Annie started.

"Not now Annabeth, he is still awake." Chiron reprimanded. That's when I looked over where the kid was and saw that he was passed out on my shoulder. I scanned his face, seeing cuts and bruises from the battle. He couldn't have been more than 12.

Jesus, 12 and fighting for his life. How long had he known about the life? This world? I picked him up and carried him to the infirmary. After I had seen to stitching up his deep cuts and applying bandages and healing salves, I sat down and kept an eye on him.

"Bull baby, of all the monsters to send after an innocent kid."

"How do you know he's innocent?" I jumped, unaware of Annie being in the room.

"Because, I have a gut feeling, and I've learned to trust my gut."

"That's so stupid." I chuckled. Annie got red in the face, "Well it is! Using your brain is much more efficient."

"So you're telling me that you ignore your instincts on the battlefield?" I inquired.

"Well I- I mean- I just- Shut up!" That made me burst into another fit of laughter. But Annie had a scowl on her face showing she did not appreciate my teasing.

"Aw come on, Annie."

"...."

"Are you really mad at this amazing beautiful specimen?"

"..."

"Okay, I guess you don't want to read any more of my dad’s architecture books.” 

"What?! No! I'm not mad!"

I laughed, and eventually so did she. It was rare to see a smile on her face, especially after Luke got his quest. The poor girl couldn't get a break. She had been here a long time, not as long as I have, but still a long time. She just wants to prove she's worthy of being a daughter of Athena.

"mom. .. . ." The kid groaned quietly. I whipped my head around and immediately grabbed his hand, so he could have something to ground himself with if needed. He opened his eyes and oh my gods, they were like the ocean.

Ocean?

No.

Why.

But the pact.

I swear they're more horny than a teenager.

That's why this kid is attracting so many monsters.

Not just because of Hades.

But because of his parent.

Poseidon.

[chaosbrewing]

your fault

okay, brief message before you read on:

I wrote this at like three in the morning. It’s horribly ooc, doesn’t quite fit the time period, absconds from the storyline, and some of it is incoherent, but I want to start posting more of my work. With that in mind, I’ve totally fallen in love with The Glass Scientists/ @glass-scientists y’all need to read it bc you just need to. anyways here’s my really bad writing.

“ENOUGH!”

Those of the lodgers that were not already at the balcony darted to its edge in order to better observe the conflict that was unfolding. Even Frankenstein had descended from the attic to watch, albeit with a disapproving look on her face.

“Is that Hyde?” Rachel blinked, rushing to the edge.

“I dunno,” Jasper replied, quickly following her. “It sounded like…”

“...Dr. Jekyll?”

The man in question was standing in the middle of the atrium, panting. His normally perfectly quaffed brown hair was frizzy and standing on end. His eyes, which Rachel realized for the first time were not a saturated shade of brown but of deep red, were bloodshot and red.

“I have had it up to HERE with this!” Jekyll hissed. Gone was the collected gentleman, continuously charming his way out of sticky situations; in his place was a firecracker, a ticking time bomb, a lit fuse.

“Ever since the Society was founded, it has been my job to keep you all safe. I’m the one keeping a roof over your head. I’m the one who deals with every problem that arises!”

“Henry, you forget yourself,” Lanyon growled. As always, he was the picture of a perfect gentleman in his deep indigo suit, cool and collected.

“No, Lanyon, I am perfectly capable of voicing my feelings,” Henry replied coldly.

“You lot don’t want to do an exhibition, do you? Well fine! But I don’t have any more money to keep this place running, and Lanyon’s father refuses to fund us any longer!”

Every expression in the room was unreadable, but for the doctor’s. His chest was rising and falling at an alarming rate; beneath his freckles, his normally pale face had gone bright red.

“We. Have. No. More. Money. I am up to my EARS in bills! Without an exhibition, without gaining patrons, you’ll all be back out on the streets in a week’s time. And what do I get for what I do?”

Jasper swallowed hard, staring at Dr. Jekyll.

“I GET SPAT ON. I GET CALLED A SLUT BY MY CHILDHOOD IDOL, THE ONE SCIENTIST WHO PROMPTED MY ENTRY INTO THE FIELD ITSELF!” Henry screamed. “AND YOU LOT—YOU HATE ME! YOU DON’T EVEN HAVE TO SAY IT OUT LOUD, I KNOW IT!”

“You lied to me about Hyde!” Rachel called out boldly, hands on her hips. “You’ve penned us all in! You don’t care about science, you just want a profit!”

Henry’s glare turned cold.

“So that’s it, then, isn’t it?” he chuckled bitterly. “You lot hate me. I can’t say I haven’t suspected it all along.”

“You want Hyde? You’ll get Hyde. And I won’t be coming back.”

From the inner pocket of his red vest, he pulled a vial filled with gleaming green liquid. The potion seemed to have an aura of evil about it; everyone recoiled slightly.

Henry popped the cap from the vial and drained it.

“HENRY!” Lanyon screamed, rushing toward him.

As his friend was held back by the others, Jekyll collapsed to the floor and began to convulse. The vial shattered next to him; Henry was clutching at his head in evident agony. The room watched in quiet horror as the man before them twitched and contorted.

“Ahahahaha….Ahahaha….AHAHAHAHA!”

Cackling filled the silence, vile and cruel and ever-so-familiar. Jekyll had stopped twitching. The man began to sit up; there was green liquid leaking from his eyes and mouth. He ran a hand through his blonde hair, prompting Rachel to gasp.

“His...His clothing’s changed,” Jasper blinked. “And his hair? What’s that on about?”

“I’m baaaaaack,” Hyde smirked evilly, glaring at the lodgers with a pair of bright green eyes.

A collective gasp issued forth. Lanyon looked horrified.

“Mr. Hyde!” Rachel cried, aghast.

“Hello, Rachel,” Hyde replied, sneering.

“But—But Dr. Jekyll was—how are you—what are you?!” Jasper yelled.

“I am the product of many years of study by your wonderful friend, Dr. Jekyll,” Edward replied. “Or perhaps friend is not the term? I believe you voiced your hatred of him earlier...how unfortunate…”

“What have you done with him?” Lanyon cried softly. “Bring him back this instant!”

“Oh, it was no choice of mine,” Hyde blinked, giving Lanyon an owlish stare. “You see, Jekyll makes those choices. And it seems you finally pushed him over the edge.”

He ran a hand through his unruly blonde hair, reveling in the attention he was receiving.

“When Henry was nothing more than a lad, science delighted and distracted him from the rest of the world. He devoted hours to his studies—I’d say he accomplished more by age ten than most men by age thirty! But he was constantly craving approval...his mother denied him, his friends called him crazy, even the citizens of the city! So he gave up on the sciences.”

All were captivated as the blonde demon spun his story, pacing about the room in an energetic sort of way. It was almost as if he found the telling of the tale to be an exciting journey.

“Henry came to London, where he found dear Lanyon,” Hyde hummed. “Oh, Lanyon….how he yearned for a friend! And you, you were so much more than a friend to him. He wanted praise. He longed to be accepted. He sought to become a true part of society, and you took him under your wing. You didn’t even notice how in love he was with you,” he cackled.

Lanyon’s tan skin paled to a shade one might have thought impossible for a person of his complexion.

“In—In love?” he stammered.

“Oh, he was head over heels,” Hyde giggled. “He would have done anything for you, Lanyon! Why, in our mind he created a version of the perfect English gentleman—it’s you, Lanyon! You in all your fine glory. Your mannerisms, even your physical appearance! He looked up to you, he adored you, he loved you.”

The simpering smile on Edward’s face turned to a scowl.

“I find you a pest,” he hummed boredly. ���An annoying brat. I’ve no clue what he saw in you.”

“But I’ve digressed, haven’t I? The times began to shift—people turned against science, and Henry sought to protect it in the one way he knew would work.”

“By giving it all the titles and airs of a respectful high society organization,” Jasper breathed.

“Excellent, my dear boy!” Hyde crowed.

“Yes, indeed! He formed the society to keep you all safe. To foster the opportunity for you all to grow and use your skills, a chance he never had.”

“But where do you come in?” Rachel asked quietly.

“Ah, see, I come right after the society’s creation,” Edward chuckled sinisterly. “Henry picked up the chemicals in one last burst of creativity. A few exotic powders, a few oils, a few extracts...and a pinch of one rare salt. The first sip was painful. The bloody thing tasted like shit, and then he had to go and collapse from the horrific pain. But he’d truly done it! He’d separated the good from the evil in his soul, and I finally had free rein.”

He tipped his hat in Frankenstein’s direction. “Here’s your proof, m’lady.”

The scientist in question was observing with a cold expression on her face.

“And Henry, once he’d regained control, swore to never tell a soul! I spent each day torturing him, oh yes,” Hyde smirked. “I brought up his worst memories...his deepest fears...he always thought you’d see right through him. He was constantly terrified you’d see him for who he really was, that you’d see him for me, and abandon him! Greedy, pathetic little Jekyll...he constantly hungered for praise. Of course, having lacked it in our childhood, I can’t say I blamed him.”

“What are you saying?” Lanyon whispered.

“You, my dear Mister Lanyon, were to never find out,” Edward hummed. “Oh, the agony of Henry’s dearest companion learning of his wicked alchemy! The profound corruption of his soul!”

He cackled.

“And, bit by bit, your little comments wore him down. Your critiques, both gentle and harsh. Being called a slut, by Auntie Frankenstein over there, was quite a blow, as well. And now...well, your hatred pushed him over the edge,” Hyde shrugged. “He relinquished every last bit of control to me, and I don’t intend to give it back. He could not handle the pain any longer.”

“So he’s gone forever?” Jasper whimpered.

“Don’t snivel, boy!” Hyde growled. “Pathetic, you are—just like he was! Poor, pathetic, anxiety-riddled, unlovable Henry Jekyll, who could never see past his oh-so-obvious flaws and would never make it in this world!”

Lanyon was crying silent tears. They streamed over his cheeks, dripping from the end of his chin and onto the floor.

“Don’t call him unlovable,” he whispered coldly.

“I loved him. Perhaps I did not realize it before, but…”

Every tender moment they’d shared. Every awkward emotional gaze.

“I taught him to dance,” he whispered. “I can still remember how he trembled in my arms...how he blushed and giggled when I bowed to him and kissed him on the hand…”

“He always gave me advice,” Rachel said quietly. “He even let me pull him away from important conversations.”

“He taught me how to present. He cried when I told him I wasn’t giving up like everyone else,” Jasper whispered.

Soon the other lodgers were all nodding and adding their own stories, recalling how much Dr. Jekyll had given of his own time just to preserve theirs.

“I vas...too hasty in my assessment of him,” Frankenstein said quietly. “A most honorable man he vas, it seems.”

An expression of determination crossed Lanyon’s face. He drew a dagger from the inside of his pocket.

“I may have been blind before, but I will not let Henry’s memory be tarnished,” he said firmly. “He did far more for us than I ever thought. And keeping all of that bottled up inside…”

“The perfect recipe for chaos,” Hyde cackled. “Just as I like it!”

“This is for Henry,” Lanyon hissed, shoving Hyde against the wall with enough force to at least bruise his head.

“So, the pretty boy is strong?” Edward smirked.

Lanyon stabbed him in between the ribs; Hyde’s eyes widened as blood began to pour down his front.

“No...no, no, NO!”

His last word was an ungodly screech, echoing painfully around the atrium. Blonde hair darkened into brown; vivid green eyes became harsh red, then a softer shade.

Henry coughed weakly. Blood trickled down his chin from the corner of his mouth. He placed a hand to his bleeding chest, where Lanyon was now applying compressions.

“It’s no use, Lanyon,” he said quietly, before coughing. “It’s no use. And it’s for the best, really. Don’t even bother.”

“I’m not letting you go, Henry Jekyll,” Lanyon said fiercely, tears filling his eyes.

“The world needs more brilliant men like you. Too many of us are stuck up. Trapped in our shells. Unable to see beyond, like you can.”

“Ve need more people to protect our craft, as you have,” Frankenstein nodded.

A weak smile crossed Henry’s face; it was quickly broken by a hacking cough.

“I’ve always...always wanted to be complimented by you,” he whispered. “Thank you…”

“Don’t leave me, Henry!” Lanyon cried. “Please, Henry! Please!”

With one arm under his friend’s head, he cradled him close to his chest. His tears spilled down onto Henry’s face, mingling with the brunette’s own tears.

“I love you, Lanyon,” Henry whispered. “I’m so sorry that I wasn’t enough.”

“You’ve always been enough, Henry,” Lanyon shook his head. “You’ve always been more than enough! I was foolish to not see that before. You’re everything to me. Everything! I need you, Henry. You better not leave me!”

He stopped.

“I—I love you! I love you, Henry!”

The room was utterly silent.

Henry had stopped breathing.

“NO!”

A ragged wail tore itself free from Lanyon’s lips as the man caved in on himself. He was still cradling Henry’s body; it took the aid of several lodgers, all of whom had come down to gather around the doctor, to pry the two away from each other.

“No, Henry, please,” Lanyon whispered. He closed his eyes; the tears continued to flow hot against his cheeks.

“I didn’t get to tell you…”

[imnotinclinedtomaturity]

Love Yourself (Chapter 27)

title: Love Yourself summary: A lot of things about Dan’s life are pretty great. He gets to make the music he wants, he’s got a great fanbase, and his manager is his best friend. A few things about his life suck a bit more. He’s currently lacking inspiration, he’s rather lonely, and he’s stuck in a rut. Dan’s been going to the same coffee shop for years. It’s quiet, it’s quaint, it’s near his home. Most importantly: none of the employees give a shit that’s he a world-famous singer. Things change when he meets the new barista. chapter words: 8.8k story words: 219.6k (so far) chapter: 27/? rating: m warnings: language, alcohol, sex mentions, some bi/homophobia, eventual explicit smut, some depression genre: singer!dan, coffee shop au, barista!phil, slow burn [[ao3]] [[first chapter]] [[previous chapter]]

a/n: thank you to everyone for being the best audience i could hope for. i appreciate how patient y'all have been, how understanding you've been that i needed time time off because of Adulthood and Mental Health. i'm not feeling particularly articulate right now, but know that i love and appreciate you all. back to our regularly scheduled programming now! updates should come every 1.5 weeks-ish again :) also, a massive thanks to @auroraphilealis as always, not just for editing, but also for being a great best friend and a wonderful cheerleader. ily xx

Loud, persistent buzzing pulled Phil sharply from his sleep. It took a few sleepy seconds before he registered that the buzzing was his phone on his bedside table — and it was apparently ringing. Still half asleep, Phil waited until it stopped vibrating before reaching for it. It was too damn early to actually talk to anyone, but curiosity was still getting the best of him.

He pried an eye open and looked at the screen, instinctively flinching away from the bright light. Without his glasses, he was too blind to see who had called, but he could just barely make out the time — half past seven.

Nearly an hour before his alarm was due to go off.

That was nearly an hour of sleep that someone was trying to take from Phil. And after the whirlwind of last night’s date, Phil wanted nothing more than to sleep in. It wasn’t like Dan was here to give him a reason to get up.

With a stubborn, tired sigh, Phil rolled back into his pillow. Whoever had called could wait — at least until he was ready to get out of bed.

Just as he was drifting off again, though, his phone rang again. Grumbling, Phil pushed himself onto his elbows and held his phone close enough to his face that he could just barely make out PJ’s name.

PJ? Why was PJ calling him? PJ rarely called Phil. They skyped, sure, but those calls were usually scheduled and were always in the evening.

No, if PJ was caling at this hour, he must need something. And, unfortunately, Phil prided himself on being the Reliable Friend who always answered when his friends needed him.

Reluctantly, Phil swiped on PJ’s name, immediately putting the call on speaker so that he could fall back into his pillow.

“What the hell do you want, Peej?” Phil grumbled as soon as the phone call connected.

“Did I wake you up?”

“It’s not even eight in the morning,” Phil complained. “Of course you woke me up.”

“Mmm,” PJ hummed dismissively. “Are you with Dan?”

“No, I dropped him off after our date last night.” Phil stretched slightly, his hands reaching up under the pillow and hugging it closer to his face.

“Oh… have you, er, talked to him since?” PJ didn’t sound curious, and didn’t sound like he was trying to get information out of Phil about his date. PJ sounded… worried.

Growing concerned by PJ’s tone, Phil pushed himself back onto his elbows. “No, why? What happened?”

“I take it you haven’t been on the internet yet?”

“No. Get to the point, Peej,” Phil huffed impatiently.

“Dan — well, I thought maybe he’d’ve talked it over with you. I mean, twitter’s — fuck, how —“

“What the fuck happened?” Phil demanded, cutting off PJ’s rambling.

Even through the phone, and on speaker, Phil could hear PJ’s deep sigh, could feel his hesitation, before he finally spoke. “You need to look at Dan’s instagram. He sort of… made a big announcement in the dead of night.”

Phil felt a wave of dread wash over him. He certainly wasn’t sleepy anymore. A jumble of incoherent, panicked thoughts were battering at Phil’s brain, but he did his best to push them aside. Worrying wouldn’t do any good right now.

“Hang on, I’m pulling it up.”

Phil hit the home button on his phone with a bit more force than necessary, and was finally confronted with a frankly obscene amount of notifications given that he hadn’t done anything online since the day before yesterday, really. With a concerned huff, Phil swiped his glasses off his night table and shoved them onto his nose, the red dots on his iphone icons coming into focus.

Four hundred and twelve notifications from instagram.

One thousand, two hundred, and ninety from twitter.

Six emails in his work-only account.

And seven text messages.

Despite PJ’s urging to look at Dan’s instagram, Phil opened his messages first. There were three from PJ, which Phil ignored since Peej had clearly gotten ahold of him. Below PJ’s thread, there was a message from his mother and brother each. And finally below them were two messages from Dan.

The preview of their conversation showed that Dan’s most recent text — and we should probably talk — had come in at 3:34AM. That message alone made Phil’s heart pound against his chest.

“You there, mate?” PJ asked.

“Yeah,” Phil confirmed with a strangled gulp. “He texted me.”

“Oh?” PJ sounded interested.

Phil didn’t respond. He didn’t open the text. He didn’t breath. He didn’t do much of anything, really. He was frozen, trying to process what we should talk might mean, trying to convince himself it didn’t mean something horrible.

“Well?” PJ prompted when the silence drew on for too long. “What’d he say?”

“Right,” Phil mumbled as he forced himself to click on Dan’s message, to see what his previous message said. To see if it could make sense of whatever the fuck seemed to be happening this morning.

Phil’s eyes skimmed over his own four messages — he’d somehow blocked out the fact that he’d quadruple-texted Dan last night — before reading what Dan had said.

Dan [3:31 AM]: before you look at your twitter and instagram and whatever notifications, you should probably look at my instagram

Dan [3:34AM]: and we should probably talk

Together, the two messages did absolutely nothing to quell Phil’s anxiety. In fact, Phil’s heart was just thumping louder and more aggressively.

“He just said to look at his instagram.” Phil swallowed roughly. “And that we should talk.”

A quiet hum was PJ’s only response — another thing that didn’t help to calm the panic in Phil’s veins. Phil didn’t like the thoughts racing around his head, didn’t like that the first place his mind had gone was Isabella — and Dan getting back together with her.

Not that Phil really thought that was a risk, but still. The insecure part of his brain liked to remind him that Dan’s last partner had been a model, even if she was a bitch.

With a steeling breath, Phil tapped on the instagram icon.

It seemed to take a million and one years for the app to load, and when it finally did, it opened to a picture his brother had posted of his girlfriend.

Not helpful.

Not wanting to waste time scrolling through his feed, Phil tapped the magnifying glass. Dan’s name was at the top of his recent searches, a small “one new post” written below his username.

Quickly, but shaking with apprehension, Phil clicked on Dan’s profile.

It seemed to take forever for the page to load, but when it did, the first thing Phil saw was a picture of Dan’s scribbly handwriting, made all the more difficult to read by messy highlighting.

For a second, Phil was annoyed at the highlights, frustrated that Dan had obscured his writing even further than his nearly-illegible handwriting. But then the colors of the highlights sunk in — pink, purple, blue.

They were the bi-pride colors.

Phil knew, obviously, and he was certain Dan’s audience would know that, too.

By this point, Phil knew Dan well enough to know that Dan didn’t do anything unintentionally. Not in his music, not on social media, and not in real life. If he’d gone out of his way to highlight whatever he’d written and posted — well, the colors of the highlights were deliberate.

Phil bypassed the words in the picture and flickered down to the caption, hoping for a quick and easy explanation.

the majority of this album is being written thanks to one person. this is the song that started the whole concept of this album and i think it deserves a bit of an update after he took me out on the best first date of my life tonight. he might not have agreed with the timing of when i decided to rewrite it, though ;) xx

“Oh shit,” Phil muttered, dumbfounded, when the gravity of Dan’s caption finally sunk in.

“Yeah…” PJ murmured, his voice carefully neutral.

Phil glanced back up to the picture and scanned over Dan’s messy handwriting as fast as he could. From what Phil could tell, it looked like it was, well, about him. If the caption didn’t convince him, the let’s stop running from love and the fact that Dan confessed to rewriting something because of Phil last night…

“He came out,” Phil mumbled, unnecessarily pointing out the obvious.

“And took you with him, mate,” PJ grumbled.

Phil cocked his head to the side, his brows furrowing as he read and reread Dan’s post, trying to pinpoint what PJ was referencing. Nowhere did it mention his name or even anything identifying. The most telling piece of information was the he — but that pronoun could apply to a large portion of the world.

“How do’ya figure?” Phil asked.

“Mate, you and Dan haven’t been very subtle. Look at twitter.”

Even without opening twitter, Phil knew what PJ meant. Him and Dan had been, well, flirting for weeks now. There really wasn’t any other way to describe their online banter.

But upon skimming through his twitter notifications, Phil realized just how confident their audience was as they jumped to the albeit somewhat obvious conclusion.

Tweet after tweet had responded to Dan’s instagram post, all tagging Phil, all speculating on exactly who the he in Dan’s post could be.

And every tweet Phil saw guessed it was him.

And every tweet Phil saw was right.

“They all know anyway,” Phil mumbled flatly. He was supposed to be feeling something right now — surely he was. His boyfriend had just come out, his entire audience was — correctly — guessing that he was in a relationship with a famous singer, his own mum had probably texted him about it. And yet, Phil couldn’t wrap his mind around what he was feeling.

He just felt… surprised.

“Yeah. Are you okay with that?” PJ asked gently.

“I…” Phil tried to process all of the new new new as fast as he could. “I guess it was never that secret that I liked guys. I mean, how many times have I mentioned finding male celebrities attractive?”

“That’s true,” PJ agreed. “But I also know that hinting and confirming are two different things.”

“I mean… yeah,” Phil finally relented.

“But you didn’t know Dan was going to do this?”

“No…” Phil chewed on the inside of his cheek as he thought through all of the conversations him and Dan had had about their public image. “He made it sound like he didn’t want to come out at all.”

“What changed?”

“I don’t know,” Phil responded tersely.

He should know.

“Do you think he wants people to know that you’re the guy?” PJ pushed.

“I don’t know!” Phil snapped

He really should know.

There was a beat of silence on the other end of the line.“Sorry,” PJ muttered, clearing his voice before he spoke again. “What do you want?”

“I… don’t know,” Phil finished lamely.

Turns out he didn’t know much of anything.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” PJ offered softly.

“I…” Phil tried to think about it, he really did, but his mind kept coming back to why why why. At the end of their date, Dan had pulled Phil into the bloody loo to kiss goodnight, presumably because Dan hadn’t wanted the waitstaff to see, and then just a few hours later, Dan had gone and done that. “I need to talk to Dan. To know what the fuck happened.”

“That’s fair,” PJ agreed. “Can I do anything to help?”

“No, I’m just… gonna call him.” Phil pushed his glasses onto his head and roughly rubbed his face — an attempt to both wake up and alleviate some stress. “Thanks for letting me know.”

“Ring if you need me, okay? And let me know how it goes.”

“I will. I’ll text you later,” Phil promised. “Bye Peej.”

Needing to cancel his ten o’clock meeting with his manager, Phil opened his work email to send off some excuse, only to find that Marianne had already emailed him. Along with three people from the BBC. And every single subject line contained the name Daniel Howell.

How the hell had all of these people been up and about and reacting to social media already?

Phil ignored the multiple emails from the BBC, but opened the one from Marianne. He skimmed through the message, where she basically just pointed out what he already knew — that his audience had drawn some pretty big conclusions based on something Dan had posted. At the end of her email, she suggested they “review possible responses” during their meeting that morning.

Not fucking likely, Phil scoffed.

Quickly, Phil typed out the most adult version of sorry for the late notice, but I need to cancel our meeting because my brand-new boyfriend went off the walls in the middle of the night and I have no idea what’s happening. He didn’t bother to read it over again — now wasn’t the moment for proofreading — and immediately dialed Dan as soon as the email was sent.

The phone didn’t ring though, and instead went straight to voicemail. “Dammit Dan,” Phil mumbled in aggravation, hanging up before Dan’s voicemail could start recording.

Chewing on his lower lip, Phil thought through his options. If Dan’s phone was off, then no amount of texting or calling or facetiming would do any good. It was frustrating to have no way to contact Dan after he’d dropped such a massive bomb.

Except, well, that wasn’t quite true, was it?

Dan had put Phil on his permanent visitors list, so theoretically Phil could just… show up. Which might be a bit of a rash move but…

But nothing.

Phil was confused and caught off guard and felt like he deserved an explanation. Despite the early hour, Phil threw off his blue and green check comforter and pushed himself out of bed with steadfast resolution.

He wanted an explanation and, goddammit he’d get an explanation.

On shaky, tired feet, Phil riffled through his drawers for suitable trousers while kicking off his emoji pajamas. No human being — especially not his fashiony, hot new boyfriend — needed to see him in those. The first somewhat acceptable option Phil’s hand landed on were a pair of rather tight joggers, but he couldn’t be arsed to care at that moment. They’d have to do.

He kicked all the way out of his embarrassing, yellow pajamas and pulled on the tight sweatpants in their place. His loose Friends shirt would have to do, because he didn’t feel like wasting the time to find a suitable replacement, and it wasn’t that awful of a shirt.

Phil’s hair was probably a right mess too, but he couldn’t be bothered to deal with that either at the moment. All in all, this was definitely the least effort he’d ever put into his appearance when he knew he was going to see Dan, but he was growing impatient. Doing anything other than pulling on a jacket and shoes felt like it would waste too much time.

Even the three minute wait for the uber felt like too much time, and Phil had to refrain from just starting to walk over when he got downstairs and the car wasn’t there yet. But the car arrived before Phil could do anything rash, and Phil climbed in with only the briefest of smiles to the driver. His five star rating might take a hit, but he didn’t particularly care at that moment.

On the drive to Dan’s flat, the impatience in Phil’s stomach grew into something… more desperate. The more time he spent longing for an answer, the more he felt like he should already have one — like he should have known about what Dan was doing before he’d done it. And of course, of course, it was Dan’s decision if he wanted to come out — and hell, Phil was downright ecstatic for him — but Phil couldn’t help feeling like…

Feeling like he should have been part of the decision if Dan was going to so nearly pull Phil out of the closet, too.

Not that Phil was hiding in the closet, persay. But as PJ had pointed out, there was a big difference between hinting and confirming, and what Dan had just done was suddenly pushing Phil to confirm. And that Phil couldn’t quite wrap his head around.

He wasn’t against it. Not quite. But — fuck. He really would have liked to have been a part of the decision.

The process of getting into Dan’s building was the easiest yet, this time. All Phil had to do was tell the doorman his name and that he was there to see Dan before he was getting ushered into the lift, the seven button already pressed for him.

The ride up to Dan’s apartment felt shorter than normal — so short that Phil didn’t have time to collect his courage and figure out exactly what he wanted to say. When the doors opened to Dan’s flat, Phil hovered uncertainly in the lift, suddenly worried that it was incredibly rude to just invite himself over to Dan’s flat. Maybe Dan’s phone had gone straight to voicemail because he’d turned it off so he could sleep. Maybe Dan wasn’t ready to tell Phil about what he’d done.

But no, that wasn’t quite right. Dan had texted Phil, had told Phil to look at his instagram and had even said that they needed to talk. So it wasn’t absurd that he was here, now.

The lift doors started closing, the sudden movement pulling Phil harshly out of his spiral of anxious thoughts. Phil’s body, for once, was a step ahead of his mind, because his arm flew out to catch the door before he processed what was happening. He hurried out of the lift and into the foyer before the door could start to close again.

Dan had put Phil on his permanent visitors list. This was fine. It wasn’t insane that Phil was here right now.

Determined, Phil pushed his way further into the flat, walking quietly towards Dan’s room. He only made it as far as the lounge, though, before he ran smack into someone.

Someone much shorter than him or Dan.

“Phil?”

Surprised, Phil’s eyes scanned down and he took in the young woman standing in front of him — he certainly hadn’t been expecting anyone else to be here, and now he really was feeling like just coming over might have been a dick move.

“Louise?” he asked tentatively, nearly positive that he recognized her from Dan’s instagram and pictures he’d shown him of Darcy and her mum.

“Yes!” Louise greeted, her voice hushed. “I’m glad it’s you, when I heard the lift ding I thought —” She cut herself off, glancing back over her shoulder into the lounge. “Well, nevermind. Tea?”

“Oh, er…” Phil glanced over her head, his eyes drifting back towards Dan’s room. As much as he knew that Louise was definitely someone that he should be trying to make a good impression on, Phil really didn’t want to sit down for a cuppa right now. His mind was still reeling from the whirlwind of this morning, and he could barely think straight, much less talk coherently to a stranger.

But regardless, he knew how important Louise was to Dan — and how much Louise’s opinion mattered to him — so Phil pushed back the swirling confusion muddling his head and forced himself to smile pleasantly. “I might just look for Dan if you don’t mind.” Anxiously, Phil rubbed the back of his neck and hoped that his smile wasn’t coming out too much like a grimace.

Louise’s eyes flicked behind her. Her tense shoulders and skeptical eyes gave Phil the feeling that she wasn’t sure if him seeking Dan out was a good idea. “He’s asleep at the moment,” she said, pursing her lips and staring at Phil thoughtfully, like she was trying to figure him out. “You sure I can’t interest you in tea? He’ll probably be asleep a while.”

“I…” Phil’s eyes darted around as he searched for an excuse out of socializing. Much to his dismay, he couldn’t easily find one. He opened and closed his mouth as he desperately tried to find a polite way out of making small talk with Louise — this certainly wasn’t the first impression he wanted to make on Dan’s best friend.

“I’m not really up for tea, right now,” Phil blurted out abruptly, settling on the truth and cringing at his bluntness. Phil shifted his gaze down to his feet, unable to continue meeting her eye. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “This morning’s just been a lot already, and…”

Louise sighed, and shot Phil an unsure look. Phil watched as her arms came up, and she crossed them over her chest. “Dan had a late night last night.”

“I know,” Phil admitted, anxiously shifting back and forth on his feet. “But I need to talk to him.”

“And you can wait until he wakes up,” Louise said with an air of finality, her arms still crossed in front of her.

Phil sighed and tugged on his sloppy quiff, aggravated — not quite at Louise, just more at… the situation in general. His phone felt heavy in his pocket, and he was hyper aware of all of the emails and texts that he needed to respond to.

Emails and texts that he didn’t know how to respond to because Dan hadn’t fucking talked to him.

“Look,” Phil said, keeping his voice as steady and calm as he could. “I kind of woke up to a PR nightmare this morning and —”

“Oh god, are you not out?” Louise interrupted, her eyes growing wide in panic.

“I — mostly,” Phil hesitated, unsure how to phrase it. The being out thing wasn’t exactly his main problem here. “Never in crystal clear words, but it was out there.” Phil shrugged that particular concern off. “But, like, I hadn’t told my manager — or even my mum — that I was dating Dan yet, and now they definitely both know because they aren’t idiots.” Phil gestured around wildly, his arms trying to convey how absolutely insane the situation was so that he didn’t end up shouting, despite his frustration. “I’m not sure who’s going to be more upset about not knowing. And I can’t even respond to them, because I have no idea what to say because I have no idea what the fuck happened. We haven’t even discussed if we want our relationship to be public or how to handle the media or anything!”

Phil’s arms fell to his sides, limp and useless, as his rant came to a sudden, frustrated end.

His little tantrum must have done some good, though, because Louise looked a bit more empathetic now.

“I get it,” she sighed, sounding resigned. “I’m a manager. And a mum.”

“Thanks,” Phil smiled tersely. “So then you won’t mind if I…?” he gestured vaguely over Louise’s shoulder.

Her eyes traced over him slowly, carefully appraising him. “Fine,” she relented after a minute. “Just… try not to be too hard on him, okay? I’m sure he’ll be in a touchy mood when he wakes up.” Despite her understanding words, Louise still looked wary.

Phil wondered how many stories of hot-tempered, passionate fights Louise had heard over the last year.

“I promise I won’t be a — I won’t be like Isabella,” Phil offered, hoping that the heavy, sincere weight of his voice would convince Louise that he was different.

Louise’s eyes grew wide, her jaw falling open just a hair — she looked surprised, but maybe also a bit… pleased? The tenseness in her shoulders melted — at least some — and she looked less wary. The assurance that not only he knew about Isabella, but was also determined to be different seemed to matter to Louise.

“Good. Because you’ll have me to report to if you hurt him,” Louise threatened, but there was a humorous glint in her eye and a hint of a smile ghosting her lips.

“I won’t hurt him, but that’s a deal.” Phil smiled weakly with an emphatic nod. “So is it okay if I…?” Phil pointed vaguely over Louise’s shoulder, trying to ask her to let him by as gently as possible.

Louise nodded, stepping around Phil towards the foyer. “Yeah, I’m going to nip out then. Tell Dan to text me at some point today, and be nice.”

Phil was tempted to make a sarcastic comment, but didn’t want to risk Louise’s trust. He couldn’t help feeling like he was on a very short leash as it was right now. “I promise I won’t even scream or anything, okay?”

“Good,” Louise said with a smile before heading for the lift. Just before she got to the foyer, she spun around to face Phil again. “Good luck with your mum. And manager.”

“Thanks,” Phil laughed with a genuine smile. “I think I’ll need it.”

Phil waited for the ding of the lift, wanting to make sure Louise was well gone before he sought out Dan, before gathering his courage and carrying on down the hallway. For a split second, he hesitated outside of the closed bedroom door, not completely certain that it was acceptable for him to just burst into Dan’s room and wake him up.

But the memory of the literal thousands of notifications was fresh in Phil’s head, so he pushed open the bedroom door anyway.

The bed, however, was neatly made, and there was no Dan in sight.

Weird. Louise had definitely said that Dan was still asleep. Maybe the guest bedroom?

Confused, Phil stepped backwards and turned back down the hallway, peeking his head into the next room. No Dan in that bed, either.

Phil couldn’t imagine that Dan would be in the music room, and he wasn’t sure where else to look other than the lounge. Phil made his way back, tentatively looking around the lounge entrance before entering.

Curled up on the sofa, still in his tight studded sweater from the night before, was Dan. Despite Phil’s confusion and anxiety, his heart melted. Dan’s hair — and the entire lounge, now that Phil was really looking — was a complete wreck.

There was glass on the floor, both large chunks and shattered shards, that Phil had to navigate around on his way to the sofa. The table — which Phil was accustomed to seeing in a pristine state — was covered in papers and — oh god was that the lube? — on one end. Dan’s notebook was open on the floor, surrounded by a hodge podge of markers. Phil had to bite back the urge to flip through it, to see what else Dan was working on, to pry just a little.

That wasn’t what was important right now, though. Phil turned his back on the mess and properly took in Dan’s lanky body curled up tight on the sofa.

Looking more carefully, Phil’s eyes lingered on where Dan’s trousers were riding down, a soft pale patch of stomach poking out. Dan’s hands were cradled near his face, and his phone was dangling from his fingertips. Phil hovered above Dan, rocking back and forth between his feet as he tried to decide if he really should wake Dan up.

Phil knew Dan had been up late — close to four, at least, and that was assuming he’d gone to sleep straight after texting Phil. Letting Dan sleep a little longer was definitely the nice, selfless thing to do.

But Phil was too anxious and desperate for answers to be selfless right now.

Before Phil could lose his nerve, he reached out and poked Dan’s shoulder.

The poke, however, didn’t seem to be enough to rouse Dan from his sleep. “Dan?” Phil tried, his fingers rubbing into Dan’s bicep a bit harder. “Babe? Wake up?”

“Mmmh,” Dan grumbled. Even in his sleep, Dan seemed reluctant to be roused.

“Please babe? I really need to talk to you,” Phil pleaded. He switched tactics and grabbed ahold of Dan’s shoulder, gently shaking until Dan started stirring.

“Louise?” Dan mumbled, nearly incoherent, without opening his eyes. “Wha’ d’ya want?”

“No, it’s Phil,” Phil corrected.

“Oh.” Dan’s eyes fluttered open, slowly drifting upwards to meet Phil’s.

They were red. Much redder than they normally were when Dan woke up.

The rawness of Dan’s eyes, and the way he rubbed at them, made Phil wonder just how late of a night Dan and Louise had had.

Blearily, Dan’s gaze fell from Phil’s, scanning the room before landing on his phone. Without saying anything else to Phil, he tapped the home button, only to sigh when it wouldn’t come on. “What time s’it?” Dan asked blearily.

“About eight thirty,” Phil guessed without actually checking a clock.

Dan nodded, his eyes drifting back to his phone. “Hang on,” he said, “Lemme plug this s’in ‘nd get some coffee.” Dan pushed up off the sofa, stretching slightly and making his sweater ride up even further. “Want some?” he asked, eyes bleary as he glanced at Phil before turning to leave.

Phil’s brows furrowed, bewildered that Dan was so casually offering him coffee.

As if nothing major had happened since they’d last seen each other.

“Wait—” Phil said as he reached out and caught Dan by the wrist, preventing him from going anywhere. “Are you not even going to acknowledge it?” he asked, annoyance starting to creep into his voice.

Dan raised his eyebrows, but didn’t say anything.

Phil blinked back rapidly, baffled by Dan’s lack of… well, anything.

“Oh come on, don’t play dumb,” Phil groaned, irritated. Dan’s eyes grew wide and he held Phil’s gaze for a fleeting moment before flickering off to the side. In the brief seconds that Dan had looked at him, Phil could see entire pools of emotions — emotions that he wasn’t quite sure what to make of. There was sleepiness, but there was also worry and… something else.

Something that Phil really wished Dan would just share with him.

“Your texts? Instagram? The internet?” Phil prompted, his voice growing more and more pointed with each suggestion when Dan didn’t say anything.

Dan ran his free hand through his hair, grabbing at the ends of his curls and tugging. His eyes drifted back to Phil’s, and he stepped minutely backwards, his hand nearly coming out of Phil’s grip. “I know, I know,” Dan finally sighed, sounding defeated “I just really need some fucking coffee first. I had a long night.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve had a long morning,” Phil countered; his fingers wrapped more tightly around Dan’s arm, his nails insistently digging into the soft underside of Dan’s wrist.

Dan flinched back, his hand yanking backwards out of Phil’s grip and curling protectively against his chest. “I suppose that’s my doing, then?” he asked meekly as he stared down at the space between them.

Phil shot Dan an unamused look, not that Dan was looking up to see it. A part of him was itching to reach out and force Dan to look up at him, but Dan didn’t look like he’d be okay with Phil touching him just now. “No, I normally wake up to thousands of notifications after a nice quiet day away from social media,” Phil quipped, unable to keep a sarcastic edge out of his voice.

Dan’s eyes clamped shut, and he drew in a sharp breath. His arms shifted to cross in front of his chest, his entire body crumpling in on itself. “Just… hang on,” Dan begged softly without looking at Phil. He sounded so small, so young. Guilt washed over Phil — he was responsible for making Dan look so vulnerable. “Let me get a cup of coffee. Please.”

Phil drew his hands back to his side, shoving them in the front pockets of his joggers as a silent promise that he wasn’t going to try to stop Dan. “Of course,” he nodded, trying his best to keep his voice soft and even. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

With a small shake of his head, Dan teetered away from Phil cautiously and backed out of the room without ever turning fully away. At the last second, Dan spun around, narrowly avoiding running into the doorframe as he exited the lounge.

It was an odd reaction, one that gave Phil the sense that Dan was afraid to turn his back on Phil. Self-defensive reactions like that weren’t usually natural — they were learned.

Phil swallowed thickly, suddenly wondering how deep Louise’s fears ran. Dan’s movements were shaky, guarded, and he seemed to be fighting the urge to not look over his shoulder. Not wanting to make Dan more uncomfortable, Phil trailed behind at a distance as Dan led the way.

In the kitchen, Dan went straight to start the coffee and Phil came to a rest at the opposite counter. Dan still wasn’t meeting Phil’s eyes — hell, he wasn’t even looking up — but Phil could tell that Dan knew exactly where Phil was by the wide berth he gave Phil’s spot along the counter.

The entire kettle shook when Dan filled it with water; his hands were trembling, but his jaw was set, rigid. “Coffee?” Dan murmured without glancing over.

“Sure,” Phil accepted quietly. He made an effort to keep his voice as soft and gentle as he could. “Milk —”

“And two sugars, same as your tea. I know,” Dan interrupted quietly. If something weren’t so clearly wrong with Dan’s behavior right now, Phil would have been touched that Dan knew how he took his coffee. Instead, Phil was hyper-focused on Dan’s shaky movements and watched carefully as Dan rummaged through the cupboards, finally pulling out a ceramic soup bowl that was nearly mug-like and — oh. Phil had forgotten that Dan only had one functioning mug.

Because Isabella smashed the rest. In a fight. A fight unlike any fight Phil that had ever had.

Regardless, Dan poured milk and sugar into the proper mug, adding only the smallest spoonful of sugar to the makeshift mug. That was so typical Dan — putting others first, always striving to make others happy. Phil’s lips twitched for a second, nearly quirking up into a smile at Dan’s persistent thoughtfulness.

Phil waited in silence for the kettle to boil, knowing that he wasn’t likely to get anything useful out of a sleepy Dan. Plus, he hoped that a bit of quiet — and space — would help calm whatever Dan’s fears were.

It felt like it took the coffee maker ages to brew their coffee. Phil was growing well anxious, and Dan didn’t seem to be in much of a better state. Eventually, though, Dan was pouring two cups of coffee, passing the polka dotted mug to Phil, and hugging the soup bowl close to himself.

Dan took a large gulp of his coffee, only lowering it a few centimeters when he was done. The mug was held up high, nearly obscuring his face, and his gaze was focused on the black liquid inside. Dan’s arms were tucked into his chest, and his shoulders hunched up. Again, Phil was struck by how small Dan looked.

“Well? Let’s hear it then,” Dan whispered without looking up.

“Hear what?” Phil asked, head cocked, confused.

“You’re mad at me, so let’s just… get the part where you yell at me or whatever over with.” Dan’s eyes flicked up, just barely landing on Phil, and looked back at his coffee so quickly that Phil would certainly have missed it if he wasn’t watching Dan so closely.

Phil’s heart plummeted into his stomach as Dan confirmed his dreaded speculations — all of this, all of Dan’s current behavior, had something to do with how fights had gone in the past. Phil opened and closed his mouth, sputtering stupidly like a fish as he tried to figure out what to say.

“I didn’t come over here to yell at you,” Phil tried his best to placate his boyfriend, even though he didn’t really know how. Not right now, not with this new, scared Dan.They’d only had one tiff since meeting, and then it’d blown over because Phil had dropped it. But it wasn’t a lie — no matter how desperate and confused and frustrated Phil was, yelling at Dan was never his intention.

“But you are mad,” Dan said simply, still addressing his coffee more than Phil.

“I’m not mad, I’m… in shock, I guess.” Phil blew on his coffee, stalling for time as he grappled for a way he could express his frustrations without unnecessarily startling Dan.

“Call it whatever you want, but I can tell you’re not happy with me,” Dan mumbled.

“Okay, fine,” Phil relented, swallowing his trepediations and deciding to speak his mind. “I was shocked when I woke up to thousands of messages on my social media talking about you coming out and speculating about us.” Dan nodded — a microscopic, subtle movement — but didn’t say anything, so Phil continued. “And I’ll admit that I was a bit miffed when I realized that Louise was here but you didn’t even try to contact me last night.”

“Louise is my best friend,” Dan pushed back, a hint of anger in his voice.

“And I’m your boyfriend now!” Phil insisted. “In order for a relationship to work, we have to communicate, Dan.”

“You’re not my fucking boss,” Dan barked. “I can talk to whoever the fuck I want to. And if you’ve got a problem with Louise, you can just leave now.” There was a harsh edge to Dan’s voice, but beneath it, Phil could just barely tell that it was shaking — shaking with what, he wasn’t sure. Anger, maybe. Or fear.

“I don’t have a problem with Louise,” Phil argued. “It’s just — I texted you four bloody times last night. You could have talked to me if you needed… I don’t know, help, or whatever.” Phil waved his hand in frustration as his words failed him.

Dan sat his mug down on the counter, a loud clack filling the kitchen as the ceramic made contact with the granite countertop. “Look I just spent a fucking year with someone who didn’t like Louise and hated that I went to her for stuff, and if you’re gonna be that way too, then just fuck off already,” Dan spat out harshly.

If Phil wasn’t already leaning against the opposite counter, he would have jumped back at that. As it was, his lower back dug into the counter as he recoiled from Dan’s words.

“Don’t fucking compare me to Isabella!” Phil snapped, disgust and horror holding tight in his stomach. “I don’t give a rat’s ass that you go to your best friend instead of me sometimes, but when you end up doing something that all but confirms that you and I are dating, yeah, I’d like to be a part of the decision!”

“You can’t control me Phil.” Dan’s shoulders drew up impossibly closer to his ears, his voice growing high pitched. “I can’t take the time to get written permission from you every time I want to say something about my album.”

“And I’m not asking you to!” Phil retaliated. “But couldn’t you have waited, like, a day so that I wasn’t completely blindsided by you basically outing me when I woke up this morning?”

“No,” Dan huffed, an edge of stubbornness cutting into his defiance.

“No?” Phil asked incredulously.

“No,” Dan repeated, his voice even more forceful this time. “You couldn’t have talked me out of it.”

“I wouldn’t have tried to!” Phil exclaimed before he could process what Dan had said — before he could process that Dan seemed to think that Phil would try to control him. In some ways, at least. “I get that given… your album…” Phil trailed off as he grappled for the right words, words that would capture how Dan’s album affected Phil’s life without him sounding ungrateful or overly important.

He took a deep breath before continuing. “I get that your album is going to take away some of the privacy and control over my image that I’m used to having online, and that’s fine. But couldn’t this have waited, like, a day so that we could talk about it first? And I could… I don’t know, tell my family we were properly dating first?”

Dan shook his head forcefully, his curls flopping down into his face. “You don’t understand Phil. There wasn’t time. It had to be now.”

“What is that even supposed to mean?” Phil huffed, his free hand lacing through his hair and pushing it further back.

“You wouldn’t understand,” Dan snapped, his arms crossing hotly in front of his chest.

“I’m sure I would if you would stop being defensive for five seconds and actually explained yourself!” The words flew out of Phil’s mouth before he realized what he was saying. They were harsh, yes, but they were true. It felt like all Dan was doing this morning was be overly contrary for no discernible reason, and he wasn’t fucking listening. Phil didn’t want to be angry right now, he really didn’t. It was just hard when Dan was acting like this.

Dan appeared to have heard that, though, if the way he flinched backwards was anything to go by.

“Excuse me?” Dan challenged. He sounded positively outraged, his tone just this side of livid. His shoulders were shaking, and Phil could see anger flaring in his eyes.

And something else, too. Something like… hurt.

Phil put his own mug down on the counter, dragging his hands down his face in exasperation. This wasn’t the conversation — well, fight, at this rate — that he’d come over here to have this morning. Phil hadn’t been wanting to argue, he’d just wanted to understand.

“I’m just trying to talk to you, Dan,” Phil pleaded, his voice coming out whiny and needy “I just want to know what the hell happened last night.”

“Right,” Dan laughed bitterly. “You want to know all about the part where I almost outed you, but you don’t seem at all concerned about the part where I actually came out.”

“That was your choice!” Phil insisted, voice raised.

“No it wasn’t!” Dan bellowed back.

Phil froze, his eyes snapping up to meet Dan’s again. Dan had pushed off the counter, and crossed almost half of the kitchen. He was standing rigid, his body leaning forward, his hands in tight fists by his sides. Dan’s eyes were blown wide — he looked shocked by his own words.

Phil certainly was.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Phil asked slowly, warily. Something happened last night — something big — that much was clear. What wasn’t clear, though, was why Dan hadn’t called Phil last night.

They could have talked about it. Phil could have helped.

“It means — it means —” Dan stuttered, before abruptly giving up. The tension melted out of Dan’s shoulders as he crumpled in on himself, retreating back to lean against his countertop. “It doesn’t mean anything. Can we just move on?”

“No we can’t bloody move on,” Phil huffed, his frustration growing. He’d passed impatient, passed needing answers; now, he was downright desperate. “Can you just tell me what the fuck you mean, already? What happened last night?”

Phil stared at Dan with pleading eyes, silently begging him to explain what he’d meant. For a moment, Dan just stared back at Phil. A loud silence overtook the room, neither of them saying anything else.

Finally, the tense silence was interrupted by a sharp sigh from Dan. Dan’s gaze fell from Phil’s, turning down to his own feet. An agitated hand ran through Dan’s hair, tugging on his curls.

A brief wave of relief shot through Phil, certain that he was about to get an explanation for Dan’s weird behavior. Phil pushed away from the counter, debating whether he should go to Dan, maybe tip his head up and kiss his forehead. Something small to make Dan feel more comfortable talking.

But then, Dan was crossing the kitchen in three big strides, coming to a halt right in front of Phil. Bewildered, Phil searched Dan’s face, trying to figure out what the hell Dan was doing. Dan’s eyes were wild, frantic, a panicked gleam shimmering in them. His cheeks were flushed red, his mouth drawn in a tight line. He was so, so close, so afraid.

And then he was gone.

Phil blinked rapidly, confused and unsure where Dan had disappeared to. One second he was there, and then poof he was gone.

Unsure, that was, until a sudden waft of cool air washed over his upper thighs.

Phil’s attention snapped down, finding Dan again. Dan’s hands were on Phil’s joggers — joggers that he’d managed to tug down to Phil’s knees before Phil had even realized where Dan had gone. He was still tugging, trying to wrestle them over Phil’s knees now.

“Dan, Dan, Dan, Dan, Dan,” Phil gasped, his voice coming out rushed and urgent. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Dan didn’t look up at Phil. Instead, his hands abandoned Phil’s joggers, leaving them wrapped around Phil’s bony knees, and latched onto Phil’s boxers. His hands pulled insistently, frantically — too frantic to be particularly effective, mercifully.

“Dan!” Phil implored. The shock of the situation finally wore off, and Phil finally launched into motion, his hands flying out to catch Dan’s and prying them away from his hips. His boxers were awkwardly a bit low now, but Phil didn’t risk letting go of Dan’s hands — Phil was worried that Dan would just reach back to pull them all the way over his arse. “Look at me!” Phil ordered forcefully.

Slowly, painfully, Dan’s eyes drifted up and came to rest somewhere around Phil’s neck.

Phil took a deep breath, calming himself down, before he hooked his fingers under Dan’s chin and coaxed his head the rest of the way up. “Dan, sweetheart, what are you doing?” Phil asked, careful to keep a gentle tone to his voice now that he had Dan’s attention.

“Making the fight go away,” Dan responded. His voice was small — so, so small — and he still wasn’t quite meeting Phil’s gaze.

Phil stared blankly, his eyes trailing over Dan’s scared face, as he tried to figure out what was happening.

Suddenly, Phil was assaulted with the image of Dan covered in hickeys and scratches, embarrassed and ashamed as he admitted to Phil that they were from angry sex — angry sex that came from a fight.

Phil’s jaw dropped.

It didn’t shock Phil to know that Dan and Isabella dealt with their problems through sex, but he was a bit astonished to find the effects so lasting, to realize that Dan still seemed to think that angry sex was the proper solution to an argument, even with Phil.

Phil shook his head forcefully — both in attempt to tell Dan no, and also to shake himself out of his head and into action.

“Babe,” Phil whispered. Looking down at Dan’s vulnerable, submissive stance, Phil felt his heart breaking. Desperate to make them feel like equals again, Phil sunk down to his knees, too. He let go of Dan’s wrists, reaching up to brush back his unruly curls from his face. “Blowing me isn’t going to make the fight go away,” he whispered softly..

“Oh,” Dan muttered, voice small. His eyes trailed down between them. Phil couldn’t see his expression, but his body language spoke volumes. “It’s well and truly fucked then, huh?”

Dan sounded so scared, so distraught, that Phil wasn’t sure what to say for a moment. Dan sounded like he genuinely believed that it — they — must be fucked if a blowjob wasn’t going to fix their fight.

Phil’s shock turned to horror when he saw tears leak down Dan’s face.

“Oh, baby. No, no,” Phil cooed. His hands flew from Dan’s hair to cup his cheeks, his thumbs swiping under Dan’s eyes and smearing the tears away. “No, nothing’s fucked baby.”

Slowly, Dan tilted his head up to look at Phil. “It’s — it’s not?” he hiccupped, his voice coming out higher and more crackly than normal.

“Of course not,” Phil promised, rushed and confident. His eyes were wide in horror at the very idea of them, this, their relationship, being over so soon. His brows were furrowed in confusion at the idea of Dan being concerned that this was over — that they were over. “But the way to make the fight go away is to tell me what’s going on, tell me what you’re thinking.”

Dan sniffled loudly, his eyes fluttering closed again. He was quiet for a moment, with the exception of a few residual hiccups, but then he nodded slowly, his eyes still closed.

“Yeah? You’ll talk to me this time?” Phil asked hopefully.

Dan nodded again.

“Without getting defensive?” Phil prompted, half teasing, half trying to encourage Dan to act more rationally this time.

“Yeah,” Dan agreed meekly. He fell forward, Phil’s arms wrapping around and catching him on instinct. The second Phil’s arms were around Dan, Dan burrowed into him, melting against his chest. Dan’s hands were smushed between them, crooked at an awkward angle, but Phil didn’t mind.

Silence settled between them as Dan calmed down. Slowly, gently, Phil started tracing his fingers up and down Dan’s spine, his fingers catching on the studs of Dan’s sweater.

After a moment, Dan mumbled, “Can we sit down?”

Phil pulled back and pressed a lingering kiss to Dan’s forehead. “Lead the way, sweetheart.”

Dan minutely leaned into Phil’s lips, pushing his head into the kiss for a moment before pulling back. He pushed up to his feet, and immediately offered Phil a hand up. Dan’s gaze trailed over Phil as he climbed off the floor; Phil felt his cheeks heat up in embarrassment as he remembered the state of his clothing.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” Dan muttered, his eyes meaningfully flicking down to Phil’s half drawn joggers.

“It’s okay,” Phil murmured back softly as he stood up with Dan’s help. Phil’s spare hand flew to his joggers, pulling them back up his hips as he stood. He tried his best to swallow down his embarrassment, to make his cheeks go back to a pale white; he didn’t want to call any more attention to Dan’s rash advances than necessary. Not right now.

For the first time that morning, Phil was thankful that he’d only been able to find the tight joggers that morning — anything looser would likely have slipped straight down Phil’s thin legs and likely made the whole situation more awkward.

Dan dropped Phil’s hand to turn and collect their coffees from their respective countertops while Phil fixed his pants and joggers,. “Come on,” Dan muttered, cocking his head out of the room.

Phil obediently followed Dan out the kitchen and towards the lounge, nearly smashing into him when Dan came to a sudden halt in the middle of the hallway.

“What?” Phil asked, alarmed.

Dan spun around to face Phil. “I don’t wanna be in the lounge.” His words came out rushed, his voice high. “It’s a mess.”

“I don’t mind,” Phil assured him, “But we can go wherever you want.” Phil stepped backwards, moving closer to the wall so that Dan could navigate around him and lead them somewhere else.

“I need something from in there, though,” Dan insisted; his words were vague, but his tone was determined. He thrusted their coffees at Phil without much more of an explanation. Phil grabbed the coffees in silent shock, his fingers barely wrapping around the mugs and steadying them before Dan let go.

“I’ll meet you in the bed,” Dan said with a note of finality.

Dan only made it a few paces down the hallway before he stopped and spun back around to face Phil. “If that’s okay, I mean,” he said quickly, his voice high and rushed. “It’ll be more comfortable than the music room and I swear I won’t, like, try anything again. Like, I promise I’ll talk, I’m just really tired and I —”

“Dan,” Phil interrupted gently. “The bed’s fine. Get whatever you need. I’ll be there waiting for you.”

[coffeeandbookchick]

Espresso

A/N: Before reading I would like you to keep a few things in mind: 1. This is my first attempt of writing a fic. Like ever. 2. The idea jumped on me at 1 a. m. I’m currently running on like 3 hours of sleep and caffeine. 3. English is not my mother tongue. 

I'd like to thank @twentysomethingloser92 for inspiring me to write this. Please check her stuff out she's a treasure. (Does this count as tagging you? I hope it does)

Characters: Spencer Reid x Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

You jerked awake, a cry forcing its way out of your mouth. You managed to quickly muffle it with your hand. Your heart was pounding so hard you were sure that it could be heard through the wall to your neighbour’s apartment. The figure under the sheets next to you moved slightly. „Shhhh" a sleepy voice cooed. You rubbed your face. Night terrors.

They didn’t jump at you every night. But it was often enough that your neighbours started to complain. Not a surprise considering… you thought to yourself. There was no trauma you had to process. There was no one on the mission to get you. But still…

You started as an intern at the famous BAU. It was part of your training. You got along with the people, you were fascinated by their work. You didn't flinch once while you were writing up reports, looked at pictures of decomposed bodies, sometime tapes capturing the torture victims had to go through. Those people were dead. There was no point in burdening yourself with their fate. Longingly you thought about those times. Your internship ended. You finished your training. Worked your way up. Considering that you already knew the team and understood how things were done in this unit combined with your psych degree it had been just a matter of time until you were back. And when you got the chance, you grabbed it. Then came the bodies and with them the nightmares. You stood over the body of a child. Partly decomposed, brutally disfigured. It was different, you realised. No tapes, no pictures, no reports could capture this bestiality. Often enough you managed to push those pictures away. But sometimes you just couldn’t. 

„C'me here" the figure mumbled. He lifted his sheet slightly, ready to embrace you. You laid down on your right side, his lanky arms wrapping themselves around you. You took a deep breath and tried to steady your heart rate. From behind you, calming notices could be heard. Soft fingertips started to treat your scalp. You calmed down. Your eyes closed. All was well.

You got woken by the light. The sun dripped through the windows of your bedroom, giving anything a slightly yellow appearance. Your eyes started to wander to your bedside table where your alarm clock slumbered. But instead of the time your eyes caught something much more interesting: a hand. Not just any hand (and thank God it was still attached to an arm) – long slender fingers, slightly curled in relaxation. The belonging arm, you quickly realised, rested between your neck and the futon. You frowned. That was new. Suddenly you were very aware of the body behind you, radiating sleepy heat to your back. Usually when he comforted you at night and when you finally found some rest, your body would detach you from his, wandering over the mattress to the edge of your side.

You wouldn't complain though. It was nice being the little spoon and you felt very much at home. You blinked sleepily. You didn't want to get up. You didn't want to wake him. So you stayed, enjoying the rare feeling of security and warmth. You knew it wouldn’t last long, though. His body started to betray him. You felt him shift behind you, heard him mumble incoherently. The hardness you felt on your thigh indicating that he would awake soon. It didn’t bother you. It was an utmost natural reaction of his body and he wasn’t the first guy you shared your bed with. You had never been a blushing virgin.

Suddenly his left hand came to rest on your hip bone. You raised an eyebrow, quietly studying it. Fascinated you watched as his fingers curled, gripped you tighter. A little moan fell from his lips. It sounded a little sleepy but definitely turned on. It was quietly but loud enough to make him awake himself up. Panting he nearly jumped from the futon. The sudden movement of his arm beneath you caused you to roll over on your stomach.

„(Y/N) ..I-I'm so..I'm so sorry“ he nearly screamed from the side of your bed. You had a split second to decide what to do. You knew he was uncomfortable. Shocked, even. You predicted that he would be embarrassed for the next six months. At least. And the tiny selfish voice in your head told you, that he would never return, because he was scared, leaving you alone with your thoughts and dreams at night. So you did the first thing that came to your mind: you pretended that you hadn’t heard or felt anything and that he just woke you up. You pressed your face to the mattress. „Hmm? Why'd ya be sorry?“ you murmured, making sure to slur your words a little. You heard him let out a little sigh. „N-nothing. I'll just go and hop under your shower" he stated seemingly a lot more at ease. „Mhh.“ you grumbled into your mattress. You heard his footsteps leave your bedroom, the door of your bathroom closing and slowly you lifted your head. He was nowhere to be seen. Good. You got out if bed and made your way to the kitchen, grabbing a newspaper from a desk next to your couch.

The coffee maker gurgled and scents of coffee filled the room. Your personal mobile phone in hand you leaned on the kitchen counter, checking your social media and waiting for the coffee to fill up your cup. It was your guilty pleasure. And a bit foolish, considering your job. But you were cautious. You never posted your location. There were no pictures of your face. Just plants and books (most of them lend to you by your best friend because he knew you enjoyed a good read) and mugs of coffee from shops and police stations all over the country.

You always managed to steal some moments. Posting updates, scrolling through your feed. It made you feel at ease. You heard Spencer turn off the shower while you placed both of your cups on the counter next to the newspaper and to the sugar cup you had just because of him. You didn’t use sugar. Not in your tea, not in your coffee. But he did. So you always kept some around. The lightning in your kitchen was soft, filtered through the long white curtains in your living room. You were a bit ashamed to admit, but this was one of the reasons of you picked this place. Choosing your apartment based on the lighting in pictures. What times… You snipped a picture of both cups just as Spencer emerged from your bathroom. He was now dressed in jeans and a cardigan, his messy hair still damp. The tense state of his shoulders told you that he was still uncomfortable. He made his way to the counter where you handed him the news paper. It was days old but you always kept some at hand so he could do the crossword puzzle in the morning. That would keep his mind occupied and would spare you from making conversation before you had your coffee. „Thanks" he whispered. You didn’t hand him a pen or pencil. He never needed one. He opened the paper and started to absently pour an incredibly unhealthy amount of sugar in his coffee. The lighting was right, his hands so delicate handling the sugar spoon. You snipped another picture without him noticing it.

Both of you took sips from your mugs. You lightly edited the photo of both your mugs and hit the upload button.

“You’re pretty awake for your terms...” he quietly stated. You looked up from your phone. Spencer was almost sunken on his bar stool. He didn’t make eye contact. “Yeah well.. I already had a cup of espresso. Probably just the caffeine hitting in..” you trailed off. You never drank espresso. The little machine on your counter wasn’t able to brew espresso. And he knew that. You closed your eyes in defeat, waiting for the awkward response he probably had in mind. Instead you were met by silence. Cautiously you opened one eye. He still looked at his newspaper. The only indicator that he heard you was a slight frown on his face.

Your phone vibrated. 2 Minutes, Penelope, you thought.  Not bad. Penelope was one of your most devoted followers. Of course she had tracked your account down within five minutes of you entering the BAUs doors. You unlocked your screen.

Who needs the second mug? ||

          || Maybe I just need two today?

Nah, girl. GIVE ME ALL THE DETAILS! ||

You snickered.

          || I can’t. & besides: there are no details to talk about!

So he’s still at yours? ||

          || Yeah..

Lunch Date! You, me, JJ. No room for negotiations. ALL THE DETAILS! ||

You sighed. You loved Penelope to bits. You knew that she was just concerned. But sometimes you wished, you had a little more privacy.

          || Alright. Name place and time, I’ll be there.

Is he nice???? ||

          || What? Of course he is!

Bring him! ||

          || No!!!!!

Pretty please? ||

          || NO!

Pic?? ||

You chewed on your lower lip and considered your options. If you didn’t respond, she would try to track down whose phone was in your apartment or something similarly stupid and probably illegal. But in no way could you send a picture of your guest. She would tell Morgan. Morgan would tell everyone. And they would never let it die down.

WAITING! ||

You sighed again. Cautiously you edited the picture of Spencer’s hands on the mug. You tried to edit out the cuffs of his cardigan, but without professional software there was only so little you could do. You hit SEND, your heart pounding. Praying to every entity you could think of that Penelope wouldn’t recognise those hands. Your hopes were not high. You would recognise those hands of his everywhere.

Uhhh! He’s got nice hands! ||

Yeah, you thought to yourself. Very nice hands indeed. Your heart felt lighter. Penelope had no clue. That was good. You placed your phone on the counter and started to watch Spencer reading. “Anything interesting?” you tried to start a conversation. He raised an eyebrow but didn’t look up. “Well, news from three days ago” – “But you already know about those” – “Yeah but I finished the crossword and I forgot to bring my book, so I have to do something!” he explained. “Oh. Well... you could talk to me?” you suggested. He finally raised his stare from the paper, his eyes wide. “You? Want to talk? Now?” he asked with surprise. “Yeah well ... better than boring you with weeks old –“ – “days old..” – “news.” you finished your sentence. He squint his eyes.

“Alright, what is wrong?” he finally asked while putting away the paper. You could slap yourself. Of course he noticed. He was a goddamn profiler and you were no actress. “I don’t know what you mean by that...” you hurried to murmur, turning your back at him, absently unlocking your phone. You had received a text from Morgan. Of course you had.

Hey, (Y/N)! So Baby Girl told me, you got a visitor over? ;) ||

          || Nothing can be secret with the two of you can it?

No chance. Penelope told me, he got “nice hands” whatever that means. ||

Of course she did. You groaned internally and already regretted having sent that picture to her. 

“(Y/N)?” Spencer brought you back from your thoughts. “Hm?” – “I asked you, what was wrong...” – “Yeah and I told you that I don’t know what you mean by that.” – “Okay. So you drank an espresso. You want to talk before finishing your first –“ “second!” – “yeah... cup of coffee. Something’s clearly not well.”

You managed to look him straight in the eye. His cheeks were burning red. He knew. And he knew that you knew. And he knew that you knew that he knew. Your own face started to burn. You swallowed. Once. Twice. Then you spoke.

“Spence, there is nothing wrong. Everything is alright.” You pronounced every word very carefully, hoping that he would get the hint. Of course he did. He was the genius after all. Then he nodded. The movement of his head was so little that it was almost not noticeable. You both let out a surge of held breath. All was well.

You returned to Morgan’s text. If Penelope hadn’t noticed, you told yourself, Morgan won’t. You sent him the same picture you previously sent to Garcia. It took him 20 seconds to respond.

I know those hands. What’s pretty boy doing with your sugar cup? ||

Fuck.

[a-writers-writing]

You Won’t Earn Anything Standin’ There and Lookin’ Pretty | Chapter 2

It’s here! Chapter two is here! Incase you missed the post, this will update every other day, the final chapter being posted on Valentine’s Day! Anyways, enjoy chapter two!!

Chapter 1

Warnings: cursing

Tag list: @helplesshansen @we-dont-sell-papes @mike-faist-is-the-best @ben-cook-can-cook @daveys–jacobs @newsieofnj @gaymur @racetrackscigar @stuckinmyneverendingheadspace (let me know if you want to be removed/be added to this!)

With a sigh Pigeon nodded and headed to where he knew he could find Race, leaving Blue with the rest of the guys. He went up to the third floor balcony, worry buried deep in his chest. He could barely step onto the balcony before he trapped was in a tight hug.

“Jack told me what happened at the cafe with Davey. Blue didn’t bust his head, did she? I know how protective she gets-” Race rambled, but was cut off by Pigeon shaking slightly. “Pidge? Pigeon are you cryin’?” He held him at an arm’s length and frowned, tucking his cigar into his pocket. “Hey, you’re okay. You’re in New York. They can’t get you here, and even if they could, you got newsies not only here in Manhattan, but I’m sure Brooklyn would have your back in a heartbeat.” He pulled him back into a tight hug. “You’re safe here, Pigeon.”

Pigeon hated crying in front of the other guys, it made him feel weak, but Racetrack was different. He was the only other person, other than Blue, that he would cry to. So he sobbed into Race’s chest until the pain in his head was throbbing. Race held him tight in the warm summer air, like he was protecting him. Pigeon always found that Race was protective of him and, even though it got annoying, he wasn’t mad about it. If someone tipped off Pigeon in any way, Blue or Race were always by his side. It was nice to have people that cared about him.

They went back inside after a few more minutes, after Pigeon had calmed down completely. Race took him to his room and sat on the bed with him, picking up the old teddy bear that sat on the pillow and handing it to Pigeon. They sat in silence for a bit, Pigeon leaning his head on Race’s shoulder, until Pigeon started to giggle. Race smiled and looked at him, an eyebrow raised. “What’re ya laughin’ at?”

“Nothing, don’t worry ‘bout it. Blue would have my head if I told you,” Pigeon said, a devious smile on his face.

Race shook his head slightly in disbelief. “For some reason,” he started, “I don’t believe you’re gonna keep it a secret from me.”

“You’re right. Blue has a crush on Davey, but she refuses to admit it. You should’ve seen the way she looked at him when Jack was talkin’ to him and she even defended ‘im when I teased him.”

Race gasped slightly. “Not the same Blue who teases every boy here? Man has she gots it bad…”

“Hey but don’t go ‘round tellin’ people I told you. I trust you, Racetrack Higgins, don’t blow this.”

He nodded and crossed his heart. “Youse got my word, Pigeon.”

Pigeon nodded and put down his teddy bear, then hugged Race. “Thank you, Race. Let’s go down to the other guys before they start crackin’ jokes.” He stood and started walking, but Race grabbed his hand and stopped him. Pigeon flinched under his grasp and Race quickly pulled his hand away, then stood.

“‘M sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He walked next to Pigeon and held both of his hands, swinging them slightly. Pigeon took note of the blush that was heavy on his cheeks and smiled, locking eyes with him. “I just... I want to make sure you’re really okay before we go out there. I care ‘bout you.”

“I never took you as the sentimental type, Racetrack!” A voice sounded from the door, very much so ruining the moment. Romeo stood at the door with Jojo and Albert on either side of him.

“‘Ey maybe we should call Blue up ‘ere so she can see what’s goin’ on with her best friend,” Albert joked. Pigeon took off his hat and threw it at him, but missed by a mile. The trio laughed and walked into the room, the moment being unsalvageable.

Pigeon sighed, but smiled at Race. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Racetrack. And remember, tell no one.” He walked out of the room, grabbing his hat on the way out, and made his way to where he left Blue.

Blue was sitting next to Specs and reading with a mug next to her. Pigeon sat on her other side and picked up her mug, taking a sip then making a face. “What is this?”

Specs and her locked eyes and both laughed. “I told you he’d do it! You doubted me!” She laughed, putting her book down.

“What was that, Blue?!” He demanded, wiping his tongue on his sleeve.

“Black coffee,” she said, her laughing being reduced to giggling.

“What?! You don’t even drink coffee!” He looked at her, disgusted.

“Yeah, I know. Specs didn’t believe me when I told him you would take a sip from any drink I had so I wanted to prove him wrong,” she said cheerfully.

Pigeon looked at Specs, clearly betrayed, but Specs only shrugged and smiled. “Youse two are a couple of bullies,” Pigeon whined.

Blue wrapped her arm around him gave him a side hug. “You want me to be a bully? What was you and Race talkin’ ‘bout?”

Pigeon looked away to hide his blush. “We wasn’t talkin’ ‘bout nothin’. Jack told ‘im what happened today ‘n he wanted to make sure I was, ya know, okay…”

“And then what happened? Did he kiss you yet?” Blue teased.

Pigeon looked over at Specs, who appeared to be reading to anyone who wasn’t actually watching him. He lowered his voice and leaned closer to Blue. “I’m pretty sure he was going to, but we was interrupted. Romeo, Jojo, and Albert walked in right before anything happened.”

Blue looked at him, shocked, but pride danced in her eyes. “Look at you, little man! You didn’t even run this time!”

“Stop callin’ me little man! You wouldn’t call Spot Conlon little man, woulds ya?” Pigeon complained.

“Pigeon, you ain’t half as threatenin’ as Spot Conlon. I at least know he could kick my ass if he wanted to,” Blue laughed. Pigeon rolled his eyes, but a smile crept onto his face.

The two stayed up much later than they should’ve before going to their room and finally going to bed. When the morning bell rang, Pigeon nearly had to drag himself out of bed. He shook Blue awake, half yelling at her, nearly incoherently, to wake up. He grabbed what he needed and headed to the bathroom, which was already packed. He snuck up behind Race and secretly stole the cigar from his pockets. Romeo caught sight of this and chuckled to himself, shaking his head. When Race had realized it was gone, he looked around the room quickly, earning laughs from everyone in the room. Pigeon stood at the other side of the bathroom, brushing his teeth with one hand and waving the cigar in the air with the other. Race marched over to him and quickly and took back the cigar, lingering in front of Pigeon for a few seconds more than necessary. Pigeon winked at him and the other boys started to hollar. Pigeon laughed and finished brushing his teeth before quickly fixing his hair in the mirror.

“Hey Pigeon, why do you even bother fixin’ your hair if you just wear your hat all day?” Mush asked.

He simply shrugged in response. “It just makes me feel a little better ‘bout my appearance. You should try it sometime, Mush, you could use it.” He put his hat on and laughed as Mush attempted to hit him with a towel. He walked out of the bathroom, the smile still on his face, bumping into Jack as he walked back to his room. “Mornin’ Jack!” He said with a smile and a slight tip of his hat.

“Mornin’ Pigeon. Feelin’ better than yesterday? You know Davey didn’t mean it, go easy on ‘im when you see ‘im today.”

Pigeon nodded. “Yeah, course. I’m not gonna hold it against the kid for not knowin’.”

“You got a good head on those shoulders, Pigeon. Youse is a good kid.” Jack patted his head before moving on to the bathroom.

Pigeon went back to his shared room and put on his socks and shoes, whistling to himself as he did. Blue looked at him confused.

“Why are you so cheerful this mornin’?” She asked. “You’re never this happy this early.”

Pigeon shrugged. “I dunno! I made all the guys laugh and everythin’ is just… nice.” He stretched his arms up, yawning as he did.

A knock came from the door and Race let himself in, leaning against the doorway. “I’m holdin’ you to what you said last night. Let’s go talk before we ‘ead out.”

Pigeon took at glance at Blue, who smiled at him and winked. He laughed and stood, punching her as he to walked Race. “Come get us when it’s time to go.” She nodded and went back to getting ready.

Race lead Pigeon up to the same balcony and rested against the railing, cigar in hand. “So, where was we?”

Pigeon grabbed his hands and swung them slightly, the same as the night before, and stepped closer to him. “I think we was like this. And before you ask again, yes I’m fine.” He looked down at his feet, biting at his lip. “I nearly stopped workin’ after he asked and I felt pathetic, you know? I locked up and I felt so damn weak.” He felt Race squeeze his hands slightly and looked up again.

“You ain’t weak, Pigeon. I promise you that,” Race said, his face serious. It was rare to see him this serious about something and it sent a chill down Pigeon’s spine. “I means it.”

Pigeon stood there at a loss for words, just staring into Race’s eyes. The sun started to peek out from behind the buildings, casting a blinding light across the two. Pigeon was suddenly aware of how close they were standing, their chests nearly touching. They stood in silence, both trying to build up the courage to actually do something. Until it was too late and Blue was knocking on the door and calling for them. Pigeon gave a small smile and quickly kissed Race on the cheek before hurrying off to join Blue. Race stood in shock for a few seconds before also leaving the room.

“So, are you gonna tell me what happened?” Blue asked as they walked to the gates.

Pigeon was still blushing and shook his head. “Nothing happened, Blue. Somethin’ doesn’t have to happen every time I talk to Racetrack, you knows.”

Blue rolled her eyes. “I gotta look after you cuz I know you sure as hell can’t look after yourself.”

Wiesel wrote the headline up and a handful of newsies groaned. It wasn’t great, but it would still sell. Everyone got into a line, waiting for their papers when Davey ran in.

“Sorry we’re late. Our mom needed help with something.” It was clear he had been running as he was out of breath.

Race turned to look at him. “You got folks? I was thinkin’ ‘bout gettin some myself…”

“He don’t got none ‘cus he traded them for a box of cigars,” Romeo threw in.

“‘Ey! They was Coronas!” Race turned and pointed at Romeo with a look of false warning.

Davey rolled his eyes and got in line, Les at his side. He caught sight of Pigeon and Blue chatting happily to each other and made a mental note to apologize again to Pigeon.

Pigeon, meanwhile, was putting his change into the box. “Be a dear and get me fifty papes, Weasel.” He fluttered his eyelashes and Blue laughed at him, but Wiesel didn’t seem impressed. Oscar handed him his papers and he ran a quick count, then shoved them in his bag. Blue joined him and the two sat to read through the papers, chatting about what would sell.

Among all the hustle, Pigeon saw Race go up to Jack and whisper something that made Jack smile and look around. He eyed the two suspiciously but walked with Blue to their normal selling spot.

[autumnstwilight]

Teardrop Prison

Link/Mipha, background Zelink, horror/tragedy, Yandere!Mipha, temporarily OOC, there is a sex scene

Summary: For the first time in ages, Link is spending some time with Mipha on Vah Ruta. But what is she planning?

Content Warning: While not extreme, it is difficult to give specific content warnings for this fic past what is listed above. Readers with particular sensitivities should be advised.

Read on AO3

The sunlight danced across the waters of East Reservoir Lake, the rough stone beneath him warm on his hands. He could not say how long he had been sitting here, at rest for the first time in ages.

Mipha’s head fins swayed in the slight breeze, the shining crescents that adorned her catching the sun. She looked at him with an old, familiar gentleness.

"Do you remember the first time I brought you here?"

He paused in thought, "It was when…?"

"When we fought off the Lizalfos, yes. It was as tall as the two of us put together, but I insisted on going after it. To protect the village. Me with my little spear and you with your training sword. You managed to put it down, but you got pretty hurt."

She looked deeply apologetic. "I healed you, of course, but it was all my fault in the first place. So then I brought you all the way up here, by waterfall. It was my way of apologizing."

She gave a soft laugh, "Ring any bells?"

He furrowed his brow. "It… sounds familiar. But I don’t quite recall."

"Ah," she said, "Well, don’t worry too much. We were very young."

There was a grating creak of stone on stone as Vah Ruta settled underneath them. As the sun set, the various stone parts of the beast cooled and shifted. He didn’t understand the first thing about how it worked, but it was a marvelous creature, blue light shimmering over the exterior in swirling patterns like water.

Mipha was looking pensively into that sunset, a hint of something unreadable on her face. He cleared his throat.

"You said, when this is all over? About me spending some time here…"

He paused, then said in a quiet voice, "I think I’d like that."

She turned to him, beaming, the orange sun catching tears in the corners of her eyes. For a moment, he found himself wondering if he had not said the words that he had thought. He felt a sudden panic that maybe he had accidentally proposed and was unaware of it. Was she really just that happy to hear him affirm their friendship?

She composed herself, and then spoke in her usual soft tone.

"Thank you. I’m glad to hear it."

Mipha stood, and dusted off the fins that hung down over her hips. The light shone through in shades of green and yellow.

"I have more preparations to make. Follow me."

Together, they made the climb back up Vah Ruta’s trunk into the Divine Beast.

He watched her with his hands resting on the hilt of his sword, standing guard as she fussed and measured and adjusted. Now and then, he thought he saw something dart past the corner of his eye and into the shadows. A rat? He shook his head, just a trick of the light. The journey to Zora’s Domain had tired him out more than he thought.

Was Mipha tired too? She had seemed happy earlier that day, but now she was clearly anxious, checking and rechecking the same parts. Although she was shy in person, it was unlike her to lack confidence when it came to her duty as a warrior. Slightly bored, he began to look around the interior of the Divine Beast.

"That’s the control room, Link. Don’t go in there," she said. Though her voice was soft as always, her tone was flat and commanding, all soldier now.

Obediently, he turned away from the ramp that led down into the shadows, and resumed his post.

"Can I help with anything?" he asked.

"Oh… Oh no, it’s… I couldn’t explain this even if I tried… This Divine Beast is adjusted to work with me, personally. Only I can tell if it’s right."

He thought that she didn’t look like she knew, but decided to keep that thought to himself. He continued to watch her silently, still unable to shake off the distinct feeling that there was something watching him in turn. Perhaps it was the Divine Beast. His instincts were rarely wrong.

He didn’t like what they were telling him about this place.

Still, he tried to persuade himself, the Divine Beasts are part of the prophecy, and under the control of the Champions from the four corners of Hyrule. He put his faith in the wisdom of the royal family, and Zelda’s obvious enthusiasm for the machines. Whatever made her eyes shine with that joyful light couldn’t be wrong, or so it seemed to him.

"Mipha… I think we should finish up for the day." He stretched, and gave his sluggish legs a shake.

She continued staring at the innards of some mechanism, seemingly deep in thought.

"Mipha?"

"Oh. Well... Just give me a moment…"

She twisted a screw for what must have been the hundredth time.

"Ready?" he asked. "They’re probably waiting for us back in the Domain."

Again, that unreadable expression passed across her face, quickly hidden under a forced smile.

"I… You know, I was going to stay the night here. I find myself spending a lot of time getting to know Vah Ruta lately."

He looked at her with slight confusion.

"Alright," he replied deliberately, "I'm going to head back to the town. I have my duties as the princess’ knight."

Mipha visibly tensed at the mention of Princess Zelda. She turned to him, and said in a low voice,

"I thought we were going to spend more time together."

The Zora princess gave him a sidelong glance from under her head fins, a look he had never seen her give before.

He tried to come up with a response but found none at hand. Mipha began to speak again, with a boldness that surprised him.

"Link, you know the Zoran Guard would never allow any harm to come to the princess in the Domain. Will you indulge me, and spend the night by my side? I have often wondered what it is like to have my own knight…"

Something in the honeysweet hue of her eyes made him nod.

The lamplight flickered around the stone halls and cogs of Vah Ruta, as they sat on the cool stone. Somehow, he did not feel the cold, though he knew the temperature must have fallen. The walls were covered with gently sweeping carved lines and spots of light, and the moon shone through the roof. Yet darkness seemed to gather in the corners like blowing dust, a murk that the torchlight could never quite sweep away. Again, he felt a presence here, the uncomfortable prickling of someone standing a little too close behind him.

Am I scared of my own shadow now? he wondered. From the increasing number of monsters, they knew the return of the Calamity would be soon, but not when. That sword hung on a thread over their heads, ready to drop. He thought of Mipha’s agitation earlier, and wondered if the tension was beginning to get to all of them. It made him glad he had stayed here, though he felt guilty for leaving Princess Zelda unaccompanied for so long. Perhaps it was for the best. She preferred not to be watched during her nightly devotions to the goddess. And he didn’t want to leave Mipha alone in this place. He had the odd sensation that there was something that he himself had intended to do upon coming here. Something was insistently nagging at his mind.

He took the hand of the Zora princess next to him, her champion’s sash now draped over her shoulders like a blanket. Leaning against the wall, she was drifting, a soft smile on her face as her head rested against his shoulder. The white scales on her cheeks glimmered in the moonlight, and he wondered how he had never quite noticed that she was this beautiful. She sighed and shifted, and the tiara on her head made a soft clink as it brushed against the hilt of his sword. It was enough to wake her.

She gasped, sitting bolt upright, her gaze searching the room in a panic before realizing he was there. Eyes still wide, she knotted her hands into his tunic. Without thinking, he leaned forward and kissed her. She pressed her body back into him, working her way into his lap. Her hands made their way to the back of his neck, pulling him deeper into the kiss. The points of her teeth grazed his lower lip with light scratches.

He put his hands on her waist and pulled her closer, until she was straddling him. In this position she was taller, and he had to tilt his head back for their lips to meet again. He reached up and ran his fingers down the side of her head, feeling the coolness of her jewelry and her skin. Her hands tugged at his tunic, and he obligingly unbuckled his belt so that she could remove it.

She pulled his tunic and undershirt over his head, and he freed his arms from the fabric. Her body pressed against his chest, smooth and soft and gently warm. Her hands wandered over his body and he basked in the sensation. Returning the favor, he slid a hand down the side of her delicate throat, over her collarbone, tracing a path over and around one of her small breasts, feeling her shiver as she leaned in for another kiss.

They shared breath, each gasping between kisses, incoherent praises at the sensation. Her mouth found the spot where his neck and shoulder met, he felt the heat of her breath and the sting of her teeth, shuddering at the mingling of pleasure and pain. He groaned, pulling her down on top of him, while she fumbled with his trousers. She had to pull away from him as he wriggled to free himself comfortably, and the absence of her touch was nearly painful. They reunited forcefully, his lips against hers, her nails raking his shoulders, his hands on her hips, pulling her down onto him. The sound she made was beautiful, as was the electricity that ran through him when she rocked her hips, pushing down onto him, causing his vision to fade at the edges as he lay back on the stone floor.

His eyes were focused on her as she moved above him with perfect grace. She had found her rhythm and he squirmed in agony. Half of him wanted to grab hold of her, take her with rough and fumbling desperation, while the other half couldn’t bear to disrupt something so beautiful. Moonlight glittered on her scales, highlighting the curve of her breasts and the shimmering line of her neck and shoulders, waist and hips. Unable to resist, he pushed up to meet the movement of her hips, and was rewarded with a surprised and shuddering noise. His hand moved to the place where their bodies met, thumb finding the spot he was searching for. Mipha moaned and pushed into his hand, he pressed back, tracing rough circles. Her eyes closed, breath coming in short, sharp gasps. With a final movement, she let out a cry, her legs shivering around him. He felt a pulse from her, the heat pushing him over the edge, thoughts fractured, all senses focused on the moment, the sensation-

When he came to his senses, she was next to him, lying on the stone. He rolled onto his side to face her, and their hands entwined, a silent assurance. Her eyes were already closing, and he followed her into sleep.

He stirred, certain of a weight pressing down upon him. Eyes met his own, not a soft gold but a violent orange, slit pupils of a black so intense it was like a wound in the world. An animal panic seized him, the eyes were those of something great and terrible and now that it had seen him, goddesses, it had seen him, he would never be able to escape from their sight, freeze, fight or flee. The weight on his chest grew heavier, spreading to pin down his limbs, the force on the verge of pain, crushing the air from his chest. The eyes were coming from all around him now, forming and opening with the sound of wet flesh swelling and tearing, each new glare piercing him with fresh terror, rising to a pitch he had never known, until his weighted lungs forced a gasp and his eyes flew open.

He was on his feet in an instant, panting, sweating, muttering curses like a madman. His eyes searched the room for the unseen enemy, the one that was nowhere and everywhere and behind you right now and always watching. With deep, heaving breaths, he summoned his self-composure.

He had woken Mipha, and she was looking up at him with fear in her eyes. Now guilt and shame seized him, he had frightened her because of his own stupid nightmare.

"Sorry," he muttered, "Bad dream."

She looked at him sadly, "I’m the one who should be sorry."

"Why?"

"You wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for me." She wrapped her arms around her knees.

"Don’t be silly, Mipha. It’s not your fault I had a nightmare."

She was silent. He paused to retrieve his crumpled tunic and pull it back over his bare skin.

"Mipha, is everything alright? This place… It feels dark… feels like I’m being watched…"

She gave a cracked laugh, an uncharacteristically cold sound, “How could it be alright? The six of us, against an ancient and powerful evil, fumbling in the dark with technology we barely understand, lacking the power meant to seal it."

He frowned. "You know the Princess is doing her best."

"Of course I know that. Believe me, I don’t envy her position at all… But… I’m glad that you’re my knight, for just a little while…"

She gave him a smile that bared just the hint of sharp teeth.

"Mipha, you know I have to leave soon. I’ve already stayed too long."

She looked at him from under lowered eyelids, spoke in a tone of mild disapproval.

"But do you? What did you actually wish for, hero? Was it really to follow the princess, being scolded at every turn, for a plan that might not even work?"

"What are you saying?"

"Choose me. We can stay together. If you just trust me-"

"We can’t abandon our duties! What in the world has got into you… This isn’t you, Mipha."

"But it is. This is the Mipha you left behind. I’ve changed… I had to change, you see. Once I came here… once you were gone..."

"So it is the beast that changed you." His hand gripped the hilt of his sword, looking around for whatever might be the heart of Vah Ruta. All he saw were smooth stone walls.

"I suppose you could put it that way. Are you going to draw your sword on me?"

He faltered, "No! Mipha, I want to save you. Come with me, leave this place. Goddesses, we’ll fix this, you just have to trust me…"

She drew her trident.

"I don’t think you will."

Once again, her voice was oddly devoid of feeling, the trident leveled at his chest. He gaped at her for a moment, then turned and fled.

His hands scrabbled on the stone as he climbed Vah Ruta’s back. Mipha had run after him, but her body was not as suited to or accustomed to climbing as his, and she was unable to directly follow him. He rested on a stone ledge and drew his sword. The blade shone a brilliant blue white, and the air around him seemed to hiss in response.

Are you going to draw your sword against me?

He sheathed the sword again, cursing. There was no way he was going to strike down Mipha, no matter what had happened, no matter what had made her an enemy. He would escape from her, find the princess, fix this, bring her back.

The quick patter of soft feet on stone approached him. He made his way to a ledge overhanging the water, hesitating at the dizzying height for only a moment before diving.

Cold air rushed past him as he fell. There was a brilliant blue flash, then his body dissolved. Threads of blue light swam before his eyes as his limbs unraveled. When the scream escaped him, he was back on Vah Ruta, staggering and disoriented. He sank to one knee, trying to overcome the urge to vomit.

A soft voice came from behind him.

"Vah Ruta is my territory. And you cannot leave."

"Mipha, what is wrong with you!? You can’t keep me here."

"You can’t leave," she repeated, looking at the ground.

"I can, and I will."

He ran inside, and she followed. His boots thudded on the stone, and he heard the soft pad of her feet behind him. The darkness inside seemed suffocating, as if it had form, as if it were closing in. He ran for the control room.

Cold metal struck his legs, sweeping his feet from under him, and he hit the ground. He rolled to face his attacker, and she stood above him, trident pressed to his chest.

"Mipha?"

"Do not go in the control room."

He squirmed, and the trident pressed down harder, slicing his tunic and drawing a drop of blood from his chest.

"You wouldn’t do this."

"For goddess’ sake, why can’t you just do what I say? Can’t you just trust me, that I have your interests in my mind?"

"Not when you’ve so clearly lost it." He shoved the trident aside, wincing as it sliced through cloth and skin, leaving a sharp red line that formed beads of blood. He grabbed the handle and yanked her forward, causing her to stumble, and simultaneously pulling himself to his feet. Before she could recover, he made a break for the control room.

He skidded to an abrupt halt as she appeared again in front of him, though he hadn’t seen her move. The central point of the trident hovered a hair’s breadth from his throat. Her gaze was steely.

"I’m not your prisoner."

"I don’t want to make you one."

"Then let me go!"

"I can’t." There was just the hint of a tremor in her commanding voice. A sorrow passed across her face, and she moved her eyes from him, staring at the stone floor. He took the opportunity to push her trident aside and charge forward. She drew the weapon back for another thrust. He twisted to avoid it, and closed on her, landing a knee in her solar plexus. She crumpled.

He heard her gasps as she tried to regain her breath, felt her hands tug at the edge of his trousers as the cloth slipped between her fingertips. It took everything in him not to go back to her, to help her to her feet, to apologize for hurting her. But he was sure, now more than ever, that the key to his escape was whatever was in the control room, whatever she so desperately didn’t want him to see or touch.

"Don’t…" she gasped out.

It was what he needed to push him forward. He made his way down the ramp, where a bulbous black object loomed at the other end of the room. His footsteps splashed in the water, old and stagnant here, not the pure water of the Domain. The room filled with a metallic smell like old blood. In the heart of Vah Ruta, he felt the oppressive darkness weighing on him more heavily than ever, the presence within seemingly salivating like a predator closing in.

Mipha was at the entrance to the room, leaning heavily on the stone wall. She spoke once more,

"Link…"

He wished he’d turned to look at her, to have a last second of her precious lies.

It was something like a doll, pale except for the mottled purple skin where the circulation had settled, on the side of the face and the underside of stiff hands, The dirty blond hair was tangled, the jaw slack and the eyes half closed. The blue fabric was torn and caked with dried blood, blood that seeped down into the water and formed rust-red clouds. The fingers were outstretched, clutching at-

He felt her approach, no footsteps now as she glided to him, his eyes still fixed on the incomprehensible sight.

-clutching at a skeleton, ancient and bleached white. The remaining scrap of blue cloth was stained and ragged, rotting away with the years. The jewelry adorning the skull was tarnished, the dangling crescents giving only a hint of their former gleam.

"We can’t beat him."

Mipha’s voice came suddenly, from beside him. Her image wavered in the unearthly light of will o’ wisps.

"I was so happy when you returned. For one hundred years, I had been imprisoned here, thinking there was nothing left for me, crying and crying. I prayed that someday, somehow you would return, free Vah Ruta, go on to save Hyrule. Then I could finally rest in peace."

He reached for the jewels on the cracked porcelain skull, fingers trembling as they slipped through without resistance.

"I was so happy when those prayers were answered. To see you again, alive. It was a miracle from the goddesses, all I needed, if you could only…"

She shook her head, tears running down her face.

"But it was not to be. The blight slew you, as it did me. As I watched, unable to do anything, my promises broken yet again. My last hope for Hyrule was gone."

She reached for him, gently taking his hand.

"But from that despair, my final wish was born. If you and I could be together, if we could spend our days in happiness... for just a little while before the end of the world…"

She let out a broken sound.

"Maybe that was all I could do. I wanted to be there to give you some comfort at the end. Even if it was fake. Even if you’d never know it…"

He still said nothing, he had no words for this. But he squeezed her hand and pulled her into a tight embrace. Her tears, warm and wet on his shoulder, felt real, as real as the tears rolling down his own cheeks. How could this all be an illusion? A ragged sob escaped him as they sank to the ground.

They sat there, clutching each other like lost children, until finally it seemed they had run out of tears to shed. The cold and stagnant water lapped around them. He felt the dark presence again, and knew what it was, the shard of Ganon that haunted this place and had taken both their lives. It pursued them even in death. His fingernails dug into his palm.

"I have to save her," he said finally. “I have to.”

"I want to save her too," Mipha murmured, "More than anything. She was a dear friend. But we are the dead. All that’s left to us are our regrets."

He untangled himself from her, and rose to his feet. She looked up at him in confusion. Slowly and deliberately he made his way to where the body- where his own body lay. He reached for the hilt of the sword, the wordless voice that called to him. The feeling of the burning gaze on him intensified, the interior of the Divine Beast shivered with a silent fury. And now he could feel Mipha too, radiating gentleness into the air, holding it back with what little power remained to her, that which had formed her dreamworld sanctuary.

"Are you sure?" she asked. The air around them was stirring now, a hot and heavy wind. She stared at him, tears running down her face, then hung her head.

"Link, I should have known that you would want to fight to the end, no matter what. My love…"

She rose unsteadily to her feet.

"Then let this be my last prayer. I could not bring back the dead in life, and I expect it will take everything I have to do it now. Even my existence itself. Should you fall again, you will be trapped within Vah Ruta, alone. Until the world ends. More than anything, I wanted to spare you from that fate…"

Her eyes shimmered with tears.

"Fight. Save her. Do what I could not."

She began to fray at the edges, thin and hazy. Light gathered in her cupped hands.

"I love you."

The light struck his chest and his hand wrapped around the hilt of the sword, solid in his grasp. Mipha paled as the light flowed from her throughout his body, her fingertips and limbs delicate as clear ice, vanishing like the spring thaw, down to her glowing heart. The moment he reached for her, she fell as a single teardrop. A faint glow rippled across the surface of the dark water before it, too, faded.

A blue spear hissed as it formed from harsh light. The Blight roared, its single glass eye fixed on its opponent. Sword in hand, he rose to face it.

Notes:

This fic is inspired by an amazing fanart by Karasuki and their description of a scenario where Link dies to Waterblight Ganon and Mipha decides to "keep" him. http://karasuki.tumblr.com/post/166465555596 (Blog in Japanese). It also references two things from the Japanese text of the game, "Mipha's Grace" is "Mipha's Prayer", and when you free her, she says that after her death she "was crying, always", until Link arrived 100 years later. Finally it is dedicated to the 3,574,867 times I died against Waterblight Ganon when I only had like five hearts and crap weapons. Yay.

This... was hard to write. For one thing, even though Link thinks of it as lies, Mipha's dialogue is made up of statements that are basically true, though misleading. For his part, Link can't pinpoint what's wrong because he still doesn't have all his memories back, and has even lost the awareness of his own amnesia, existing in a dreamlike state.

Also writing a twist is hard because of course you as the author are perfectly aware of it the entire time, and therefore it's hard to judge whether the clues and red herrings you're giving are blatant or too vague. Please let me know when you realized this was a post-Calamity fic... even the answer is "as soon as I read the title, duh".

[welovekpopscenarios]

Kairos (DK x Reader)

Admin: Mimi

Prompt/Ask: Can I request a smut/fluff scenario of Seokmin (Seventeen's DK). In wich he and y/n are firends, and the both of them decided to go out to drink something with their friends and, they end up doing drunk sex and realizing their feelings for each other the next morning? Sorry for my bag english lol - otaku-pass 

Fandom: SEVENTEEN

Genre: Smut, fluff

Pairings: DK x Reader

Warnings: Language, drunk sex (consensual)

Word Count: 5180

A/N: Wow, look, an actual fic! I’m so sorry I haven’t been writing/posting, college has taken up a lot of my time. And I’m even more sorry I kept you waiting for so long darling, so please accept this long enough fic as an apology, I hope you enjoy it! I hope to get back into the swing of things now, I enjoyed writing this one and my love for writing is slowly coming back to me. As always, happy reading!

The texture of the glass felt cool on your lips as you tilted your head back, the burning sensation of alcohol causing you to wince momentarily as you swallowed the strange shot Seokmin had insisted your group of friends try. The bitter taste in your mouth had you grimacing, your head already light from the previous drinks you had bought. You heard a satisfied sigh coming from your right, and looked over to see Seokmin placing his shot glass back onto the table, smacking his lips and looking over in your direction with a cheeky grin. Various colours from the strobe lights danced across his face as he levelled you with his familiar smile.

“What the hell did I just drink?” you asked, pushing the shot glass away from you and leaning back in your cushioned seat. Looking around, you observed your friend’s various stages of drunkenness – from near sober and still standing like Joshua (you still have no idea how he was convinced to come out), to almost black out drunk and completely incoherent like Seungkwan, who keeps attempting to sing some old 80’s song but is too drunk to form an actual word. Seokmin slung an arm around your shoulders and tucked you in close to his side, rubbing his cheek against the top of your head, his mindless humming sending vibrations from his chest to your body.

“A Pink Pussy,” he replied, sending himself into a fit of giggles and you had to do a double take after nearly choking on your own spit, your tipsy mind not processing things as fast as it usually does. Somewhere to your left, you could somehow make out Seungkwan’s mutterings over the boom of the music in the nightclub, but paid no attention as you kept your eyes on Seokmin, who was currently doubled over in hysterical laughter, clutching his stomach as he tried to formulate a sentence between his laughing fit.

“A what?” you asked incredulously, grinning back at Seokmin in shock, a brow raised in question when he deemed himself ready to answer you.

“Pink Pussy,” he reiterated, stopping for a second to giggle some more. “It’s made from budder-I mean butter, yeah, butterscotch Schnapps, and…strawberry liqueur,” he struggled to answer, but looked positively proud of himself when he did, eyebrows raised and eyes wandering around the group in search of praise, but pouting when he received none as everyone else was currently occupied, mainly at helping Vernon to stand up again and ultimately failing when he repeatedly falls straight on his ass from how hammered he is.

“Ah. Nice name,” you drawled, and he had to bite his lip to keep from laughing all over again. You chuckled at his childishness, the vibrations from the music moving through everyone and the hustle of the crowd on the dancefloor filling the club with a lively vibe. Checking the time on your phone – 2:26am – you reasoned that it was soon time to head home. You had deemed it your responsibility to get Seokmin home safely tonight. After all, he had stuff to do tomorrow, and asked you to sleep over at his to be his personal alarm. As if that would happen when you’re going to be horribly hungover. You’re not up for an all nighter like the gang usually pulls tonight, much preferring a bed right now. Well, you’d prefer if someone was with you in said bed, but you failed to get lucky tonight – it seems like every person in the club decided to stay away from you after seeing you arrive with a large group of guys. They could be both a blessing and a curse sometimes. “So, you get Pink Pussy a lot?” you joked, frowning when Seokmin tutted and pouted, and unusual display of annoyance for him.

“I used to, but I’ve been dry as hell lately,” he complained, lazily crossing his arms and training his eyes on them. “I haven’t met the right person, I guess,” he murmured, his eyes moving from their position to stare at you from the corners. You nodded your head sympathetically, frustration overcoming you as you ruminated on your own similar situation. Truthfully, you were up for anything, but ‘anything’ wasn’t good enough. ‘Anything’ wasn’t Seokmin. But it wasn’t like you could tell him that, that would just ruin your perfect and long friendship with him, and you’d rather have no sex for the rest of your life than lose someone like Seokmin.

“I’m the same,” you muttered bitterly, chewing at the side of your lip as you scowled at the table in front of you. Sighing through your nose, you looked over to find Seokmin staring at you intently. “I haven’t slept with anyone in forever, too. It’s been…a very long time, and, to be quite honest, with the stress of work and college and blah, blah, blah, I need a good fuck to relax me,” you said honestly, and Seokmin stared at you, mouth slightly agape and a hazed look upon his visage. You shook your head, the alcohol causing you to be uncommonly brutally honest, and began to collect your things. “I think we should head home, it’s getting late. Thank God I don’t have work tomorrow morning, I know I’ll be dead. You, however, are a busy man. C’mon, let’s go” you laughed, standing up from your seat and saying your goodbyes to the rest of the group. Seokmin frowned at you before standing up beside you, grabbing your jacket and slinging it around his arm. He patted his pockets, panic flashing across his face when he couldn’t feel his keys or phone before you held up your purse and rattled it with a laugh, the contents making a tinkling sound, indicating that you held onto his keys for him.

“Y/N!” you heard, and turned around to find Seungkwan making grabby hands at you, much like a baby would when it wanted its toy. Leaning down to hug him, he pulled you tightly to his chest and cried his goodbyes. “Be safe going hooooome! Seokminie better protect you!” he whined, and you giggled, promising him that Seokmin was perfectly capable of looking after you, even when you were both drunk as you were. “Ah, he’s such a good boy! I hope he makes his move tonight! Good luck, my love!” he drawled, promptly plonking back down onto the couch and belting out Poker Face for everyone to hear. You were about to ask him what he meant by that, but Seokmin had you by the hand, leading you out of the blazing night club and into the slightly frigid September air. He wrapped your jacket around your shoulders and you thanked him, leaning into his body when he wrapped his arm around you for the second time that night.

It was a surprisingly short walk back to his apartment, the stroll filled with broken pieces of chatter here and there. Seokmin was abnormally quiet on the walk back, a complete turnaround from his boisterous mood the entire night. It had you worried that something terrible had happened, that someone, maybe even yourself, had upset him somehow. You’ll ask him when you reach the apartment, for now, you were occupied with getting you both home safely.

Arriving at his door, you turned to face Seokmin, who’s face looked troubled, as if he was at war with himself. It was rare for Seokmin to be this quiet, and when you went to voice your concerns, Seokmin beat you to it with a rather…interesting proposition.

“I’ve been thinking, since we mentioned it at the club…uhm,” he stammered, losing his nerve the longer you stared at him in curiosity, but since he opened his mouth, he might as well get it out. He can blame it on his drunken mind tomorrow if needs be. “I…I trust you with my life, you know that, right? I can trust you with anything, and I know you’ll never judge me. You’ll always have my back, whenever and whatever.” What was he getting at?

You hummed in affirmation, albeit you were still highly confused. He took a deep breath, shaking his head as if to clear his thoughts. Looking you dead in the eye, he continued.

“Why don’t we sleep together?”

…what?

Your mouth opened and closed as you tried to answer him, confusion etched across your mind. Sleep with him? His face slowly dropped the longer you stayed silent, his resolve crumbling to his feet. Shit, this was a mistake and he was probably too drunk to realise what he was sayin-

“Like, a sleepover? I thought that’s what we’re doing.”

There was a beat of silence before he burst out laughing, bent over and letting out a deep hearty laugh at your question. You smiled confusedly at him, chuckles escaping you as well. Laughter was contagious, after all.

“I’m serious! You want to sleep in bed with me like we do when we watch movies together?” He continued to laugh, out of disbelief, adoration and nervousness. This wasn’t working like he had originally planned. “I can’t think of any other reason you’d possibly have to sleep in bed with m-oh. Oh.”

His laughter died down, finally, his nerves coming back full force as you understood his intentions clearly. You simply stared at him in silent astonishment. The streetlights seemed to amplify his paling face, and he could almost feel the weight of his offer pushing down on his shoulders. He feels regretful for asking, this could ruin your friendship and he doesn’t ever want that to happen. Maybe it’s not too late, he can still use the ‘drunk rambles’ card.

“Look, just forget what I sa-“

“Let’s do it.”

He looked up from his shoes in bewilderment, thinking you to be joking, yet you looked sure of yourself, perhaps a little nervous. The way you saw it, this was a once in a lifetime opportunity, and you could worry about your friendship when you’re horribly sober in the morning. Right now, you’re tipsy, giddy, and you have the chance to sleep with the one person you’ve been in love with for years. You weren’t about to turn it down, especially since he was the one doing the offering.

“It’s just sex, right? And we’re…we’re friends. It doesn’t have to be weird. And I trust you too. So, let’s do it. I’m ok with it,” you stated, swallowing the ball of anxiety down. His eyes were as wide as saucers, and he stood stock still as he comprehended your words.

“You…are you sure?” he settled for asking when he couldn’t think of anything else. You nodded firmly, and once again it was quiet as Seokmin debated on what to do. After a moment, he made his decision, and moved towards you, stepping slowly into your space. He leaned his face towards yours, brushing his nose against yours softly, causing your breath to hitch in your throat. After what feels like years, his lips finally touch yours; pillowy soft and perfect. They move tentatively on yours, testing the waters, giving you a chance to back out if you wish, but you press back, and it’s the unspoken yes he was looking for.

He starts to kiss you more passionately, devouring your mouth as if he were a man starved of something only you could give him. His tongue ran along the seam of your lips and you gasped in surprise, mouth opening enough for him to slip past the entrance and captivate you with his tongue. You let him take the lead, tongue dominating you and pressing your body against the door, too dizzy with lust to object. When his hips shifted to press to yours, you were brought back to reality with the painful digging of the door handle on your back. Completing the impossible task of pulling away from his saccharine lips, you placed a quick kiss to his confused, furrowed brows and then turned around, fumbling blindly with his keys in the lock until you cracked open the door.

Rushing in the door, Seokmin wasted no time in grabbing your hand, kicking the front door closed, and leading you to his bedroom, the route from the door through his hallways ingrained into his brain. Throwing open your bedroom door, he tears off his jacket and you do the same, flinging your shoes off as you go, wincing slightly at the loud thud when they hit off his dresser. That’s a problem for tomorrow, right now, as if a switch went off, your body was buzzing with desire. You needed Seokmin.

You took hold of his face between your hands and kissed him hard, lips moving frantically over his, a messy clash of tongues and teeth and need. His hands took hold of your waist, squeezing minutely and travelling further down to your backside, kneading the flesh over the fabric of your dress. You moaned into his mouth and he swallowed the delicious sound, eagerly matching the ferocity of your kisses with his own. He groaned when your hands slid up into his hair and tugged, subconsciously feeling your ass with more vigour, walking backwards to his bed.

When his knees hit the edge, he allowed himself to fall, hands latching onto your hips and pulling you down with him. You straddled his lap on instinct, thighs wrapping around his hips as his forearms wrapped around your lower back and pulled you closer to his chest, effectively placing your hips flush against his. You could feel his member beginning to strain in his trousers, and you grinded against it, pleasure shooting through your body at the friction against your core. He moaned aloud as you continued to gyrate your hips above his, breath caught in your chest, growing wetter at the feeling. He bit your lower lip in warning, if you kept doing that he wasn’t going to last long, because you looked so unbelievably gorgeous with your eyes fluttering in lust, panting into his mouth and little moans escaping your pretty kiss swollen lips.

Your fingers fumbled blindly with the hem of his shirt, moving it upwards and off his chest, revealing his toned and tanned chest. You revelled in the firmness of his chest and abs, fingers roaming the expanse of skin before looking up to see Seokmin’s cheeky grin. Rolling your eyes, you were about to make a comment on his vanity until you felt his hands move under your dress and begin to push the material off your body, returning the favour in kind. Leaning back to allow him to remove it, he made quick work of the fabric, hauling it somewhere across the room, lost to the floor. His eyes nearly fell out of his sockets when he found out you were without your bra tonight, and you silently thanked your lucky stars for having the idea to go without it for tonight.

You held onto his shoulders and moved your chest in his vision, and he was quick to latch his mouth onto a nipple, swirling the bud around and nibbling lightly on it, making you hiss out at the sensation. He kissed it in apology and moved onto the other one, hand coming up to lavish at your chest, squeezing the flesh in such a pleasing way, one that had you rearing your head back to let out an embarrassingly loud moan. He smirked against your chest and continued to mouth at your breasts, reaching a hand between your legs to rub at your soaked panties. You whined at the touch, hips following his fingers in need of more. That simple touch was enough to have you melting in his arms, and thankfully Seokmin decided he needed you now.

He struggled to unbutton his pants and push them down his legs but eventually he got it, kicking them off and moving his boxers down to his ankles. The position you were currently in was how he intended to take you – it allowed him to hold you close and fuck you into a mess, giving him the perfect view as you crumbled, so perfectly intimate. Scooting into a more secure position on the bed, he moved your panties to the side and ran his fingers along your dripping slit, getting even more aroused at how sopping wet your pussy was. He was proud of himself that he had half a mind to think about protection, even in his inebriated and lustful state, and when you mumbled against his mouth that you were on the pill, it was all he needed before he pushed his steel member into you.

Your walls clenched around him as you adjusted to the wonderful stretch, distracted by the butterfly kisses and nips on your neck. Threading your fingers through his hair, you lifted your hips once you were comfortable enough to move, and Seokmin sighed shakily, hands gripping onto your hips to help lift you up and down. Soon enough a steady pace was formed, a pace that had you bouncing on his dick as he held onto you, kissing you as furiously as his thrusts. Your mind was washing over in waves of pleasure, hitting every nerve in your body and sending you to a place so heavenly you were sure it wasn’t real. Seokmin was the only thing on your mind; how he looked, tasted, felt. And you allowed yourself to be greedy and yearn for more of him.

His voice dropped an octave lower when he spoke, so completely thick with desire and sex, and the deep rumble in his chest brushing with yours had you keening, eyes clenching shut in ecstasy, amazed at the simplicity of his voice sending you further down the hole of pleasure. “Fuck, baby,” he grunted, hot breath fanning across your chest between nips and kisses. “You look so good, riding me like that.” A bead of sweat formed on his forehead, stray hairs clinging to his skin, brows furrowed in concentration, making sure you were getting satisfied like him. And you certainly were. “Shit, I’ve waited so long for this,” he whispered out airily, hiding his flushed face in the crook of your neck and planting sloppy kisses along the skin. You didn’t quite catch what he had said, too lost in chasing your approaching high than to pay proper attention.

“I-I’m close,” you moaned, and Seokmin took the initiative to speed up his thrusts, the lewd sounds of skin on skin getting louder in the space of his room, and you bit your lip harshly, a failed attempt at containing the moans spilling from your lips. Fuck, this was so perfect. You knew it would be; long, lonely nights of dreaming how Seokmin would fuck you, how he’d feel inside of you instead of your fingers, how he’d sound – he was quite the singer, and they say singers are the loudest in bed. He doesn’t disappoint in any area – well built, sinful moans escaping into the heated air, and downright amazing at fucking – you almost wish you had done this sooner, friendship be damned.

He snaked a hand from your back to your throbbing clit, pressing his thumb firmly and swirling it in figure 8 motions, and you nearly collapsed at the feeling, your senses overloaded in every crevice of your body. “C’mon baby, cum for me,” he ordered, and you obeyed, unravelling at his deep command, staring deep into his obsidian eyes as your body went ram rod straight in his lap, a drawn out moan the only thing leaving your swollen lips apart from incoherent mumbles of his name. He continued to pound into you, desperate to finish with you, and when you kissed him hard and moaned ‘Seokmin’ into his mouth, it was enough to bring him to his end, hips snapping still as he released into your warmth, your walls milking him for all he’s worth.

He held your body close to him, sticky and flushed from your exertions, rocking you back and forth. The movement served to ease your exhausted body, lulling you into a sleep as you rested your head on his shoulder. Your eyes fluttered shut when his fingers began to brush through your hair, untangling the strands, and soon you were asleep, knocked into oblivion with Seokmin in your dreams and a small smile on your sleeping face.

Laying you both back onto his mattress, Seokmin threw the covers over your naked forms, too tired to do any cleaning up. That can be dealt with tomorrow, when morning came. Admittedly, a knot of anxiety formed in the pit of his stomach when he thought about the approaching topic of where your friendship stands in the morning. He reasons he should leave it as a one time thing – a friendly one night stand with no feelings attached, and that when you’re both awake along with the rest of the world, everything will go back to normal and you’ll be back to being the same friends you once were. Fool, his mind argues, that is not what you want and you know it.

He knows. He’s always known, from the moment he met you all those years ago, that that is something he wouldn’t want. He wants to be able to kiss you whenever he wants, hold you whenever he wishes, call you his and have you call him yours. Maybe it really is his tipsy mind, or maybe it’s the sex bliss doing the thinking, but Seokmin decides he’s going to be brave when you open your eyes. He’s going to be honest, and he’s going to lay his heart bare for you. That could be a mistake another part of his brain whispers, but Seokmin shuts it out like he shuts his eyes, his arm wrapping around your prone form and bringing you close to his chest, burying his face in your hair. It might be a mistake, but Seokmin loves you, and he doesn’t want to hide anymore.

Your first thought after waking up?

Shit, my head fucking hurts.

Inevitable, really, when you go out drinking the night before, but along with the pain in your head, new ones mark their arrival in the form of aches between your legs and your neck. Opening your eyes, your eyes immediately squinted at the sunlight streaming in the windows, the curtains drawn back instead of closed like they should be. You hissed at the throbbing in your skull, the sunlight adding to your misery as you groaned into the pillow. Gathering the courage to open them once more, you allowed your eyes to adjust to the light, and found you were not in your own apartment. Instead, it seemed you were at Seokmin’s – not a rare occurrence, but what was rare, was the lack of clothing on your part as you lay in his bed.

All at once, the memories of the night before came flooding back into your aching brain, and with it a sense of awful, gut wrenching dread, the kind that brought a sickness to your stomach and made your limbs feel heavy. Your breathing felt ragged, and you felt too afraid to turn around and find out if Seokmin was in the same state as you. However, the truth is better than simply lying prone in this bed and waiting for him to wake up, which could prove to be just as stressful as this situation. Confrontation was not something you wanted to deal with just yet. Slowly manoeuvring your body to face the opposite direction, you’re disappointed to see the bed empty. Your hand slides over the dark sheets, a faint trace of warmth lingering in the large mattress the only indication that you weren’t the only occupant of the bed.

Swallowing down the bitter taste disappointment in your mouth, your brain kickstarted and presented to you the opportunity to leave before Seokmin catches you. This way, you can have time to decide what you’re going to say to him when the topic inevitably arises. You certainly don’t want to see this as a mistake, so if you’ve a way of bullshitting your way out of ending the friendship, despite your heartbreak, you’re willing to take it. Sitting up, you ignore the blatant pounding in your head and search the room for your clothes, eye’s flitting around the space of his bedroom. Eying your dress hiding underneath his jeans, you make your way out of the comfort of the bed, groaning quietly at the slight pain in your backside and slipping the dress on haphazardly. Next, your shoes and purse were in your hands, and upon checking the contents, you reasoned that you’d have enough for a cab back to your apartment.

Pulling open his bedroom door slowly, you tiptoed your way through the halls of the apartment, wincing at every creak of the floorboards beneath your feet. Bypassing the kitchen, you were alerted to the sound of pans and plates clanging and scraping together, followed by a quiet curse. Before you could move fast enough, footsteps made their way towards your position, and suddenly the door was thrown open. You were met with Seokmin wearing a slightly frustrated expression, and the most ridiculous yet glorious bed head you’ve ever seen. His expression morphed from frustration to shock when his eyes met yours, and that, again, shifted to nervousness. He bit his lip and trained his eyes anywhere but yours, and similarly, you were doing the same thing, fear flooding your veins like ice. You couldn’t stand the pregnant silence between the both of you, and spoke up, attempting to steady the wobble in your voice.

“Morning,” you opted for saying, internally cringing at how stupid you sounded. Seokmin smiled, though you’d describe more as an awkward grimace, and gave a quick laugh.

“Morning. How are, uh, how are you feeling?” he mumbled, rubbing at the back of his neck and sighing through his nose. Not once in his life had a conversation with you been as painful and awkward as this one. But he supposes the elephant in the room was too big for you both to carry on as if nothing happened last night.

Because however drunk he may have been last night, he knows that last night, holding you in his arms, it was the best night he’s experienced, and he knows without a shadow of a doubt in his mind that’s he’d do it all over again if you’d let him.

You nearly balked at his question but collected yourself quickly, scratching at the skin of your arms lightly. “I-I’m fine,” you lied, keeping your focus on the wall beside his head. “My head kills though,” you tried to joke, but your chuckle sounded weak. Seokmin nodded, muttering that his own hurt as well, and you nodded in response. God, you just wanted to exit this conversation, it was physically paining you to stand here and pretend everything was ok, to stand the churning of your stomach getting worse with each passing second, anxiety balling up deep within your gut and tearing you apart.

“I-uh, made some food! If you…want to join me,” he offered weakly, his face dropping at your regretful expression. You felt absolutely horrible, he was probably trying to be nice to you before breaking the news that last night with you was a mistake. How pitiful you must seem.

“I’m actually going to go home, Min,” you explained, starting to back toward the direction of the front door as Seokmin followed you. “I have things to do, you know? I’m…busy. But thank you! For the offer, I mean! That’s really sweet of you, and I’m sorry to leave like this.”

Seokmin nodded numbly at you, a torn look upon his visage as he watched you turn and go, getting closer and closer to the door and out of his life. Just before your hand could reach the door handle, however, Seokmin caught it in his, his calloused hand holding yours so delicately, like glass that he wouldn’t want to break. You stared at him in apprehension, wanting nothing more than to leave and cry into your pillow at home. You did not want to hear the dreaded words of rejection leave his beautiful lips. You felt bile rising up your throat. You need to leave.

“Don’t,” he whispered, and you looked at him on confusion.

“What?”

“Don’t go,” he answered, and you were stupefied. “Please don’t go. Please don’t regret last night, because I don’t. Don’t run away, because I can honestly say that last night was the best night of my life because of you. You don’t understand how long I’ve wanted to kiss you, to touch you, to…” he shook his head, as if to shake away the rambling inside his head. His mouth was like a tap, words overflowing like water, and he was too weak to stop it. The more words that came out of his mouth, the lighter his shoulders felt. “And I know that things between us are weird now because of it, but please, don’t go. I love being your friend, but I’d prefer to be much more than that, I always have. It killed me to see you with other guys, guys who didn’t treat you as right as they should. I’ve only ever wanted you from the moment we met all those years ago, but I was too much of a coward to do anything. Figures drink is the only way I could ever make a move,” he muttered disdainfully, self-loathing seeping from his being as you stood in front of him. It was unpleasant to stand here and watch him like this, such a drastic change from his usual cheery disposition that you know him for. He met your eyes once again, looking you dead in the eye and staring straight through your soul as he spoke. “Please don’t leave me,” his voice wavered, as fickle as running water.

You shook your head no, stepped into his body, grabbed his face and planted a kiss on his precious lips. He was surprised for a moment before he reciprocated in kind, pulling you close to him and kissing you passionately, sighing in content into your mouth. This kiss was better than all of last night’s; you could feel the love emanating from him as his arms wrapped around you, the erratic beating of his heart in time with yours, his smile against your lips. Everything feels so much better now that you weren’t clouded with alcohol, now that the elephant in the room has finally left the building. Pulling back for air, you gazed into his brown orbs that were squinting from how hard he was smiling.

“I’m not leaving, Seokmin. Not for anything. I love you too much to do that,” you confessed, and if it was possible, his smile got even wider, ready to break his face. “Now, give me some of that delicious breakfast you cooked for me and we’ll eat it in bed, huh?”

[ichigopanhpff]

Ignis x Reader Fic: Next to You Part 10

My readers are masochists xDDD I love you guys. Because you guys have been so patient with me, in one go it is! All 4,390 words of it!

As all good things have to come to an end, the next chapter will be the last. As I’ve said in a previous post, I’m debating whether or not to make a one-shot on post-Altissia followed with the 10 years of darkness.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 11 (NSFW)

“Is (Y/N) awake yet?” Prompto asked while trying to suppress an escaping yawn in failure and stretched his arms up to the morning sky. “She’s out cold,” Ignis sighed and lightly shook his head. “Like the dead.” Noct muttered out something incoherent and rubbed his closed right eye. “Why can she sleep in and I can’t?” Gladio glanced at the whining prince, crossed his arms and pointed out, “’Cuz you’re not the one who ran around killin’ stuff for five days straight. We should take her with us before she does somethin’ stupid, like raid a Niflheim base by herself,” he suggested. “A valid point, Gladio,” the adviser agreed.

Ignis ducked into the tent and picked (Y/N)’s limp form up bridal style. Her head lulled onto the small crook of his neck and felt her breath tickle his clavicle. Packing up the rest of their camping equipment back into the car, the five headed back to Lestallum. (Y/N) was sandwiched between Gladio and Noct in the backseat. As the adviser made a sharp turn, her head gently landed on the tattooed man’s right bicep. She grumbled with lightly knitted brows and made herself comfortable on her now human pillow.

He looked down at her and smirked.

“She’s worse than Noct.” “Hey, I’m up, aren’t I?” the dark haired prince snapped and glowered at his friend. “Yeah, after poking and prodding you for 15 minutes straight,” Prompto chimed in and took a photo of (Y/N). “And I’m sure her new abilities are taxing on her,” Ignis added. “To have three at her disposal...” “What do you mean?” Noct asked. “From what little I managed to read up on her family years ago, her weapons are called Reliquiaes; a (Y L/N) is capable of having a maximum of two; a soul weapon and/or a complimentary. The soul weapon allows them to eliminate targets without a shred of evidence, making them the perfect assassins; the complimentary enhances something they’re already well versed with or to support someone who only has a soul weapon.” “So let’s see, she has her own, ‘Spirited Away,’… Her brother’s Silentium Ferro blades...” Prompto listed off. “And her other brother’s eyes,” Gladio finished. “So she has two complimentaries and one soul weapon?” Noct questioned. “Does this mean she can still create her own weapon to balance it out?” “Your guess is as good as mine,” Ignis replied as they drove through Old Lestallum. “But I worry her body won’t be able to handle it.” “Right. Because she repressed her awakening for so long...” the prince trailed off. “I’m sure that weakened her a bit.” “But she did it to save Iggy’s life,” Prompto noted. “At the cost of her own...” the driver trailed off and tightly gripped the steering wheel from frustration. “Why didn’t she tell me sooner?” “She probably didn’t want you to worry,” the muscular man gauged. He sighed aloud. “Keeping up with this guessing game will do us no good until (Y/N) wakes up.”

The party arrived at Lestallum short after and parked the car.

“So… what are we gonna do now? She’s still out cold,” Noct stated and placed his hands on his hips. “Do we know where she’s staying?” Gladio included. “Let’s head back to The Leville first,” Ignis instructed. “We’ll figure out the next step from there.” “It’s rare you don’t have a full plan hashed out like you usually do,” Prompto pointed out. “She’s quite good at being a monkey wrench,” the spectacled adviser stated. “It’s almost a talent, if you ask me. Got her into loads of trouble at school.” “What for?” the prince asked. “Mouthing off at the teachers, especially in Lucian history. (Y/N) would go off on all these tangents about how the Kings and Queens could’ve done things differently with strategic theories if they didn’t lack so much conviction to properly rule the kingdom; she then went on to criticize the teacher’s teaching ability and earned herself a 2-day suspension.” “She really cuts right to the chase,” Prompto blurted out with a light chuckle, all too aware of this habit of hers.

Ignis opened the back car door and slung (Y/N) onto his back to carry her, with Noct helping him position her.

“When you’re an adviser in-training, you don’t mince words and question every motive.” Arriving back at the hotel, Ignis brought (Y/N) upstairs to their room with Gladio’s help and placed her down on his bed. He removed the top layer of her fatigues so she’d be able to sleep more comfortably in her tank top instead. The dusky haired man stood back up and arched his back, feeling and hearing his spine crack aloud.

“She’s a lot heavier than I last remembered...” the spectacled adviser casually remarked with a grunt and stretched his arms over his head. “Don’t let her hear that,” the rugged guard advised with a smirk. The air in the room turned moderately serious. “Hey, Iggy… ‘Bout what I said at camp last night–” “It’s fine,” he quickly interjected. “It was a wake-up call I needed.” “So did she tell you? How she felt n’ all?”

Ignis remained silent and sat at the edge of the bed, looked at her and sighed.

“She did.” “But you turned her down,” he assumed. “The adviser cannot put his life before the crown for his own needs,” Ignis recited from memory. “I get what you’re sayin’, but there’s some things you can’t let pass by.” “I guess… we’ll just have to see.”

Leaving her in the room to rest, Gladio and Ignis rejoined Noct and Prompto in the lobby to plan out their next step. The King’s Shield, being reluctant to leave Iris on her own, decided to escort her to Cape Caem. However, taking her along in the Regalia meant they had to leave (Y/N) behind. And since Ignis wanted a little time with her, they decided to stay in town for a few extra days to gather funds and supplies before setting out on the road again.

The lone rogue eventually roused back into the world of the living in a daze. She craned her head up and lazily looked around to see she was alone in an unfamiliar room. Scattered sunlight filtered through the shuttered windows. The couch at the far end had a set of neatly folded blanket with a pillow on top. She rubbed her face to rid her of grogginess and let out a long sigh while motioning to sit up on the bed. The room door then slowly opened.

“You’re finally up,” Ignis greeted and closed it behind him softly. “Where… am I?” (Y/N) croaked out and swallowed hard down her parched throat. “At The Leville.” “How long was I out?” she moaned out and ran a heavy hand through her hair and sighed again. Her sleep-ridden eyes followed him to the far end of the room. “Little past two days.”

He drew the wooden shades back to get some sunlight in, making her shield her eyes with her hands and groaned aloud.

“Two days? Jeez...”

He poured her a glass of water; she downed it with reckless abandonment when he handed it over. Satiating her thirst, (Y/N) took another deep inhale and shuffled around to push the covers off of herself with what strength she had. He immediately walked over to help her up. Her leg muscles felt like lead and every bone in her body ached.

“How are you feeling?” “Like a friggin’ Catoplebas’ head rammed into me for some truffles,” she grunted and placed a strong, steady hand on Ignis’ shoulder for support as she sat up at the edge of the bed. Her body hunched over. “I think I overdid it this time.” “I’d say so… Having three Reliquiae at your disposal and all.” “Ah...” (Y/N) briefly paused. “So you know.” She let out a dry chuckle and looked down at her flexing toes to get some blood flow going. “Of course you do.” “Have you tried using them all at once?” “I’d probably die if I did.” “Would you still be able to create your own weapon if you’re using your brother’s?” “… I don’t think so.”

Her eyes wandered over to her boots, where her daggers could be found sheathed.

“I’m too attached to those,” she said fondly. Ignis’ gaze followed hers and recognized the weapons from the hilt alone.

“I haven’t seen those since--” “Our training days,” she finished with a small smile. “I have to do maintenance on them.” “So you’ve been using Azrael’s weapons instead.” “Sparingly. His blades take too much outta me.” She took another deep breath and sighed to wake herself up some more, her body still feeling cumbersome. “You should rest,” Ignis suggested with a tone of concern and placed his hand at the small of her back. She then turned her head to face him. “Dude, I was out for two whole days,” she stated. “How much longer do I need?” “Until you feel like you’ve recovered.” “I’ll be fine...” she waved him off and gently closed her eyes, huffing a light breath, feeling a bit of her energy recovered. “What time is it now?” “Around eleven in the morning.”

(Y/N) released an audibly annoyed scoff at herself and lazily got up to gather her belongings. As weighty and in pain she’s in, she couldn’t afford to slack off. There were people waiting for her.

“Where are you going?” “Home.” “Home?” “I got a place here.” “You did?” “Technically, yes...” she sheepishly replied and laced up her left boot. Slowly standing up, she gave herself a nice, long and steady stretch with her arms up, feeling her heavy sleep-ridden muscles elongate with the motion. (Y/N) then grabbed her upper layer of fatigues laying on a chair and threw it on. “I’ll explain. C’mon.”

She made her way to the door with the adviser following not too far behind. She went down the stairs step by step and held onto the staircase railing tightly, not trusting the strength of her legs and was greeted by everyone else in the lobby.

“Hey! Look who came back from the dead!” Prompto happily greeted and was replied with a nod. “Your eyes...” Noct pointed out. “They’re still orange.”

It was then she realized she wasn’t wearing her blindfold anymore. She turned to Ignis and saw him pull it out from his trouser pocket and handed it to her.

“Is there no way you can change them back to normal?” he asked with worry. “I’m sure there is; I just haven’t figured it out yet.”

She pocketed the blindfold and opted for the hood over her face instead.

“And you can see without your glasses?” asked Gladio. “I’d say that’s the only good thing comin’ out of all this crap,” she responded. “Chronos’ eyesight was like an eagle’s and that transferred over too.”

(Y/N) headed out of the hotel and gestured them all to come along. After walking down several winding side streets in the sweltering city, they reached a small cul de sac two blocks from the main road. The locals cheerily greeted her and the party.

“Rosa!” a woman called from behind, startling Ignis with a jump of his shoulders. “You’re back!” “Sorry I took so long,” she turned and apologized. “I got the stuff you needed.” “I did send you out pretty far… I thought you’d been killed when I didn’t hear back.” “Ah, my phone died. Couldn’t get to a camper to recharge.”

She reached into her bag and handed the lady a handful of herbs and some cuts of meat in an airtight sealed plastic film. She thanked (Y/N) and made her way down the opposite end of the street. Ignis pulled her aside and asked under his breath, “… You used your codename?” “A variation,” she corrected. “It’s common enough for no one to question.” “True, but it’s risky.” “Ig, my parents are the Niff’s hostages and my brothers are dead,” she reiterated as a matter of factly. “They have no leverage on me.” “And you don’t consider me as leverage?” She gave him a small smile and patted him between his upper chest and shoulder.

“You’re a big boy; you can handle yourself. And you have back-up.”

And there it was again; her ability to keep him at arms’ reach with those simple words. He sighed and let her go back to the group.

“So… Rosa?” Gladio enquired with an interested eyebrow, suddenly remembering her brand. “I took my own advice with a moniker after the little stunt you pulled back in Crown City.”

(Y/N) walked on ahead and they found themselves in front of a small hair salon. She reached into her pocket for the key, unlocked the door to the left side of the store and invited them in. Walking up a dark and narrow flight of stairs, she opened the second door to a small, brightly lit and lived in alcove studio apartment. Like her apartment back in Crown City, it was scarcely decorated.

“Make yourselves at home.”

Feeling the layers of grime caked onto her skin and clothes, she unlaced her boots and made a beeline for the bathroom, followed with the sound of running water. The boys entered her sitting area; it looked like a tornado whipped through with the mess of stacked books and papers scattered about the floor, couch and coffee table.

“She’s… been busy,” Noctis noted. “She’s been researching,” Ignis remarked and picked a random page up with scribbled notes of wildlife and rare plants in the local area. “Some of this stuff’ll be useful,” Gladio added and eyed a topographic map of the Leide and Cleigne areas with more scribbled notes to the side of it. “And looks like her night time excavations were fruitful too.”

The tattooed man picked up a handmade bestiary index of daemons with information on their strengths and weaknesses and thumbed through it with interest. Having his curiosity get the best of him alongside his affinity for tech stuff, Prompto gathered some paper into a neat pile and placed it aside to sit down. He then woke (Y/N)’s laptop from idle mode and saw an interesting piece of information on it.

“Oh Gods… guys, look,” he called in a hushed voice. The three made their way over behind the blond boy and their eyes widened; she somehow managed to get the detailed blueprints to all of Niflheim forts in a 3D wireframe render.

“What’s that stuff scrolling in window on the left there?” Noct asked and pointed to the window on the screen. “I dunno… It’s some kinda code.” “It’s a virus I wrote to shut down the bases’ intruder alert and to deactivate any annoying patrolling MTs,” (Y/N)’s voice replied. “Their security firewalls have proven to be tricky, so I’ve been trying to backdoor it.”

The four whipped their heads up to see her fully refreshed wearing a tank top showing her midriff with black pants similar to Noctis’. The scarring edges from her brand peeked out from underneath with a damp hair towel hung around her neck. Her abnormal colored eyes seemed to have been disguised with a pair of colored contacts.

“And that’s part of your plan to take down their forts?” Gladio asked as she casually walked over to the group. “What’d you think I’d do, run in with my blades and take out the whole fort head-on? That’s suicide.” “Er, that’s what we kinda did...” he nervously blurted out and rubbed the back of his head. “Because someone got careless and we had no choice but to do so,” Ignis snipped and looked in Noct’s direction. “Hey, at least we managed to blow it up,” the prince fought back. “By the skin of our teeth…” the adviser sighed. “What’s important is you all made it out alive,” (Y/N) stated with a finalized tone to end the discussion and placed her hands on her hips. “Just… don’t be so gung-ho next time and try to listen to Ig, yeah? He’s your adviser and only has the best intentions, Prince Noctis. Though he can talk too much…” she trailed off and placed a hand to her chin. “See?! That’s my point!” the dark-haired boy exclaimed and threw his hands up in the air. “If you kept your strategies explanations short, we would’ve followed it better!” “What part of ‘attack’ and ‘hide when necessary’ did you not understand?” “I think the part where you hid those keywords inside your elaborations, Ig,” she commented with a half-amused smirk and crossed her arms.

The three boys let out an audible enough snicker to earn them a stern glare from Ignis and exasperatingly sighed. “I will work on this,” he conceded and decided to change the topic. “(Y/N)… Is it alright for you to be wearing...” his voice tapered off and lightly cleared his throat. “What, this?” She looked down at her top and back up at him. “It’s what the locals wear. Gotta blend in, right?” “I understand that, but… I mean your...” He looked down and discreetly pointed to the left side of his ribcage. “I usually wear something on top to hide it,” she assured and put her now damp hair towel on the back of her wooden dining chair. “Not exactly a badge of honor I can openly show.” “So how did you get this place?” he asked. “As you saw from before, I do favors for the neighbors here by foraging food items they can’t get at the market. And I help out downstairs whenever foraging gigs are slow.” “The hair salon?” Prompto asked. “Nice cover, don’tcha think?” she boasted with a smirk. “If you’re using it as a front for illegal activities, sure,” Gladio joked and paused. “You’re not in… illegal activities, right?” (Y/N) gave him an innocent shrug of the shoulders with a small, devious smile.  “Wouldn’t your family have a safe house for you to use instead?” Noct asked. “It’s safe to assume they have all the information on our hide-outs and previous aliases thanks to my parents.” “So you’re a fugitive,” Prompto guessed. “Thanks to that burn notice, pretty much. Guess all that resourceful training’s finally come handy, eh Ig?” “Hiding in plain sight. I’d say that’s beyond resourceful; it’s risky, but tactical,” he commended. She gave him a small smile and noticed how long their hair’s gotten. (Y/N) then grabbed a clean t-shirt hanging on the other dining chair and threw it on.

“Life on the road’s been tough on you all. You could use a touch up,” she pointed to her damp locks. “Can’t have the prince and his bunch of merry men looking like a ragged hot mess in Altissia.” “We don’t look that bad!” Prompto huffed out. “Even a chocobo’s butt ruffle looks more groomed than what you got goin’ on.” “HEY!” the freckled blond boy angrily shouted over the roaring laughter from Noct and Gladio; Ignis held his in through snickers and shaking shoulders. (Y/N) made her way to the door and proceeded to go downstairs.

“You waitin’ for the grass to grow? Come on!”

Filing back down the stairs, (Y/N) unlocked the entrance to the salon and let them all in. It was a small 3-seater with a classic black-and-white checkered tile floor. Behind the barber seats laid a broken-in leather couch from years of usage. The lights flickered on from the switch by the door, revealing the teal colored painted walls.

“So, who wants to go first?” she asked and the three collectively pointed to Ignis, to which the man merely stammered wordlessly. “It’s not that we don’t trust you with our ‘do...” Prompto hesitantly began. “It totally is,” Noct immediately stated. “But have you even… cut hair before?” the freckled boy finished. “I’m pretty handy with a trimmer. Owner herself taught me.”

She firmly propped her hand over the hair-washing sink with a small smile, waiting for her first “client.” Both Prompto and Noct gave Ignis a steady push with their hands from behind as he turned with an irate expression and tried not to click his tongue.

“C’mon Ig. Not the first time I cut your hair...” “I was hoping that’d be the last...” he said under his breath and reluctantly sat down in the seat, remembering the hack job she gave him back in junior high as a school assignment. He removed his glasses and placed it in his shirt pocket as she tucked a dry towel at the base of his neck and draped a hair smock over him.

“Head back.”

She took out a hot, steamed towel and placed it at the base of his neck for extra cushioning and for him to relax. After testing the warmth of the water from the shower head, she ran it over Ignis’ hair with care. Shutting off the faucet, she then pumped a handful of shampoo to gently massage and lather in. Rinsing out the suds, she gave his hair a firm wring, rubbed some conditioner in before removing the heated towel from his neck and placed it atop his forehead. As if by magic, (Y/N) managed to find the stressed muscles around the base of his skull and temples; Ignis haplessly let a small, relaxed moan escape his lips.

“You guys need to be alone?” Gladio joked aloud from the couch. “Oh, Tiny, trust me: you’ll turn into putty when your turn comes.”

She then gently patted his forehead with the now cooled down cloth before rinsing out the leave-in conditioner and wrung the excess water out a second time.

“Wakey wakey, Ig,” she spoke softly and squeezed his upper arm. He flicked his eyes open in a daze. “My apologies. Must’ve dozed off.”

He held the hair towel firmly around his head and made his way over to the barber seat on the far right. (Y/N) dried him off and massaged his shoulder before getting to work on his hair. “Holy Titan. They’re tougher than the rocks by Coernix Bypass,” she grunted aloud, working on one of the stubborn knots by his shoulder blade. Ignis sucked in a breath and released one of relief, trying his best to not let another moan slip. “You do this with every one?” the prince off-handedly commented. “Special service for the Crownsguard and his majesty only,” she replied with a smirk through the mirrored wall. “They have it tough enough out there protecting you. They need a load off. Ah… There it is.”

Her hand danced over to a specific point on the right side of his shoulder and placed firm pressure on it with her knuckles; he let out a stifled and quiet groan of pleasure, feeling the apples of his cheeks get warm. The guys couldn’t help but snicker again.

“It’s rare to see specs react like this,” said a very amused Noct with a lopsided grin. “Man, I wish this had video recording functions,” the blond boy lamented and looked at his camera. “But I’ll settle for pictures.”

After the quick massage, she got down to business in trimming Ignis’ hair.

“So (Y/N), what ‘bout your job with Ultima?” Gladio enquired. “Doubt you’d wanna cut hair the rest of your life.” “Until the whole team can settle down n’ set up shop, everything’s on hold, including our paychecks,” she replied while brushing a part of his hair with a comb and delicately trimmed it with a pair of scissors. “I’m guessin’ we won’t be expectin’ any patch updates anytime soon then,” Prompto dejectedly guessed. “Sorry. Surviving takes precedent here.”

After twenty minutes, Mr. Scientia felt and looked like a brand new man; she even styled his hair the way he liked it.

“Well?” she asked and held a mirror in her hand so he could see the back of his head. “You’ve improved,” he praised and patted down the lower half of his hair as she playfully rolled her eyes and dusted him off with a barber’s brush from residual hair scraps.

With Ignis’ verbal seal of approval, the rest of the boys were more comfortable and given the same treatment, massages and all. Gladio felt like he was seconds away from pinning (Y/N) down to ravage her in front of them with the way she worked the tightness of his back muscles and hissed out profanities like they were having rough sex. Prompto basked in every second with the most content grin. Even Noct, the squirmiest of the group, was totally unwound. After a bit over an hour, the four splayed out on the seats and sofa completely at ease from the troubles of the world.

“(Y/N)...” Prompto drolled out almost in a slurring manner. “Where did you learn to do that?” “Pressure points and reflexology knowledge come in handy with things other than paralyzing a target, y’know,” she smugly replied and wiped her hands off with a towel. “Marry me...” he proposed, only to be met with a light chuckle. “Tell me that when you’re lucid, dude.”

There was something about the atmosphere in this city that made them completely let loose, despite Niflheim invading. (Y/N) took the time to clean up the scraps of cut hair and threw the used towels into the laundry bin. Feeling rejuvenated and relaxed, they five made their way out to one of the many restaurants around for dinner. While waiting for their food to arrive, they talked over some beer.

“So what brings you to Lestallum anyway?” she asked. “I thought you were gonna ferry over to Altissia from Galdin Quay.” “The boats conveniently stopped running when we got there,” Ignis bitterly replied. “Noct then received a call from Iris after Crown City fell and decided to rendezvous here.” “We’ll be hittin’ the road tomorrow n’ taking her with us,” Gladio added. “Jared told Talcott King Regis has a safe house n’ a boat stashed out in Cape Caem before he...”

The burly man trailed off and looked down at the table, trying his best to hide the pain of losing the trusted family butler. “Jared was a very strong and kind man… He didn’t deserve that. I’m very sorry.” “Were you here when it happened?” Gladio asked in a low, serious voice. She shook her head. “I was on a foraging trip and only heard ‘bout it when I got back. It wasn’t fair… And just another reason to exact revenge.” “We blew up one of their bases,” Noct replied, almost in a bragging way. “I heard that too.”  Ignis immediately cut in and realized something.

“The photo requests of the bases From Vyv… You’re his anonymous tipster.” She looked at him with a small smile, replied with a “Maybe” and shrugged her shoulders. “But were you really gonna raid it yourself?” Prompto asked. “Yes.” “Still a stupid idea,” Gladio remarked and crossed his arms. “You dunno what they’re capable of.” “I know they have exactly four MA-Veles guarding a yet to be functional frequency jammer with a MA-X Cuirass. The shifts of the soldiers change every 20 minutes with a crap ton of Swordsmans, snipers and Shock Troopers stationed at almost all the corners of Fortmouth Garrison.” “You saw this just by surveying that one day?” Ignis asked with a tone of surprise. “Do you really think my ‘foraging’ trips are just as they are?” “Look, we’re not gonna try stoppin’ you...” the guard began. “So don’t.” Noticing the growing irritation on his face, Ignis decided to interject and play the intermediary. “What Gladio’s trying to say is weigh out your options and risks before acting, even if you’ve come up with a plan. Consider the feelings of those who’ve grown to care for you here if something were to happen. How would you repay their kindness if you’re dead?”

(Y/N) exhaled a long breath through her nose and sat back in the plastic chair with crossed arms, mildly squeezing her eyes closed.

“I hate you all.” “Whatever for?” “Implanting a conscience and moral compass in me,” she flatly answered. “You’re making it hard to be dark and broody.” “That’s what we’re here for!” Prompto beamed with a toothy smile. “Argh, the light...” (Y/N) deadpanned and mockingly shielded her face from him.

Their food order finally came through and feasted over Spicy Skewers, Offal Stew, and Bird-Broth Rice with Curry. With their stomachs full, they all leisurely strolled around town to take in the night life. Gladio nudged Noct’s arm and gestured with his head at Ignis’ direction with (Y/N). The crown prince took the hint.

“I’m gonna head back to the hotel,” he announced. “I’m sleepy.” “N’ I wanna get in a few rounds of ‘King’s Knight’ before I turn in,” Prompto added. “I’ll join ‘em,” Gladio offered. “Sure you two got stuff to catch up on.” “Well, that wasn’t subtle,” (Y/N) commented and watched the three brothers trek off into the night. “It was never their forte.”

The two softly laughed and went off in the other direction at a slow, casual pace. They saw several of the EXTERNIS workers grab a late dinner and drinks after their shift.

As they walked on, (Y/N) mentally reminded herself this will be the last time she’ll see Ignis before going dark. Keeping her distance would be the best for his safety and perhaps, the way to forget him.

But could she really do it?

[fancymuffinparty]

Kill Your Darlings

Rating: T-M; for graphic violent content

Pairing: Platonic Levi and Mikasa

Summary:  X-Men/Mutant AU. Mutants Levi and Mikasa cross paths, both seeking to escape dark forces.  (wolverine!Levi, x-23!Mikasa)

Word Count: 1682

A/N:  (Also posted on Archive of Our Own!) Originally intended for this to be a drabble of less than 500 words but I just had to expand on it a little more! Got carried away with the violence, but *shrugs*, ain’t like we’re not used to this kind of stuff. If you’ve seen Logan, you won’t be shocked like at all lol. I’ve seen Logan too many times already and it inspired me to write this piece featuring my faves; Humanity’s Strongest Pair. Hope you enjoy this random-as-hell crossover/x-men fusion one-shot!

“She’s like you… very much like you…”

The first time he sees her, she has just ripped a man’s head off, dual claws protruding from her fists.

He’s amazed that so much rage is embodied deep within such a small girl, her stature appearing deceptively fragile yet far more powerful than what meets the eye.

Only a few feet away, Levi watches in awe as he’s held back, subdued by metal restraints. The girl hastily pries a few bullets from her torso. A few have strayed onto her forearm, which she sucks out of her regenerative skin, blood now smearing around the corners of her mouth.

She’s… healing…

Like he can.

Suddenly, another adversary charges straight for her, nearly tackling her to the dirt-laden ground. She narrowly escapes his attack by dashing out of his reach and retaliates by thrusting her arms forward, the blades at her knuckles piercing into the man’s chest.

Levi propels himself back into the fight. In fitful rage, he releases his own claws and liberates himself from the restraints. There’s three claws on each hand in contrast to the girl’s twin blades. He swings both fists diagonally at the opposing men on each side, slicing their arms clean off. Blood flies in all directions, spurting from the lacerations, splattering onto his clothes and on the ground.

An enemy behind him attempts to subjugate his erratic evasion with electrifying chains, only to be eviscerated seconds later when they fail to inflict any damage on the raging mutant. Levi instantly heals from its shocking mechanism and lands a few serrated blows into the enemy’s midsection, guts spilling out.

Finished taking down his captors, Levi heeds the high-pitched shrieking emerging from the young girl. The desperate cry for help bellows from deep inside her lungs as she’s abruptly caught in a choke-hold, struggling against two men.

She resorts to ejecting the blades in her feet to counter the attack. She bluntly kicks forward, stabbing the man in his abdomen. His grip on her loosens as he falls to his knees, clutching at the wound in agony.

The young girl sets her sights to the second man, executing an aerial kick aimed directly for the jugular. Deep hues of crimson paint the ground when the claw in her foot connects with its target. His attempted defense is no match for her electric speed and agility, as quickly evidenced by the severed artery of his neck.

They’re still in this fight. Levi leaves his blades drawn, knowing full-well it’s never this easy.

Just as he’s predicted, more men come to encircle them.

Levi finds himself back to back with the young mutant, small incoherent growls succeeding the heaves of her chest.

Surrounded, they brace themselves for what’s to come.

He hadn’t meant to form this rather unconventional alliance with her, but Levi knows that if he wants to make it out alive, he’ll need all the help he can get. He’s been in similar situations plenty of times before, where he’d been forced to rely on his mutant powers and abilities to defend himself, but this time he knows the roots of it are much darker.

He knows why these men are after them. These men were sent by a sinister corporation; operating as a genetic research project to create weapons through the experimentation of mutant DNA. They essentially want to recall their property, for purposes that are all but for the good of mankind.

He’s been nicknamed the “Kuzuri,” but his name is Levi.

“X-23” is what they call her, but her name is Mikasa.

The merciless sun overhead beats down on them, its blinding array and blistering heat burning into exposed skin. One of the men fidgets, startling a foolhardy Mikasa on high alert. She swiftly reacts by leaping forward, pouncing on the man in a barbaric act of hatred-fueled aggression; the way a predator moves on its prey. She catapults her small frame ahead to the next man, hacking away in rapid succession until all that’s left are entrails and the shredded remains of his corpse.

Levi advances in strategic motions, reading his opponent’s moves like an open book. Striking one man in the eye with his left claws, and disemboweling another man with the claws sheathed in his right hand, he rotates his body around to confront the remaining foes. He keeps at it, utilizing his heightened reflexes and combat skills to put an end to this, not wanting to drag this out any longer than it needs to be.

Piling body upon body, Levi and Mikasa recommence their teamwork, taking on hostiles simultaneously. As Levi becomes occupied with one particularly malicious assailant, Mikasa hurls herself from Levi’s back, using it as a means to launch herself directly onto an additional enemy sporting a mask and protective gear unique to the guards working at the facility she was raised in.

One man abruptly unloads a machine gun amid all the chaos, shooting wildly at the raven-haired duo. Horrified to discover the bullets are useless on the pair of now healing mutants, he stumbles back and hysterically shouts expletives in despair.

He continues to shoot anyway, the shrieks gutting out from Mikasa and the grunts of pain from Levi sending the crazed shooter into a world of terror.

After enduring an excruciating barrage of bullets, Levi eventually reaches the man, seizing him by the midsection with his blades. He relishes in the dying man’s groans before putting him out of his misery, decapitating the trigger-happy bastard with a heavy-fisted hook.

There’s still a few hostiles left over, and Levi is hell-bent on eliminating them all. He pursues the matter fiercely, initiating hand to hand combat with one particularly skilled assailant. Mikasa jolts forward, sent into berserk rage after taking damage from a flying knife.

She somersaults into the air, ultimately landing atop her opponent’s shoulders, coiling her legs around them roughly. After drilling both claws into his skull, she back-flips off his shoulders, watching as he falls into a pool of his own blood.

The number of foes has drastically reduced and Levi finally prepares to confront the last man standing, with Mikasa positioning herself at his side.

Staring menacingly at the ultimate rival, Levi doesn’t bother wiping the blood off his blades before tearing away, like scissors cutting into paper. Mikasa only stands by and watches, unfazed by all the gore and bloodshed that’s surely obliterated her innocence.

The man forges a defensive maneuver, seeking to evade Levi’s wrath and ward off his attacks through a series of hastily implemented punches and kicks. Levi rapidly executes an unexpected uppercut, ramming his claws up the man’s jaw, finishing him off with a merciless slash to his vulnerable cranium. Blood spurts sporadically like ribbons and flows out of the wound like an engorged fountain.

It’s over.

All is quiet… all is still for what feels like an eternity.

Severed limbs and pools of blood are all that remain, the silence in the air plagued with nothing more than death and freshly torn flesh. The gravity of the situation has yet to behoove either of them, both still trying to catch their breath, relieved that it’s all over. Levi knows that the facility will send more men after them. They won’t give up until the elusive pair of mutants have been captured; until their property has been retrieved.

But he refuses to worry about that… for now.

In the meantime, there are far more pressing matters he must attend to.

This… kid being one of them.

He’s unsure what to make of her initially. From outward appearances, if one were to dismiss the blood stains all over her clothes, she seems to be an ordinary girl. An unshakable feeling overwhelms him when he comes to realize he knows exactly what she is. Who she is. She’s an exact replica of him, except of the female sort.

What are they supposed to do now? Where can they go?

One could say it was fate that brought them together, as though destiny had intervened to bring forth the promise of an attainable freedom from the hellish nightmare they’ve endured since their conception.

They are the last of the Ackermans, rare mutants, remnants of a time when heroes with special abilities walked the earth. The last of a dying breed.

Levi prides himself in living by one basic principle; to only look out for himself. He could just leave her, walk away, and pretend they never met. The same happened to him when he was her age. His uncle, the only guardian he’s ever had his whole life, left him after teaching him how to utilize his powers and fend for himself.

Being a lone wolf and drifting from place to place is all he knows, something he’s grown accustomed to.

But in spite of himself, he stops and pauses.

He curses into the thick air, telling himself he should just go, that she’s not his problem, that he doesn’t give a fuck what happens to her.

Except, the look on her face mirrors that of the one he imagines was etched on his own all those years ago when he was abandoned.

Like a neglected cub, she’s looking for guidance and shelter; from her own kind.

He lets out a sharp breath, nodding at her.

“Come on then.”

The command prompts her to trail behind him, her claws retracting back into her swollen, bruised fists.

She follows him without question.

Levi is aware they’ll be on the run for a while. They’ll constantly be looking over their shoulder, sleeping with one eye open, fighting when backed into a corner.

But at least now he has… purpose.

Gone are his miserable days of wandering around aimlessly, as if waiting to die and finally meet an unceremonious end. He used to believe immortality was a curse, that death was a merciful escape from this cruel world.

Levi has a reason to fight on. If not for himself, then for her. To ensure the survival of his newfound next of kin.

The wolf must protect his cub.