#thank you for saying this cause that chapter would not have seen ao3 again

[minthandsoap]

hi, i don't know if you deleted the valentine's day fic of limoreau or it's just a problem with ao3, but i couldn't find it anymore 😭 i was gonna read again while waiting for part 2 but i didn't find it

whomp. totally forgot I did that. I completely forgot I created a work solely for one shots so deleted it there and put it as a new chapter under my Limoreau One Shots!

Won't lie to you, did that just now but it's here I swear

[hiddenzev]

Second Confession: Final Part

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: Something happened to reader, causing Joel to take care of her. A happily ever after.

Chapter Warnings - Fluff, Idiots in Love, (let me know if i missed anything)

WC: 13.3K

series masterlist, AO3

A/N: The hardest chapter for me to write yall that's why it took me longer to write. It could be better but I hope you guys love the closure. Thank you for taking the time to read this story!!

Breathing in the crisp and refreshing morning air, leaving fresh hoof prints in the snow that has piled up over the night, you’re out for the supply run with Joel this morning. It had started snowing a few days after that night at the bar like you guessed. With one horse each, both of you are riding along the trees in the woods in silence.

Ever since the outburst of emotions between you and him, he has been keeping true to the words of giving you as much time and space as you need before coming around to him again and he took it way too seriously. You never see him in the library after that or the town hall or anywhere else. As a matter of fact, it’s like he has disappeared from the face of this earth. He is avoiding you as much as possible.

You use that time to comprehend everything that happened during that exchange and properly consider the actions that you should take after that. The apology from him was unexpected and it caught you off guard. Time and time again, you would see the big brown puppy eyes that were gazing into yours, begging you for forgiveness, in your head throughout the whole day. The sincerity that you see from the desperation in his eyes, the trembling of his strained voice, moist lush lips from his constant nervous licking to the soft touch of his fingers on yours. You have never seen this side of him up close before and it shook your determination to not let him get to you again.

During those days that you didn’t see him, it felt kind of empty. It’s the first time he was out of your sight for more than a day and you get the feeling of ambivalence. On one side, you get to think more clearly without him affecting you in a physical way but on the other hand, you miss him a little bit. The constant consumption of his presence vanished and it bombarded you with the longing to see him even if it is just for a second.

He definitely needs to show more through his actions if he wants to be forgiven. You’re not going to let him off the hook easily just by him apologising like he did that night. Like he said, he should do whatever it takes to make it all up to you. At the same time, you want to be a better person and not treat him like shit at least. To give him the chance to prove himself that he do want your forgiveness.

The silence of the supply run is suffocating but you don’t mind it as you make up for the time that you were not able to see him by staring at him from the back as long as you can. As much as he frustrates you, you will never get bored of looking at him. As if he could sense that you were staring at him, he glances back to say that you both are nearing the first checkpoint to take a break. By this time during your usual patrols, the both of you would have already start to make your way back to Jackson. This is going to be way more taxing but you know you got to push through it.

Surrounded by some bushes and trees, you and Joel are sitting facing each other, resting. You packed enough food for at least 2 days, packing as light as possible for the travels and supplies. You’re munching on the last few bites of your sandwich when Joel hands a small cup of his coffee to you. You raise your eyebrows at him, not expecting him to share any of his beloved coffee with you. He points with his chin, telling you to drink it.

“Thank you.”

You hand him the cup back after finishing the coffee within a couple of gulps. You didn’t bring any coffee with you unlike Joel who is definitely a caffeine addict. Coffee is a scarce resource so to have him sharing it with you is definitely surprising when he doesn’t even want to share it with Tommy.

“I think we should pick up the pace if we want to reach there before it gets dark,” he says while looking out at the sky.

“Okay. Let’s move on now.”

You stand up and brush off the food crumbs and dirt on your pants. You move to your horse and make sure everything is alright before getting on it. Joel’s eyes follow your every movement and slowly make his way to his horse.

“Cmon Miller, we’ve got no time. Pick up the pace.” you jokingly nag at him as you watch him strap his stuffs back on the horse.

The goofiness in you just want to poke some fun at him since the whole trip from the start has been a boring nightmare. Raw dogging the whole ride on a horse with a quiet and stoic man like your partner is actually brutal to your sanity right now.

He looks back at you, annoyed. You want to let out a laugh so bad but you keep it in. Instead, a small smirk creeps out of your mouth as you look down at him. Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of your smile, you turn your head to the side to hide it. Joel glares at you but his eyes soften when he catches that smirk of yours that you are trying to hide from him. He almost smile but straighten himself out and gets on the horse.

Both of you make your way to the designated spot to search for supplies in a faster speed than before. Eventually, you and Joel arrive there a couple hours before the sun goes down. From a distance, you can see there is a couple of cabin houses. Joel slows down and you follow suit, sensing that you should be cautious and ready if anything is going to happen. You scan the surrounding areas with sharp eyes, not wanting to miss something weird going on.

Joel leads you to a nearby tree to the nearest house, tying the horses to it. With rifles already gripped, both of you look at each other to discuss the plan.

Joel steps closer to you, eyes unwavering, whispering the plan, “We’ll check the houses one by one first. You stay close behind me and check our six. You see something, you let me know,” you nod, staring into his eyes, “If there’s no one, we’ll discuss more after. Ready? Stay sharp.”

“Stay sharp.” You echo his words and with determined glint in yours and Joel’s eyes, both of you start walking slowly to the nearest house first.

Joel is moving forward while you are checking the six, moving backwards towards Joel. You scan slowly if there’s anything or anyone hiding behind the trees. There’s no boot prints or any animal prints in sight except yours and Joel’s as you move. Reaching the first house, Joel opens the door easily as it wasn’t locked. Everything seems intact in their respective places, dusts everywhere meaning there wasn’t anyone that came around recently. But still, both of you are careful in exploring the place.

Joel and you check out the other houses as well and as you thought, this whole area hasn’t been infiltrated by anybody else for quite some time. There is an empty shed right beside the first cabin which Joel uses to shelter the horses for the night. After ransacking the houses, the both of you move the supplies found to the same shed and pack the things properly for the ride back to Jackson tomorrow.

The sun is setting once both of you are done with it and Joel is getting ready to warm the place up using the fireplace in the house. There’s only one couch that is big enough for one person to lie down on. Other than that, there are only a couple of wooden chairs around. You push the couch nearer to the fireplace and sits down on one side of it, watching Joel lit the fireplace up.

After making sure the fire is burning okay on its own, Joel moves back to the other end of the couch. You can hear his knees cracking as he sits, sighing heavily as his head reach the back of the couch. He closes his eyes as he listens to the cracking of the fire. You turn to look at him resting, taking in everything that you can to memory. His chest moving up and down slowly as he breathes. Noticing his beard and hair thicker and longer than it was a couple weeks before.

“I can feel you staring at me.” he speaks, breaking the silence in the cabin.

You look away to gaze at the fire as if you were not just staring at him.

“I wasn’t,” you deny.

“Yeah right.” He opens his eyes slightly to look at you while you tried to maintain your lie by focusing on the fire.

It is getting awkward again so you take out the food that you stored in your bag to eat for your dinner. Distracting yourself with food, Joel does the same thing, taking out a small packet of salad to eat. You notice that he was only eating greens which makes you wonder how the hell is he getting the strength without any protein in his food. The meat lover in you wouldn’t survive with just greens but hey, beggars can’t be choosers, you get it.

“Just salad?” You subconsciously frown as you ask him.

He snaps his head to you, surprised that you are making conversation with him, “No. I was short on protein. Only had the jerky which I stupidly left in my kitchen.” He looks forlorn like a kid being sad about the candy that dropped on the floor.

You hand him one of your leftover sandwiches that you have. You don’t mind giving him one because you made a bunch of sandwiches which is more than enough for you alone. He shakes his head refusing to take it.

“It’s fine. It’s your portion for tomorrow.” He refuses while picking at his salad.

“Nah, I’m good. I have more than enough.” You reassure him, not taking a no for an answer.

He takes the sandwich with hesitation, thanking you and takes a small bite out of it. You finish yours while glancing at him from time to time, making sure he is finishing his meal. He tries to hand you his coffee after the dinner but you refuse it this time because you needed to sleep soon. Both of you are slumping against the couch, legs stretched out, falling into the comfort of the night. You are in a daze as you stay still, fire gazing, before he speaks again.

“I read your letter.” He murmurs in a soft voice.

You keep quiet thinking about the letter that you wrote. You can vaguely remember word for word but you definitely know the highlights of it. Your face burns from the embarrassment again.

“I didn’t know how deep your feelings were before reading it. I’m sorry again for being a dick.”

You look down on your hands, not knowing where to look and what to say.

“I love the horse piece by the way. It’s beautiful. You should try to carve more often.” His eyes focuses on you when you turn your head to him.

His eyes twinkles with the reflection of the fire in front of the both of you.

“I thought you must have thrown it away after seeing your reaction that night,” Looking away from him, reminiscing what happened.

“I didn’t,” he shakes his head, feeling disappointed in himself for reacting badly.

The silence grow stronger as he is wallowing in sorrow of that night.

“How about the, uh, guitar pick?” In a quiet voice you ask.

He huffs softly thinking about it, “It’s so corny.” A small curl at the end of his mouth appears as he talks about it, his eyes everywhere else but you. He doesn’t know why he’s feeling shy from talking about it or maybe it’s just you that is affecting him.

“Ellie saw it one time and kept pestering me about why I didn’t tell her that I found it.” He shakes his head, almost smiling, remembering how annoying Ellie was with the bad jokes.

“So you didn’t tell her how?” you’re full on looking at him now, intrigue with this openness from him.

“I didn’t,” he shakes his head and glance at you with an unreadable gaze, “want it to be my own little secret for a bit.”

You blink a couple times at him, flustered by his reply. Meanwhile, his eyes are gazing into yours without a blink. You clear your throat, adjusting your position a little trying to be nonchalant about it.

“Did you tell her about the gifts? Because she’s been on my ass about it recently.” He continues the conversation.

“Yeah. Knew she’s gonna kick your ass about it. Can’t say you didn’t deserve it though…” you shrug your shoulders, giving him an awkward look.

“I still do deserve it.” He sits up and lean forward to rest his elbows on his thighs.

“I want to let you know that I am sincere with everything that I said that night. I’m terrible with this…feelings stuff but,” he pauses to look at you, “I will do my best to regain your affection.” He says in a firm and soothing tone.

Hearing his determination to redeem himself outright to you, it makes you speechless. You just have to see through his actions as time goes by. He breaks the eye contact and stands up to pick up his rifle.

“I’ll take the first shift. Get some sleep.” He takes a couple seconds to look at you, making sure you’re okay before making his way out of the door to check if there’s anything dangerous outside.

You proceed to lie down on the sofa, resting your head on the arm rest as you face the ceiling. Too tired to think of the conversation with Joel a couple of minutes ago, you fall into a deep slumber almost straight away.

Your eyes blink open to a brighter surrounding. The sun is starting to rise and you can hear the chirps of the birds in a distance. In a daze, you look around wondering why Joel didn’t wake you up. You notice he is sitting on the floor, leaning his side against the front of the couch seat. His head is resting sideways on the seat, facing you and almost touching your hip. His face is calm without his usual frown and you can hear his soft snoring as you stay still. His body probably going to ache so bad after this.

Your hands are twitching, wanting to caress his head but you hold back that thought, clenching your fists. You can only take this time to take in his features as he sleeps, wishing things were simpler but you get up from the sofa silently after watching him for awhile before you make any stupid decisions.

He must be in a deep sleep because he does not even move even after the rustling that you made on the sofa. You grab your rifle and get out of the cabin to check on the horses and be on watch before it’s time for you to wake Joel up. The cold air that suddenly hit you as you step out, gave you the shivers so you adjust your jacket right away, zipping it all the way up to keep yourself warm. Gripping the rifle tight, you keep your guard up as you look around for potential threats.

You didn’t find anything amiss as you make your way to the shed so once you are nearby, you sling your rifle back on your shoulders to open the shed door. The horses greet you with a few nickers as soon as they notice you coming in.You smile while giving them a couple of firm pats on their shoulders, rubbing their sides and even nuzzle your face against the neck of your horse, finding some comfort in it. Then, you make sure once again that everything is settled and ready to go.

You sit down at the corner of the shed, somewhere near the door that you left slightly ajar. Still reeling in the relaxation of the morning, you observe the horses across the other side of the shed. Once you realise that you should get back to Joel, you hear a strange noise not too far away, With no time wasted, you move cautiously to the door, hands gripping the rifle as your heartbeat starts to rise.

There isn’t much that you could see as you take a peep through the space left open by the door. You squint your eyes to see a few figures through the soft fluttering snow so you bring the rifle up and point towards them. You place your cheek by the stock of the rifle and look through the scope to have a clearer view. This time, there are shivers running down your spine, not from the cold but from what you see.

Your eyes widen as you take in the clickers approaching the cabin house. You should have guessed it from their erratic movements. There are three of them that you can count in your sight. Your mind is running in full speed, thinking the possibilities that you can take from this point onwards. Joel is probably in the house, still deep in sleep and they are coming in hot.

Without much thought, you take a few controlled breaths before shooting at one of them. Headshot, it falls to the ground, dead. The other two changes their direction towards the shed and started to pick up the speed, sprinting. The horses behind you are grunting noisily, restless after hearing the gunshot but that didn’t distract you from hitting the targets that are coming. The remaining two clickers finally went down after taking a couple of shots to their bodies and heads.

“Fuckin’ hell” you whisper under your breath as you look back at the horses, checking if they are okay.

You continue to take a few deep breaths before opening the door and steps out of the shed carefully to go back to Joel. As soon as you do that, you hear snarling coming from your right and you turn to see another group of clickers, only a few metres away, heading towards you.

“Oh shit!” You exclaim before making a run in the opposite direction, towards the woods.

You turn back a few times to take a few shots at the clickers, successfully getting two of them. There are five more on your heels, still charging towards you.

“JOOOEEELLLL!” You shout for him as loud as you can, multiple times, as you try to keep the distance and kill the clickers.

Luring them towards you, you can only hope Joel wakes up to get them from behind.

“Cmon Joel,” you beg to no one but yourself, “wake up!” You scream helplessly.

As if Joel could telepathically read your mind, you spot him over the shoulders of the clickers, coming out of the house frantically. Then, you hear a few gunshots which brings you a slight relief that he is awake finally.

Now that he is up, you plan to get back to him but you have to make it past the remaining two clickers that are still alive. You need to reload the rifle but with their arms flailing, trying to claw at you, you are not able to do it. In a haste, you duck down to get the knife that you had strapped in your boot. Popping the blade out, you stab one in the head, twisting the knife before pulling it out in one swift motion. One more kill.

Joel is making his way to where you are at while shooting the ones that are coming for him. In a blink, the two clickers drop dead at his feet as his running speed starts to increase towards you, worried. He sees you stabbing one of them in the head before dodging the arm of the other one that tries to attack you.

You avoid all of the aggressive flailing of its arms and move around it to run towards Joel. You take a couple steps but you didn’t notice the large roots of the surrounding trees which are covered in snow, resulting in you tripping and falling head first onto a rock. This causes Joel to scream your name in a bellowing voice, his stomach drops, seeing the scene that is unfolding in front of his eyes.

You tried to move but the overwhelming pounding in your head from the fall makes you freeze. With your head down on the ground, you slowly bring your hands up to clutch your head in pain. You can faintly hear the clicking behind you as you are lying on your stomach. You close your eyes shut, with a pained hiss as you think that this is the last moment of your life before getting bit. However, as you lay there helplessly, you didn’t feel any biting but only the throbbing at the side of your head.

Suddenly, you feel a pair of strong hands grabbing your arms, which causes you to flinch. Joel flips you around slowly, resting your head on one of his thighs as you look up at him. He looks down at you with wide eyes that are examining your face quickly and mouth slightly ajar as he takes long, dragged breaths. He moves your hair away from your face and checks out the cut from the fall with the touch of a feather. You feel warm liquid trickling down your head as his finger accidentally grazes the pained area which makes you scrunch your face and whimpers.

“I know, I know. You’re going to be okay.” He says in a reassuring voice.

In your head, you want to say something sarcastic like, ‘Took you long enough’ but all that comes out from your mouth is just unintelligible mumbling because of the concussion which takes the articulation out of you.

“Can you move?” He asks with a raspy voice, eyes boring into yours.

You nod slightly with a weak voice, “Yeah.”

The both of you get up slowly with one of his hands holding your arm and the other, around your waist. You pause after standing up, taking a moment before moving to stabilise yourself. Your vision is kind of blurry but you push through the dizziness while still holding onto Joel. You can see your bright red blood in contrast to the shallow white snow on the ground. With him by your side, not letting go of your waist, you stagger back to the shed, passing by all the dead bodies of clickers.

You reach the shed without much complications with the help of Joel. He sits you down on the stool that you were sitting at not too long ago before the disaster that you were in. The headache is still prominent but you don’t want to be a burden and prolong the journey back to Jackson. Not only that, you start to feel some parts of your body aching from the fall as your adrenaline level starts to reduce. You are sure there are going to be some bruises and wounds on your body from the impact of the fall but you are more worried about your bleeding head.

Meanwhile, Joel rushes out of the shed to check the house again if there’s anything that has been left behind. He comes storming back to the shed glancing at you to see how you are keeping up. You are taking deep breaths to try and ease the pain but it doesn’t really help you. He goes straight to his bag to grab some stuffs out of it and comes kneeling in front of you, eyes levelling with yours. The whole time your face is scowling from the throbbing pain, it’s difficult for you to keep your eyes open.

He pours some water on a small towel to clean the blood that is smearing the side of your face, down to your chin. You open your eyes slightly, taking in the way his forehead creases, eyebrows knitted and eyes unblinking as he cleans your face gently. However, you don’t have the luxury of time to be lost in him when the ache keeps on increasing. He takes your hand and gives you a small cloth, telling you to keep pressing it on the open cut to slow down the bleeding. You hesitantly do so, sucking in a breath due to the stinging from the contact. He wraps your head with a long shredded piece of cloth to help it stay intact.

“Eyes on me.” You hear him say once he finishes with it.

You look straight at him, biting your lip.

“I’m going to get you on the horse, okay? We’re going back to Jackson right now as fast as we can.” He explains to you in a low, steady voice, grounding you.

“Okay.” You whisper in a strained voice.

He leans in closer to cup your face with his gloved hands that warms your cheek, “You’re going to be okay. I got you so just hold on for a bit longer.”

HIs eyes darting between the both of your eyes for a few seconds before getting up to get everything set and ready to go. Once everything is ready, he move the horses outside. You follow suit with staggering steps as you approach him. He gets a hold of you the moment he notices you walking up to him without his help. Somehow, he manage to get you up on the horse and he is seated closely right behind you. His arms surround you as he holds on to the reins while his thighs cage your legs. The warmth emitting from the closeness of his body engulfs you all of a sudden as he nudges the horse to move.

About 30 minutes of riding, you start to feel way more dizzy. The continuous motion of riding mixed with the blinding daylight is causing you to feel lightheaded and nauseous. You cannot help but to lean back on Joel’s chest, resting your head on one of his shoulders, as you grimace in all of the sickening symptoms you are facing. Your hands reach out to grab whatever parts of him that you can, his thighs and his arms, clenching it tightly. Nails that are covered by your gloves can still be felt digging into his clothes.

“I know, baby, I know.” You feel his warm breath at the top of your head, not even registering him calling you baby as you wince, eyes keeping shut.

“Cmon, stay with me.” He murmurs with a wobbly voice in anxiety, seeing you in excruciating pain.

Your hearing is already reduced and whatever Joel says sounds muffled to you. All you can hear is the rapid heartbeat of yours. Within seconds, you lose consciousness and your body goes limp. Joel uses his arms to keep you steady while still holding on to the reins. He calls out your name louder for a few more times but you did not respond, causing him to slow down to check your pulse. He removes his glove to touch your neck and he feels the coldness of your body against his hand. After making sure that you are still breathing, he picks up the speed, arms circling your waist as his front sticks to your back like glue to share his body warmth with yours.

Throughout the journey back, you are in and out of consciousness from the overwhelming pain and the blood loss. Joel had stop multiple times to give you a few drops of water so that you would not be dehydrated. It is all a blur to you and you just wish to be back in Jackson already.

“TOMMY!” Joel’s yelling makes everyone in the nearby vicinity turn their heads. He shouts for Tommy as soon as the gates open.

Tommy, Maria and a few others patrollers are waiting by the gates as they were starting to get worried, not seeing any glimpse of you and Joel a few hours ago and now, it’s already getting dark. When the gates open, they rush to Joel to help you off the horse. Eddie, your previous patrol partner before Joel, carries you to the infirmary with Maria beside him. Joel gets off the horse, letting the other people to take over the horses and supplies and hurries to follow where you are brought to.

“What happened?” Tommy asks while running back towards Eddie with Joel.

“We were attacked by some clickers back at the cabin house.” Joel answers with eyes fixed on your form being carried by Eddie.

“Did she get bit?”

“I don’t think so,” Joel blinks, eyebrows furrowed.

“You didn’t check?” Tommy asks with a louder voice than before.

Joel didn’t respond, his jaws clenched. He knows he should have checked whether you got bit but he wasn’t thinking clearly. Getting you somewhere safe was his only priority at that time.

“Joel-“

“I didn’t check.” He stops outside of the infirmary doors and turns to Tommy, glaring with fiery eyes.

“She was bleeding out from the head, Tommy, and I can only think of bringing her back here safely.” Joel argues, already stressed about you and now his brother is trying to lecture him about his mistake.

He goes in, pushing the doors aggressively, leaving Tommy to chase after him. He approaches your bed which are already crowded with the only doctor and a couple of nurses on duty in Jackson, checking your condition. He joins Maria and Eddie that are waiting a few steps away from the foot of the bed. Joel cannot keep his eyes away from you. His heart is still racing from the adrenaline rush. You are still unconscious and the blood is trickling down from your head as the doctor loosens the stained alternative bandage to check the open wound to mend it later on. The nurses continue to check the other parts of your body for other wounds or bite marks, just in case. To check, they have to undress you and that is when Maria guides the group of them watching, to wait outside at the waiting area.

Eddie has to go off to check on the horses and the supplies that were brought back, telling Maria to update him on your status. Maria and Tommy thank him for his help while Joel gives him a silent nod. His arms folded while he leans on one foot to the other, pacing back and forth from time to time, staring at the door to the ward room. He looks back on what happened back at the cabin house and he thinks the state that you are in right now is somehow his fault. He shouldn’t have fallen asleep and let you fight the clickers by yourself. He should have protected you from this situation. He runs his fingers through his hair, scratching his head as he feels guilty.

Tommy and Maria doesn’t say a word, seeing Joel already agitated from you being injured. The three of them wait in silence before the doctor comes out to let them know how you are holding up.

“Her heartbeat is stable now. I’ve already stitched the open wound on her head to stop the bleeding. She must have taken a hard impact of a fall seeing the bruises on the left side of her body, especially the shoulder and the arm. Luckily, there isn’t any broken bone or bite marks. For now, we’ll keep on looking after her and wait til she wakes up.” The doctor informs the three of them.

Joel rubs his face as he releases a sigh of relief knowing that you’re okay now. Maria and Tommy hold hands, comforting each other, relieved as well.

“Can I see her now?” Joel in a rush to get back to you after hearing everything from the doctor.

“Of course,” The doctor gives Joel a tight smile.

Joel goes back in to the room after murmuring his thanks to the doctor, not looking back.

“Thank you, Remy, as always.” Maria shakes Remy’s hands before walking hand in hand with Tommy to the ward room.

Joel pulls a chair close to your bed and sits on it, eyes fixed on you. The nurses has already changed you out of your clothes to a more comfortable patient gown. Your stitches is covered with a pad to keep it dry. He notices the red bruises on your shoulders that is peeking out of the gown and there are also a few scrapes on your arms like the doctor had said. He can feel his heart breaks a little, looking at your injuries. He raises his hand to swipe at your cheek gently, feeling your soft skin. He sees your eyes flutter slightly from the touch but still not opening awake.

Tommy clears his throat causing Joel to freeze from what he was doing. He glances back at Tommy and Maria who is observing him and clasps his hands together between his thighs. Shying away from the looks of them, Joel keeps his eyes on your face.

“We’re glad the both of you are okay.” Maria speaks to Joel.

Joel as usual, doesn’t speak but gives a slight nod to what Maria said.

“She’ll be fine Joel. Don’t stress yourself out more than necessary.” Tommy tries to comfort his brother who is clearly defeated from the hours of travelling and tending to your unconscious body.

Tommy and Maria stays there for a while more before leaving to let Joel be alone with you.

“Do you want me to bring you dinner?” Tommy asks him.

“I’m good,” Joel shakes his head, not having the appetite to eat.

“Alright. Do you want me to tell Ellie that you’re here?”

Joel looks up at Tommy, momentarily realises that he was not thinking about Ellie at all,  “Let her know that we're fine. I don’t want her to stay up waiting for me, I’ll see her in the morning.” Tommy places his hand on Joel’s shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze and heads out with Maria, leaving Joel alone, keeping his eyes on you.

The following morning, Joel is dozing off in his seat beside you, heads nodding awake time and time again. He clearly needs a proper sleep but he is fighting it off, wanting to be by your side when you wake up. With half-lidded eyes, he looks at you who is still in the same position as yesterday night. Throughout the night, he has pull his chair even closer to you. Holding your hand which seems to fit right with his, caressing your head when he hears your little whimpers, softly running his hands through your hair. He wants to keep doing that but it will be even better when you’re not lying sick in bed and is actually awake.

He stands up carefully to go home and freshen up before coming back to look after you. He also have to explain to Ellie about what had happened so she wouldn’t be worried. He gives you a last long look, eyes sunken deeply in sadness before turning around to leave while the nurses give morning greetings to him as he goes.

Not long after, your eyes slowly opens to an unfamiliar ceiling. You can feel a slight ache on your head, not remembering what happened when it suddenly hits you. The memory of the supply run, the clickers and the way you fell resulting in you being out of consciousness. Then, a face comes to your mind. Joel. Joel! Where is he? Where is this place?

You hear footsteps coming towards you. You try to get up from the bed but your body is too weak so you give up in doing so. A familiar face comes into view and you realises that she is one of the nurses in Jackson. She looks away from her board to see you looking at her with confusion on you face.

“Oh! You’re awake. Great to see you again.” She smiles at you, coming closer to check how you are doing.

She presses a stethoscope to your chest to listen to your heartbeat while you are still confused on how you are back in Jackson. She continues to check your eyes and your hearing before letting you know about your health state right now.

“Everything is good but you will still feel dizzy and nauseous, don’t worry, it’s normal after an injury like yours. Your muscles will still be weak and your body will ache for awhile. These symptoms can last for a couple days and up to a few weeks, depends on the how serious the injury is. You can be discharged tomorrow but we advise that you have someone to check up on you, in case anything happens.” She explains to you calmly.

You on the other hand, are at loss of words as you listen to her, still disoriented from just waking up a couple of minutes ago.

“I don’t have anyone to ask. I only have myself.” In a soft voice, you uttered defeatedly. You do not want to be another burden to someone else.

“I’m sure Joel Miller doesn’t mind it.” She mention casually, handing you a cup of water to drink. You pause for a moment, blinking at her blankly and takes the cup.

“Joel?” You stammers out his name, not expecting him to be mentioned.

“Yeah. He was here all night. It was so sweet to see the grumpiest man in Jackson caring for someone.” She gives you a pleased smile, “He left shortly before you were awake.”

You glance at the seat by your bed, knowing he was sitting right there for the night. Your heart skips a beat, imagining him looking at you for that whole time. You’re in your own thoughts when the nurse speaks again.

“Rest up for now. Just call for me if you need anything, alright?” She gives you a knowing smile as if she knows that you are thinking of the man that was just here.

“Thank you.” You give her a thin-lipped smile and thank her for the help.

She leaves you alone in the ward with conflicted feelings. It’s so overwhelming having these different feelings all at once. Before, anger was the forefront feeling that derives you away from Joel while still having a small amount of affection for him that you try to ignore. Then, he confused you with his actions and words, tugging your heart a little bit from seeing the change of his heart. Right now, he has saved you from going into the other side and you remember seeing the look of concern etched on his face when you were going through it. You know that he is definitely not faking it, feeling the sincerity from him in the last 24 hours.

Joel is walking back to the infirmary after washing up and having a short breakfast with Ellie. She was devastated to hear what went down during the supply run and told Joel that she is going to visit you after school. She did not say a word to Joel about how distracted he was during the breakfast. She knows it must be you that is affecting his mood and she cannot do anything about it except not taking more of his time and let him go back to the infirmary. To you.

In his hands, he carries a small bag containing a vegetable soup that he quickly cooked for breakfast with Ellie. He walks in and goes straight to the ward but stopping immediately in his tracks. From the open door, he sees that you are awake, smiling so brightly, not because of him but because of the guy that is sitting on the chair beside your bed. The chair that he was sitting on while rubbing circles on the back of your hand with his thumb.

You are holding on to the flowers that Emile gave you. The both of you are laughing about something and his heart clenches hearing your laughter. The last he heard of your voice was when you are whimpering in pain and all that he wishes, then, was to hear your gentle and playful voice again. He lowers his head, the hopeful light in his eyes gone as he turns around feeling crushed. He approaches one of the nurses and passes them the breakfast that he brought for you, telling them to give it to you before leaving the infirmary.

While you are busy catching up with Emile, another nurse comes in to give you a bowl of soup. It smells delicious and you cannot wait to dig in as you are starving from the amount of energy that you lost for the past 24 hours.

“This smells delicious. Thank you.” You cheerily says in exclamation.

“Mr. Miller wants you to have this for breakfast.” The young lady informs you with an innocent look in her eyes.

In shock, your head snaps towards her with wide eyes, “Which Miller?”

“Joel Miller,” she looks at you questioningly.

“He just dropped this off?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You peer at the open door, seeing no sight of him while you keep staring. You wonder why did he not just come in and give you the soup himself. Is he busy with another duty? Did he see Emile and was not happy? Why would he go out of his way to give you breakfast?

“Anything else that I can do for you?” The nurse asks looking at you, confused with your reaction.

“No. It’s fine. Thank you.” You give a forced smile at her and your eyes drifting to the doorway as she leaves. You cannot help but to look at the doorway, wanting to see Joel but you are still too shy to admit it to yourself.

“What’s wrong?” Emile’s voice snaps you out of your trance from the doorway.

“Nothing.” You mumble and start to eat the soup made by Joel.

Emile squints his eyes, sensing that you are hiding something but he lets it go, seeing you gobbling the soup down in hunger.

The next morning, you are accompanied by Emile on your day of discharge. You told him that you can go back home today and he offered to walk you home. You are struggling because of the body ache that you are having and also the sudden waves of dizziness if you move too fast. It took you a couple of minutes to be walking without holding on to him anymore. Your stubborn ass is resilient to not hold onto him as you continue walking slowly at your own pace. The three minute walk to your house from the infirmary at your usual speed is now delayed to almost 10 minutes including the intervals of you pausing to let the dizziness or pain pass before moving again.

Joel is sitting by his bedroom window that is facing your house. He knows that you are being discharged today from what Ellie had told him after her visit. If Emile hadn’t offered, he would have gone to help you, given his free time after the supply run. He sees you struggling to walk with Emile by your side with a worried look on his face. For a moment, anger fills Joel’s entire body when he sees Emile not helping you at all but he eventually calms down after noticing how you are holding your hand out when Emile comes closer. He scoffs, a small curl on side of his lips as he shakes his head. What is he going to do with that stubborn head of yours? If he could, he would have already picked you up and carried you in the house.

Emile leaves after making sure you are back in your house safely and you reassuring him that you will be fine, not needing anymore of his help. You haven’t got the chance to eat something yet so you move the kitchen to make a small sandwich for breakfast, already tired from moving too much. You slump down on the sofa after eating, immersing yourself in the comfort of your home without any disturbances. You lay there, eyes slowly blinking heavily, letting your body relax and eventually you are deep in sleep.

A few hours later, you hear knocking on your door, partially awaken from the sound but you are still not moving.

Knock, Knock, Knock

It is louder this time. Grumbling as you get up from the couch, body still weak. You shout as loud as you can saying that you are coming to get the door. You take your time to reach the door and opening it to no one on the other side except a small bag on the floor. You look around and you spot the broad back of Joel slipping into his house, closing the door without looking back. You pick the bag up to find out the contents of it and the mix of nutty and savoury smell of warm avocado toast that hits you almost makes you roll your eyes to the back of your head.

You bring it inside to the dining table and devours it, smiling to yourself. Smiling because of how good the toast was or maybe because of the person behind the toast. You want to thank him for saving and taking care of you when you were out of it. The ice in your heart is slowly melting away, recalling the moments of his newfound vulnerability that he allows you to see. The way he talks to you calmly instead of the usual hostility in his tone when he speaks to you previously. You remember the cold piercing eyes that was replaced with round melancholic eyes that captivates when he looks at you. In your heart, you know that he might just hit the nail right on the head soon and earn that forgiveness from you.

It went on like that for the next couple of days. You will open the door to a bag of packed food whether it would be breakfast or lunch or dinner. It is obviously from Joel, 100%, no doubt. He for sure makes a run home once he hears you coming, taking advantage of your slowed down speed. Every time you open the door, you either sees him already going into his house or already halfway back, walking nonchalantly as he takes a couple of glances back at you.

He comes knocking when there is no one visiting you at that time, knowing when you have not eaten your meal yet. You’ve been trying to catch him, reading his pattern and always sneaking looks out of your window to see if he is coming. You’re in luck this afternoon when you caught sight of him taking big strides towards your house, feeling confident that he is going to get away with it as usual. He does not know that the pain in your head had subsided marginally and your body is stronger now from all the time that you took to rest. Quicker than he is, you are standing behind the front door, waiting for him. Quietly giggling to yourself, expecting to see his shocked face. Unbeknownst to him, this has been a game to you while spending time alone in the house.

You hear the scrapes of his heavy boots and the creaking of the floorboards as he goes up the stairs. Your heart is racing so fast that you can hear its pounding in your ears. He is right on the other side of the door. You don’t even know what you’re going to say to him. He stops, pausing for a beat, then raises his hand to knock on the door. As soon as you hear a knock, you turn the handle, opening the door wide.

Joel’s brows shoot as high as possible, eyes widening as he stays still from the unexpected situation. His arm is still in midair, his mouth parted, not knowing what to say. On his other hand, he is holding the bag of meal that he had cooked for you. You look up at him with a playful glint in your eyes, appearing to be innocent but your mouth is twitching, trying not to laugh seeing him flustered.

“Hi.” You greet him, voice croaked from resisting the laughter that is bubbling in your throat.

He is still speechless, eyes blinking rapidly trying to think of an excuse for his appearance. You wait for his answer but clears your throat instead when he doesn’t respond.

“What do you got for me today?” You point at the bag of meal that he is holding awkwardly.

“Uh, nothing special. Here.” He passes the bag over to you and you take it, fingers brushing his in that split second.

“Thank you, Joel.” You thank him with a small smile, locking eyes with him for a few seconds before looking down at your feet. He grunts a reply, scratching the back of his neck as he fidgets, eyes darting everywhere else except you.

“I think I should go now. Enjoy your meal.” He breaks the awkward silence, not making eye contact as he turns around to head back home.

“Joel.” You quickly call out after him which makes him stop and look back at you.

“Do you want to come in?” You suggested without giving it a thought, not wanting him to leave.

“Sure.” He replies after contemplating for a moment.

You invite him in, heart still racing as you head to the dining table to place the food down. He follows after you slowly, taking in the insides of your house. This is the first time he is in your house and he is observing every single detail of it, knowing this is your comfort place. This is a part of you that he gets to see for the first time so he is going to cherish this opportunity that is given to him.

You’re in the kitchen, washing your hands, grabbing the plate and utensils to place them down at the dining table. You turn towards Joel who is still checking out your place, standing by your living room couch.

“Have you eaten already?”

“Yeah.” He mutters, eyes locked onto the shelves at the front wall of your living room where there is a remaining carved piece of wood that you didn’t put away.

“Can I get for you coffee?” you offer.

He turns around and steps closer to the dining table while keeping his eyes on you.

“That would be lovely, thank you.” He nods before taking a seat opposite of yours.

Joel’s eyes drifting together with your movements as you make the coffee for him. He is pleased to be in your presence even though it is nerve wrecking for him but finally talking to you again makes his heart blooms with happiness. He schools his features back to a composed face when you approach the table with drinks.

“Thank you again for the food.” You thank him again before taking a bite of the steak and mashed potatoes that he prepared for you today. He gives you his signature nod as a reply.

Your eyes widen as you take the first bite of the meat and gawks at Joel, “It’s delicious!”

“Glad you like it.” He shrugs his shoulders, tipping his head forward slightly, feeling smug from your praise.

“What the fuck. It’s really good.” You cannot believe it and keeps on eating.

Joel brings the mug to his face, sipping on his coffee to cover the smile that is breaking into his face after seeing your raw reaction to his cooking. The way you react reminds him of Ellie and he finds it so adorable. He scans the side of your head that is covered with a new gauze for the stitch and notices the red bruises on your arms that is fading to brown as it heals. He hated seeing you in that kind of pain and it was gut wrenching to witness that, not able to soothe the pain away for you. He is relieved to see you smile again and this time because of him.You finish the meal while he sits there watching you eat with warm and focused eyes as you steal glances at him.

He insisted that you have a seat at the sofa as he washes the dishes for you. You did argued with him to let you do it yourself but you cannot defeat the man that is way more hardheaded than you. Staring at the back of the man that broke your heart two months ago who is now washing your dishes in your kitchen, you would have never seen this coming. You selfishly want to see more of him, shamelessly admitting it to yourself.

"Uh, I should go now." Joel rubbing his hands on his jeans, wiping the leftover wetness as he comes out of the kitchen area, towards you.

"Already?" your brows furrowed unknowingly, standing up slowly to see him out.

Joel cocks his head to the side, hearing the disappointment in your voice. He moves closer to you, heart beating rapidly, knowing that you want to spend more time with him.

"I'm on patrol duty with your temporary replacement soon." He explains.

"Oh. Hopefully you don't scare him away while I'm gone." You tease him.

He huffs before replying you with a smirk, "We'll see bout that.”

Just before he steps out of the house, you grab his wrist instinctively, turning him around to face you again.

“I really want to thank you for everything that you did for me. I appreciate it and it means a lot to me that you had my back. I’m sorry if I was a troublesome-“

“You weren’t,” Joel interrupts, twisting his wrist to hold your hand instead, “you never were.” He whispers, still shy to convey his true feelings.

His eyes are expressive with so many unspoken words as he gazes into yours, instinctively rubbing circles on the back of your hands like he did in the infirmary, waiting for you to be awake. But you don’t know that. Don’t know about the delicate touches that he leaves on your skin that night.

“Also, don’t leave the food by itself in front of my door. Next time, say hi to me at least.” You complain.

“Yes ma’am.” He give you a once over before letting go of your hand, “take care.” He heads out to make his way to the stables, looking back at you again who gives him a small timid wave. You notice his smile twisted with a smile before he snaps his head away, hiding his blushing face away from you. He walks away with lighter steps as if a heavy weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

Surrounded by the books, you are sitting at one of the tables in the library with Emile. There is no sign of other people this morning causing the library to be filled with serene silence. The sunlight from the window, pierce through the gaps of the bookshelves, softly hitting the tables. Emile is rambling about his new read excitedly and you are listening to him intently, interested in where the story is going. It goes on from sharing stories with each other to talking about usual random stuffs until Emile brings up Joel in the conversation.

“How’s it going with Joel?” He asks in a cheery voice.

“What do you mean?” You release a laugh awkwardly.

“You seem livelier for the past few days and I thought Joel could be the reason for that.” His eyes are bright as he keeps the eye contact with you.

“What makes you say that?”

“I overheard that Joel has been cooking for you and that you guys even eat together for the past few days at your house.”

You smack your lips, nodding your head as you look away. You don’t talk to Emile about Joel so it’s kinda embarrassing to admit it to him. Since it’s out in the open, you use this time to tell the truth.

“You are a good friend, Emile. It’s comfortable to have conversations with you. I get to talk to you about anything and you are one of my emotional support in Jackson. I’m happy that we became friends.” You express to him with a sense of guilt, assuming it might hurt him that you put him in the friend zone. Your eyes lowering to your fidgeting hands on the table.

“Is this the part where you say that you don’t have feelings for me?” He questions with a clear voice.

You blink blankly at him, taken aback by his direct question. Your mouth parts slowly, wanting to speak but he continues to talk, sensing your faint hesitation.

“It’s okay. I know you are just being friendly with me without any other intentions, whether it’s good or bad. I see how you react when he’s around you and it’s pretty obvious, making me think that I’m stupid for not noticing it at first.”

“You’re not stupid,” you deny his negative thought.

“But I do enjoy your company and I’m really glad that we became friends as well.” His face beaming with a smile that infects you to mirror his.

You hold out a hand for him to shake on. He takes it and gives a firm handshake.

“We’re officially besties now” You states with a bright smile.

“Isn’t Ellie your bestie?”

“Okay, you’re officially my second bestie now.” You correct yourself.

“Whatever, tell me about you and Joel.” Emile still curious about the two of you, wiggling his eyebrows as he sent a playful smirk towards you.

“Oh shut up.” You pushes his hand away, rolling your eyes, faking the irritation. You know that if you talk about Joel now, you cannot control your expressions. He barks out a laugh seeing your reaction which makes you laugh as well.

Still giggling as Emile teases you, the both of you hear the door open and standing there is the man of the hour himself, Joel Miller. Stunned, you just freeze in your seat, gawking at him. You notice the cloud of breath coming out of his mouth as he exhales. His eyes studying your face and drifts towards Emile who is sitting opposite of you. His eyelids flutters slightly before lowering his gaze towards the floor.

“Sorry for interrupting.” He mutters, rubbing his gloved hands together before turning around to leave the library.

You stand up, eyes still trained on the door that was just shut.

“Go.” Emile looks up at you.

“I’ll see you again.” You take off without looking back.

Joel is dragging his feet back to his house, jaws clenching as the image of you and Emile having a good time laughing is stuck on his mind. In the span of few days of him checking up on you and having meals together, he forgets about Emile who has always been treating you nicely. How can he compete with a man who hasn’t been mean to you and break your heart?

“Joel! Wait up!” Your yelling halts him in his tracks. He looks over his shoulder and see you trying to keep up with him. He is still worried about you moving that fast, anxious that it will trigger dizziness in you again. He waits for you patiently, facing you with his head hanging low as he looks at his boots in the snow.

Another pair of boots comes into his view, opposite of him. He looks up to your face, seeing you panting, trying to catch your breath. How can you still look this cute standing in front of him while you gasp for air? He just wants to hold your face with his hands, warming your face that is growing cold.

“Where are you going?” You ask him.

“Home.” He gives a short reply, glancing towards the street.

“It’s cold. You should get back inside. I didn’t mean to disturb your time together.” His eyes darting over your shoulders at the library.

“You didn’t disturb anything. Were you looking for me?” You dismisses what he just said.

“I brought breakfast for us to eat together but you weren’t there.” He tries to be casual about it but you caught the sad look in his eyes.

“Let’s go then.” You walk ahead, leaving him to follow after you.

Joel picking at his leftover food aimlessly is bothering you. He is more quiet this morning, keeping his eyes on his plate most of the time. You call him out on his behaviour, not standing it anymore.

“What’s with the long face?”

“Nothing,”

“Don’t lie to me.” You firmly said.

He pauses for a moment before answering you, “You still seeing the librarian?” Still not making eye contact.

“I told you that he’s just my friend, Joel.” You reiterate that point again.

He nods his head solemnly, his lips still in a thin line. He leans back, not having the appetite to finish the rest of his food. You don’t believe that he agrees with that statement.

“You jealous?” You can’t help but grin, raising an eyebrow towards him.

“Get that smile off your face.” He rolls his eyes at you. You still don’t get why he is shy to admit it when he literally said that it hurts him to see you and Emile together, back at The Tipsy Bison.

“I sense jealousy.” You said in a singsong voice as you pick up the your plates and his, going to the kitchen sink.

Joel immediately follows and stands beside you as you wash the plates.

“You’re so infuriating, d’you know that. I told you that I will do the dishes.” He grumbles, annoyed that you didn’t listen to him.

“Well, too bad. I took them first.” You shrug your shoulders.

“Give me that. I’ll dry it.” He takes the washed plate from you, wiping it a dry cloth.

The both of you stand there, shoulders and arms touching as you focus on the task at hand. He lightly shoves you with his arm suddenly which makes you look up at him, frowning. He fake innocence as he wipes the utensils. You pushes him back, stronger than he did but he doesn’t budge. Not satisfied, you keep trying to shove him to the side but you fail miserably. You huff, feeling unfair by the significant difference of strength. Giving up, you continue to clean the cups but didn’t expect him to continue his disturbance by nudging you with his hip.

You cup your hands with water and splashes his face with it. His eyes are closely shut, his fringe sticks to his forehead, soaked with water and it’s running down his face. Droplets of water forms at his chin which drips onto the front of his shirt. Your nose flaring as you try to suppress your laughter but you couldn’t resist it anymore when he opens his eyes to look at you. You back away from him slowly before running away, laughing at him.

“Come here.” He chases after you right away and you didn’t get too far before you feel his arms wrapped around your waist from behind. You squeal as he lifts you slightly before letting you down and turn you around to face him, his hands clasps on your lower back.

He shakes his head vigorously, like a dog trying to dry itself, water droplets splattering on your face from it. You cover your face while still giggling at him. After he stops, you lower down your hand to his chest. A big grin is plastered on his face as he looks down at you, bewitching you with his dreamy and enchanting expression. You are entranced by him, spotting the dimples that you rarely see.

“Don’t mess with me.” He tries to warn you with a smile tugging on side of his face.

“Oooh, that is so threatening. I’m so scared.” You sarcastically joke which earns you a scoff from him.

You stay in his arms like that for a few more seconds. The both of you are not saying anything as you stare into each other’s eyes. He licks his lips and for a moment, you think that he might lean closer to you but disappointingly, he lets you go.

He clears his throat, “I better get going. Patrol duty again.” Avoiding eye contact.

“How is he by the way?” Curious about your temporary replacement.

“Not bad.” He shrugs.

“Wow. That is a compliment in your books.” You are surprised by his comment.

“Yeah. Better than the girl that keeps annoying me.”

“Get out.” You jokingly says, passing him his jacket that is on the couch and with your hands on his back, you keep pushing him towards the door as he tries to fight back while softly laughing at your antics.

He puts on his jacket and faces you again. Bending lower to meet you on your eye level, he tucks a stray hair on your ear and the graze of his fingers are burning your ears. You blink excessively, your heart stopping for a beat when his eyes meet yours.

“See you tomorrow, sweetheart.” He whispers to you, eyes twinkling as if they are the stars. You can’t stop the rapid beating of your heart even after he gets out of your house, leaving you dumbfounded and heated.

The Tipsy Bison is rowdy tonight with the residents of Jackson celebrating the bartender’s birthday. Kyle is the most loved by the people because of his endless kindness to everyone around him. You are seated in a booth with your usual crowd, Tommy, Maria and Joel. Unfortunately, Emile is unable to join as he finishes up his work in the library. Joel’s warm, strong thigh is pressing into yours even though there is more than enough space for the both on you on one side of the booth.

Joel has changed slightly, opening more of himself up to you. You get to see him bantering with Tommy over petty things like little boys which is what they are doing now. Arguing about who will beat whom in a arm wrestling match. You and Maria has seen this behaviour too many times that the both of you just shake your heads, sighing.

Recently, Joel has been brave to steal a couple of touches, not even hiding it anymore. He would tuck your stray hair or pat your head when he compliments you on something that you have done a good job at or placing his hand on your lower back to guide you somewhere and he takes every opportunity that he can to touch you. Like what he is doing now with his thigh, just to feel you there beside him.

A group of drunk, rowdy men walks past the booth before one of them stops to look at you. You sense his gaze and your head turns to look at him. It is the asshole from the other night, Jack. His eyes are heavy as he steps closer to the booth, clearly drunk.

“Oh look who it is!” He exclaims when he recognises you.

You don’t say a word, glaring at him as he drunkenly spews out insults at you again. The Miller brothers stop their argument and snaps their head towards Jack’s voice.

“Aren’t you Emile’s little mommy?” He says in a mocking tone, making you squeeze for fists. Joel scans your scowling face first before he notices your balled up fists on your thighs. His hand hovers your fist before cupping it gently, signalling you that he got your back.

“You threw him to the side after you get your fun and now you’re sucking off Joel Miller. What a slut.” He slurs on without shame.

Luckily for him, you are sitting on the inside so you cannot lunge at him to rip his face off and beat him to death like you wanted. Instead, Joel brings his fist to Jack’s face, rocking his jaw in an instant. Jack stumbles backwards, crashing on the nearby tables and chairs before falling to the ground, making people turn their heads to the commotion. Everybody stills, watching the event that is unfolding in front of their eyes. Joel cages him with his thighs, throwing punches at his face. Tommy gets up from his seat, holding Joel back before it gets worse. Joel stands and presses one foot on Jack’s chest, heaving from the punches that he threw.

“Last time, I told you to fuck off before I break your jaw. It seems like you really need it to break to get it into your fuckin’ head.” He growls at Jack that is looking up at him with eyes that are clouded with terror.

“You talk about my girl like that again, I will not hesitate to end you.” He warns with eyes that could kill Jack right there on the spot. “Now fuck off!” He spits at Jack after removing his foot away. Jack scrambles away with his friends, holding them for support.

Joel stands there, reeling in what he had just done. The crowd slowly gets going again, knowing that Jack had that coming for messing around with Joel. Joel is still pissed off at Jack and if no one had stopped him, he would have already killed that son of a bitch. His hand flinches when he feels a hand touching his. It is you that notices his trembling hand. You bring it up to your face, seeing the blood on his knuckles. You frown, not liking the fact that he got hurt from trying to protect you. You go back to the booth to let Maria and Tommy know that you’re bringing Joel back home to treat the cuts on his hand.

You drag him out of the bar with his other hand, heading back to your house. He follows you obediently, walking hand in hand, even though he is still fuelled with anger. Stomping his feet, he keeps on grumbling insults about Jack and wanting to beat the shit out of him. You glance at him, seeing his fiery eyes and downturned lips as he continues to curse the asshole. A smile appears on your face as you listen to his complaints. You are still replaying the words in your head again and again. He called you his girl. It brings butterflies in your stomach just by thinking about it.

You sat him down on your couch while you get the first aid kit. You pushes the coffee table close to the couch to sit on the edge of it, facing him with your legs in between his. You place his hand on your thighs as you wipe the blood off his hand. After putting the ointment, you bandage his hand with a gauze pad available. The entire time you were focused on treating his wounds, he was studying your face, processing every single detail to memory.

"All done," you let go of his hand.

"Thank you."

"You didn't have to do that, y'know"

"I want to." He says with conviction. "I don't like him talking about you like that."

"But I don't want you to get hurt."

"I'm not. This was nothing." he tries to minimise the level of his injury.

You narrow your eyes and he shrugs at you trying to say that it is true. You shake your head disapprovingly, tired of his stubbornness. In the quietness of the night, wanting him to calm down, an idea comes to your mind.

"Come, I got something I want to show you." you crosses over his thigh, wanting to go up the stairs.

He quickly grabs your hand, wanting you to guide him upstairs as you hold on to him. You blushes when he does that, still making your heart flutters. Swallowing his spit, nervous that you brought him to your room, he stands at your door just watching you opening your window. You climb out the window to sit at your tiled roof, looking back at him, urging him to join you.

He marches across your room to the window, poking his head out, "It's freezing."

"I know. Just come out for awhile. You won't die," you reassures him. "Or are you just a coward?"

That strikes a nerve in him as he clicks his tongue at you and asks you to move over to give him some space. He folds his body, bones cracking as he struggles to go through the window.

"Damn, you're old." Holding on to him as he goes through the window, teasing him about his bone cracking.

"Ha. Ha. Funny." He replies in a monotonous voice.

The both of you sat next to each other, looking into the darkness of the vast sky. Because it is not snowing heavily, the moon that is not blocked by the clouds, brighten the snow-covered landscapes with a soft glow. The faint twinkle of the stars, reflecting in Joel's glassy eyes as you blatantly stare at him.

"I would sit here especially during the summer nights to stargaze. The enlightenment you get when you let your body immerse within the beauty of the nature is like no other." you explain.

"They're gorgeous." Peering into your eyes as it seems like he's not talking about the stars but you instead.

You are lost in his shining eyes and so is he, in yours. All of a sudden, he blinks the unwavering eyes of his away, remembering something. He takes out something from the inside of his jacket that is small enough to fit in his hands. Opening his palm towards you, you find a horse chess piece sitting on it. You look up at him with questions in your eyes while he portrays a shy smile on his face, suggesting you to take it.

“Stop! This is the prettiest one I’ve ever seen. You made this?” Still surveying the piece in awe.

“Yeah. Look at the bottom.”

You flip it around and notices a small writing on it. You stop breathing for a moment, reminded of the guitar pick that you gave him two months ago. You keep staring at the words directing at you.

“I was contemplating between this and ‘Let me be your knight in shining armour’, y’know. Because of the horse. But it was too long for me to-“ He stammers while trying to elaborate but stops when you lay your head on his shoulder.

“Thank you, Joel. I love it.” You hold the chess piece in your hand, tightly. His heart jumps with elation, overjoyed by your words.

He whispers your name, enrapturing you to shift your eyes at him, still resting your head on his shoulder.

“I would undo every single thing that I’ve done or said that hurt your feelings, in a heartbeat if I could. I didn’t see you for who you are and it kills me that I wasted so much time being a prick when we could spend more time together instead. You never fail to fill my heart with kindness and love and I want to do the same for you. Will you let me do that for you?” He confesses to you.

“Who said you haven’t done that yet?” You batted your eyelashes at him.

His heart stops for a beat, staring down at your face that is only a few inches away. Your glossy eyes mirror his look of adoration and he can’t help but moves your hair out of your face, caressing your cheeks softly.

“Joel Miller, the grumpiest man to ever lived, is sitting on the roof with me, stargazing. Who would have thought?”

“Only because it’s with you.” His thumb rubbing, warming your cold cheeks as you lean more into his touch.

His face tilts down to yours, eyes roaming over your features and stops at your lips. You hold your breath as he moves closer, heart pounding with anticipation. You have been waiting for this moment, imagining many different ways of exploring his lips. Your body shivering as he pauses when his lips are almost touching yours.

“Can I kiss you?” He mutters, almost inaudible as he shifts his eyes back to yours for confirmation, his tongue poking out slightly to wet his lips at the same time.

“Now you want to be polite? Just kiss me already.” You pull him closer by the neck, gently pressing his lips to yours. His lips are electrifying to touch despite the softness of it. He continues to move and you follow, effortlessly flowing together like water. His arms that are pressing against your side, slides up your back, holding you close to him. You feel him smiling against your mouth as the kiss gets heated. You pull back from him to catch your breath, foreheads still pressed against each other while you keep your eyes closed, heart still racing from the kiss. He is panting for air as well, eyes fixed on your parted lips.

“I’ve been waiting for a year for this,”

“I know, baby.” He cups your face, looking at you with dazed eyes before suggesting that the both of you get inside before it gets colder. You step down into the room first and he follows right after. He pulls you back towards him by your belt loop, wrapping his arms around your waist as he cannot resist the look of need in your eyes.

“I’m not done with you, my love.”

He leans in to kiss you again, this time more desperately. You throw your hands over his shoulders, arching your back to press your front against his. As it gets passionate, you are stumbling backwards as he pushes you towards your bed, lying you down on it. He hovers over you, leaning his weight on his palms that rest on either side of your head.

“I’ll repay the one year worth of kisses tonight so that you can forgive my dumbass.” Sliding down the side of your face, leaving kisses on your neck. You let out a moan, blessing his ears with the sounds that you are making involuntarily. You try to say something but your head is clouded with lust as he lightly runs his tongue along your jawline, raking one of your hands through his curls and another, scratching across his firm back. His soft grunts in your ear makes your spine tingle, rolling your eyes to the back of your head as he slides his hands under your shirt, digging his fingers in your waist.

“You’re forgiven, baby.” You blurt out while you are distracted by his pressing body on yours. He stops, raising his head towards you, not believing what he just heard.

“What did you just say?”

“Huh?” Your eyes heavy lidded as you look at him.

“Let me hear it again.” He smiles adorably.

“You’re forgiven?” Your brows knitted in confusion.

“No. The other one.”

“Baby?”

His face breaks into a grin and he softly giggles into your chest, loving the fact that you called him ‘baby’. Fuck the forgiveness, he just wants you to claim him as yours forever. He peppers you with kisses all over your face, making you scrunch, still smiling at him.The night deepens as the both of you continue exploring each other’s bodies, steaming the room up with grunts and moans throughout the night. The chess piece that fell to the ground while the both of you kiss, lies sidewards, the writing prominent at the bottom of it.

‘I pick you 2’

previous part

Thank you for reading! I have another Joel Miller fic that is coming soon over here. It's a sports romance x childhood friends to enemies to lovers. Do keep a lookout if you're interested. All love <3 - Z

Taglist: @greenwitchfromthewoods @rebeccawinters @cuteanimalmama @rodriguez31 @orcasoul @ashleyfilm @macaroni676 @whirlwindrider29 @vickie5446 @uncassettodiricordi @astralqueenoc

[starryevermore]

the house of snow (7) ✧ coriolanus snow

the house of snow ✧ a royal coryo au | pinterest board| ao3

pairing: king!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

series summary: the king of panem is in search of a bride. and, for reasons you can never understand, coriolanus snow has set his sights on you. it would never be a happy marriage, you’re sure of that. but none of that matters, because when snow decides he wants something, he will do everything in his power to ensure it is his. 

chapter summary: snow is pushing his luck with you, but you will not let his attempted slights go by. 

word count: 3,004

series warnings?: 18+ MINORS DNI, royal au, regency au, arranged marriage, rivals to lovers, obsessive!coryo, jealous!coryo, protective!coryo, eventual smut, eventual pregnancy, more tags to be added later

chapter warnings?: breaking wedding superstitions, you and snow get in an argument, jealous!coryo, pet name (petal), not proofread

“Oh, you actually look like a bride!” your mother exclaimed as Tigris led you into the sitting room.

“She has always looked like my bride,” Snow said.

When you received word that Tigris had finished making your wedding gown and was ready to start the fitting process, Snow had insisted that it be done at the palace. Another form of control over you, you were sure. 

Tigris, who was helping you gather the skirts, reached over and squeezed your hand, careful not to let Snow see. You did not know what had caused Tigris’s and Snow’s relationship to become so strained. You remembered, at the Academy, that Snow and Tigris were quite close. At least, as close as Snow would ever allow a person to be to him. He was very good at keeping people at arm’s length. The only person that he truly wanted in his inner circle, it seemed, was you. 

“Is there not some saying about it being bad luck for a groom to see the bridge in her gown before the wedding day?”

Of course, you were fine with a healthy smidge of bad luck. This entire ordeal was doused in it. But it also annoyed Snow any time you tried to deny him something, and that was joy enough for you. 

“I won’t come to the final fitting,” Snow said. 

“I don’t think you understand how luck works.”

Snow hummed. He rose from his seat on the sofa and crossed over to you. When he reached for your hand, you allowed him to take it. Tigris took a few quick steps away from you. He lifted your joined hands above your head, and you began to twirl. He hummed again.

“I do not need luck when I have a bride as beautiful as you,” he said. To Tigris, he said, “You have outdone yourself this time.”

“Thank you, Coriolanus,” Tigris said. 

Snow’s lips curved up into a smirk. “Hmm, see how easy it is? Calling someone by their name?”

“Tigris is your cousin. She is family. It is not inappropriate for her to call you by your name.” You looked back at Tigris. Guilt settled in the pit of your stomach for placing her in the middle of this dispute, but Snow started it. You were smart enough to finish it. “You are an incredibly impatient man, Snow. We are weeks away from the wedding. Are you truly that restless for me to say your name that you cannot wait that long? My, it’s a wonder anyone thought you were disciplined enough to be King.”

Tigris tugged on your skirt, trying to urge you to be silent. You wondered if she had seen Snow when his anger was at its worst. Was that why they were no longer close? Because she had looked into the beast’s eyes and was terrified by what she saw? Perhaps you would be better off holding your tongue. Yet, a part of you liked this challenge. You enjoyed discovering new buttons you could push. 

But Snow only laughed, and that alone was infuriating. He looked at his cousin and remarked, “She always keeps me on my toes.”

Tigris’s lips stretched into a thin smile. “Well, I suppose someone must keep you in line.”

“Of which, she is an expert.”

What a terrible expert you must be then. Had you ever kept Snow in line? You had certainly told him off before, made certain he knew how little you wanted this kind of life. But to keep him in line? The thought was laughable. The man was King. The only way he could lose his power was to something so particularly heinous the Electors would be forced to remove him, or if he died. 

Snow reached for your dress, his thumb running over the embroidered designs. His smirk slowly became a smile as he traced one of the roses. “Do you think you could add more of these?” he asked Tigris.

“Of course. I’ll go draw up some more designs,” Tigris said. 

“Can I take this off now?” you asked. At Snow’s nodding, you turned, Tigris gathering up your skirts so that it would not drag across the floor.

You and Tigris quickly reached the room where she had been helping you dress. It was not far from the drawing room. Irritation had been bubbling up inside you the entire short walk. It drove you insane how much control Snow had over you now. How was this fair? Why did you have to be a little puppet that Snow could pull the strings on? 

“He drives me mad,” you said. Perhaps you shouldn’t admit that to his cousin, one of his only family members, but if there was anyone who could understand, you figured it would be Tigris. 

“Coriolanus is a maddening sort of person,” Tigris admitted, shutting the door behind you once inside the room. 

You could not stop yourself. If you could not understand Snow himself, you might gain some insight from his cousin. “Is that why you are no longer close?”

Tigris looked up at you, her pale eyes turning sad. “He changed. After he came back from his time with the Peacekeepers, I mean. Before, I was hopeful for the kind of man he could become. We…We had hard lives before all of this. Coriolanus would never let anyone know, of course. Too prideful. Too sure that he would get us out of ruin. He was successful in the end, but I think he lost a part of himself.”

Your brows pinched together. “Do you know what happened?”

Tigris shrugged. “No one does. He keeps that part of his life close to his chest. All I know is, when I saw him upon his return, he did not look like little Coryo anymore. He looked like his father.”

You had heard stories of Crassus Snow. He was once a friend of your fathers in their youth, but grown distant as Crassus became colder. It probably had something to do with the peasant uprisings. From your understanding, Crassus was as prideful as Snow. Perhaps more. When he was able to enlist, he quickly rose through the ranks until he was a general. He had the power of the army clenched in his fist. He might have won the war singlehandedly had he not been caught in a rebel trap. 

“But…” Tigris paused. She shook her head. “Never mind.”

Well, that just couldn’t do. Tigris couldn’t just begin to put the pieces of Snow’s personality, his motivations, for you, and yank away one of the final pieces. 

You reached for her hand. You gave it a gentle squeeze. “Please, tell me. I am going to marry him soon. Do I not deserve to know what I’m getting into?”

“Coriolanus is different now.”

“How do you mean?”

“He’s…kinder with you,” Tigris said as she skillfully undid the fastenings to your gown. 

You stifled a snort. “That hardly means anything. A lion might let a gazelle run free, but that does not mean he is any less a beast.”

“You think I’m a beast?”

You fought the urge to jump. One might think you should have become accustomed to Snow’s sudden appearances. Yet, he always managed to catch you off guard. Instead of revealing your shock, you turned your head to where Snow stood in the now opened doorway. “Only a beast would interrupt an unmarried woman as she is undressing.”

Tigris grabbed your hands, pulling you behind the dressing screen. You maintained eye contact with Snow the entire way, careful to make sure he wouldn’t try to follow you. He already kissed you before the wedding. Who was to say he wouldn’t do something more heinous? Snow was very insistent that he could do with you as he pleased. 

“Does it matter if you are unmarried when I am going to marry you regardless?”

You decided to not deign his question a response. How many times had you had this conversation with him? Telling him to be respectful of societal expectations, him deciding he knew best. Oh, was this what your life would him would be like? Would he ever give you peace? Maybe if you gave him a few children…Though, you supposed, Snow would want more than a few. He seemed the sort of man that desired a dynasty. A legacy that would be firmly cemented. That could only be done if you played your part to the letter. And if you didn’t…

“Why are you here? Besides to be a Peeping Tom.”

You heard Snow chuckle. “Clever little thing, aren’t you? I came to ask if you would accompany me to the opera tomorrow evening.”

“Quite a late invitation, don’t you think? Perhaps I have a date with a suitor.”

Tigris’s head jerked up as she helped you step out of the wedding gown. She shook her head. Well, too late now.

“You would not.” Oh, you could hear the poison leeching into his tone. This was fun. (At least, for now. You imagined he would make you regret this impropriety later.) 

“You seem so convinced that I am going to leave you for Sejanus. Perhaps I have decided to actually give you a reason to be upset.” Tigris helped you into the gown you wore to the palace, trying to put it on you as quickly as possible. You really needed to wait to pick these fights until you were alone. You hated to make her collateral. “It is not very becoming, you know, to be so jealous.”

When you turned to step out from behind the privacy screen, you jumped. Snow was already standing there, his face an amusing shade of red. His usually pale blue eyes were much, much darker. You weren’t sure you could see any blue at all. 

“Take it back.”

“You know what the truth is, Snow. Why should I have to keep repeating it? I am your fiancé. We are going to be married by the end of the month. I have promised you to be on my best behavior. That would include, I assume, not leaving you for another. And yet…The simplest of teasing turns you into a mad man. It was all in jest. A joke about a last minute invitation.”

“It was last minute because I was arranging for a private performance for ourselves and our loved ones.”

You blinked. 

Oh. 

Oh. 

Well, you hadn’t expected that. 

“I beg your pardon?”

Snow did not look away from you, never breaking eye contact. He stepped closer. You could feel his breath. Somewhere behind you, you could hear Tigris shuffling around. “You still enjoy the opera, don’t you?”

“How did you know I—?” You shook your head. That was not important at the moment. “Yes. I do, very much so. I…Thank you. That is uncharacteristically kind of you.”

Snow snorted, looking away for a moment as if to collect himself. But when he turned his gaze on you again, his eyes were softer. Back to their usual pale blue. “You cannot even compliment me without an insult.”

“It is so easy to insult you. It is fun to see what will burrow the furthest under your skin.”

He hummed. “For now, let us move on to lighter conversations. Who would you like to invite? So that I may invitations sent out before it is too late for anyone to accept.”

“If the King sends an invitation, anyone would accept.”

“And so too shall the Queen,” Snow said. A fond smile crossed his face. He reached for your hand. His thumb stroked it, in a way that was if your hand brought him comfort. “Who should you like to be there?”

You thought for a moment, considering your options. “My parents, which goes without saying. I have a few cousins that would like to come. The Dovecotes, the Cardews.” You spoke the next name quickly, hoping to hide it in your rush. “The Plinths, naturally. I think we should invite the Ravinstills, as a gesture of good faith. To show the former family mingling with the current.” You hoped that that line would delay Snow’s realization of who you slid into the list of invites. “I don’t want the Creeds there.”

Alas, your efforts were not successful. 

“The Creeds will not be there if you do not wish it. Everyone but the Plinth family, however, will be extended invitations.”

“The Plinths will be there. You said I could invite my loved ones.”

“Our loved ones, petal. I said our loved ones. And, let me make this clear, I bear no love for the Plinths at this time.”

“Because of Sejanus?” you asked. 

Snow’s jaw ticked. “It does not matter why. I shall not send them any invitation.”

“Then I shall send one myself. I shall personally invite them, and I shall ensure that Sejanus is allowed to sit right next to us. If you are doing this as a proclamation of love, then you should not try to hurt me by excluding someone I care about.”

“And you try to hurt me by including someone who is trying to take you?”

“She is not a prize for you to win, Coriolanus,” Tigris snapped. 

You had forgotten she was there. Why was she still there? Anyone else would have run for the hills the second a lover’s quarrel with the King broke out. Of course, she was his cousin. She grew up with him. Tigris probably knew more about Snow’s temper tantrum and their fallout than anyone. Perhaps you should take her presence as a blessing. Perhaps you should worry about what that might mean.

Snow squinted his eyes at Tigris. “Because I have won her. I am only ensuring that no one tries to steal her out from under me.”

“You’re unbelievable,” you scoffed with a roll of your eyes. 

His attention snapped back to you. “I will ask you kindly, just this once, to please exclude the Plinth family from your list of invitees. If it means so much to you, I will allow his parents to be invited. Just not him.” He paused. “Please.” It almost sounded like it pained him to utter the word. 

“If you do not invite Sejanus, I will,” you repeated. 

Snow’s eyes flashed. You were pushing too hard. Probably. But you could not find it in you to care. Snow was already getting everything he wanted. Was it necessary for him to rip every comfort you had away from you?

“Sejanus will not be invited to sit with us,” Snow hissed. “You cannot manipulate me as you did your mother.”

Did Snow really think that you would bend to his will so easily? Had he learned nothing from all of your spats in school? From how often you went toe-to-toe with him the last several weeks? You knew Snow was not an idiot. Far from it, in fact. He was easily the top student at the Academy, clearing over the children of Panem’s best and brightest with seeming ease. The only person who stood behind him was you. Snow should understand that this was not going to be something you back down from. 

And to bring your mother into this? You were not sure what she told him. It would have been about your engagement ball, of course. That was the only time you attempted to change who your mother believed she could invite to the ball. But you were sure that whatever she told him only further cemented the idea in his deluded mind that you were helplessly in love with Sejanus Plinth.

“He will! Coriolanus Snow, I will not allow you to slight our friend like this. He might be interested in me. And I might have considered a marriage with him if you were not here and my parents allowed it. And I might have fallen in love with him if we did wed. But you are, and it is insulting that you think so little of me—”

“I do not think little of you,” he interrupted. You nearly rolled your eyes. 

“—then, that you are so insecure that you cannot pull your head out of your ass long enough to realize that I will not do anything to harm this relationship, however much of a sham it is, for something that might work out even less than this. My Mama told me you want my loyalty. Well, this is as close as you will ever get to that. Do you understand? I know you value your reputation, and mine, and I know you care about how you, we, are perceived. I may not bend to your every will, but I will not do anything that would reflect poorly on the Crown.”

“I want more than your loyalty.”

“This is all you will get it, and you should be grateful. I could make this a lot more difficult. I could live everything moment to ruin your life. But I am not stupid. I know the security that comes with a title and money. I am grateful that I will want for nothing if I all do is act a dutiful wife. You should be equally grateful for the power and trust of the people that will be granted to you for appearing to be a family man, a good husband, and an eventual good father. This is not a marriage of love, and it never will be. I have accepted the convenience of it all. You should too.”

“I will not invite him.”

Well, there was only one option left to change his mind. If he would not listen to reason, it was time to be irrational. 

You took a step closer to him. Snow squeezed your hand, almost in warning, as if he could anticipate what you were about to do. 

“You will send the entire Plinth family an invitation, or I shall not come at all. Do you wish for your attempts at romanticism to be in vain?”

[hannahbarberra162]

The Crocodile's Gambit, Part 2

I can't seem to write short fics :/ Crocodile's never been rejected, and he's not starting now.

on Ao3

Chapter one

~~~

“No.”

Crocodile was stunned by your swift rejection. You didn’t even think twice about his offer or consider the pros and cons. It was in stark contrast to the way he knew your mind worked, weighing the odds of different outcomes, like you did in chess.

“What do you mean no?” he gritted out.

“Oh, right. No, thank you,” you replied, inclining your head. That was not what he had meant. Crocodile had been trying to teach you some social etiquette, including saying please and thank you. Now was not the time.

“Fine, name your price,” Crocodile said dismissively, crossing one leg over the other. Maybe you needed something else to sweeten the deal other than joining a better crew. If you wanted to negotiate, well, this was Crocodile’s expertise. Confusion registered on your face. 

“Price for what?” you asked.

“Price to leave the Clown and join me,” Crocodile said, as if it was obvious. Crocodile had money and power, he was sure he could acquire whatever it was you asked for. You knew him well, you knew you had him over a barrel. Now you wanted to milk him dry, and he wasn’t even upset about it. It was shrewd business practices.

“No, thank you,” you declined again, starting to rise from your chair once more.

“What do you mean, ‘no?” Crocodile wasn’t used to being told no, and certainly not multiple times in a row. He wasn’t planning on starting now. 

“You already said that. And I already said no, twice. There’s nothing that will get me to leave Captain Buggy. It won’t happen,” you shrugged. This was an unexpected wrinkle in Crocodile’s plans, especially now that the negotiations for an alliance were over. There was potential for an alliance with just Mihawk, but their time with the Clown had come to an end. Unfortunately for the Clown, this would be one of his last days before he went to the Grand Line in the sky.

“I see,” Crocodile said, steepling his fingers. He allowed you to stand up and start cleaning up the board and pieces. Crocodile was stewing, sand was piling up, and the air in the room was tense. You didn’t seem to care, continuing to clean. He needed to gather more information from the Clown. He needed his little maid, and he would have her.

~

He found the Clown in his quarters reading over the most recent newspaper. Crocodile slammed the door open, causing the Clown to look up uneasily. The Clown didn’t say anything, which was better than when he was animated or angry. Crocodile stalked over to the Clown and slammed his hook into the Clown’s desk, skewering the newspaper the Clown was reading in the process. 

“Why won’t the maid leave you?” Crocodile demanded. The Clown cocked an eyebrow but didn’t immediately cower. 

“Which one? There are a few housekeepers -” the Clown began. Crocodile was in no mood for games. The Clown knew who he was talking about, Crocodile had spoken to the Clown about relieving you from some of your evening duties already. He pulled his hook out of the table and put the ever-so-sharp tip under the chin of the Clown.

“You know which one. Why?” For whatever reason, the Clown knew his crew very well. Crocodile had seen him addressing each and every one of them by name, and seemed to know a lot of personal details about them all as well. He was also oddly protective over them, Crocodile noticed. Many of his more reasonable stipulations for the alliance centered around the benefits due to his crew or their living conditions. It wasn’t Crocodile’s style, but the Clown was good at rallying people about him. He made them feel like they belonged , which was laughable, but they enjoyed such feelings. Crocodile didn't value loyalty, unless someone was loyal to him.

Intimidating the Clown usually worked well and quite easily. Of course now the Clown found his courage, when it was most inconvenient. The Clown shrugged, the hook digging further into the soft skin of his jaw. A drop of blood dripped down the hook, Crocodile would have to polish that off later. Another irritant.

“Ask her yourself, not my place to say.” One small movement from Crocodile and all his problems with the Clown would be over. But then you’d probably be upset with him, and maybe refuse to play chess against him. Crocodile seethed, blew smoke from his cigar into the Clown’s face, and left. The Clown didn’t know how lucky he was that you were on his crew. He’d have to figure out his next move.

The next night, Crocodile waited for you as usual. The day had passed so slowly, he thought time was at a halt. Finally, it was time for your nightly chess games. Crocodile was seated in his comfortable armchair, leg crossed at the knee. He was already smoking, and his hook gleamed in the evening light. You showed up on time, seemingly in a good mood. Maybe your rejection didn’t mean much to you, but it had an affect on Crocodile. True to form, you ignored Crocodile’s snippy mood and set the board as the former Warlord stewed. After turning white to Crocodile, you waited. You sat back, patiently waiting for Crocodile to make the first move.

“Why won’t you leave?” Crocodile asked, his voice low and dangerous. You didn’t flinch.

“I don’t want to talk about this. If you’re going to be moody, we can play another time,” you said acerbically and stood up to leave.

“You’ll leave when I tell you to leave,” Crocodile said, sand starting to swirl again. He’d tried to contain his emotions, upset that he was getting angry already. You hadn’t apologized or even reconsidered, like he hoped you would. Crocodile had never handled rejection well and now was no exception. 

“I want you to join my crew willingly, but I’m open to other avenues as well,” Crocodile said, accentuating each word. The threat was clear. You cackled. Crocodile was a hardened man but your eerie laugh gave him pause.

“Do you think that’s enough for me to leave Captain Buggy?” you asked, almost mocking him. Crocodile immediately knew physical threats wouldn’t work on you, not for this. He'd intimidated many people over the years, and some people's characters made them immune to a physical suggestion. You untied the knot of your scarf at the back of your neck, letting it flutter to the floor. “Maybe you can finish the job, eh?” Crocodile looked at your now bare neck as you stretched your head upwards. There was a huge, painful looking scar crossing your entire neck. It had obviously been slashed at some point in the past, you were lucky you survived. The scar tissue was thick and puckered, like whoever had sewn you back together was lacking in experience or time. It mirrored his own smaller scar across his face.

“What does the Clown have that is so important to you?” Crocodile couldn’t understand what the Clown could offer to anyone, much less someone like yourself. 

“It isn’t what he has, it’s what he’s given me,” you spat out, your lip curling in disgust. “Someone like you couldn’t understand.” Crocodile didn’t move his hook, he didn’t want you to leave before the conversation concluded in his favor. You looked up at Crocodile with your large eyes, anger simmering in your vision. “Do you know why Captain Buggy’s crew is so loyal? Do you know where he finds us?”

“Enlighten me,” Crocodile drawled. He was actually curious about this facet of the Clown so allow you to talk down to him - once.

“Captain Buggy goes to slave auctions,” you began. Crocodile frowned, he had absolutely no tolerance for the slave trade. The Clown wouldn’t live to see the end of the day if what you said was true. 

“He buys slaves who are left over at the end of the auction at a deep discount. Do you know the first thing he does with us after he buys us?” Crocodile could only imagine what Buggy did - branding, torture, brainwashing…all were common techniques for new slaves. You stared deep into Crocodiles eyes.

“He frees us.” Crocodile moved his hook away from you and sat back down in his chair, crossing his legs once more. “He frees us and invites us to join his crew. We aren’t compelled, we all make the choice to join him. Those who don’t join begin their new lives as free people. Captain Buggy has actually helps people . That’s why everyone is so happy to see his Jolly Roger and his ship. They’re cheering for their hero.” 

“He gives us freedom and hope when the best we could hope for was a swift death, rather than being tortured or beaten to death, if not worse.” You were getting heated defending your Captain, raising your voice and almost yelling. “So no, I won’t leave Captain Buggy. I can’t be bought - not anymore. He has something no one else has ever had - my loyalty.” You finished, panting for breath. You belatedly realized you had yelled at Crocodile, but you didn’t seem to care. You picked your scarf off the floor and stomped out of the room. Crocodile ran his hand through his hair.

After the disastrous event the previous night, you declined all of Crocodile’s invitations to play chess for the following three days. Crocodile understood why, but that didn’t mean he was pleased about it.  He tried talking to you, but you were avoiding him, not even coming to clean his office. He sent you gifts, flowers and jewels, even a fine silk scarf. You declined them all, returning them to him unopened. Crocodile was at a loss as to what to do - he couldn’t buy you and he couldn’t threaten you. If you were anyone else, he would simply force you to join him, or blackmail you via your Captain. But it wouldn’t be the same, and he thought you would play poorly under such circumstances. No, he had to do something drastic. 

~~~

“And so, we are forming the Cross Guild!” Captain Buggy said with flourish to the cheers of his crew, gathered before him on the deck of the ship. Crocodile had reignited negotiations between himself and the Clown, and had corralled Mihawk as well. Crocodile had actually gained some modicum of respect for the Clown when you’d enlightened him to the Clown’s recruiting habits. The three of them would soon control the seas as Emperors, with Buggy as the figurehead. Now you’d all be in one large crew, with you reporting to Crocodile and Buggy equally. You couldn’t avoid him any longer, and you didn’t have to break your loyalty to the Clown. He’d solved the problem, outmaneuvering you for once.

Once the speech was over, Crocodile looked over to you in the crowd of idiots. He’d spotted you immediately, of course, and watched over you during the speech. You were frowning, the only one out of the whole crowd. You narrowed your eyes and found Crocodile’s own. Of course, the smartest member of the crew had figured it out, Crocodile thought. You clapped for your Captain but as the crew gave way to celebrations, you slipped away among the revelry of the crew.

You would sail together with Crocodile on a new ship created for the Guild. He could always change his mind at a later time, kill the Clown and take you with him. For now, the Clown would live to see more days at sea, thanks to you. Crocodile wasn’t going to lose the best chess opponent he’d ever had over a mere business venture.  Money could come from many different sources, but interesting chess matches only came from you. He followed you as inconspicuously as he could, going beneath the deck as the idiots started drinking. Mihawk followed Crocodile’s movements with his yellow eyes, an unspoken question in the air. Crocodile ignored the Swordsman, it wasn’t his business.

Crocodile caught up to you quickly, you were on the way to the crew quarters. Stopping in front of you, Crocodile blocked your way through the hallway. You glared at him, but didn’t try to go around. The two of you were taking up the majority of the small, dark hallway.

“Seems that I’m your Captain now,” Crocodile drawled. He didn’t want to gloat, you were always gracious when you won and he wanted to extend the same to you as well. You grunted a reply, but didn’t say anything. “Would you like to meet at our regular time?”

“For what?” you asked, still angry and pretending to be obtuse. 

“Our chess matches, of course.” You scoffed, crossing your arms. He knew you couldn’t refuse now that he was your superior.

“Price has gone up,” you said flatly, crossing your arms over your chest. Crocodile smiled. For all of your bluster, maybe you could be bought. He didn’t care that he’d entwined his name and reputation with the Clown’s - he would finally have what he wanted. 

“And?”

“You have to call him Captain Buggy,”  you stated.

“Absolutely not,” Crocodile balked. “The Clown doesn’t deserve it.”

You frowned. Crocodile wasn’t budging and neither were you. Neither of you spoke, waiting for the other to break the tension.

“Call him Buggy then, if you three are equally the Captains. And Captain Buggy in front of the crew,” you bartered. Crocodile bit into his cigar.

“Three matches a night, I’ll call the Clo- him Buggy in front of the crew,” Crocodile countered.

“Three matches, time variable, call him Captain,” you retorted.

“Three matches a night, I’ll call him Buggy.” Crocodile felt the vein in his forehead about to explode. He couldn’t imagine having to show the Clown any consistent respect. But you had something he wanted and he wasn’t going to lose it over some stupid title for the stupid Clown.

You gave a small satisfied smile, grabbing his hook with your sweaty hand. Crocodile almost stabbed you reflexively, but held back at the last moment. You moved his hook up and down. “It’s a deal. See you tonight.” You sidestepped Crocodile easily and moved along to your quarters. Even though he’d gotten what he set out for, he somehow felt you still had him in checkmate.

~

The next few months were busy but unexpectedly pleasant for Crocodile. He spent his time working, cementing the hold the Cross Guild had over their territory, and running all the finances of the organization. Of course, he still took time to intimidate, maim and kill those who needed it, he had a reputation to maintain after all. But his real joy was coming from playing chess day after day against you. Crocodile had gotten better, even winning against you a few times. Your genuine praise when he did so made Crocodile feel like he’d won the title of King of the Pirates, not just won a chess game against a housekeeper. Crocodile counted down the hours until evening, when you would come and join him in his study. He continued to give you books to read and lessons in how to express yourself, trying to make you into the best version of yourself. After all, you were now a crew member for the Cross Guild, not just the Clo- Buggy.

One balmy night as the ship sailed through the waters of the Grand Line, Crocodile was on his way to his office a few minutes later than usual. He had thought of some new gambits he wanted to try, not that he thought they would work. But he came up short outside the door to his office, hearing talking from within. One was yours, he didn’t hear another voice but knew there were two people inside. Instead of breaking down the door with the sand that was already appearing like he wanted to, Crocodile decided to listen in.

“Check,” you said in a bored tone. Crocodile could almost picture your body language, chin resting on your palm as you lounged in the cushy chair Crocodile had bought for you. Crocodile heard the sounds of pieces being moved.

“Check,” you said again. More pieces were moved.

“Checkmate. Are we done here?” Crocodile wondered how quickly you’d defeated your opponent. He hoped you’d done it embarrassingly fast. Crocodile opened the door to see Mihawk examining the board curiously while you were curled up in your chair like a little cat, chin indeed resting on your palm. Crocodile didn’t like seeing Mihawk near you, especially while the two of you were alone. 

“To what do we owe the pleasure, Mihawk?” Crocodile asked, voice low. He had taken out a handkerchief and was polishing his hook. 

“I wanted to meet the chess master who captured your attention,” Mihawk answered dryly. For all his detached attitude, Crocodile knew Mihawk liked to stir up trouble occasionally. You glanced between the two men, but didn’t seem to care about the strained conversation. “She defeated me in under three minutes, quite impressive.” Crocodile drew sharply on his cigar. He wanted Mihawk gone, but he didn’t want to draw even more attention to you. He walked to stand behind your chair, leaning heavily on the back. You looked up at him, unamused.

“She will be leaving now. Let me know whenever all of this,” you gestured between Crocodile and Mihawk, “is done.” You uncurled your legs and stood up. Crocodile put his hand on your shoulder, keeping you in place. You rolled your eyes but didn’t try to leave again. Crocodile’s hand on your shoulder gripped you lightly as Mihawk stood up.

“No need, I am on my way. Enjoy your evening,” Mihawk said easily, leaving the two of you alone. Crocodile regretted his course of action. He’d shown Mihawk exactly what he’d been looking for - played into the Swordsman’s hand with ease. Maybe Mihawk was a better chess player than Crocodile gave him credit for.

“What was that all about? And stop getting sand everywhere, it’s such a bitch to clean up,” you told Crocodile, ire seemingly gone. That was a facet of your personality that Crocodile appreciated, that your anger came and went easily. His did not.

“You tell me,” Crocodile replied, releasing your shoulder. It had felt so small and delicate in his hand, like he could crush it without a second thought.

You shrugged. “Mihawk was here when I came in. He asked to play a round of chess. I said no, that I don’t play for free -”

“Good girl,” Crocodile interrupted. You rolled your eyes again.

“So he offered me a lesson in swordsmanship if I won. Which I did, of course.” Crocodile narrowed his eyes. He didn’t want you spending any more time with Mihawk, lessons or not.

“I didn’t know you had an interest in learning to wield a sword," Crocodile said, trying not to gnash his teeth.

“He offered money first, but I have enough of yours for now," you said, a smug look on your face. "Seemed like a good idea now that we’re an Emperor’s crew. I’m not a great fighter, that’s never been my strongest skill,” you explained, resetting the chess board. 

“You could have asked me if you wanted to learn,” Crocodile suggested tersely, trying to hide his anger. You looked up in mild surprise. 

“You’re jealous? Over that?” you asked incredulously. How could you read him so well?

“I am not jealous. I am just saying that it would be more appropriate for me to teach you as we already spend time together daily.” Crocodile was feeling jealous, the unfamiliar sensation burning a hole in his gut.  You hummed, turning the board to Crocodile. He opened with a pawn.

“Does the Emperor regularly teach low ranking crew members to fight?” you asked, moving your knight.

“Only ones who are worth the effort,” Crocodile said, moving his queen forward. 

[astarionancuntnin]

Die For You (Chapter 2)

summary: following your encounter in that dark alley, you're faced with your old love. will you have the strength to stand up to him?

rating: T

word count: 2.5k

pairing: astarion x you (fem!reader)

cw: kidnapping, reader is shackled for a while, starvation (both imposed by captor and self-imposed), manipulation.

a/n: a shorter chapter and no funny business this time around cause we gotta focus on the development of their relationship while reader is in captivity. also! look out for the additional a/n at the end of the chapter! im undecided on where i want to take this so i want all of your opinions !!

Masterlist

previous chapter

read on ao3

next chapter

or keep reading down below~

I fell in love with someone

I don’t know

Anymore, anymore

Sometimes I wonder if you

Think of me

Anymore, anymore

-

You can't make much of what happened after he appeared. You were too shocked by the presence of your past lover to acknowledge whoever cast sleep on you, knocking you unconscious at your most vulnerable moment. Cowards. When you awaken, you’re shackled, hanging to a wall in a dark cell. You pull against the restraints to no avail; you were securely locked in.

Your struggling must’ve made too much noise, as not long afterwards, the door opens wide, revealing Astarion, alone. He was standing proud in lavish clothing, different from the ones you had seen him in at the party a few days ago, but just as proper. As much as these last few months had been awful to you, it seemed like they had been the best in his last 200 years of existence. He approaches you slowly, head held high and arms crossed in his back.

“How’s your head, my dear?”

Hearing his voice again for the first time in months triggers a wave of emotions within you. Hurt, hatred, longing… lust. You shake them away as best as you can before questioning him.

“Why did you bring me here, Astarion?”

“I simply wanted to talk,” he says, his tone annoyingly playful.

“Was the kidnapping and shackles really necessary?” You slightly pull against them again to make your point; you can barely move in this condition.

“Can you blame me? Seeing how you ignored me so easily all night, and the fury in which you provoked my servants, I doubted you were going to follow me here willingly.”

You close your eyes and sigh, dropping your head, discouraged.

“Plus,” he adds, “I couldn’t take the chance to have you run out on me. I let you go once, it’s not a mistake I’ll be doing again.”

“Really? Now, after all these months, you want me back?” You chuckle, somehow finding a way to laugh at the situation you’re in as you raise your head back to meet his gaze. “I notice that your inability to move on wasn’t part of the many things that changed after your ascension.” 

He smiles back, amused by your wits. “I told you, I only changed for the best. Besides, I know you've been missing me just as much.”

“Oh please,” you roll your eyes, trying to conceal your reality. “You couldn’t be further from the truth.” “Am I? Were you not alone and miserable for all these months, flinging yourself at any stranger willing to spend the night with you? Or did my spawns lie to me?”

“Wait… How do you know that? Have you been spying on me?!” You exclaim in disbelief.

“Well, someone had to make sure you weren't off to get yourself killed in some stupid way.” 

You scoff, offended at this image he had of you. “I can handle my own, thank you.”

“And yet, my servants had no problems cornering you in a dark alley.” 

You open your mouth as you're about to answer back when you find yourself at a loss for words. He got you there, the prick. He notices your silence and sighs before commenting on your state.

“I’m sure you’re mad at me right now, and I wouldn’t blame you for it. But know that I’m doing this for your own good.”

“My own good? If you wanted to help me, you would disappear from my life, let me go and give me a chance to move on.” You feel like crying, and yet, the irony of the situation makes you laugh some more. “You have everything you’ve ever dreamed of and yet, you still couldn’t find someone new to replace me.” He laughs lightly. “I’ve only ever wanted you, my treasure. And now,” he walks towards you with a languid pace, his hand reaching for your chin, lifting it to meet his gaze, “You're finally where you belong, where you should have always been in the first place.”

You snap your head out of his grasp. “Shackled at your feet?” You spit out.

He forcefully brings back your gaze on him, his nails grazing your cheeks, making you hiss. “By my side.” He looks at your bared teeth, smiling. “You will make a deadly consort, that I'm sure of.” Your eyes widen as you understand the implication, and your voice rises as the fear starts to set in. “NEVER.” 

He tilts your head aside and leans in the crook of your exposed neck, his breath hot against your skin. “You don't have to. I can just take what's rightfully mine,” he whispers and that last word sends a chill down your spine. You struggle in his grasp, trying to pull your neck away as you shout. “Don’t you DARE!”

He chuckles to himself. “Oh, don't you worry, I won’t bite unless you ask, very, very nicely.” He releases your face coldly but doesn’t move away from you. “But where are my manners? I almost forgot; I meant to invite you to eat.”

“I would rather starve,” you declare, leaning into that last word.

He sighs, seemingly growing tired of your attitude. “Fine, do as you wish,” he says, walking away from you. 

He leaves and you’re left on your own for Gods know how long. You spend those first hours trying to free yourself still and eventually give up when you start to feel the bruises on your wrists. You drift in and out of consciousness, fatigue affecting you more with every hour that passes. Without any source of light, it’s nearly impossible for you to tell how much time had gone by since the night you were captured. But, judging by the growling of your stomach, at least a full day had gone by, maybe even two. Your arms and legs were starting to give out on you as well, when the door before you opened to a spawn you didn't recognize. 

“Lord Ancunín invites you to dinner,” he says, composed.

“You can tell him to fuck off.” Your words don’t have the intended effect as they’re told with a shaky voice. In truth, you would kill for just a piece of bread right about now, but you would let yourself die before you complied to Astarion.

“I'm afraid that's not an option.”

Two more spawns appear behind him, and you instantly understand where this is going; this wasn't a request, it was an order. You're unshackled, although the spawns’ grips were so strong, you didn’t notice a difference, and were guided out of your cell. You reach an immense dining room, where Astarion has been waiting for you, a gold cup already to his lips. Knowing him, you suppose it’s either blood or fine wine, not that you care either way. You sink into the chair positioned at your end of the table, eyeing the food before you suspiciously. 

“You don’t seriously think I would poison you, do you?” He exclaims. “Oh no, quite the opposite; I only want what’s best for my precious pet.”

You scoff, briefly eyeing Astarion who is sitting opposite you before turning your attention to the contents between the two of you. You would lie to yourself if you said you weren't starving. The food laid out on the table looked delicious. The table was filled with different plates of food, each one looking better than the previous, making your stomach growl in appetite. You could practically drool all over the place, but you didn’t want to give Astarion the satisfaction of seeing you cave in. Not yet, not so soon. You wouldn’t let him get the best of you. 

Astarion quickly understands your intentions, with you staring right back at him, and he sighs, rolling his eyes. “It wouldn’t be wise to let yourself starve, pet. You wouldn’t want to waste all this delicious food, would you? Don’t be shy, at least take a bite.”

You're tempted, but against your better judgement, you ignore the mouth-watering meal, crossing your arms in defiance. He rolls his eyes, matching your attitude.

“As you wish.”

He snaps his fingers and the two spawns that brought you here move towards you, reaching for your arms. You stand up abruptly, pulling away from them and swiftly grabbing a knife from the table, standing in a defensive stance. Astarion speaks up, and you can practically hear the smile in his voice. “Trust me, you do not want to pick a fight here. My lovely assistants only want to bring you back to your cell for the night.”

“I know the way.”

“I insist.”

Your fatigue and hunger get the best of you; you simply don’t have the energy to fight. 

“Fine.” You drop the knife on the floor in defeat; even if you managed to land a blow, you had nowhere to run off to, and they would probably catch up to you anyway.

“That’s my girl.”

You hate the effect he still has on you. He knows just what to say to get to you.

You shoot him a deadly glare and feel your breathing quickening as your heart races with anger and your nails dig through your palms. He smiles pretentiously at you, and you’re overcome with thoughts of jumping onto him and punching his stupid face, making him regret everything he’s done to you these last few days. If it wasn’t for the awful twist in your gut, you might have. You shut your eyes closed as you look away, frowning, before you start walking away and the two vampire spawns accompany you to your cell, where you let yourself slouch over the rock wall. At least, they didn't restrain you again.

Once again alone with your thoughts, your mind drifts to your companions. Specifically Shadowheart; would she still be waiting for you? Would she be looking for you? You wish you had a way to contact her, let her know you need help. Your thoughts are interrupted by a stabbing feeling in your gut, again. Maybe you should’ve taken a bite, just a small one, just to keep you going… No, this was a game to him, you needed to hold on. The pain is good, you try to convince yourself, it’s a reminder that I’m alive, mortal, and I’ll fight to keep it that way as long as I can. 

Another wretched tenday passes and you avoid the food still. Every day follows the same routine: you’re woken up, Astarion’s spawns bring you to the large dining room where you’ll refuse to eat anything, until he gets bored of your attitude and you’ll be brought back to your cell, three times a day. You sense how Astarion is getting annoyed at you, and it strengthens your resolve. However, you hate to admit it, but you’re becoming weaker and weaker. You spend most of the passing days asleep, unable to think straight through your hunger, and too exhausted to do anything else. 

Finally, you cave in.

As you're brought to the dining room for dinner, your gaze falls upon your favourite meal, presented before you. For the first time in days, your façade breaks down, you have eyes for nothing else other than the meal in front of you. Had this been given to you on the first day, you would’ve gladly turned it down, but you didn’t have that kind of resolve anymore. Astarion snaps you out of your reverie by speaking up, and you raise your eyes to meet his.

“You had asked me what my favourite meal was and I couldn’t remember.” His tone is gentle. “It had been so long that everything tasted like garbage. Even wine tasted like pure vinegar. It frustrated me. That’s when you told me about yours: Baldurian Mash. You described it in such great detail, I could almost taste it myself.” He pauses, and you look up to meet his gaze. “I wanted to give you what I couldn't have. A chance to remember.” You can’t stop the tears from swelling up. You’re famished, completely drained, and mentally spent; this was the last straw. You grab the gold-plated utensil with a shaky hand and dig into the plate, shoving that first bite in your mouth. It’s even better than you remember it. You chew on that first bite longer than necessary, relishing the taste of the meal. It’s comforting, filling, it tastes like home; it’s everything you’ve wanted and more. You are so hungry that you end up ravishing the rest of it, barely taking the time to savour it properly past that first mouthful. Your belly growls, this time content with the food you finally gave it. After so many days resting on an empty stomach, you can't afford to eat anything else. You smile unconsciously as you lay back in your chair, satisfied with your meal, before getting up to leave, following the usual routine.

You stop in your tracks near the door and slightly turn around towards the ascendant, pausing before the words escape your lips.

“Thank you.”

As you walk away, you miss the devilish grin forming on his lips, as you curse yourself for granting him the satisfaction of your words.

You know the way to your cell by heart now; you would probably be able to reach it with your eyes closed. You walk in front of the spawns, your mind wandering to your evening, to him. He remembered that little detail about you that felt so insignificant back then, and he sounded so sincere. What if he cared all along? Had you been wrong about him all along? Did you miss out on the signs, too blinded by your guilt? Deep down, was he still your Astarion? The same questions keep repeating themselves over and over until one of the spawns speaks up, snapping you out of your own world.

“Excuse me, my lady?”

Lady? The mention of the title stops you in your tracks and you turn around to face them, a question mark visible on your face.

“Lord Ancunín requested that you be moved to this room from now on.”

The spawn walks towards a door you had never noticed previously and opens it, welcoming you in. You look at the other spawn who nods at you before you walk towards the room. Inside you find a large bed, draped in luxurious blue and gold silk sheets, a lit fireplace creating a warm light all around, and a large window, covered by black curtains. The room alone is almost as large as the one you shared with your companions back at the Elfsong. The walls were filled with books that you couldn’t make out exactly, and a cosy blue velvet chair sat between the fireplace and the window. You’re still taking everything in when one of the spawns speaks up.

“Please let us know if you are in need of anything. Have a good night, my lady.”

You barely notice them as they both leave, closing the door behind them, too enraptured by the sight of your new room. You're confused. Could this be a trap? Was he watching you from somewhere like he had been all those previous months? You look around quickly but can't make out much, as the fatigue from your first meal in days settles in. The bed in the middle of your room looks so comfortable after spending days sleeping against the cold rock ground. You reach for it and as you lay down, you feel yourself drift to sleep almost instantly.

-

Familiar faces that look like you

They tend to

Mess with my head just like it's deja vu

It's always

Right when I think I’m getting over you

That it feels

Like I have salt inside an open wound

[michellemisfit]

✨Weekly Tag Wednesday ✨

Thanks for creating the game and for the tag @jrooc thanks for the tag @vintagelacerosette

Today we’re talking fandom. Come play!

Name and A03 handle: Michelle, michellemisfit

Current Location: Living room, surrounded by feathers, as I’m currently fletching some arrows

Favourite picrew: This one is pretty fucking spot on. Or at least it was at the time. Hair is very different now. But then, hair is always different… lol

Also this one is spiritually VERY me

What's one thing you want in a picrew? Ability to add coloured streaks! And a wide selection of scars, or alternatively the ability to move them around the screen. Either is fine. But mostly the hair thing. My hair is generally 4 different colours. Don’t try and limit me to one!!

Favourite thing you’ve created (or seen created) for the fandom? Erm… 3 way tie between Mexico Gallacrafts, Fimo Gallavich, and Cookie Gallavich? Maybe? Argh. Turns out, looking back at my art tag… I’ve created some pretty cool stuff. Huh. Yay me.

Why is it your favourite? I don’t really do photography, and I’m really proud of the idea behind and the execution of that photo. And while I LOVE drawing more than anything, I don’t think I’m exceptional or anything. But I’m damn creative when it comes to silly 3D craft projects, so both Fimo Gallavich and Cookie Gallavich make me happy and feel like something not just anyone could do… I dunno.

Did it come easily or was it hard to create? It was LONG to create. Both cookie and Fimo Gallavich took several days in total. And I think that’s the other thing I like about myself. I am willing to put in the work, and it usually pays off.

Last ao3 fic you commented on? Hah! You’ll be able to corroborate this, I’m not just sucking up!! LOL I’m currently reading Camp is a Battlefield by @blue-disco-lights, @jrooc, and @mybrainismelted, with artwork by @creepkinginc, so that’s the last one I commented on :)

Biggest WIP heartache you’ve ever experienced? I mean… every single WIP I have ever started reading, only to realise that maybe there won’t be any more of it… 😱 Every. Single. One. They’re all special, and they all hurt in their own special ways. And I will remain subscribed to all of them FOREVER, because you never know!!

Also? Comment on WIPs. Tell authors how much joy the story brought you, how much space it’s occupying in your brain, how much you would love to see it continue but how happy you are to have read as much of the story as there is because it’s changed your brain chemistry… do NOT comment saying ‘next chapter when?’, cause that makes you a dick bag.

Favourite trope or head cannon you like included in a fanfic? I’m a sucker for fake dating, only one bed, and a soulmate AU 🤷🏽‍♂️

Least favourite? …not a huge fan of kid fic, but hey, all it takes is a great author to make it work.

Secret or surprising kink or trope? Again, do not kink shame, because you’re only ever one good fanfic away from discovering something about yourself you did NOT see coming…

Describe how you feel after you’ve created something new? Exhausted and antsy. Is it good enough? Are people gonna like it? Should I even bother anyone with this? Why don’t I just go and hide under a rock forever?? I felt okay about this when I finished it, why is it suddenly the worst thing to have ever been created??? …I wish there was a sense of calm and accomplishment. There is not. Brains suck!

Top hype man you have that always helps you get across the finish line: @deedala - I so appreciate how we’re on a similar wave length when it comes to art as well as ‘everybody wants to hunt me for sport’ vibes. I know I can always count on you for kind but honest words, and that’s so important!!

It's been a bad day, you turn to the fandom and you _____? Read comfort fic. Probably Like Real People Do or None the Wiser.

Edit: Also? Go and read comments and tags on old art posts. That’s a sure fire way to cheer me up!

This was fun, and made the 15 minute wait between fletching each feather pass much faster. Thanks!!

If you are currently making your own arrows and need something to occupy your wait time with… how about completing a tag game? lol

@heymrspatel @loftec @creepkinginc @deedala @too-schoolforcool @darlingian @iandarling @iansw0rld @ian-galagher @mybrainismelted @palepinkgoat @crossmydna @mikhailoisbaby @sickness-health-all-that-shit @rereadanon @rutherinahobbit @energievie @junemermaid @francesrose3 @deathclassic @faejilly @rutherinahobbit @gallawitchxx @look-i-love-u @jessij1997 @callivich @celestialmickey @wehangout @doshiart @lynne-monstr @the-rat-wins @blue-disco-lights @suzy-queued @sleepyfacetoughguy @spookygingerr @burninface @gallapiech

[scary-grace]

Enough to Go By (Chapter 17) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

Your best friend vanished on the same night his family was murdered, and even though the world forgot about him, you never did. When a chance encounter brings you back into contact with Shimura Tenko, you'll do anything to make sure you don't lose him again. Keep his secrets? Sure. Aid the League of Villains? Of course. Sacrifice everything? You would - but as the battle between the League of Villains and hero society unfolds, it becomes clear that everything is far more than you or anyone else imagined it would be. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18

Chapter 17

When you get to the supply cache, Giran is waiting for you, leaning back against the door of the storage unit and smoking a cigarette. It’s not his first one, either – the ground around his feet is scattered with the remains of five or six more. He notices you looking and smirks. “Seems like I’ve been littering, Saintess. Are you going to absolve me?”

“Only if you want me to,” you say. “Do you have what we ordered?”

“Cash first.”

“We paid in advance,” you remind him. Giran holds out both hands in a conciliatory gesture. “Was any of it hard to get?”

“Only what you asked for,” Giran says. “For the others, I’ve got replacement parts for Compress’s arm and Toga’s gear, more of those gloves for Shigaraki, gauntlets for Spinner and Twice – you sure you don’t want a set? They were buy two, get one free.”

You’re not sure if he’s joking or not. “That’s everything for the others. How about for me?”

“Of course.” Giran sets the crate with the rest of the supplies aside and pulls out a smaller box. “I have to say, I was surprised when you asked for this. I didn’t think the League’s resident angel would have any interest in a gun.”

“I’m interested in defending myself,” you say. “Open it.”

Giran opens the box, revealing a gun that looks like any other gun you’ve seen, not that you’ve seen many guns up close. “You don’t know enough to specify, so I chose something beginner-friendly,” he says. “This is a .22 caliber handgun. It’s designed for minimum recoil, so as to avoid knocking you back on your ass when you try to fire it. It’s also designed to be quiet, but I’ve thrown in a silencer free of charge.”

“Thanks,” you say. “What about ammunition?”

“Also included, but I’m charging for that. Thanks to the Americans and their mass shootings, it’s hard to buy ammunition in large quantities anywhere else,” Giran says. “Call it a convenience fee. Additionally, the trigger on this model is known to be fairly sensitive, so trigger discipline is going to be key. You know what that means?”

“I know.” You’ve been researching. “Safety on and fingers off unless I’m planning to shoot someone.”

“The instruction manual’s included,” Giran says. You scowl. “Ask Twice for help if you’re confused. He knows how to shoot.”

“Twice with a gun. That sounds safe.”

“Safer than you,” Giran says. “Running around with villains is one thing. Murder’s something else. I don’t think you have it in you.”

“Then I’ll hand the gun off to somebody who does.” You pick the crate up, grimacing at the weight, and Giran shuts the box with the gun and sets it down on top. “Thanks for getting it for me. Stay safe.”

Giran laughs at that. “Try ‘get lost’ next time. It’ll make you sound more intimidating.”

Your costume is a veil and a crown of thorns, and as of right now your weapon is a backpack. Intimidating is a lost cause. “Thanks for the tip. We’ll be in touch.”

“Pleasure doing business with you.” Giran lights up another cigarette as he walks away.

You unlock the storage unit and step inside. This is a supply cache you haven’t visited before, and you can tell Mitsuko’s the one who set it up, because there’s a box of condoms prominently perched atop six or seven cases of bottled water. You and the others have a water source right now, and while your medical supplies are dwindling, you don’t need a refill just yet. What you’re short on is food. You set down the crate, followed by your backpack, and open them up. Then you start filling both of them with prepackaged food.

Energy bars are the most efficient, space-wise, and they at least make a gesture at containing any kind of nutrients. Unfortunately, the League of Villains is full of adults with children’s tastes in food, and they wouldn’t know a nutrient if it walked up and introduced itself. It’s taken almost a month into the effort to batter Gigantomachia into submission for them to admit that eating nothing but calorie-rich, nutrient-poor food makes them feel gross. If you could get them real food on a regular basis, you would. But it’s almost never feasible, not with the tiny amount of downtime Tenko and the others are working with. It’s packaged food or nothing. They need to eat.

You pick out a variety of items and stuff them into the crate and your own backpack, text thank-you to Mitsuko while pretending you don’t see her message asking if the condoms were the right size, and head out. There are a few more things to buy before you can head back to the others.

As the medic, you’re responsible for the team’s health, and you’re worried about Tenko in particular. He’s exerting himself more than anyone and resting barely at all, and when he does get to rest, it’s all you can do to convince him to eat a few bites of anything before he passes out. The caloric input to output imbalance has stripped him of any remaining body fat, and when you touch him now, all you can feel are hard ropes of muscle and prominent bones straining beneath his skin.

The caloric imbalance is bad enough, but you’ve seen everything he’s eating, so you know he’s massively vitamin-deficient as well. If he won’t eat enough to get the amount he needs, you’ve got another way to do it. The clerk at the drugstore looks askance at the number of pill bottles you’re carrying. “These aren’t cheap, you know.”

“I know,” you say. “I’ll need a bag.”

The bag plus the crate and your backpack are stupidly heavy. You’re struggling as you head for the train station, gritting your teeth against the pain in your arms. You’ve been more active in the last month and a half than you’ve ever been in your life, and there’s not a day when some part of you isn’t sore. You pause at the bottom of the stairs to the platform and stare dismally upward. This one is going to hurt.

“Do you need help with that?”

You almost jump out of your skin, and almost drop what you’re carrying in the bargain. There’s a girl standing next to you, and you recognize her. In fact, you know her hero name, her real name, her quirk, and her blood type, courtesy of Toga. “Ochako?”

Uraraka Ochako, hero name: Uravity, looks shocked. “You know my name?”

“I remember you from the Sports Festival,” you say. It’s not so much that you remember watching the Sports Festival and more that Toga watches clips of it on YouTube to fall asleep. “You were really good. I liked your plan a lot.”

“Oh, thank you! I just wish it had worked,” Uraraka says ruefully. She gestures at the boxes you’re carrying. “Do you need help with those? I can make them lighter for you.”

You were going to say no, but if all she has to do is touch them – “Thank you so much. That would be really great.”

It’s much easier to get up the stairs when the stuff you’re carrying is lighter than air. Uraraka follows you up. “Do you live nearby? I can help you get them home.”

You shake your head. “I have a really long way to go.”

“I’ll stay until your train gets here,” she decides. You protest that your train’s running late, and she probably has somewhere to be. “My internship is right around here, and I’m off for the day. I don’t mind.”

You sort of mind. You’re on your way to hook back up with the League of Villains and you’re carrying what feels like a literal kiloton of contraband. You have a hard time believing that the word VILLAIN isn’t stamped on your forehead. But you can’t be rude, the crate really is heavy, and Toga will kill you if she finds out that you had the chance to talk to Uraraka and didn’t take it. You struggle for a topic to raise, and your brain suggests the Shie Hassaikai raid. “I saw in the paper that you helped rescue that little girl.”

“That wasn’t me. It was Deku,” Uraraka says. “I helped with other things, but he was the one who saved her.”

“Do you know how she’s doing?” you ask. “Is she okay?”

“She is! She stays with Aizawa-sensei and the other teachers and we all love her so much.” Uraraka is beaming now. “She’s okay even though the League of Villains kidnapped her. I can’t believe they just gave her back.”

Not ‘dumped her’, not ‘threw her away’. Gave her back. Your heart lifts enough that it’s a struggle to come up with the appropriate civilian response. “She must have been so scared. Did they hurt her?”

“That’s the weird part. She says she wasn’t scared,” Uraraka says. She frowns slightly. “She said they were nice to her. They gave her this blanket and this dog plushie. Aizawa-sensei keeps trying to swap it out for a cat plushie, but she won’t let it go.”

“Weird,” you agree. “Are you sure it was the League that got her?”

“She described them all. Shigaraki, Toga, Dabi – everybody.” Uraraka’s frown deepens. “And one we hadn’t heard of before. One nobody had heard of before. Saintess.”

You were hoping Eri wouldn’t remember, but it sounds like she does – and she knows what you look like. Did she describe you, too? Is that why Uraraka won’t leave? You struggle to stay calm. Physically, you don’t stand out. There are probably thousands of people who match your physical description, and Uraraka isn’t acting like a hero who’s just cornered a suspect. Heroes don’t play it cool. She thinks you’re just a random civilian with a bunch of boxes to carry, and she’s helping out. Which is – nice. Heroes aren’t usually nice like that.

“Saintess,” you repeat. “That’s a weird name for a villain.”

“Right?” Uraraka’s frown shifts into confusion. “The whole thing is weird. They’re villains. It’s easier when they just act like it.”

Huh. You don’t spend a lot of time around full-fledged heroes, but when you were Kazuo’s girlfriend, you spent a lot of time around heroes in training, and you don’t remember any of them ever saying something like that. “What do you mean?”

“I mean –” Uraraka pauses to think for a second. “Shigaraki tried to kill us at USJ. The League of Villains attacked us and kidnapped one of my classmates. It’s weird that they’d draw the line at hurting a little kid.”

“Villains have lines?” You fake confusion. “I thought they didn’t care who they hurt.”

“Some of them don’t. The one Deku fought to save Eri definitely didn’t. I guess the League does.” Uraraka looks uneasy. “That doesn’t change anything.”

It does, though. You can see it in her face. The fact that the League let Eri go, that they took care of her while they had her, is challenging her worldview to a degree she’s not comfortable with. You need to ease off, switch the topic before she doubles down – and before you can slip up defending the others. “I’m glad she wasn’t hurt, and that she’s doing better. It sounds like you all care about her a lot, and everybody deserves people who love them.”

“They do.” Uraraka’s smile returns at last, and you breathe a sigh of relief. You got her to agree to that statement in the middle of a conversation about the League. That feels less like a narrow escape and more like a win.

Your train arrives late, and you bid Uraraka goodbye and thank her for her help. Then you climb onto the train with your crate full of supplies and check the time on your phone. If you’re lucky, you’ll get back just as the fighting’s dying down.

At first you thought Gigantomachia could keep fighting forever, but it turns out that his strength and stamina aren’t infinite – just more than sufficient to outlast any normal human. He can fight for three days at a stretch, hibernate for less than three hours, and pick up right where he left off. There’s no hiding from. Wherever he is, he’ll seek Tenko out, and while Twice’s copies of Tenko can keep him occupied for a short time, three and a half hours is the longest break you’ve ever seen Tenko get.

It’s not enough. Not even close. The fight against the giant is destroying Tenko, and there’s nothing you can do except try to make sure he eats something before he falls asleep – and try to make sure that whatever sleep he does get is as restful as humanly possible.

The train gods are kind to you. You get back on time, meet Compress just outside the small town nearest to where Tenko and the others are fighting so he can contain the supplies and make them easier to carry, then head towards the base camp that’s been set up for the hibernation period. Compress’s phone rings as the two of you hurry along. It’s Twice, and you can hear him shouting even though he’s not on speaker. “Do you have her? He’s going to want to see her.”

“I’m here,” you say. No matter what, you make sure you’re there when the fighting pauses. It’s the only time you get to see Tenko these days. “How is he?”

“This was a rough one,” Twice says, but he says that every time. “Better hurry.”

You pick up the pace until you’re practically jogging. It’s been three days since you saw Tenko, and you’ve missed him a lot more than you want to let on to the others. You know they don’t question your commitment to the League or your devotion to him. You just don’t want them to know how far it really goes.

You reach the base camp a few seconds before Tomura and Twice do, and it’s just enough time for Compress to release the supplies and for you to set them down before Tomura collides with you. You realize instantly that Twice wasn’t kidding – instead of his usual limp exhaustion, Tomura’s shaky, and when he hugs you, you can feel his heart beating through his ribs. The level of adrenaline in his system must be absurd. He’s not getting to sleep like this, and if you wait for him to crash, he’ll be exhausted by the time the fighting picks back up again.

You piece together a plan on the fly, a plan that will hopefully net you some time to make sure he eats and get him at least an hour of uninterrupted sleep. Tomura’s trying to put on his gloves without letting go of you. You step back out of his embrace and take hold of his wrist. “Come with me.”

You don’t tell Twice and Compress where you’re going or what you’re doing, but you have a feeling they can guess. As much as that makes you cringe, it’s not enough to stop you. This is important. You have to calm Tomura down if you want him to sleep at all, and even though it’s selfish, you want a chance to be close to him again. Tomura puts on his gloves clumsily as you walk, his hands shaking too badly to fasten the Velcro around his wrists. You stop walking, turn, and do it for him. Then you take both his hands in yours and pull him forward into a kiss.

Tenko kisses you back with enthusiasm, in spite of the fact that his lips split and bleed instantly, that his hands are shaking so badly that he can barely hold onto yours. You nudge him a few steps backwards, and a few more, until he’s leaning against a tree. You’re not pinning him, exactly, but it’s close. “Hey,” Tenko mumbles against your mouth. You don’t want to interrupt him, so you switch to kissing his neck, conscious of just how little time you have. “Where did you go? Twice said you left.”

“Supply run.” You pull his jacket down from his shoulders, then tug the neckline of his shirt aside to kiss him there. “I made sure I’d be back in time. I wouldn’t have risked not seeing you.”

“I know.” The affection in Tenko’s voice is direct and obvious enough to make you blush. “We’re making progress. I’m wearing him down.”

“You’re a wreck.” You ignore the insulted noise he makes, a noise that turns sharp when your teeth scrape along his collarbone. “Something happened today. What was it?”

“Twice doubles you, sometimes. In case I get hurt and the others aren’t close enough to help.” Tenko’s grip on you is bruising. “He didn’t tell me he’d done it. That thing got to you. It threw you –”

And he wouldn’t have seen the copy dissolve, the way all of Twice’s copies do when they take too much damage. He’d have thought Gigantomachia killed you, and he probably wouldn’t have believed Twice when Twice told him it was just a clone. “I’m okay,” you tell him. You bite his shoulder lightly to underscore the point, making him shiver. “I was a long way away from this.”

“I don’t want you a long way away. I need you – here –”

You slide your hand under his shirt and run your fingers along his flank, swallowing alarm at just how prominent his ribs are. Then you trace downward, finding the waist of his pants. Tenko goes tense. “What are you doing?”

“I need you to relax, or you won’t be able to fall asleep in time,” you explain in between kisses to his neck. “This is the best way.”

“Is that the only reason?”

“No,” you say. “I miss you.”

“Me, too. No, you, too. I mean – fuck, I miss you too.” Tenko fumbles the sentence, but that doesn’t surprise you. Underneath the adrenaline rush, he’s exhausted, and you did just stick your hand down his pants. “Fuck, that feels good –”

“Good.” You tug his pants and underwear down to free his cock. “Relax.”

Tenko slumps, half against the tree, half against you. “What about you?” he mumbles.

“Don’t think about that.” You kiss his cheek, the corner of his jaw, and begin to stroke his cock in earnest. “Let me take care of you.”

It kills you that this is the best you can do – one quick hookup in the forest, before you feed him whatever he’s willing to eat along with a bunch of vitamins to make up for the nutrients he’s not getting and try to get him to fall asleep. But you’re never anything but pleased to have a chance to be close to him, and it amazes you how completely Tenko gives up control. His legs shift apart to make more room for your hand, tilts his head to one side so you can go back to kissing his neck, moans when your lips move over his scars. One hand is scrabbling for purchase on the trunk of the tree you’re leaning against. The other is glued to you, struggling to work its way under your jacket and shirt to make contact with your skin.

You told him not to worry about you, but you’re going to have a hard time walking back to the others like this. Your face is hot and you’re way too wet for the fact that you barely kissed him. This is Tenko’s fault. It’s his fault for going from too embarrassed to let you see his face when he comes to letting go of any sense of shame, and it’s your fault for finding it really hot. Are you really this addicted to being wanted, needed? When it comes to Tenko, absolutely.

The two of you have been together long enough now that you know when he’s close, just by the way his breath catches and his hips jerk. You pull away, ignoring Tenko’s protests, and sink to your knees in front of him. When you glance up, you find him staring at you, jaw dropped and face flushed. “It’s not as messy,” you say by way of explanation. You steady yourself with one hand on his hip and lean in to take his cock in your mouth.

Blowjobs aren’t your favorite thing in the world, but you’re a big fan of the effect they have on Tenko. You’ve gotten better at handling your gag reflex, and you never have to handle it for very long. Tenko lasts maybe thirty seconds before he gasps out a warning and his hips jerk sharply forward. You don’t let up, even when the taste of his cum fills your mouth. You don’t just need him calm, you need him relaxed to the point where he can barely keep his eyes open, and drawing back by degrees, lavishing attention on his tip as your hand closes around his length, is the only way you can think of to make it stick.

Tenko squirms but doesn’t tell you to stop, and a few small spurts of cum paint your tongue. You stop, draw back, and swallow a few times. Then you look up to see the results for yourself.

You’re sort of worried you might have killed him. He looks semiconscious, his chest rising and falling rapidly, lips split and mouth open to pant for breath. You pick yourself up off the ground, bringing his coat with you, and he pushes it away in favor of struggling to pull up his pants. His free hand slides almost absentmindedly between your legs, rubbing you through your jeans, and you’re so turned on that the sensation makes you gasp.

You struggle to stay focused. “We don’t have time.”

“It won’t take long.” Tenko’s eyes are barely open, but his mouth tilts into a crooked grin.

Once he’s got his pants up, he goes after yours, one hand down the front of them just like you did to him. His fingers brush your clit, then dip lower, and when you try to pull away, his other hand seizes your hip and pulls you against him, too tight to pull away. “Tenko,” you protest again. “There’s not enough time –”

“Not with that attitude.”

Your attitude isn’t going to matter all that much. Just like you’ve gotten to know his body, he knows yours – which means he probably knows how badly you want his fingers inside you and how frustrated you are that he won’t stop teasing your clit. But your attitude doesn’t matter, and you need him enough to take what you can get. It’s been a month since you were together like this. You miss him too much to say no.

His touch sends sparks through you, and you bite back a gasp. It’s hard to spread your legs wider when you’re standing, but you give it your best shot, and Tenko slides two fingers inside you. He mimics the shallow thrusts that drive you insane when you have sex, only this time, he’s been teasing you too long for you to hold out. You bury your face in his shoulder as his languid, barely-enough touches tip you over the edge.

When he speaks, he sounds triumphant – or maybe smug. “Told you it wouldn’t take long.”

You don’t know how much time Tenko just burned through. Too much. “Come on. We need to go back.”

“Say I’m right first.”

“Fine. You’re right.”

“I know.” Tenko yawns. “Love you.”

You kiss him instead of responding in kind, your mouth coming away bloody. “Let’s go.”

If Twice and Compress know what you were up to, they have the sense not to comment on it. If Dabi was here instead of off cultivating an ally, you’d never hear the end of it. You sit Tomura down next to the fire Twice must have built and dive into the supply box, coming up with food and water and the collection of vitamins you sorted out on the train. Tomura shakes his head. “I’m tired.”

“You need to eat.” Your plan might have worked a little too well. You hold two energy bars out to him and he grimaces. “Okay, fine. If you won’t eat, at least take these.”

Tomura makes an even worse face at the sight of the pills. “What are those?”

“Vitamins,” Compress says from across the fire. “Saintess has decided that we’ll get our essential nutrients one way or the other.”

“That’s right. I don’t want to have to treat any of you for scurvy,” you say. Twice snickers. You return your attention to Tomura and pull out your only remaining weapon, other than a whiny-girlfriend guilt-trip. “If you won’t eat and take your medicine, you can’t use me as a pillow.”

“Oh, come on.”

“You already did,” you say as quietly as possible. Tomura tries to glare at you, but the effect’s spoiled both by his mouth twitching as he tries to hold in laughter and the enormous yawn that swallows up whatever retort he was going to come up with. “Just eat a little bit. Please.”

“You’re lucky I love you,” Tomura mutters, and you know you’ve won. You pass over the water bottle, followed by the pills. “Otherwise this would be annoying as hell.”

“I’d be a bad sidekick if I didn’t take care of you,” you say. “And I’d be a bad medic if I let any of you pass out from vitamin deficiency.”

“Or get scurvy,” Twice hoots.

“Scurvy?” Spinner and Toga are back, Spinner to relieve Compress and Toga to continue her mission to collect some of Gigantomachia’s blood. It hasn’t worked yet, but it keeps her busy. “Who has scurvy?”

“All of us, according to Saintess,” Twice says, cackling. “She’s gonna make us take our vitamins.”

“That’s right,” you say, as Tomura downs a handful of pills and chases them with half the water bottle. You’re worried you’ll have to fight him over the energy bar, but he peels back the wrapper and takes a bite without prompting. “Twice, get over here. You’re next.”

“So the supply pickup went okay,” Spinner says, coming closer as you hand Twice his vitamins. “You didn’t run into any trouble with Giran?”

“He gave me a hard time for not being a real villain, but that’s it,” you say. “He found the gauntlets you and Twice asked for. And the spare parts for your gear, Toga.”

“I can fix it while we’re waiting,” Toga says brightly. She peers into the supply box, then emerges immediately with a gasp. “This is a cute little gun! Who’s it for?”

“Me,” Spinner says at once. “I need a ranged weapon until I get better at throwing knives.”

You wonder if Spinner knows he’s covering for you. You can ask him later, once Tomura’s asleep. Toga doesn’t look convinced. “You need something bigger,” she says. “You have muscles. It’ll look silly if you’re holding such a small gun.”

“I’ll tell Saintess to send it back, then,” Spinner says. “Quit messing with it. It might be loaded.”

You’re pretty sure it’s not loaded, but your internet gun safety research made sure to point out that even if the gun looks empty, there could still be a round in the chamber – and Toga’s having a little too much fun pointing it around and striking poses. You need to put a pin in that, and you’ve got just the thing. “If you don’t quit messing around with that, I’m not going to tell you who I met today.”

“You just met Giran,” Toga says. You allow a smirk to cross your face. “Wait, who else? You have to tell me!”

“Put the gun away. Then I’ll think about it.”

“Saintess –”

The sound of a wrapper crumpling up yanks you clear of Toga’s whining, and you glance over to see that Tomura’s eaten both energy bars and finished the bottle of water. He looks even sleepier than before. “Okay,” you say. “How do you want to do this?”

Over the last month, Tomura’s tried out a variety of positions for using you as a pillow, and his favorite involves him sprawled out on top of you with his head on your chest. Your favorite is when he’s got his head in your lap and you can mess with his hair, but you’re not the one running a potentially-deadly sleep deficit. You find a rock to lean back against, and Tomura flops down on you. Usually he rustles around a bit, trying to get comfortable, but this time he’s out like a light as soon as his head hits your chest. It’s a deeper sleep than usual, which is good. He needs every second.

It’s not until you hear snickering that you realize where one of Tomura’s hands has landed. “I knew the boss was a boob guy,” Twice crows as you move Tomura’s hand off your breast, cringing the whole way. “There’s no way to go wrong. No, bullshit! The ass is where it’s at!”

Spinner shushes him, looking about as uncomfortable as you feel. Toga, meanwhile, drops down next to you. “I put the gun away. Tell me who you met. Was it Izuku?”

You’ve met Izuku. As of today, you’re two for three on Toga’s hero crushes. “I met Uraraka.”

“Ochako?” Toga squeals. Thankfully, Tomura’s too deeply asleep to stir. “That’s even better! How did she look? Was she wearing her school uniform or her costume? Say it was her costume – no, her uniform! We’d look so cute if we matched, don’t you think?”

You think Uraraka wouldn’t have been nearly as nice to you if she’d known you were going to report back about her to Toga. “It wasn’t her costume or her uniform. Civilian clothes. She had this pink coat –”

“Like mine?”

“No, puffy,” you say. Toga nods, beaming. She gestures for you to go on. “Um, and she had a hat that matched. With a white pompom on it.”

Toga looks like she’s going to faint. “Did you talk to her?” she asks. You nod. “Did she mention me?”

You don’t want Toga to have a heart attack, but you also don’t want to lie. “She mentioned Tomura and Dabi and you,” you say. Toga blushes. “I asked her about Eri – I figured even civilians would know about that, since her picture was all over everything – and she said Eri mentioned you specifically.”

“Wait, she remembers us?” Spinner looks alarmed. “How much?”

“More than I thought she would,” you admit. “But apparently it’s good. She remembers that we took care of her.”

“Ochako told you that?”

You nod. “It seemed like it was messing with her. The idea that we’d treat a kid we kidnapped well.”

“It shouldn’t mess with her,” Twice says. “We kidnapped the explosion kid and we were nice to him, too. And he wasn’t even cute.”

“I don’t like him. He’s mean,” Toga complains. “We should have stolen Izuku instead. He looks so cute covered in blood – I know you’d like him, Saintess –”

“I met him.”

Toga’s eyes look like they’re going to pop out of her head. She swats you on the shoulder. “When?”

It takes her fifteen minutes to forgive you for not mentioning that you handed Eri off directly to Midoriya himself, and another fifteen minutes for her to interrogate you for every detail of that interaction, too. “You’d tell me if you met Tsu, right?” she demands, looking like she’s this close to drawing a knife on you. “You wouldn’t hide that from me. You wouldn’t dare.”

“I haven’t met her,” you say. “If I do, you’ll be the first person I tell.”

“Which one is Tsu?” Spinner probably wishes he’d left this conversation half an hour ago, but for some reason he’s still hanging on. “The pink one?”

“No, look!” Toga’s downloaded every UA Sports Festival video to her phone. She pulls one up and shows Spinner. “I love her big eyes and her hair – and she’s so mean! She says we’re not friends, but I know we are –”

“You have a crush on a heteromorph?”

Toga gives Spinner a weird look. “You can’t have her, she’s mine. But you’d have a crush on her, too.”

“That wouldn’t be weird. I’m a heteromorph. But you –” Spinner stops, shakes his head. “Forget it.”

“It’s okay.” Toga pats his shoulder. “Love is just weird like that. It doesn’t care about the stuff we care about. Like Tomura-kun and Saintess. Tomura loves her and he says it all the time. She loves him too but she never says it back. I would hate it if someone did that to me! But they don’t mind, so it’s fine.”

She gives Spinner a meaningful look. “I don’t mind, so it’s fine. Besides, I’m a heteromorph, too.”

She is, technically speaking – her amber eyes and almost-fangs are far enough from the human standard to count – but it’s a tone-deaf thing to say to someone like Spinner, who can’t hide who he is. You can tell it bothers him, but he stays put, and Toga eventually gets up to repair her support items. And Spinner stays. It occurs to you that he might want to talk to you. Alone.

He doesn’t speak up until there are twenty-eight minutes left on the clock, when it’s just him leaning against one side of the rock and you with Tomura fast asleep in your arms on the other. “How come you don’t say it?”

“What?”

“Toga’s right. He says it all the time, but you never do.” Spinner is cringing, like he can’t believe he’s saying this. You can’t believe he’s saying it, either. “What’s the deal? Do you – not?”

“Why are you asking me that?” You don’t mean to sound as defensive as it comes out, but you’re honestly confused. Then it occurs to you why Spinner, the person in the League who’s least likely to comment on anybody else’s life, is bringing it up. “Did he say something?”

“When? In between trying not to get flattened by Machia and sleeping for two hours at a stretch?” Spinner can’t make eye contact with you. He keeps looking away. “He said something one time while we were hiding. Asked if it was normal that you wouldn’t say it, like I know anything about girls.”

You think Spinner would probably do okay with girls once they got to know him. “If anything goes wrong with you two, it’ll snap his focus and he’ll get us all killed,” Spinner continues. “I want to see his vision come true and I don’t want to die. So I’m asking. That’s why.”

“I do,” you say. Spinner looks relieved, but he doesn’t look surprised. “I don’t know why I don’t say it. It feels like – a lot. Like something will happen. I don’t know what.”

Spinner gives you a curious look. “Something bad?”

“Just something.” This is making you feel stupid. “I do, though. I thought it was obvious.”

“I mean, it is.” Spinner gestures awkwardly at the two of you. Tomura’s still dead to the world, and maybe drooling a little bit. You must be really far gone, because you think it’s sort of cute. “Like I said. I don’t know anything about girls, but I don’t think someone who didn’t love somebody else would put it on the line like this. It was just a question. Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” You want to stop talking about this, and you’ve got a question for him. “Why’d you cover for me earlier? You must have known the gun was mine.”

“It would have freaked him out.” Spinner doesn’t have to say who he’s talking about. “He thinks it’s his job to protect you, since you’re his sidekick. And his girlfriend. And if you’re using a gun, you can commit actual crimes. The kind people get put away for. I don’t think he wants that.”

You’re pretty sure you’re already going away if you get caught. You haven’t directly participated except in the attack on the CRC, but that was probably enough to put you within Kazuo’s search parameters, and if your interaction with Uraraka told you anything, it’s that the villain named Saintess is officially on the heroic radar. But Spinner’s got a point. Right now you can only be charged as an accomplice to the League’s crimes. That charge carries a significantly lighter sentence than whatever you’d do with a gun.

Still – “Tomura can’t be everywhere,” you say. He stirs in his sleep but doesn’t wake. “I can’t have him getting distracted trying to look after me, so I have to be able to look out for myself.”

Spinner doesn’t answer, but you know he knows you’re right. “Don’t tell anybody I have it,” you say.

“I’m not going to lie to him.”

“Don’t lie to him. If he says “hey, Spinner, does my girlfriend have a gun”, tell him the truth.” As far as you’re concerned, it never needs to get that far. “Just don’t tattle on me.”

“Don’t say tattle. Say snitch,” Spinner corrects. ‘It sounds more – villain.”

That’s the second person today who’s knocked you for not being villainous enough. “Fine. Don’t snitch on me.”

“Deal,” Spinner says. It’s quiet for a moment. “Do you ever think about what happens when we win?”

“You and me come up with a new world that doesn’t suck?”

“Besides that,” Spinner says. “Like what has to happen for it to count as a win. We don’t all have the same answer. Toga thinks it’s a win as long as the stuff she likes makes it through. Twice probably thinks it’s a win if Toga makes it, and Compress probably just wants to do the same stuff he’s always done and not get arrested. Who even knows about Dabi.”

“He’s got a mission,” you say, and Spinner snorts. You’re starting to see where he’s headed with this. “What about you and me?”

“We win if we build the new world,” Spinner says. He glances down at Tomura, whose hand has migrated back to your breast in his sleep. You move it off again. “And we lose if he’s not in it.”

You blink, taken aback. “I don’t have another best friend,” Spinner continues. “I can’t replace the one I have. And you can’t replace him.”

“I know,” you say. And then, without thinking: “I tried.”

Spinner stares at you, opens his mouth, but before he can say a word – and before you can backtrack straight to Yokohama – your phone starts buzzing in your pocket. So does everybody else’s, plus Spinner’s watch and your stupid laptop, which is shut and supposed to be off in your backpack. The clamor sends a jolt of pure fear down your spine, just like it does every time you hear it. It’s your timer, synced to everyone else’s. Gigantomachia’s awake.

Tomura lurches awake, in command from the second his eyes open. “Twice, send out a double to buy us time. Make it run.”

“It can only run as fast as you can –”

“I’ve gotten faster. Send it to the hills. He’ll have a harder time with the terrain.” Tomura gets to his feet, and you scramble after him. He turns to you. “Get clear. We’ll drop a pin once we have a new campsite. Will you –”

There’s not time for that question, and he should know the answer. You silence him with a kiss. “I’ll be there.”

He’s already peeling off his gloves, fastening on his family’s hands, scanning the horizon. “I love you.”

You remember what Spinner said. The question Tomura apparently asked him. How just showing it might not be enough. That you shouldn’t expect it to be enough – but you can’t get the words out. You need to try something else. You grab his hand, careful to avoid his fingers, and raise it to your lips, kissing the heel of his hand, the center of his palm, the ridges of his knuckles. His hands have so many scars now. He’s being hurt, and you can’t help him. There’s nothing you can do.

Tomura’s grip on your hand tightens, index fingers raised. The ground rattles slightly beneath your feet, and he lets go. “Run.”

Compress has already contained the supplies; Twice has stomped out the fire. He and Spinner have their gauntlets, and Toga’s support item is fixed. They’re ready to go, and so should you be. You spare one more glance for Tomura, then turn to flee, bolting into the woods alongside Compress as Gigantomachia’s silhouette appears over the horizon.

The two of you shed your disguises at the outskirts of the same town, uncompressing the supplies to reorganize them. “Spinner forgot his gun,” Compress remarks. “Shall I hold onto it?”

“I will,” you say. “We’ll see him at the same time, and nobody’s going to search me.”

Compress nods. “I’ll be getting some sleep. I’m three days behind. What about you?”

Your phone pings with a fresh text, and your heart sinks when you see the number. “I’ve got some stuff to take care of. Keep me updated.”

Compress nods again, and the two of you split. He heads down the street, probably aiming for the capsule hotel you scoped out on your way into town, and you go in the opposite direction, towards the train station. You don’t check your messages until you’re waiting on the platform.

You texted Kazuo a few days ago, asking him a question, ordering him not to look unless his health allows it. You’ve been anxiously awaiting his reply, if it comes at all, and now you’ve gotten six texts from him in a row. Your heart races as you open them.

Kazuo: Yoshimi is in remission. Mitsuko and Ryuhei are supporting her in your absence. All three appear to be doing well.

Kazuo: Their involvement with your friend has not been noticed.

That’s good news. You’ve been thinking about her. And about them. For a moment, you’re almost suffocated by a wish that you could celebrate with them. You gave up your old life, your old friends. And you miss them even more than you thought you would. You swallow hard and keep reading.

Kazuo: Your codename has appeared on the official roster for the League of Villains. They are attempting to track you by quirk and criminal history, and therefore coming up empty.

Kazuo: I’ll keep you clear as long as I can, but if they sufficiently alter their questions, I won’t be able to.

Kazuo: I was able to look into the question you gave me. It was specific enough to instantly rule out all other answers, so I thank you for that.

Kazuo: The answer is yes. Congratulations.

Your eyes go blurry, and a second later, your throat closes off. Your train arrives, but you don’t get on it – instead you sit down on a bench, staring down at the floor between your feet, trying not to cry and furious with yourself for wanting to cry at all. You asked Kazuo to use his quirk and see if you – you, identified by your birthdate, blood type, height, career, and city you were born in, for all the specifics he could ever need – have a latent quirk. You trust his word over the doctor’s. His quirk isn’t wrong, ever. You told yourself that you’d accept his answer as the truth. You were hoping he’d say no.

Instead he says yes. You do have a latent quirk, something that’s been hidden your whole life because the conditions necessary to awaken it have never been met. They’ll probably never be met, and your quirk is probably worse than useless, but the fact that it’s latent means you’ve spent your whole life being treated like you’re quirkless when you aren’t. You should feel cheated. Instead you feel betrayed.

It doesn’t matter, you tell yourself. If you don’t know what it is, it’s like you don’t have it at all. Nothing needs to change. You don’t need to tell anyone. You tell yourself that, but it doesn’t make much of a different. The doctor knows, and so does Kazuo. So does All For One.

The next train arrives long before you’ve calmed down, but you get up and shamble aboard anyway. Nobody looks at you – not for long, anyway. Most people go out of their way to avoid seeing others’ pain. When your eyes have cleared a little bit, you take your phone out and start looking up firing ranges. You might not be able to be useful to Tenko and the others with your stupid, latent quirk. But you can definitely be useful to them with a gun.

[kydrogendragon]

Hi! I was thinking about Dream dating Hob because a wager with Death. Time passes, Hob can't believe Dream is interested in him/his experiences, but he is so happy, he has so much to live for. Until he finds out about the wager and... He is ok with that! He tells Dream that he thinks they made the wager because Dream was lonely, and it's ok because he was lonely, too. But Dream doesn't hear him, he is so offended, he says "You dare..." and he storms out. Time passes again and, I don't know, there is a happy ending, of course.

Third prompt for the day! This one was fun to write. I feel like it could easily be it's own multi-chapter fic cause it's a real fun concept, but alas, I have too many wips as is, so we'll take the bite-size version :P

Thanks for the request!!

Relationship: Hob/Dream Words: 2293 Warnings: None Ao3 Link

“You know, your sister told me about the wager,” Hob says, looking down into his water glass. Tonight was he and Dream’s six month anniversary. They’re tucked into the back corner booth of the Italian restaurant just down the road from Hob’s own apartment. The place was a pricier one, yes, but Dream had talked about missing their carbonara last week and Hob wasn’t about to let his boyfriend suffer a moment longer without it.

Hob remembers when Dream first approached him in the White Horse back in June. He’d been relaxing with some of his coworkers, celebrating the end of term a bit late, when the most breathtakingly pretty man approached their table. He looked like he’d stepped out of some sort of fantasy novel, like he was the Fae Prince himself. And then those icy blue eyes of his met Hob’s and Hob knew he was done for.

Dream had asked if Hob meant it when he’d claim to know true love the moment he first saw them. Hob had just smiled and said yes. Because he did. And the moment he and Dream’s eyes locked, Hob knew that he was going to love that man. Hob said just as much, which earned him a hearty eye roll at the time. But Dream had said he’d meet him there, at the White Horse, again next week if he’d meant it.

So, of course, Hob had gone back in a week’s time and found the handsome man sitting near the fireplace, nursing a glass of wine. They’d chatted, well, Hob chatted, Dream listened. Hob went on and on about his life, his work. He talked about his friend and family, about his childhood and the new TV show he’s been obsessed with. Then Dream asked him, a few hours later, if he still meant it. If he still thought Dream was his true love.

And Hob said yes.

They continued meeting once a week, which shortly turned to twice a week, then sometimes even sooner, depending on each other’s schedules. Most of the time, they met up someplace in the city for dinner or drinks. Dream had taken him out to the park to feed the birds, which quickly became a common date for them. Then, Hob invited Dream back to his, and Dream said yes. They didn’t do much, just relaxed, watched a movie and ordered take-out, but it was a change in their dynamic. And over the course of those few months, Hob could see Dream relaxing more and more.

The Fae-like man had always seemed overly tense. He carried a weight in his shoulders and his stance that looked just moments away from crushing him. Hob had resolved himself to doing whatever he could to ease some of that stress away from him. And over time, it seemed to work.

The first time Dream had kissed him, Hob thought he’d died and gone to heaven. It was a hesitant thing. They’d been relaxing on Hob’s couch as they had for week by this point. Perhaps they’d had a few more glasses of wine between them than they usually would and maybe sharing a blanket was just an excuse to be close to one another. Dream had turned to him with a look in his eyes that Hob had seen many times before. It glinted with fear, but hope. Then Dream leaned in, slowly, giving time for Hob to back away. Then those rosebud colored lips were finally on his own and it was wonderful. Hob was addicted in just one go.

They didn’t kiss much after, much to Hob’s disappointment, but the times they had felt like magic, but that kiss changed their dynamic. Hob found that Dream was more open to hugs or cuddles in the evening afterwards. He’d even gotten the man to lie his head on Hob’s lap which quickly became a favored position. Hob loved it too. It gave him a chance to just run his fingers through that kitten soft black hair of his. Then six months had passed which felt like forever and also no time at all. If Hob ever doubted his love for this man before, these past months solidified it.

Dream’s sister, Death (a very odd name, but his boyfriend’s name was Dream so who was he to judge?), had tracked him down at the White Horse a week back, which is how he’d found out about their initial wager. She hadn’t told him intentionally. She’d assumed Dream had explained things (he hadn’t) so she’d taken the liberty to explain the situation.

Hob’s pretty sure she thought he’d be angry about it. And yeah, sure, it was a bit of a surprise to hear that Dream had only continued to meet with him after that night because of a dare. But the more he thought about it, the less he really cared. It brought Dream into his life, after all. How could he be mad about that?

Dream looked up at him from over the top of the fancy leather menu, his eyes wide. Hob shot him a smile to try and ease whatever thoughts are running through his boyfriend’s mind. Dream looks back down and slowly closes the menu, setting it in front of him on the white linen tablecloth. He takes a breath before he speaks.

“And what did she say of the wager?” His shoulders are pulled back and his face is carefully masked. Hob knows this posture well. He’s preparing himself to be hurt. The notion makes Hob’s heart ache, so he extends his hand, tilting it upwards just in front of Dream. He doesn’t reach for it, though Hob can see his gaze dart to his open palm.

“Well,” Hob starts, tilting his head down to try and see Dream’s face better. “She said you two overheard me and my boasting that night at the pub. She also said she thought maybe I’d fall in love with you at first sight, which you apparently, and I quote, rolled your eyes so hard she thought they’d get lost in your head.”

Dream rolls his eyes, but Hob spots the twitch of a smile. “She said you thought that was ridiculous and that even if I thought you were striking, I’d soon grow tire of you.” His voice trailed off, softening at the end. Dream swallows, his jaw clenching. It was a fear of his, Hob knew. Dream never said so, not in so many words, but he said it through his actions. Through his carefully constructed face of neutrality, through the fear and the hope that radiates from his eyes when he does something he thinks Hob would dislike. In all the small actions and tentative steps, Dream’s made very clear the fears inside his heart and Hob’s sworn to himself to love each fear away.

“And have you?” Dream asks, his voice quiet.

“No. Never. Told you, one look and I know. I knew. That night, I knew.” Hob replies instantly. He can see the slight shimmer of a tear down Dream’s cheek as he closes his eyes. Dream remains, stiff in his chair, hands in his lap. “I’m glad you made that wager. That your sister made you keep hanging out with me, dating me. I think it’s been good, for both of us. I think… I think maybe she pushed you towards me cause you were lonely. That you needed someone to show you you were worthy of love.”

Dream’s eyes dart to his, a mix of surprise and fury in his face. He’d seen many emotions from his boyfriend over the past six months but anger was rarely one of them. Frustration, irritation, sure, but the way his lip is snarling and his nostrils are flaring, this is true anger. Hob shifts, lifting his hands up in a placating gesture. He rewinds the conversation, combing through each sentence trying to figure out what it was that earned him such a reaction.

“You dare?” Dream spits. “You dare to know how I feel? You dare to claim that you know me? To know my heart so?”

Hob blinks. “Yes,” he replies, utterly confused at how this conversation has so drastically shifted. “Yes, I do.” Dream huffs as he tosses the napkin in his lap on the table and stands. Hob’s up on his feet as Dream stalks away, following after him. “Dream!” He calls after, weaving between the tables and the onlookers. He was suddenly glad that their waiter had been taking a while to get to them.

Dream storms out the doors into London’s pouring rain. He stomps down the sidewalk as Hob rushes after. For as thin as the man was, he walked faster than Hob would have expected. “Dream, Jesus, just-just wait, please!” He calls against the rain. His boyfriend’s steps stutter, and it gives Hob just enough time to close the distance. He grabs onto his shoulder and spins the other man to face him.

His inky black hair is soaked already, just seconds into the downpour. Hob doubts he’s much better. It sticks to his pale skin. The rain coats him completely, Dream’s eyeliner already beginning to run. Hob feels the flutter of adrenaline under his skin, afraid that one wrong move and he’ll lose this dramatic wet cat of a man that he so desperately loves. He needs to tackle his carefully, thoughtfully. Hob needs to treat Dream with a calm hand and a gentle touch.

“What are you so afraid of?”

Not what he should have said. Dream’s brows furrow, the scrunch of his nose and the sneer of his lips already beginning to paint his face. Hob tightens his grip on his shoulder, his other hand moving to hold Dream’s wrist. Dream tugs, but Hob doesn’t relent. He stares into Dream’s reddened eyes as he speaks.

“We’ve been dating for six months now. Today’s our anniversary, in case you didn’t know. And maybe I don’t know you completely, but I feel like I’ve got a pretty damn good grasp on you. I know that you hate the mornings, not because it’s early, but because your favorite bookshop doesn’t open until ten. I know that you take your coffee with more sugar and milk in it than actual coffee, but you’ll drink it black in the presence of others because you think it looks better. I know you choose each word you speak with such a meticulous nature than I can’t even begin to fathom because words are important and they mean a lot to you. I know you worry about the amount of bread the pigeons and ducks in the park eat, which is why you always make sure to get the special feed mix from the farm supply shop, even though it’s a half hour drive to get to. I know that you overthink each action you take because you’re afraid of how I’ll react. And I know, from tonight, you think that if you push me away first, then you think it might not hurt as bad as if I pushed you away instead.

“But guess what, Dream? I’m not letting you go. Not if you don’t want me to. Not if you love me even just a sliver as much as I love you. Cause I do. I love you, Dream. Have since that day you first walked up to me. Told you that. It hasn’t changed. If anything, I’ve just fallen even harder for you since. So you can yell at me, you can push me away, but I’ll still be here. Forever loving you. Just like I promised you six months ago.”

Dream stares at him, the anger falling from his face and morphing into a pained expression as Hob talks. The adrenaline has started to fade from his veins, leaving Hob tired and shaky. Dream doesn’t say a word, he just stares and with each passing second, fear begins to creep in. Is this how it was going to end? Six months in and that’s it, all because Hob dared to say he understood the man in front of him.

Then lips are on his and there’s a pair of hands clinging to the flaps of his jacket, pulling him ever closer. Hob melts into the kiss, his hands falling to Dream’s waist. It’s an awkward kiss, their noses are jammed against each other, but his body is warm against Hob’s and he’s holding him close and Hob hasn’t lost Dream. That’s the most important thing.

They part, panting against each other in the pouring rain. Dream’s icy blue eyes peer into Hob’s. He’s so close. He can make out all the individual lines of color in Dream’s irises. He can see rough edges of his eyeliner and the bits of mascara that cling to his lashes. He is a work of art, not that Hob’s ever thought otherwise, but here, as the golden glow of the restaurant’s lights reflect against the trails of tears and raindrops against his pale skin, Hob wishes he could take a picture and keep it forever.

“You are a ridiculous man, Robert Gadling. Impertinent. Foolish,” Dream whispers against his lips. “You could have anyone.”

“I could,” Hob replies. He moves one hand up, cupping Dream’s cheek. He rubs his thumb across the chilled skin. “But I want you.”

“A terrible choice,” Dream says, kissing him once more. Hob’s eyes drift shut as he loses himself to the warmth of soft lips dancing with his own. They’ve a long way to go, Hob thinks to himself. But he’s a hopeful man and a determined one. And he plans to spend as many lifetimes with this ridiculous man in his arms as he possibly can.

[smilesrobotlover]

AO3

<<Prev Next>>

Chapter 2- ten-years-old is a big deal

“There’s been three reports of a missing person in the past week.”

Zelda looked at the captain who was dropping papers on the table, her advisor and husband, Edmund, all stared blankly at the mess.

“That would make twenty-three missing persons this month, I think it’s safe to say that this is alarming, hm?”

The captain glared at Zelda’s advisor, who had been brushing off the disappearances as nothing serious. The advisor would say that disappearances happen all the time, and that there was nothing they could’ve done, but the captain was determined to persuade him. Zelda picked up a paper and skimmed over it. This was a woman who lived in Kakariko village, she just opened up her clothes shop there. She glanced at another paper, this one was about an older man, who was working at Lake Hylia. He worked on carriages, canons, or anything that needed fixing. Zelda hummed as she compared the two reports of the missing people, not finding much similarities between them.

“This is certainly alarming,” Zelda’s advisor said almost mockingly.

“Captain Hoz,” the prince consort of Hyrule started, ignoring the advisor’s rude tone, “are there any connections between these missing people that we can use to find them?”

Captain Hoz sighed and sat down. “The only connection I could find was that these people disappeared when they were traveling across Hyrule. That tailor from Kakariko? She was visiting home in Castle town. The handy man down in Lake Hylia was traveling to Gerudo desert to work on a home. The Goron from Death Mountain was heading to Zora’s domain for a vacation. None of these people were seen again.”

Zelda frowned and Edmund sighed. That sounded about right considering the other twenty reports sitting on her desk.

“This is tragic for sure,” the advisor said rather indifferently, “but what do you expect us to do about it?”

Hoz looked at him with disgust. “We look for these people of course! And find who’s responsible!”

“We do not have the resources to search for these people. We’re busy enough providing food and other necessities for our citizens,” the advisor stated, looking bored.

“If we don’t do something then we won’t have citizens to take care of! We need to save these people!” Captain Hoz rebutted.

“And who will save them? Hm? The hero of Hyrule? He’s been very useful lately,” the advisor said sarcastically, giving Zelda a look that made her skin crawl.

“The knights of Hyrule will save them! That’s why we exist!”

Zelda heard Edmund snort a little and she cringed internally. He was the second prince of Labrynna, a kingdom that was known for its military. Though he didn’t lead the army, he was involved with the battles Labrynna had, until the arranged marriage happened. When he came to Hyrule, he was unimpressed with the cowards that called themselves knights here. Some of the men, like Captain Hoz, took their jobs seriously, but they were so scarce that it didn’t make a difference. Captain Hoz glared at Edmund and stood back up.

“I’ve been training my men vigorously, your highness, I promise you, we can save these people.”

Edmund rolled his eyes. “Have your men faced terrifying monsters and kept their heads on their shoulders? Have your men faced death and walked it off? For a kingdom that is built on courage, there sure are a lot of cowards—“

“Enough!” Zelda stood up and glared at her husband. She turned to Hoz who was red from fury. “Captain, what exactly do you need to find these people?”

“Uh, I’ll need men, of course. Maybe around ten. It might depend on what is causing these disappearances.”

“I can have you take five men with you, but my advisor is right, we are spread thin, so you’ll have to make do.”

Captain Hoz sighed and bowed his head. “Thank you, my queen. I’ll make plans as soon as possible. These people will be found.”

“Thank you captain,” Zelda gave a nod back, “is there anything else that needs to be discussed?”

“No, that is all my queen,” Hoz gave another bow.

“There’s nothing I can think of,” the advisor muttered.

Edmund only shook his head. The queen nodded.

“Then you are all dismissed. Thank you.”

Hoz and the advisor stood up and silently walked out of the room, and Zelda glared at Edmund, who was casually leaning back in the chair. He glanced over at her.

“What?”

“Throwing insults at my kingdom was unnecessary.”

“They’re not insults, they're observations. You can’t deny that your army is nothing special.”

“No, but calling them cowardly and weak is unfair. You don’t know what some of these men went through. Captain Hoz fought hard to get where he is and I trust him. He’s one of our best.”

Her husband rolled his eyes again. “Fine, so the captain is good, that doesn’t say anything about the rest of your army.”

Zelda stared at him for a moment before gathering the papers. “I suppose not,” she muttered, wanting to end the conversation. Edmund sighed and walked over to her, resting his hand on her shoulder which made her freeze.

“Look, I’m sorry that I insulted Hoz. He is without a doubt, one of the best. But this seems like a serious situation and I feel like you’re not taking it as seriously as it sounds.”

Zelda glared daggers into him and he backed up, his hands up defensively.

“Don’t be upset with me dear, I’m just saying that Labrynna would’ve had this problem fixed within a week.”

I don’t care what Labrynna does.” She spat, and she turned back to the papers, trying to get Edmund to leave her alone. He was silent, but he didn’t move.

“Why don’t you send your… hero to do the job? From what I’ve heard, he’s a one man army,” he asked, and Zelda looked up to stare at the double doors in front of her. She has called for Link whenever Hyrule needed help. In fact, she called all of the resistance. They’ve worked together and have helped Hyrule in a way that Zelda couldn’t. But no one knew who Link really was, nor what he looked like thanks to his refusal to be public, so the people, especially the nobles, figured that Link was a fake, or a lazy man. Though she and Link didn’t get along, it made her sick. He suffered so much for Hyrule, and that was how they repaid him?

“Zelda, why don’t you send your famous hero to do the job?” Edmund repeated, and Zelda spun around, her frustration getting the best of her.

“I will consider it. Now get out while I organize this mess.”

Edmund glared at her and left the room, leaving Zelda alone. She collapsed in her chair, already exhausted even though it was morning. There was so much to do, so much to worry about, so much complaining that was done. Even though she was raised to do this work since birth, she still felt like she didn’t know what she was doing. She looked down at the papers on the table and sighed, grabbing some blank paper and a quill. She wouldn’t be able to search for the people herself, and she knew that Hoz would need all the help he could get, so she decided to reach out to the only people that she could trust.

The resistance.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Kori! Come up for breakfast!”

The little twilian rubbed his eyes open, looking at his room in the basement. It was dark, and it took him a moment to adjust to the light shining from the door that led upstairs, where his father looked down at him.

“Heeeyyy sleepy head. Come on, it’s time to get up.”

Kori groaned at the light and tried to snuggle up more in his blankets.

“Oh no ya don’t. Get up Kori.”

The twilian groaned again, burying his face more into the blankets. The blankets were so warm… and he was so comfy…

He felt two hands grab him and he squealed as he was thrown over his dad’s shoulder.

“NOOOOO! Let me go! I wanna sleeeeeep!” Kori cried, but his father did not listen as he climbed up the ladder, and Kori hissed as the bright sun assaulted his eyes.

“Oh quit bein’ dramatic.”

His dad set him down near the fire where breakfast was cooking, the desire to sleep more melting away as he grew hungry. He looked at the pan over the fire, staring at the food cooking on top of it.

“What is it?”

“Eggs of course!” his father grabbed a plate and dished up some of the food to give to Kori.

“Eggs! I love eggs! We only ever have them everyday!” Kori joked sarcastically, shoveling his breakfast into his mouth.

“Oh complain about the breakfast all ya want you rascal. But luckily for you I have a great supper planned!”

“What are you making?” Kori asked, his mouth full.

“Only your favorite meal ever! Pumpkin soup!”

Kori gasped. He loved his father’s pumpkin soup. The thought of eating the pumpkin soup suddenly made the eggs tasteless and bland.

“Bleh, if only if it were supper time right now.”

“Hey now, I don’t need to make the soup tonight,” his father waved his utensil around, a teasing smile on his face. “I can just save it for later or give aaaall of it to grandpa Rusl and Colin and—“

“No! Don’t do that! I’m sorry papa thank you for the eggs now please don’t give away my supper!”

His father chuckled and ruffled his boy’s hair. “I’m just teasin’ ya, I would never do that.”

Kori giggled and ate his eggs a little more gratefully.

“Why are you making the soup anyways papa? You only make it for like… holidays and stuff.”

His father raised an eyebrow at Kori. “You don’t know? A little birdie told me that a certain child is turning 10 today.”

Kori chewed for a little bit before the realization hit. His birthday… It was today! How could he not know that?

“My birthday! I’m turning 10!” Kori shouted, waving his fork around.

“Hey now, don’t make a mess!” His father scolded, but he gave a light chuckle after Kori put his fork down, “you’re a full decade old! Isn’t that somethin’? How do you feel?”

Kori giggled and started to focus.

“Not much different really.”

His father chuckled and ruffled his hair.

“Give it a few years, you’ll feel older,” he said with a wink. After they finished Kori’s birthday breakfast, his father slapped his knees and stood up. “Welp, you ready to herd some goats?”

Kori frowned at his father. “It’s my birthday! I don’t wanna herd goats!”

“But farm work doesn't stop for birthday boys, Kori.”

Kori crossed his arms and pouted at his father. They stared each other down for a few moments before his dad started laughing.

“Alright alright. I’ll let you have today.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Go play with the other kids, I don’t care. Happy birthday Kori.”

“YEAH!” Kori shot up and ran outside before his father could say anything else. He practically jumped down the ladder, gave Epona a pat on the snout, and ran into the village where everyone was. He jogged around Fado’s house, ran quickly past Beth’s parent’s house, slowing down to a halt when he saw his grandpa Rusl standing outside his own home, reading something. He crouched down and smiled. Target spotted.

Kori moved around so he would be in his grandpa’s blind spot, then he ran as quietly as he could, ready to jump him, until his grandpa turned around and gave him a stern look, which stopped Kori dead in his tracks.

“And what do you think you’re doing young man?” He asked, his hands on his hips. Kori looked down awkwardly.

“I wasn’t gonna do anything!”

“Really? You weren’t plannin’ on tackling my legs?”

“Noooooooo….”

His grandpa glared at him for a moment, then let out a laugh. “Oh it’s never a dull moment with you Kori. Good morning kid.”

Kori giggled and hugged his grandpa, and he received a tight hug in return.

“So, Kori,” grandpa Rusl knelt down to look him in the eyes, “I hear it’s your birthday yeah? What do you have planned for today?”

“Well papa said that I don’t have to do my chores today! So I was hoping to play with…” His eyes moved over to spot his uncle exiting the house. “UNCLE COLIN!”

His uncle looked over to where Kori was sprinting towards him. “Wooooah hey now slow down or else you’ll—”

Kori tackled him to the ground, hugging him tightly as he laid there. Grandpa Rusl chuckled and walked towards them.

“Uncle Colin! It’s my birthday and I don’t have to do my chores! Wanna play?”

Colin rubbed his head and looked down. “I’d love to Kori, but I do need to do my chores.”

Kori’s smile dropped. “Aw what? Why?”

Colin sat up, with Grandpa Rusl taking Kori off of him and helping him up. “It’s not my birthday,” he explained simply, looking at Grandpa Rusl who nodded.

“What about auntie Rela? Can she play?”

“Sorry Kori, she also has chores to do,” Grandpa explained. “But she’ll be done soon.”

“Aw… but I wanna play now!”

Colin knelt down and put his hand on his shoulder.

“Maybe Beth or Talo could play with you!”

Kori looked down, contemplating this. Beth was fun to play with, but she was taking over the shop and was always busy, not to mention her scary parents who didn’t like him. And Talo was also fun but sometimes he was gone and his dad didn’t like him all that much. Malo was closest to his age but Malo hated everyone so he didn’t want to play with him. But it didn’t hurt to try. “I guess I’ll see if they can play…” he finally said.

Colin smiled, guilt clearly written on his face. “I’m sorry kiddo. I’ll try to get done as soon as possible.”

“Ok.” Kori gave the two of them another hug and ran to Talo’s house. He’d have better luck with him anyways. When he ran to the house with the water wheel he stopped at the smell of something sweet. He saw a pie on a windowsill and gasped. It must’ve been pumpkin pie, which Pergie made occasionally. He ran over to where the pie was and stared at it, mouth watering as the smell got stronger.

“Excuuuuuse me!”

Kori flinched at the sudden entrance of Pergie, who was standing protectively over her pie. Kori put his hands behind his back and shrunk a little, trying to look innocent.

“Were you thinking of eating my pie?” Pergie asked, resting against the windowsill.

“Noooo…”

“You do know I’ve been spending all morning making this right?”

“Yeaaah.”

“So I wouldn’t want someone to mess with it before it’s ready, right?”

Kori looked down, then at Pergie, then at the pie. Drool dropped out of his mouth and he wiped it away, embarrassed. Pergie let out a hearty laugh and patted his head.

“Oh you sweet little stinker. Here, I can give you a slice.”

Pergie cut a small slice of her pie and handed it to Kori on a plate. Kori gasped at the random gift and smiled at her.

“Happy birthday, Kori.”

“You remembered my birthday?”

“Well you never let me forget,” Pergie teased, poking his nose. Kori giggled at the gesture and started to eat the pie with Pergie watching.

“What are you doing here anyways boy?”

“My papa said that I don’t have to do my chores so I was wondering if Talo wanted to play.”

“Oooh…” Pergie tapped the windowsill and clicked her tongue. “Talo left this morning to Kakariko dear.”

“Aw what? What’s he doing there?”

“Delivering our pumpkins to the folks there of course!” Pergie leaned closer to him, a teasing look on her face. “He’s also wantin’ to court the girl there, so he’s there for that as well.”

Kori stared at Pergie and nodded, not at all understanding what she meant.

“If you want, you could play with Malo!” She turned around and called for her youngest son. “MALO! Get over here!”

Kori frowned and put the plate on the windowsill. He did not want to play with Malo, and when Malo showed up, he could tell that he didn’t want to play either.

“Malo! It’s Kori’s birthday! Why don’t you two play games together!” Pergie suggested for the two boys. Malo glared at his mother.

“Mom, I’m taking care of my shop, I don’t have time to play,” he mumbled, annoyed. Kori has heard Malo talk about the three shops he’s opened up several times whenever he tried to hang out with him. He never understood any of it.

“Malo, I know how much you love to play shop, but you should play with the other kids!”

Malo groaned and glared at Kori. Pergie has always tried to push her son to socialize and make friends, but Malo took his job very seriously. Kori smiled at Pergie politely and stepped back.

“I’m actually gonna go see if Beth can play… thanks for the pie!”

“Oh, wait, Malo go with him!” Pergie gestured for Malo to follow him but he just rolled his eyes and walked away. Kori took that as a sign to run towards where Beth lived.

“You have a great birthday sweet boy!” He heard Pergie yell after him, and he turned and waved at her, smiling.

Pergie used to scare Kori when he was younger. She clearly feared him and thought he was strange, not liking it whenever Talo hung out with him. But as Kori got older, he noticed that Pergie got kinder towards him, being sweet and caring towards him whenever he lingered near their house. The same couldn’t be said about Sera though, Beth’s mother.

Everyone was pretty hostile towards Kori, but Sera in particular has been very cruel towards him. Beth was a blast to be around and happily watched Kori when he needed to be watched. But Sera believed that Kori was a demon, here in Ordon to hurt her daughter. His father and grandpa told him that monsters hurt the kids in Ordon, so they were paranoid about anything different, but Kori couldn’t help but be scared of Sera. He was terrified that she would hurt him because of her own fear. Beth’s influence always helped calm her mother down, but Kori still felt her distrust towards him. He stopped in front of Beth’s home and took a deep breath, praying that it was just Beth in there. He opened the door and peeked through the crack, seeing both Beth and Sera behind the counter. He went to quickly leave before he was noticed but Beth called out to him.

“Kori! Is that you?”

He stopped and poked his head further into the home. They seemed to have been deep in conversation; Beth was smiling at him while Sera stared at him coldly.

“It is you! Hi there!” Beth leaned against the counter and gave him a grin. “How are you? Heard you’re turning ten today, right?”

Kori nodded quietly, glancing at Sera who wasn’t moving.

“What’re you doing here? Did Link give you money to buy the famous slingshot?” She gestured to the toy section where a slingshot sat. Kori was tempted, but he had no money.

“I was wondering if you wanted to play,” Kori he started, talking softly while occasionally glancing at Sera, “I don’t have to do my chores today.”

“Oh,” Beth got off the counter and looked at her mother who was scowling. “Sorry dear, I’m working right now. You can go play with the kitties though!”

Kori gasped. Beth and Sera’s cat went and got another cat pregnant, leaving them with adorable kitties. Beth had let him play with them before, but never alone.

“Beth,” her mother spoke up, a dark expression on her face.

“Mom, it’ll be fine, Kori knows to be gentle, right?” Beth gave Kori a look and he nodded.

“How do you know he won’t eat one of the babies?”

“Mom!”

Kori looked down, the words stinging. He hated how she saw him as a monster. Kori had sharp teeth, which was different from everyone else’s, but he’d never want to hurt anyone, let alone any kitties! He started to back away from the two, walking towards the door.

“I—um— wanted to play with someone not with the cats,” he lied, reaching for the handle, “I’m just gonna see if someone else wants to play, bye Beth!”

“Wait Kori—“ Beth called out for him but he snuck out of the room. He heard Beth and Sera erupt into an argument, but he chose to ignore them, nearly ramming into Beth’s father, Hanch.

“Oh, um….” Kori shrunk away from the short man. “Sorry.”

Hanch stared at him for a moment, his expression was always filled with anxiety, but he nervously smiled.

“Hi Kori. Happy birthday,” Hanch said before running into his home. Kori stared ahead very surprised as the nervous man always avoided Kori out of fear. He stared at the entrance to the clearing where his home was, knowing his father wasn’t home. He sighed not knowing what to do or who to hang out with. He glanced at the entrance to the Ordon Ranch and decided to head there to hang out with people he knew liked him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Link ran around on Epona, herding in the goats with Fado keeping any stragglers from running away. On Epona, the goats feared Link due to how big he looked, and they would obey him as he herded them in. Fado however didn’t need a horse since he was so tall. The goats would just see him and run away. Though Fado has always struggled herding in the goats, Link has noticed that with Link’s many absences, he’s gotten much better at doing it all on his own. He almost didn’t need Link anymore.

He sighed when all the goats were finally in the barn. Just like yesterday… and the day before… and the day before…

“Thanks for your help, Link!” Fado called to him and Link waved it off.

“Just doin’ my job.”

“Well you do a good job at it!”

Link smiled at his good friend and got off his horse, giving her a loving pat on the neck. Though Epona was a strong horse, he was worried about overworking her, especially since she was getting much older. He wished that Illia was still here so she could pamper her…

“Hoo boy, we got done in under a minute! Now what do we do?” Fado put his hands on his hips and looked at the ranch from inside the barn. “I feel like we can just lay around right now!”

Link gave a small smile but it quickly disappeared. Though it was a beautiful day, Link was already bored at the idea of sitting around. He walked out of the barn and looked around, noticing a little figure walking towards the ranch.

“Hey, isn’t that your little tot? I thought you said he wasn’t working today?” Fado asked, coming up from behind Link. Link shrugged and walked over to his son, whose head was hanging. When he got closer, Kori looked up and smiled at his father.

“What’s going on Kori? I thought you wanted to play?”

Kori shrugged. “Everyone is doing their chores today! They can’t play.”

Link frowned and patted his head. “Oh, I’m sorry Kori. They won’t be working all day though.”

“Yeah… but still…”

Link frowned and guilt started creeping in. He was hoping that he’d have a fun day, but he didn’t think about everyone else having to do their chores. He gave Kori a slight squeeze.

“Can I hang out with you until someone’s ready to play?” Kori asked.

“Of course, you can just watch me, you don’t need to work.”

“Thanks papa.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The rest of the day was fun for Kori. His aunt, Rela, finished her chores relatively quickly, sothey played together until the sun began to set, and everyone started to return to their homes for supper. Kori looked up from the tadpoles he was playing with and saw his father walking to his grandparent’s house, arms full of different ingredients. Kori jumped up and started sprinting towards him.

“We’re eating at gramma’s house?” Kori called out as he nearly rammed into his father’s legs.

“Hey! Kori! The reek fish ain’t easy to get at this time of year!” His father warned, dodging his hyper son. “And yes, we’re eating at gramma’s house this year, she has better cooking supplies than me anyways.”

“Will Midna be here?” Rela came running up to the two of them. Kori’s father gave a nervous smile.

“I guess we’ll see!”

Kori frowned. “Mom should be here!”

His father only shrugged. “I don’t know when she comes kiddo, but I did tell her to try to make it today, so we’ll see.”

Rela looked at Kori who only shrugged. His mother was from a different world, and according to his father, she had to do very important things there, so she couldn’t stay in Ordon. Kori wished that she could stay here though. He missed her everyday that she wasn’t here. What was worse was that he never knew when she was coming, she could be there everyday, or she could be gone for weeks. So it was just a guessing game for them. But he hoped she would be here. She usually was on his birthday.

Kori was bouncing off the walls from excitement when supper came close to being ready. The family were all together inside except for grandpa Rusl, his father and gramma chatting about boring adult stuff while he and Rela were playing, and the smell of the pumpkin soup made him restless. When his father was finally done with the soup, Kori was right by his side, eyeing it as if it were his prey.

“Spirits above, Kori, don’t make me spill this,” his father warned, setting the soup gently on the table while Kori practically hung on him. Gramma Uli set a cake down next to the soup, and Kori began vibrating with excitement even more.

“Sweet Ordona, I think he’s about to explode!” Colin chuckled, walking over to the table to help set things up.

“Yeah, I think so too, and there’s gonna be an accident if he doesn’t calm down.” His father dragged Kori away from the table as he reached for the food, and the little twilian pouted at his father.

“I just wanna look at it,” he said, making his eyes as big as possible.

“Yeah sure ya do. You can’t look at it until everything’s ready though.”

“But whyyyyy,” Kori leaned towards the table while his father nonchalantly held him in place.

“Sweet spirits above kid, I’ve never seen anyone get this excited about food.”

“Oh, Link,” Gramma Uli started, giving Kori a smile, “what’s there not to be excited about? There’s soup and cake! Though I am sorry that the cake has no icing this year, Kori.”

“No, ma it’s a good thing. I think Kori would literally explode if there was.”

“No I wouldn’t!” Kori shouted, and the family all laughed. His father dragged Kori back over to where Rela was playing, and sat him down.

“Just stay there ‘till things are ready, ok Kori?” His father insisted, and Kori pouted again, glaring at his goat plushie Billy. He was ravenous now from the smell of the food, and it was driving him mad. The door opened and Kori saw grandpa Rusl enter the home, and he jumped up and rammed into his grandpa’s legs.

“Ow– good goddesses Kori!” His grandpa yelled out as he nearly stumbled to the ground. Kori only buried his face into his legs and gave him a tight hug.

“Papa isn’t letting me eat my fooooood,” he complained, his voice muffled in grandpa Rusl’s pants.

“Oh?” Rusl quickly recovered from nearly having his legs taken out and gave Link a smirk. “Well that’s not fair, it’s his birthday.”

“Supper is not ready yet, pa!” Kori’s father rebutted. “And the soup is piping hot! It’ll burn his li’l tongue off and he won’t be able to eat anything for the rest of his life!”

Kori gasped and looked up at Rusl in horror.

“Will it really?”

Rusl rolled his eyes. “No. I mean yes your tongue will burn but it’ll be fine after a day. Quit scarin’ your kid Link!”

Kori’s father only shrugged and returned to setting up dinner. Grandpa Rusl began to walk over to the kitchen where gramma Uli was, but Kori stopped him.

“Is my mommy here?” He asked, and Rusl paused, looking away.

“Oh… no I haven’t seen her just yet.”

Kori sighed sadly. “She’s always here for my birthday. Why isn’t she here?”

“Oh, come now kiddo, I’m sure she’s just late or something. I doubt she’ll miss today.”

Kori rested his head against Rusl’s leg. “I hope so.”

Rusl stood there for a moment, playing with Kori’s hair as if to comfort him, but he finally moved towards the table, which Kori found to be completely set up, with a beautiful plate of rolls added to it.

“Supper’s ready,” his father announced, and Kori’s worry over his mother disappeared as he ran to his seat, nearly tipping it over as he sat in it. “Sweet Ordona kid, would it kill you to slow down?”

Kori’s grandparents both chuckled as they sat down, and Rela hopped into her seat next to Kori. Colin sat down next to Link, which left one seat empty for his mother. Kori sighed.

“Well then, let’s give thanks,” Uli said, and the others around the table bowed their heads. “Thank you Goddess Din for the earth you created, so that we may have a warm home together. Thank you Goddess Farore for the life you blessed the earth with, so that we may have this very meal before us. And thank you Goddess Nayru, for the wisdom you gifted to us, so that we may be able to prepare this meal, and so that we may grow stronger everyday. Thank you.”

The others muttered a thanks and Kori quickly grabbed a roll, dunked it in his soup, and shoved it all in his mouth. He chewed happily as the others watched in shock.

“Wha’?” He asked with his mouth full. His father gave him a look.

“Reaching across the table like that is rude, Kori. And so is talking with your mouth full.”

“Oh it’s his birthday, let him be a little feral today,” grandpa Rusl said, grabbing a roll for himself and digging into the meal. Kori’s father rolled his eyes with an amused smile on his face, and Kori couldn’t help but giggle.

“Ok fine, I’ll give you today, Kori,” he said with a smile, and the rest of the family helped themselves to Kori’s birthday supper.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Link stared blankly at the empty seat beside him as everyone else ate. He finished rather quickly, an old habit he developed from his adventure, and all he could do was think about Midna. Her not being here worried him. She was a very stubborn person, and when she wanted to do something, she was going to do it, even if everyone else was against it. So there was no way that she would be missing Kori’s birthday, unless something happened. Link’s gaze was averted to Kori devouring his cake, and he rolled his eyes. Since when did he become such a messy eater?

“Kori, for Din’s sake slow down. I don’t want you to choke.”

Kori stopped for a moment and glared at him, gesturing aggressively at Link’s own bowl and plate.

“Hey, I know how to not choke on my food, alright?”

Kori rolled his eyes and Colin snorted.

“Remember the time you choked on a carrot—“

“Shut up Colin!”

The table erupted into laughter as everyone began making fun of Link.

“I told you to chew your food all the way, Link,” Rusl playfully poked Link’s arm as Link glared ahead, annoyed.

“Yeah, and yet he still couldn’t do that,” Colin joined in. “I had to try to get it outta you.”

Link shot Colin a smirk. “Yes, but if I remember correctly, your weak, noodly arms couldn’t do nothin’!”

“My arms weren’t weak and noodly! You’re just so dang thick!” Colin jabbed at Link’s ribs which caused him to yelp and flinch away, right into Rusl.

“Oi! Watch where you’re jumpin’, Link!” Rusl yelled and shoved Link back into his spot. The three of them erupted into loud laughter as they started to playfully shove and poke at each other, until Uli’s glare caught their eyes.

“Boys, not at the table,” she said in a low voice, and three men quickly calmed down and returned to eating.

“Geez, you guys are so annoying,” Rela grumbled, taking a sip of her water. Kori only giggled.

Link cleared his throat and kept his gaze low, and he glanced at Colin who was hiding his face.

“Colin started it,” he mumbled.

“I did not!”

“You did too.”

“Did not, you liar!”

“Boys!”

The two stopped as Uli glared at them, and they tried to hide their chuckling.

“Goddesses Link, your ten-year-old son is acting more mature than you are!”

Kori sat up straight and beamed at the praise, and Link couldn’t help but laugh. How embarrassing for him. The family returned to their more quiet supper when suddenly there came a knock to the door.

“I’ll get it!” Rela volunteered herself and hopped off her chair, jogging to the door. Link couldn’t help but be hopeful when Rela opened the door, but there was no one on the other side.

“Uh, what?” Colin muttered in a confused tone. Suddenly, a shadow jumped into the room, and Midna appeared in the middle.

“Hope you don’t mind me crashing this party?” She said in her sing-song voice, and Link couldn’t help but smile.

“MOMMY!” Kori yelled and rammed into her legs. Midna picked him up and showered him with kisses while he giggled.

“Midna! You’re here!” Rela exclaimed, and she hugged her legs. The rest of the family got up and greeted her, all happily chatting and giving her small hugs.

“I’m so sorry I’m late, I was… busy,” Midna explained, a strange look on her face when she said “busy”. Link brushed it off and walked up to her, and she pecked him on the lips. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Link smiled and kissed her back. Kori made a gagging sound and started to squirm out of Midna’s hold, and then two parents laughed.

“We saved you a seat, Midna!” Uli gestured to the chair next to Link’s. “I can warm up the soup so it’s nice and hot for you!”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that.”

“Of course I do! You’re a part of our family!”

Kori giggled and started to tug Midna towards the table.

“C’mon mommy! We can eat together!”

“Hold on now, Kori you’ve already eaten!” Link protested, but Uli and Midna gave him a look and he shut his mouth. Rusl chuckled and stood slightly behind Link, resting his hand on his shoulder.

“I was starting to get worried,” he muttered, quiet enough so that the ones at the table didn’t hear him.

“Yeah, me too,” Link sighed as he stared at Midna, a big smile on her face as she spoke with Kori. Rusl nudged him slightly towards the table.

“C’mon, let’s join them.”

[johnmurphysgirl]

A THOUSAND SUNSETS; chapter One ((if you’d prefer to read it on AO3 click here

THE ARKENSTONE IS WEIGHTED IN GUILT; a reminder of his treachery. The stillness of the night brings forth images in Bilbo’s mind, and he can almost see the despair lining Thorin’s face when he inevitably finds out what Bilbo had done. By then, it will be too late. By then, Bilbo will have returned with their new alliance secured and it’ll all be worth it. Surely. Even Thorin will see the inevitability of it all, the rightness of it all. His thoughts taunt him. Of course Thorin will see it as nothing more than the treacherous act it is. The hobbit can almost feel Thorin’s eyes boring into his own, a deep icy pool of endless questions; why? his eyes would say, not you, anyone but you. Why would you do this to me? —

The look on his face would tell Bilbo it would have been far better, preferable, even, if he’d shoved Sting into his back. Not this, this betrayed this – Bilbo physically pulls himself forward, catching himself just in time before he falls in the darkness. No. No. The thoughts are final as the hobbit shakes his head ridiculously, his hand on his chin and he shudders. He’s saving Thorin. From himself, but saving him all the same. The look, the gleam in Thorin’s eyes when discussing the arkenstone, the resolve to send the other dwarrow down into the golden hoard doing nothing but searching. Endless searching.

Thorin will forgive him. Maybe.

“You, bowman! Do you agree with this? Is gold so important to you? Would you buy it with the blood of dwarves?”

Gandalf. Bilbo could cry in relief, but he stifles it in the nick of time, and slowly sneaks past a couple of laketown guards.

“It won’t come to that,” Bard replies. “This is a fight they cannot win.”

There’s still a chance to turn back, a voice that sounds startlingly like Thorin’s whispers in his mind. He’s invisible. There’s still a chance to return to Thorin’s side as loyal as he’d left; Bilbo still has time to give Thorin the arkenstone in hopes it’ll stave off the dragon sickness. The dwarf king will honor his word. Surely – but no. Bilbo knows in his heart of hearts that Thorin would still choose to turn them away rather than part with a single coin in that mountain. You don’t have to do this. Yes. He does.

Bilbo takes the ring off his finger and places it in his pocket, patting it for good measure.

“No,” Bilbo says, and he’s spurred on by the relief and then an indescribable emotion spreads across the wizard's eyes, before it’s gone. “You haven’t seen him. He’s.. He’s changed.” His voice breaks on the last word before he shakes his head, visibly flinching. “He’s changed,” he repeats and he thanks Yavanna his voice is steadier this time. “Take me to Thranduil. I will share what I know and what I possess only with all three of you together.”

Thorin.

His heart twinges painfully full of longing, yearning. Bilbo doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand why he’s so torn over one dwarfs opinion of him, but he has thought of it in the highest regard ever since he saved Thorin’s life. Which feels many moons ago, now. Ever since Thorin hugged him and held him and told him he’d never been wrong in all his life, and then suddenly Thorin’s opinion matters. Suddenly, Bilbo could think of no one else. Not his books, his arm chair, or his home in Bag-End. Nothing else but Thorin.

He’d almost told him. The memory nearly sends Bilbo into a fit, but he forces himself to remember it.

The acorn grazed his fingers as he turned it over and over again in his palm. He’d kept it ever since he’d found it in Beorn's garden, and he’s tried ever since to find the bravery and the time to give it to Thorin. Bilbo hoped Thorin would plant it in Erebor, once they reclaimed it. A token. Not of friendship, at least that’s not what the Hobbit wanted from it; something more, more solidifying, and something that caused a crimson blush to spread across his cheeks, even now.

He’d turned the acorn over for the twentieth time when an angry demand filled his ears, and almost guiltily he turned towards Thorin and scrambled to his feet. The demand reached his ears again. Thorin wanted him to hold out his hands and show him, and if Bilbo wouldn’t have been frightened by the insanity Thorin was speaking, he’d have been more guilty knowing what it is he keeps in his pocket.

“It’s an acorn.” Bilbo scrambled to say something, anything. He held the acorn in his palm out towards Thorin, and was momentarily taken aback by the smile from him. No sunset could compare. Nothing compared to the smile he’d been gifted.

“An acorn,” Thorin repeated, bemused. “To think, master burglar, you have a promised share of the gold and you hold onto an acorn.” He shook his head fondly. “Hobbits.”

Bilbo had smiled. For a moment, Thorin had looked like Thorin, and he’d opened his mouth. “Thorin, I..” I love you, he thought, will you plant this? If.. if I don’t make it, promise me you’ll keep my acorn and..

But he never got a chance.

If he’d finished the sentence. If Dwalin hadn’t interrupted them, then maybe, possibly… It doesn’t matter. Bilbo made his choice. He takes a deep breath and enters the tent which holds the Elvenking, a newfound confidence brews in the pit of his chest when Gandalf lays a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Gandalf knows everything. The grey wizard is more wise than all of Arda as far as Bilbo is concerned, and his blue eyes twinkle with understanding. It would not surprise Bilbo if Gandalf knew all along what the hobbit would come to feel for the King under the Mountain.

*⋆*❀❁❀*⋆*❀❁❀*⋆*❀❁❀*⋆*❀❁❀

Thranduil had looked positively overjoyed at what Bilbo had done, a mockery behind the smirk of the Elvenking, and if Bilbo had thought of anyone else other than Thorin that attitude right there would have had him taking it back. He’d never seen such cruelty from Elves. Perhaps Lord Elrond is truly one of his kind. Tauriel hadn’t been bad, especially when she’d begun to fall in love with Kili; but Thranduil.

Bilbo is nearly thrown into rage just thinking of that blonde Elf. The audacity – Bilbo takes deep breaths. He’s forgetting himself here. Forgetting that the missing weight of the arkenstone seemed to weigh the most, forgetting that Erebor leans ever closer, and he has to walk in there and pretend he didn’t just betray them. The stillness of night twinkles with dread. It was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. There was still time to turn back, snatch the arkenstone from the Elvenking’s surprised fingers, and return it to Thorin’s if only to be smiled at for the rest of his life – scream how he felt to the roof.

As if everyone didn’t know. As if he hadn’t been read like an open book the minute he started developing feelings for the Dwarf King. As if Bilbo could forget how Balin had looked at him when he’d asked, pleaded, to know if giving Thorin the arkenstone would save him from the madness. A pitiful look crossed the old dwarfs face when he shook his head, saying no, laddie, it would only make it worse.

By Yavanna.

He hangs his head lowly as he climbs back up the rampart, staring into the night like a thief. Tomorrow what he’d done will be revealed, and maybe it was stupid. Maybe he’s stupid for climbing back up here, knowing that he betrayed them, and knowing Thorin will soon look at him with hatred and betrayal –

Bilbo sighs.

He did it for him. He’s saving the man he loves, and damn it, even if he winds up killed for it, at least he’ll have saved them all.

CHAPTER TWO

[lostintransist]

Liaison | Part 7 | Shots, Shots, Shots

Check out part one here. Up to chapter 36/38 on AO3.

A knock on your desk pulled your attention from work. Gaz stood at your desk. You hadn’t seen him in months.

“Gaz!” You leap up from your chair and throw your arms around the man. He sported a goatee now, it looked good on him.

He hugged you back tight. “Hey there, I missed you.”

“I missed you too! I scheduled you to be back here at least three times since I saw you last but nooo you had to go and play hero with KorTac,” you rolled your eyes as you stepped back from the hug.

All eyes in the office were on you two but you ignored them. Gaz, without argument, had to be your best friend. He matched your level of crazy and understood your side-eye communication without explanation.

Gaz reached up and tugged lightly on your dangling earring.

“Fuck you Liaison I am a hero! At least to a couple of women who wanted to say thank you if you know what I mean.” He waggled his brows.

Slapping your hands to your ears you loudly drown him out with a la-la-la-la. His booming laugh could be heard above your panicked off-key chanting. Gaz settles into the chair at the edge of your desk, hand digging into the fidget basket you set up originally for him. Everyone used it when they came to chat.

Trusting he would not tell you any more about his escapades you settled into your chair, folding your legs into the seat. You had used the company card to buy a new office chair the second you got your hands on it. The one you had bought last year at Costco with Harold and Gaz wouldn’t stay upright and getting dumped onto your head was not a great way to start any day.

“How late do you work today?” Gaz spins a small chain around one finger.

“I only have maybe an hour left of work?” Filling one cheek with air you force it back and forth in your cheeks before blowing it out. “Unless someone accidentally shoots a diplomat again.”

“That was not my fault!” Gaz halts his spinning chain to point angrily at you. “You know it wasn’t my fault. We cleared all civilians but that fucker pulled his diplomatic passport and some rookie didn’t toss him out on his ass anyway.”

You grin, a light laugh showing you aren’t serious. It wasn’t Gaz’s fault, but the mess it caused you to clean up gave you the right to tease him about it.

“Any idea what you want to do tonight?” Gaz changes the subject.

“Wanna go shooting?”

At the opportunity to fire a gun Gaz brightens significantly.

“Shooting sounds great, dinner after?”

“Sure but you are not allowed to choose. The last place was not Mexican food and you cannot convince me it wasn’t a horror masquerading as a restaurant.”

“Deal.”

❈❈❈

“What the hell is this?” Gaz gestured to the large room with long open rooms lined up.

The bow and arrows decorating the space should have given it away.

“A shooting range,” you reply as if he couldn’t see that himself.

“I thought we were going to shoot guns, not bows?”

The half-smirk you give him causes him to squint at you.

“One would think by now you would remember to confirm before agreeing to an activity with me,” you fight down a smile.

Gaz shoves you, laughter spilling between your bodies.

“You are unbelievable, I have to stop agreeing to do things with you.”

“Actually you just need to stop trusting me to tell you the whole truth,” you wipe at the tears in your eyes from laughing.

Seeing someone come out of a back room you make your way over.

“Hi, can I get two lanes for 30 minutes?”

“Will you need to rent the bow and arrows as well?” The teenager asks already tapping away at the screen in front of him.

“Yes, please. Can I have a 40-pound draw and,” looking back at Gaz you make a decision, “a 30-pound draw?”

“Sure, have you both been here before?”

“I have, but my friend hasn’t.”

The teenager nods, tapping the screen a few more times. He quotes the total due and you tap your card before Gaz has a chance to pull out his wallet. The first time the two of you had gone out to dinner had been a battle to pay the bill. He would do his best now to cover dinner but you had called and prepaid.

“Okay sir, please fill out this waiver while I get everything together for you.” The paper and pen are placed on the counter.

Gaz reviews each line before he signs.

“Why give me a lower draw weight?” He taps the end of the pen against the counter.

“Because while you might work out I know this will be new for you and I don’t need you bitching at me in the morning because you can’t lift your arms.”

The teen comes back passing over both bows and a quiver of arrows.

“You guys will be on number 7, go down to the right and it will be near the middle.” The young worker disappeared back into a room beyond sight.

“Ready to see what you can do?”

Having been here several times you know where you are going. Setting the arrows point down in the provided container you pull out a single one. Notching the arrow you draw and let it fly.

“We will fire all of them and then collect so no one accidentally gets shot,” turning, you watch Gaz test the string of the bow.

He pulls and relaxes the string twice before he notches an arrow and misses so badly. He glares at your sputtered laughter.

“Couple things, you want full extension of your bow arm and to pull the arrow back to at least your face. Aim slightly higher than you think since gravity affects arrows faster than bullets and commit. When you let it fly don’t hesitate.”

You draw up another arrow, watching as it sinks into the target. Nowhere near the bullseye but not on the ground. Gaz takes his turn next until the arrows are all spent and none of his has touched the target. Confirming with Gaz you both move down the range to collect your arrows. He does not appreciate your rendition of “Shots” by Lil John. The laughter and Lil John remains the soundtrack of the night.

Before your time is up Gaz asks to try drawing on your bow. You pass it off.

“Holy fuck Liaison, I didn’t think you were serious.”

“Why would I joke about being stronger than you? This is probably the only time I can do it.” You stepped behind him and tapped both shoulder blades. “Draw again but try and make these touch.”

Gaz does as instructed, a light manly grunt coming out of him.

When your half hour is up you collect everything and return it to the teen working the counter. Bounding up the stairs you catch sight of a flash of white on black disappear as you approach the door to leave. Gaz is waiting outside for you, smoking a cigarette.

Waving a hand in front of your nose you tell him that you are going to go wait over by the alley until he is done. Cigarette smoke coated your mouth and tasted disgusting. Your back to the alley you address your stalker.

“Thought stalking was below your pay grade Gengar.”

“You’re too friendly with Gaz.”

“Right,” you drag the word out, “I’m too friendly with one of my only friends on this half of the planet. That makes absolute sense.”

The silence behind you raises the hair on the back of your neck, a puppeteer in fear.

Gaz wanders up, a lingering tang of smoke heralding his arrival.

“Ready for dinner?”

“Yep, we are hitting an Ethiopian restaurant. I’ve already been once, and the family that runs it is from Ethiopia. I can’t handle any of this bland British nonsense.”

Gaz sputters in defense of his country. He finds none being as well-traveled as he is. Knowing the darkness still stalks you you fire off a bird toward the man who has decided you are too friendly.

@nicroyal02

Part 6

Masterlist

[mimisempai]

You're the only light in my blurry world 4/10

Chapter summary

Back from the weekend, Aziraphale and Crowley set up a coffee date, but an incident forces Aziraphale to reveal the truth about his condition.

On Ao3

Masterpost for this fic : here

"Come on, everybody get on the bus! You can pick the seats you want for the ride back!"

As they boarded the bus, Aziraphale turned to Crowley and asked, "Should we sit together?"

Crowley didn't have time to answer as Eric stepped between them and said, "Nope, guys, all five of us are going in the back row."

Aziraphale, though a little disappointed not to be traveling with just Crowley, was looking forward to spending some time with his new friends.

Muriel had boarded the bus by now, and as Aziraphale, followed by Crowley, arrived at the back, she said, "Azi, at the end by the window, Crowley next to Azi, then Maggie at the other end, Eric and me. I want to be in the middle."

Amused, Aziraphale and Crowley took the seats Muriel had indicated.

Moments later, the bus pulled away and the five friends were happily chatting and reminiscing about the good times of the weekend.

Gradually, the chatter died down, Maggie fell asleep, and the two lovebirds spoke in hushed tones.

Turning to Aziraphale, Crowley asked, "So you're going straight home when we get there?"

Aziraphale nodded and said, "Yes, I'll take Maggie with me since we're neighbors. Do you have to work in the morning?"

Crowley replied, "Not before eleven."

"Our shops don't open on Monday mornings."

Crowley seemed to hesitate for a few moments before asking, "Would you like to have coffee with me tomorrow morning?"

Aziraphale asked, "With Maggie?"

Crowley chuckled and then, turning serious again, replied, "No, just you and me.

Aziraphale, delighted, immediately replied, "Yes, I would love to!"

Crowley grinned and said, "Then it's a date."

Then, without waiting for Aziraphale's reply, he leaned back against the back of his seat and, after dropping his head on Aziraphale's shoulder, closed his eyes.

"Wake me when we get there."

"O-okay."

Aziraphale took out his mp3 player, stuck the headphones in his ears, and settled into his seat. He allowed himself to be lulled by the music, but that didn't stop him from being aware of the warmth of Crowley's head against his shoulder throughout the ride.

*********

The next morning, Aziraphale was a little late as he walked through the door of the coffee shop across the street from his bookshop.

He looked for Crowley and saw him from behind, sitting at a back table, recognizable by his flaming hair. His heart beating a little faster, the bookseller took a quick step toward the table, then placed his hand on Crowley's shoulder and said softly, "Good morning, Crowley.

But what a shock when he turned his head to face Aziraphale.

Aziraphale didn't recognize his features and felt a cold shiver run down his spine. 

That was it. The miracle was over.

He tried to put on a show as he sat down and spoke without pausing, "I'm sorry I'm a little late. So you've recovered from our weekend? Not too tired? I'm knackered, thank God I'm not working this morning."

Getting no response from his friend, he began to panic when someone suddenly called his name, causing him to turn his head. There he saw Crowley approaching.

Feeling embarrassed, Aziraphale turned to the person sitting across from him, and as he stood up, he apologized, "I'm so sorry, I mistook you for someone else."

"Yeah, well, you better get some glasses, you idiot!"

Crowley stepped forward and leaned toward the red-haired man, "Hey, no need to get nasty."

Then he grabbed Aziraphale's wrist and pulled him all the way outside.

"Crowley, wait."

Aziraphale held him back, causing Crowley to turn to him and say, "He didn't have to talk to you like that. You didn't do anything wrong."

"Yes, but I got the wrong person, that can upset people you know?"

"He could have been understanding. What's his problem?"

They hadn't seen the guy following them and only noticed him when he snapped at them, "My problem? This guy's got one."

"Watch your mouth," Crowley replied in a cold voice, stepping between Aziraphale and the angry man.

"Are you a friend of this guy?"

"Can't you tell?"

The guy walked over to Crowley and, taking off his cap, continued, giving Aziraphale spiteful looks, "He started saying all kinds of stuff to me. I thought he was nuts, so I ignored him, but the idiot kept going.

Then he showed his face with his hand and added, "Tell me, do you think we look that much alike?"

"You!"

Crowley felt Aziraphale take his arm before he said softly, "Come on Crowley, let's go."

The bookseller didn't wait for an answer and pulled him along.

"Hey!"

Despite Crowley's interjection, Aziraphale started to pull him toward the bookshop, but Crowley stopped him and exclaimed, "Aziraphale! Tell me, is he the one with the problem, or are you?"

Aziraphale looked down and muttered, "Sorry... sorry I haven't told you yet, but... I really thought I was going on a bit without having to, and..."

He took a deep breath before continuing, "I actually have a condition that causes me to not recognize faces. It's commonly referred to as face blindness, and that's why..."

Crowley interrupted, "What? That's why you're acting so weird?"

Aziraphale, his throat tightening, nodded.

"Are we really friends?"

Aziraphale raised his head sharply, clearly seeing Crowley's angry expression.

He replied immediately, "Of course we are!"

"Then why didn't you tell me? Such an important thing?"

Aziraphale murmured, "Sorry..."

Crowley shook his head and replied, "I don't want you to apologize. This condition is not your fault!"

Aziraphale didn't know how to respond and remained silent.

Crowley shook his head and started to walk away, saying, "I'm not in the mood. I'm going home."

"Crowley... I..."

"No. I'm too angry. I don't want to talk about it right now. Don't follow me, okay?"

Aziraphale watched him walk away with a heavy heart.

He remembered a similar scene.

Another figure he'd let walk away just like that.

Without a fight.

He shook his head.

He was not the same Aziraphale anymore.

He'd changed.

He ran after Crowley and grabbed his sleeve, saying urgently, "Crowley, please don't go like this. Come with me to my bookshop, let me explain. Let me explain. Please. Let me explain why I didn't tell you, and then you can do whatever you want. But I can't let you go like this. You have to know. I don't want to go through this again. Please!"

Crowley remained silent, then let out a long sigh before saying, "All right."

Aziraphale let go of him and murmured, "Thank you," before walking back to the bookshop, followed by Crowley. 

A few moments later, they entered the Aziraphale's bookshop.

He motioned Crowley to the sofa and sat down in the armchair across from him.

Once Crowley was seated, Aziraphale, not daring to meet his friend's gaze, looked at his hands and said again, "I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing, damn it! There's nothing to forgive. I'm just angry that you didn't tell me, and I wonder if you would have told me if the incident at the coffee shop hadn't happened."

Crowley ran a hand through his hair and continued, "I'm the one who should apologize for getting carried away. I know I'm too emotional."

Aziraphale shook his head and protested, "No! No! You were right. I'm so grateful that you're willing to listen to me. Before... before I met you, before this weekend... I was... I was so lonely. I don't want to feel that again. I don't want to lose you and what I..."

He couldn't continue, his throat too tight with emotion.

Crowley waited a little and then said in a softer tone, "Aziraphale, this isn't going to work like this, come here and sit beside me, you're too far away."

"Oh... uh, okay."

Aziraphale stood and came to sit at the other end of the sofa.

Crowley chuckled softly and shook his head.

"Closer, idiot. That way you're as far away as if you were sitting in your armchair."

Aziraphale slid closer to Crowley, trying to regain his composure. He didn't notice his hands tapping nervously on his knees until Crowley calmed him by putting his hand on them.

He said quietly, "Hey, it's gonna be okay."

Then he took Aziraphale's hand and asked gently, "Is that okay?"

Aziraphale nodded and Crowley added, "You can start whenever you want."

Aziraphale swallowed several times before saying softly, "Four years ago, I was with a man named James. He was my first love and my first lover. He was a little older than me, confident, handsome, or so I think when I try to remember. I was head over heels, so I accepted everything. He wasn't out then, we only saw each other on weekends. He'd pick me up on his motorcycle and we'd go to a little motel on the beach. It was on one of those weekends that we had a serious accident. The motorcycle was hit by a truck. James had only minor injuries, but I had a severe cranial trauma that put me in the hospital for several weeks with the consequences that you know. My face blindness. The last I saw James' face was right before I lost consciousness. And now I can't even remember him. Or only vaguely."

"Oh, Aziraphale..."

Aziraphale shook his head and said with a self-deprecating smile, "I've gotten used to it, it's no big deal."

Crowley stroked the back of his hand with his thumb and said softly, "You're not too used to people caring about you, are you?"

"What?"

"No, nothing. Go on."

Crowley hadn't let go of his hand and Aziraphale continued, "After the accident, James came to see me a lot, I realize now it was probably out of guilt, but at the time I was just glad he stayed with me. When I got out of the hospital, we were together for another six months. But one day..."

"Zira, I want to break up."

Aziraphale, not expecting this, gasped before turning to James, who continued without looking at him, "I've tried, I swear, I've tried to be happy with you, but I can't accept the fact that you don't recognize my face. You can't even tell the difference between my face and someone else's. And I can't accept that from my lover."

Aziraphale, in shock, saw his lover hold his head in his hands and then add, "Actually, it makes me sick."

"But I..."

James shook his head and, standing up, said, "I can't take it anymore."

"Then he left, and I did nothing to hold him. I erased all my memories of him. I tore up the photos where I no longer recognized us. I really thought I'd never get over it. He was the first to disappear. Even my mother found it harder and harder to spend time with me and still doesn't accept it. After her, my other friends gradually drifted away, leaving only Maggie to keep me from completely shutting myself off in my own world. That's why we seem so close."

Aziraphale sighed and said quietly, "There, you know everything. This weekend was the happiest I'd been in a long time, even before my accident. I didn't want to spoil it by talking about my illness when I could almost forget about it for a while. So I didn't say anything. I know it's selfish, but..."

Crowley shook his head and said gently, "No, no, I understand. I totally understand wanting a break from your life and wanting to enjoy it. Believe me, I do. Thank you for telling me all this, even if it was a bit forced."

Aziraphale replied, "I was going to tell you, just not necessarily today, on our first date."

Crowley smiled slightly and asked, "Did you say first?"

"You noticed."

Suddenly, Crowley exclaimed, "But you recognized me! You recognized me at the coffee shop!"

Aziraphale swallowed and replied, "Yes. I don't know why, but you're the only one whose face I recognize. I made a quick call to my neurologist this morning, that's why I was late. He doesn't know where it comes from, but he advised me to try to recognize more faces. Right now, you're the only one. You have no idea how shocked and then pleased I was to be able to see your face so clearly."

Crowley asked, "Is that why you stood up so abruptly and dropped your easel when I arrived at the class?"

"You remember that?"

Crowley chuckled before replying, "You're hard to forget, you know?"

Aziraphale replied with an embarrassed chuckle, then looked up at Crowley, whose kind eyes and gentle smile gave him the courage he needed.

He cleared his throat and, looking into Crowley's eyes, said in a firm voice, "Crowley, would you like to go out with me?"

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Ineffable Husbands masterlist : here 

[hookedsworks]

Edge(ING) Fitness - Chapter XVIII

II's POV

ao3

masterpost

II carried his helmet into the small coffee shop. He had perused Vessel’s instagram before asking if they could meet at this one. It looked to be Vessel’s favorite, based on his “coffee” highlights. The coffee smell had invaded his nostrils the second he had parked and removed his helmet. He was sort of hoping that Vessel had seen him drive up and park. It would be an easy conversation starter. Vessel was sitting in a big chair right by the door, staring at II. Weirdly, he was holding a tissue to his face. 

“You drive a motorcycle,” Vessel informed II. II nodded. 

“I’m aware,” he deadpanned back. Vessel pulled the tissue away from his face, and II caught sight of blood on the tissue. “Holy hell, are you alright?” 

“Oh, uh, yeah. I get nosebleeds a lot,” he shrugged. “I haven’t ordered yet. I was waiting for you,” Vessel changed the subject from the bloody tissue. 

“How do you take it, again?” II thought he remembered seven sugars, but also wondered if that was completely absurd. 

“Hot, black, and just… usually I just grab a bunch of sugar packets and do it up however suits my fancy on a particular day,” 

“Noted. What on earth should I get?” 

“Um… oh! Try a cappuccino, but if you’re lactose intolerant, I recommend oat milk as a sub,” II walked up to the bar, and ordered both. 

“They’ll just be at the bar,” the barista smiled and nodded toward the end of the counter. II glanced at her nametag. 

“Thank you, Darya. I like your eyeliner, by the way,” II flashed what he thought was his most winning smile and walked back toward Vessel. 

“That’s my favorite barista,” Vessel smiled at II, causing his heart to skip a beat. II cocked his head, pretending he didn’t know that Vessel came here a lot. 

“You’ve been here?” 

“Oh, uh, yeah. I live basically around the corner. I actually walked here,” wonder if he’ll let me drive him back to his place. 

“What a coincidence,” 

“Ves, your coffee!” the barista hollered, and II shot up. 

“Stay here, I’ll get it for you,” he was worried about Vessel and his nosebleed. He grabbed the big cup. The tendrils of steam warmed his face as he carefully carried it back to Vessel. “Oh, and the sugar,” he had it in one hand, but wasn’t sure how many it was. It felt like too many, which II kind of thought it may be correct if it was just on this side of too much. Vessel’s smile was still there, gorgeous as ever. II went and picked his own coffee up off the bar. He really had no experience with coffee, and just hoped it wasn’t awful. It was rather milky looking, with a layer of foam. 

“I hope you like it,” Vessel was stirring his sugar into the coffee. 

“Do you have a favorite book?” Vessel lit up, and he immediately dove into the topic. As they spoke, it felt as though II had known Vessel forever, and as though he could perhaps have these conversations, and even drink this kind of bitter coffee thing, forever. It felt good, natural. It felt like the friendship he’d struck up with Ivy all those years ago, but better. More. Sweeter. He couldn’t stop smiling, and neither could Vessel. 

“We have to do this again,” II couldn’t help but say. Vessel was nodding immediately. “This has been really, really fun,” II dropped his voice down a touch, hoping that Vessel would catch his rapidly growing interest in going on several other kinds of dates. But if he didn’t catch it, it wasn’t noticeable or creepy. Vessel’s tongue flicked out and wet his lower lip. Jesus fuck, he’s so pretty. 

“It’s still raining. You shouldn’t drive all the way out to wherever you live with just your bike. I live just around the corner. You can just wait it out there. Drive me home?”

[dbnightingale24]

Bad Habits

A Thomas Shelby Love Story

~~

Part 1

~~

Alright, before everyone starts yelling at me, I promise that the final part to my Ransom story is almost done. It's slightly longer than this one, and I'm being extremely picky about it cause I wasn't necessarily happy with the last one I posted. That being said, my husband and I binged all six seasons of 'Peaky Blinders' in five days, so now we have this. I'm also posting this one first because I used a different approach on this story and it's giving me extreme anxiety lol. I tried to capture the accents and the essence of the show, so I really hope you all like it! Anyway, here goes! Thank you, as always, to @fuckingbye for the amazing moodboard, I love you and will build a monument to your greatness.

Word Count: 24,549 (to those of you who are new: I'm sorry. To those who aren't: this is me being on my best behavior and you know it.)

Warnings: SMUT (MINORS DNI) , Swearing, Drinking, Drug Use, Depression, Religion, Fluff, Anxiety attacks, Cheating, Abusive Relationship, Angst (c'mon now, it's me), Family Drama, Child Trauma (if you squint)...I think that's it. It dives deeper into a lot of things in part 2.

Song(s) That Inspired This Chapter: I Only Know How To Go Too Far

I do not give consent/permission for my works/stories to be posted elsewhere. I do not condone this type of behavior, this is for entertainment purposes only.

~~

His eyes meet yours from across the room and you know you’re fucked. You should’ve stayed away. Yes, it’s your sister’s engagement party, but you knew he’d be here. The way your family loves the Shelby family...you knew. You knew he’d show up and would be looking for you. Still, you came and you know it’s because you miss him. God, you miss him like crazy.

Thomas fucking Shelby.

“Oi! Come over here, love!” Arthur calls, drunken smile on his face as he makes eye contact with you from across the hall.

“You stay away!” you laugh as he makes his way to you.

“Lets have a dance, eh?” he suggests as he finally reaches you.

“You, Arthur Shelby, shall not lay a finger on me tonight, or any other night,” you smirk, grabbing your glass and taking a swig from it.

“And why is that?”

“Tommy ‘ll kill ya,” you giggle, nodding across the room to where he’s sitting with his wife, Grace. 

“He has no say in it now, does he? He’s married.”

“As if that ever stops the Shelby men,” you tease and he flips you off.

“One dance.”

“Not tonight, Arthur. Besides, a man of your status seen with a woman like me? What will the people think?”

“Who cares? I know how I’ll feel,” he smirks and you burst out laughing.

You really have missed the Shelby men.

“What’s so funny, eh?” Thomas asks, causing you to jump cause you didn’t even notice that he had made his way over.

“Nothin’,” you giggle, feeling the burn of Grace’s glare on you, “what ya doin’ over here without your lady, Thomas?”

“Just wanted to see what ’m missin’ out on.”

“I think I’ve found someone more agreeable to my needs,” Arthur smiles as he makes eyes with a woman across the room, “if you’ll excuse me,” he nods as you start laughing again while he walks off.

“So, you’re fucking Arthur now?”

“Watch it, Thomas,” you warn, cutting your eyes at him before taking another sip of your drink.

“You used to call me Tomcat.”

“What do you want?”

“Come with me.”

“And if I don’t feel like it?”

“Come with me,” he demands in a harsher tone and contradictory smile, before starting to walk out.

You roll your eyes as you grab your glass and bottle before following him out. 

You’ve known for a while that it angers him that you don’t fear him in the slightest. You also know that it irritates him that there’s no reason for you to be scared of him; you two have been through so much and have known each other for so long...

~~

The rest is on AO3. For whatever reason, Tumblr won't let me post the whole thing on here -_-

Here's the link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49359964

~~

taglist: @emerald-evans, @autumnrose40

[teaberrii]

Chapter Twenty-Eight: My Catnip

Alhaitham has the looks and the smarts. He will also be the stand-in CEO for his grandfather's company for a year.

But, he's been mysteriously cursed to turn into a cat every night since his eighteenth birthday… until he meets you, an employee at his grandfather's company, who rescues him as a cat and changes him back with one kiss.

Alhaitham/You

Notes:

Cross-posted on AO3

Female reader

Chapter index at the end of chapter one

Chapter notes: I couldn't help referencing my Cyno cat story... XD If you know, you know.

You haven't seen or heard from Alhaitham in almost a week, but you're counting the days until your families finally meet. 

How will your relationship turn out? Will you become strangers? Friends? Regardless of what happens, your dynamic with Alhaitham has changed, and it may never return to how it used to be.

When you finally see Alhaitham, he’s sitting next to his mother at a long table. His grandfather and secretary are also present. Alhaitham's eyes meet yours, but what surprises you is the way he looks at you. It’s as if nothing has changed. Yet, he remains pensive, and so do you. This is no time to be reflecting on your feelings or whatnot. Both of you know and understand what kind of situation this is.

Lumine and Aether trail in after you and your mother. You and your mother take center stage while Aether stands beside you and Lumine beside your mother. You’re holding your mother’s hand, reassuring her you have your back if anything goes wrong.

“...Let’s not mince words,” your mother says, her voice slightly shaking. “You were the one who hit my husband.”

Alhaitham’s mother takes a breath. “...Yes.” Then, she bows. “I’m truly sorry.” A short moment later, she stands upright. “I’ve caused you and your family a lot of pain… and I’m willing to compensate for my actions.”

Your shoulders feel a little lighter.

“...You want something in return,” your mother says, narrowing her eyes. “I’m not a fool. You hid this for so long, so for you to come clean about it now, it’s more than guilt. There’s something you want.”

“I’m willing to compensate and atone, but I only ask that… there is no media noise. I wish to settle this privately.”

“...And if I refuse?”

Everyone looks at your mother.

“...Mom,” Lumine says quietly.

She steps forward, and you cautiously let go of her hand. “You don’t want your reputation to be ruined," your mother says.

"That's right. I don't. Again, I sincerely apologize for the pain I caused your family. But, I worked far too long and far too hard for all of my efforts to come crashing down. I simply request a quiet resolution so we can move on from this."

Something twisted inside you wants to see her career crash and burn. She let your father die, for crying out loud. But… what good will that do? It’s not going to bring your father back. Besides, she’s already willing to compensate and atone.

You’re also not a fool.

You know that a big part of the reason why she’s doing this is so she can get some leniency. You look at Alhaitham. You know he knows too, and he probably proposed it to her as well.

Is that the reason why he told you about what his mother had done? If he didn’t… would his mother even admit all of this? But since he told you, there’s a risk of you going to the police. It would hurt his mother more. Thinking about it leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.

There are obviously more pros than cons to him telling you. Alhaitham could've hidden it from you and continued dating you as if nothing happened. It has been so long, after all. 

No matter how you look at it, Alhaitham is also thinking about you.

“...I accept,” your mother finally says.

You subtly nod in agreement. What good will it do if the media gets wind of this? You’d also be put into the spotlight, and your private life would become a movie for everyone’s entertainment. There’s absolutely no way you’re going to let that happen.

“...Thank you. I appreciate it.”

The meeting ends with the parties agreeing to communicate the rest through a lawyer and going through the legal proceedings of this fiasco. You sigh softly once you're outside. It'd gone better than you imagined. Everyone is civil, but that doesn't mean you'll simply forgive and forget. You definitely won't forget. But can you ever forgive? 

“Sis?”

You turn around and see Aether. “What’s wrong?”

“I was worried about you,” he says, walking up to you. “That… went better than we thought, huh?”

You smile slightly. "...Yeah, it did."

“U-um… maybe right now isn’t the right time to bring this up, but…”

“You want to ask about Alhaitham, right?”

Aether subtly nods. “What are you going to do now?”

You sigh. “I wish I have an answer for you.”

“...So, you’re still not sure?”

"I will never forget what his mother did,” you say. “And... I doubt I can forgive her. Maybe some people can, but I can’t. I have nothing against him, Aether, if that’s what you’re wondering. Alhaitham… he’s truly wonderful.”

"I think so, too," he says quietly. "Do you remember the day he came to talk to me at the hospital? The day where I almost got into trouble with those guys bothering Ayaka?"

“Yeah.”

"Well… no one has ever talked to me that seriously before. I mean… all the other 'adults' I ever talk to, they treat me like a kid, or they don't take me seriously. But, he was different."

“In other words, you felt like he was respecting you.”

Aether nods. “Yeah, he was technically giving me a lesson, but it didn’t feel… condescending, you know.”

“Are you here to convince me to get back together with him?”

“I may not be that smart, but I really can’t think of a reason why he would do this if he didn’t… love you,” Aether says, awkwardly scratching his head. “And… he gives off good vibes. I know everyone’s still pretty tense and stuff because of what’s happening, but I hope you don’t give up on him that easily.”

You put an arm around your brother. “There’s a time and place for everything. I think… for right now, it’s a little early to be thinking about that stuff. When lawyers get involved, well, there’s no room to talk about your feelings.”

“...So, I guess everyone is still on an emotional high. Even though things seem so calm right now.”

From afar, Alhaitham sees you kiss your brother’s head. He’d been debating whether to approach you and ultimately decides against it.

"...You aren't going to talk to her?" Alhaitham turns and sees his grandfather looking in your direction. "She's a strong lady."

Alhaitham subtly smiles. “...Yes, she is.”

His grandfather turns to him. “Are you just going to let this be? What if she misunderstands your silence?”

“...There are other ways to show that I’m thinking about her. I know she has a lot to think about.”

“What if her decision isn’t what you’re hoping for?”

“I’ll respect whatever decision she makes,” Alhaitham says. “...Even if we end up going our separate ways, I will always cheer her on from afar.”

His grandfather nods with a subtle smile. “Since when did you become so grown up, Haitham?”

“Perhaps it was when you appointed me as CEO.”

His grandfather laughs. “Well, maybe I should put you in these positions more often then.”

“...No, thank you.”

You and Aether are about to walk back to your mother's car when you see Alhaitham with his grandfather, who's laughing at something. As if he knows you're looking his way, Alhaitham turns slightly, his eyes meeting yours. Your stares linger for a little too long until you look away.

◆◆◆

When Zhongli's wedding comes around, your mother is still dealing with the legal proceedings. You've been keeping a close eye on her, ensuring she isn't losing sleep over this. You've also been paying close attention to how everything unfolds. You aren't going to show any mercy. So far, things are going well, which makes bumping into Alhaitham a little easier.

Before Zhongli's wedding, you happen to meet Alhaitham a couple of times.

The first time is at the company, days after the meeting with your families.

You are walking down the hallway when he turns the corner. The two of you look a little surprised but actively decide not to ignore each other.

“...How have you been?” he asks.

“I’ve… been sleeping better,” you say with a little smile. “How have you been? Besides, you know, drowning in meetings probably.”

Alhaitham smiles slightly. "I've gotten used to it." Then, with a look of concern in his eyes, he asks, "...You haven't been sleeping well?"

"It's probably the humidity."

Both of you know the real reason.

"...Well, you aren't alone. It's only recently I started sleeping a little better, too." Then, Alhaitham notices something in your hair. He slightly raises a hand and looks you in the eyes. "...There's something in your hair. May I?" Your heart suddenly races as you subtly nod. He reaches over and takes the tiny leaf. 

Suddenly, you hear someone call your name. You look past Alhaitham and see one of your colleagues.

“I, um, I should go,” you say.

Alhaitham nods and slightly turns to watch you leave.

The second time you bump into Alhaitham is at the grocery store near your apartment.

You see him in one of the aisles, and it's cute how seriously he's looking at the two snack brands in his hands. 

“...Need a second opinion?” you ask. Alhaitham looks surprised to see you beside him. You point to the one in his left hand. “This one tastes better.”

Alhaitham puts the other back on the shelf. “I’ll take your word for it.” Then, he looks back at you. “I didn’t know you liked these.”

“Blame Nari. He got me addicted.”

Before Alhaitham can stop himself, he leans slightly closer. "Hm… Is that why you look… a little different?"

“Are you... Are you calling me fat?” 

“I never said that.”

You frown. “Well, that’s what you were insinuating.”

“Would you like me to be honest?”

“...I’m prepared.”

Then, Alhaitham looks you straight in the eyes and says, “You got prettier.”

You're prepared, but not for that. You almost drop the snacks you're holding. “I… that’s… well, of course, I did.”

Alhaitham chuckles as you blush. That’s when you notice the small bag of catnip in his basket.

"...Is that catnip?" you ask. Alhaitham looks at his basket and moves something on top. You eye him suspiciously. "Are you… taking that daily?"

“No…”

“You’re lying,” you deadpan.

“I wouldn’t lie to you.”

You hold his stare for a little too long.

“...It’s been helping me sleep,” Alhaitham admits. “But I don't take it every day.”

You reach into your basket and grab the honey lemon tea bags. Then, you hold it out to him. “...Try this. It's been helping me.”

Alhaitham takes it from you. As he did, his fingers brush against yours, and you feel a sudden, brief adrenaline rush throughout your body. Good Lord. What was that? Did he feel it, too?

“...I’ll try it tonight.”

“Um… tell me how it goes.”

“...Is that permission for me to text you?”

This time, he holds your stare for a little too long.

You and Alhaitham haven't texted in a long while. Though neither of you said not to, it's like an unspoken rule.

“...Well, I’d like to know that the person I care about isn’t getting addicted to anything.”

“Catnip isn’t bad for cats,” Alhaitham says. He almost puts his hand on your cheek. “...You don’t have to worry. But, I’ll take your answer as a yes unless otherwise.”

"Glad to know you can read between the lines, Catman."

You and Alhaitham look at each other, unable to hold back a smile.

The third time you bump into Alhaitham is at Zhongli's wedding.

You're wearing a light pastel pink suit. The blazer is unbuttoned, revealing a white, low-cut top inside. It's one of Candace's designs, and as soon as you tried it on, you loved it.

The last person you're expecting to see is Alhaitham. His hair is slicked back, and he's wearing a red dress shirt with a black blazer and pants. When he sees you, you turn and sip the wine in your glass... as if you hadn't been checking him out.

That’s when Childe and Ayato walk up to you.

"Why am I not surprised to see you in a suit?" Childe asks.

You give them each a hug. “You clean up well, Childe,” you joke, looking at his dark blue suit.

You kept Childe and Ayato in the loop about what’s been happening with Alhaitham. You gave Lumine permission to get Childe up to speed, and Childe also called to check up on you. You gave Ayato a rundown when you saw him earlier today.

“Small world, huh?” Childe asks, looking past you. You look over your shoulder and see Alhaitham with his hand in a pocket and talking with Zhongli and Kaveh. “They’re old friends. Can you believe it?”

You turn back and sigh softly. “I… somehow don’t like that phrase anymore. The world is too small.”

“Still, I think it’s healthy the way you two are handling it,” Ayato says.

You finish the rest of your wine. “I’d like to hear about you two.” Then, you look at Childe. “...How’s your mom?”

Childe smiles. “She’s getting better. I… also had a talk with them.”

“It sounds like things went well,” Ayato says.

“...You think the company is doing me dirty?” Childe asked.

"You're my son, Childe," his mother said. "I've always known you were interested in the Creative Arts."

“...Then… shouldn’t you encourage me? Why—”

"We wanted you to keep it as a hobby," his father interrupted. "We had no reason to take what you enjoy away. But, things are different when money is involved.”

“So… you thought that I would get the short end of the stick? I always thought you looked down on creatives.”

“We would never support someone going into that kind of industry,” his father said. “We don’t look down on the person. It’s the industry.���

Childe sighed. “...I mean… yes, everything is still dependent upon numbers. But…”

“...But?” When Childe said nothing, his mother continued, “We didn’t understand why your company was still assigning you to write commercial scripts. You deserve better, Childe.”

How was he going to break it to them that was not the case?

“That’s why your mother wanted you to come back,” his father said. “I know people who will give you better assignments.”

“...Before I came, my manager asked me the same question,” Childe said. His father and mother looked at each other. “He asked if I wanted to take up something more difficult.”

“What did you say?” 

“I… I said I was comfortable with what I’m doing.”

His father sighed loudly. “...So, the problem was with you all along.”

“I—”

“It’s true I’ve always wanted you to go into business. If that’s not what you want, fine. But ever since you took this career path you chose for yourself, you’ve been stuck doing the same thing. Isn’t writing something you’ve always been interested in? Then, why are you not taking challenges? If I forced this upon you, then it would be my fault. But you’re destroying yourself.”

Childe’s mother took her husband’s hand. “You’re being a little too harsh on him.”

“I’m saying what needs to be said.”

“...Do you want to know the reason?” Childe asked quietly.

Once Childe finishes his story, you’re in complete shock. You’ve known him for so long, yet you never knew about his inferiority complex towards you. He has always shown support and happiness toward your achievements.

“...I called my manager a few days ago,” Childe says. “I told him I want to be part of the writing team that’s adapting that Webtoon for the small screen. It may not be my story… but it’s a start.”

Ayato smiles at him. “Everyone starts somewhere.”

"Gosh. It's not just Signora I need to watch out for now," you say. You smile at Childe. "I have a new rival."

“Is that sarcasm?” Childe asks.

“No! I’m genuinely happy for you, Childe. Healthy rivalry helps both people grow.”

“Hey, what are we talkin’ about over here?”

You look past your friends and see Tighnari and Cyno.

“Hm… I guess we can say we’re celebrating some new beginnings,” you say.

Ayato smiles. “That’s one way to put it.”

Cyno and Tighnari smile at each other. “Well, can we join in?”

“That depends,” Childe jokes. “What are you two celebrating?”

“...I came out to my parents,” Cyno says. He looks at Tighnari. “I formally introduced him the other day.”

“That definitely needs a toast,” you say. “Congrats!”

From afar, Alhaitham sees you chatting with Ayato and Childe. When he saw you in that suit earlier, he couldn't look away. You look absolutely breathtaking. The three of you are laughing about something until Cyno and Tighnari join the conversation. Soon, Aether, Ayaka, and Lumine also come around, and the group clinks their glasses together as if celebrating something.

“How long have you known her?”

Alhaitham looks at Zhongli. “...Who?”

Zhongli nods toward you. “I see the way you look at her. Is… there something going on?”

“It’s complicated,” Kaveh answers.

“...That’s one way to put it,” Alhaitham says.

“How do you know her, by the way?” Kaveh asks.

“She was my junior in university,” Guizhong, Zhongli’s wife, says, coming up to the group. She stands beside her husband.

Zhongli nods. “I met her through my wife.”

“Junior?” Kaveh asks. “But didn’t you study Law?”

“She was the one who wrote the script for the faculty promotional video,” Guizhong says. “I was a volunteer for the production team.”

“She’s talented from what I hear,” Zhongli says.

Guizhong smiles. “Yes. I told you she won the award for Best Screenwriter at the Best Hit Awards.”

“Oh, my God! I’m so sorry!”

Everyone turns and sees you looking down at your ruined blouse. A man with white spiked hair looks horrified at what just happened.

A woman with green hair tied into a ponytail quickly comes up to you. “Are you all right?" She quickly pulls out a handkerchief. "I apologize for this. He wasn’t watching where he was going.”

Just when you take the handkerchief, Guizhong quickly walks up to you. “I have something you can change into."

You give Guizhong a little smile. “Thanks. That would help.”

As you walk away with her, the woman with the ponytail says, "It's time for you to stop drinking, Boss."

Eventually, Guizhong leads you into a vacant room at the back of the wedding venue. She hands you a bag, and you see a light pink summer dress inside.

“I hope this will do.”

You take it from her. “I’ll take pretty much anything right now.”

“Let me know if you need anything.”

Then, you walk inside the room and lock the door behind you. You change out of your dirty clothes and into Guizhong's dress. Except, the only problem is that you can't get the zipper to zip. After trying multiple times, you sigh and slightly open the door. You peek outside, hoping to see Guizhong or someone—

Your eyes widen. “Haitham?”

Alhaitham is leaning against the opposite wall. He looks at you, a little surprised.

“What are you doing here?” you ask.

Alhaitham just came out of the washroom when he bumped into Guizhong.

“Oh, Haitham, good timing,” she said, smiling. “Could you do me a favour?”

“A favour?”

“I have to give a speech, but she’s at the back changing into clothes I got her. Could you check on her and see if she needs anything?”

Alhaitham nodded.

“Is something wrong?” Alhaitham asks.

“...Um… well… promise not to laugh?”

Alhaitham raises a brow. “Okay.”

“The zipper won’t zip.” Alhaitham almost chuckles, and you catch that little smile. “You said you wouldn’t laugh,” you deadpan.

“Perhaps it’s the snacks.”

You frown. “Since when did you become a comedian?”

“...If you don’t mind, I could help.”

You look around and sigh. It doesn’t look like you have a choice. So, you let Alhaitham inside. He closes the door behind him. You’re standing in front of a mirror, holding the dress, when he walks up behind you.

You feel one of his hands on your bare shoulder, and you tense up. 

"...Relax," he says softly, and your eyes widen. 

Soon, you feel the dress tightening as he zips you up from the back. You almost jump in surprise when you feel one of his hands on top of the one that’s holding your dress together.

“...You’re not holding it tight enough,” he says quietly.

You try holding it a little tighter. "How's this?"

You feel him try again, and your face turns red. This is so embarrassing. 

"May I?"

“Ah… yeah…”

You slowly let go, allowing yourself to focus on Alhaitham in the mirror as he zips you up. Then, he moves his hands away from you and says, "...All done."

That’s when his eyes meet yours in the mirror, and he smiles. You turn around, and your breath catches in your throat when you see how close he is. You stare at each other, the silence teeming with unspoken messages. When he slowly moves his hand behind your head, your eyes move to his lips.

“...I don't think I can ever let you go.”

You slowly look back up. It's the first time you've seen such a rollercoaster of emotions in his eyes. Sadness. Happiness. Love. Desire. Warmth. It's as if he's spiralling out of control.

“...If you don’t push me away”—Alhaitham leans closer—”I’m going to kiss you.”

There’s no turning back now.

You grab his shirt collar and pull him towards you until your mouth is on his.

Your mind goes blank as your emotions take the reigns. One kiss after another makes you lose all sense of time and space, drowning you in an intense wave where you almost forget to breathe. Nothing could’ve prepared you for this moment where it’s just you and him pouring raw emotions into a kiss that speaks volumes. You're revelling in this fire that only Alhaitham can spark.

Your hands are in his hair, pulling him closer. His hand runs down your back; his body flush against yours. The kiss twists. It turns. And, slowly, as it comes down from its high, it burns and melds until it feels like gold.

You’re the first to break away. Your face is red and your lips are burning as reality starts to hit. You stare at each other, and you can see that Alhaitham is also grappling with his emotions.

Before neither of you can say anything, you hear a knock at the door.

“Sis?”

“Don’t tell me Haitham is in there with you!”

It’s your brother and Kaveh. You and Alhaitham look at each other. When the knock comes again, you quickly compose yourself and open the door.

“Sis!”

Aether and Kaveh look at each other. “Why are you calling my sister Sis?” your brother asks.

“Take a guess, kid.” Then, Kaveh notices Alhaitham. “Haitham!” Kaveh looks back at you and smiles. “So… you two were together.”

“It’s not like that,” you say quietly.

Aether and Kaveh look at each other, their expressions mimicking each other's. Of course, they doubt you. You're doubting yourself.

Alhaitham comes up behind you. “...She needed help.”

“Help?” Aether asks, raising a brow. “With what?”

You clear your throat and walk out of the room. “It’s nothing. Did you need something?”

“You and Haitham were gone for a while, so we came to check up on you,” Kaveh says. “Guizhong told us where you were. Don’t tell me we… interrupted something.”

Aether gasps. “Sis! We’re at someone’s wedding!”

Your face instantly turns red. “It wasn’t like that!” Then, you sigh. “Let’s go.”

Before Aether can say anything else, you put your hands on his shoulders, spin him around, and refuse to answer more questions.

Kaveh looks at Alhaitham. “It’s not like you to get so caught up in your emotions.” When Alhaitham doesn’t respond, his ex-roommate smiles. “But… it feels good, right?”

It didn’t just feel good. It was euphoric.

“Did it feel better than catnip?” Kaveh jokes.

Before Alhaitham can stop himself, he says, “She’s my catnip.”

Kaveh laughs and Alhaitham groans softly, knowing he'll never hear the end of this.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

End notes: There are only 1-2 chapters of this left... o_o. Even I'm a little surprised LOL... The next chapter may be the last chapter, depending on how things go. Let's see...

Tag list: @suoshiii @lordbugs @seirenspinel @lxry-chxn @sakiimeo @ash-in-lavender @ceylestia @forsh4dow @deathkat657 @kalpie @elernity @sentieence @chichibleeps @sunsethw4 @hjjks @tanspostsblog @nqctre @just-simping-over-genshin @uchihaeirin @vynbin @ayanokomu @dksfl920 @rin1802 @itztaki @thetwinkims @imkaaayy @angeilix @starlighttotheleft @letthewindlead @certaindreampost @winterpein @warrior-of-justice @theprinceofkhaos @vvyeislazzy @n8mareee

[welcome-to-oslov]

Dear Author

Let me explain by saying that my first language is not English, so I apologize in advance if there is anything that is not understood or causes misunderstandings my intention is far from that.

I don't know how to express what you feel once you finish Oslov unraveled, have you ever read/seen something so good that it becomes part of you and you are doomed to spend your life thinking about it to every time you hear a song think about how well the character does or when you hear a phrase think about how the story applies, to every minute of your existence that story lives in the sea of your thought when you finish and not process it like a storm and then like a gentle undercurrent in your mind that will stay there YEARS. ...WELL THAT JUST HAPPENED TO ME WITH OSLOV'S KEY.

I swear I will be eternally grateful that I found this in the jumble of tags I was looking for one afternoon for fun and found this story AND DEVOURED IT IN LESS THAN 3 DAYS (everything except the prequel with Malsha I'm not mentally prepared for that yet I feel I have to digest all of this first) I don't Know where to begin to explain why this story is so good, I still have to process a lot of what I just finished reading so here are a few points.

Most works of fiction in ao3 with sla/ver/y represented in is not well represented or written and although in Oslov slavery is not allowed as you rightly say is the best way to define what happens to Tilrey and other characters, where most would fall into a case of stockholm syndrome or a too naive and simplistic denouement, you have known to take your time to explain why this system has remained so long, what is wrong with it and that changes do not happen overnight.

The way this revolution happens when janta turns off the lights and the characters are mixed each with their own agenda with Einara's plan starts because she wants to be more extreme than Tilrey and how there are groups trying to take advantage of all the chaos, something I really liked is that I remember fictions where the theme of revolutions are about only one point here we see several from Besha who only wants to benefit his own interests , Davita and the others who tries to preserve the status quo because it always benefit them and those who have been oppressed by it like Steffan and Tilrey finally stepping forward.

The characters I have no words to explain the level of three-dimensionality they have no white doves and totally evil characters ( except Veran and others who definitely deserve a painful death ) it is full of gray characters who we have seen how the system affects them and we can only wonder if in another society or if x situation had not affected them they would be better love each one from Gersha to Einara and what to say about Tilrey he stole my heart ( something I love is that in my language Tilrey would be read as a compound name " Til-.Rey and Rey means king which basically shows some leadership skills that the character is going to take).

How they talk about and the characters deal with trauma one of the chapters I liked the most is when Tilrey and Einara talk about how they endured the rapes by letting go of their mind and Tiley explains dissociation plus how they have a hard time letting go of dehumanizing themselves after all the treatment they've been through.

I definitely have to read this again calmly to analyze more I plan to stop by ao3 to drop this off and when time permits and leave a comment on each chapter.

I'm sorry if this comment is too long, but I had to vent this is an amazing story that should be published somewhere because of how well narrated and the complexity of the issues it deals with because god I need more people to read it.

I just wrote a longer response to this on AO3, but I just want to say again, thank you!!! ❤️❤️ Comments like this mean the world to me.

I’m reaching the point where I feel very tempted to publish these stories, and I do have some knowledge of how to do that and the advantages and pitfalls of the different methods. I always come back to the fact that only immensely popular fics (or original stories) do well in the marketplace, and this seems to be more of a niche story. Still … thank you for giving me another reason to consider it.