#the fucking cancelling noise things with the SH

[angrycloudloud]

Thanks Tumblr for KICK ME back into the shadow of Sherlock Holmes!!!

I just got far enough from BBC Sherlock... WHY YOU PUNCH ME IN THE FACE WITH A PODCAST!?!?!

With a spanish Miss Hudson talking shit about men in Spanish to a dog?!

Autistic Sherlock seeking hugs when overstimulated?!

John with an obsession with his podcast because PTSD makes him feel a bit lost and he needs to feel like he IS doing something good?!

John loving his fans but using the case of the goose as an excuse to not go to a trip with his mates?!?! and Sherlock being pure gremblin energy when the cases are close?!?!?!

I LOVE them but FUCK OFF Tumblr i was busy i didn't need to get back into my "John and Sherlock need a hug" era!!!

[fcthots]

Okay but I like to think that Jason's helmet has like noise and brightness controls so he can focus when things get bad.

If you ever have a sensory overload day when he's near, and everything is just too bright, too loud, too much, he'll gently plunk his helmet on your head, turned down to block out almost everything but still leave you aware enough of your surroundings to know he's there.

The quiet helps, your eyes don't hurt as much. And you feel safe knowing he's protecting you.

❄️

ANON THIS IS FUCKING EVERYTHING

this may be a little too self-indulgent but, fuck it, I needed this

It started when you fell asleep last night, not meaning to, so you had to take a shower in the morning. Then you had to wear the pair of stiff jeans because you had fallen asleep before you washed clothes. Then the seams of your shirt became incredibly bothersome and ever-present. All of this is to say: you were destined for failure today.

The Wayne family had agreed on a public outing to go eat and keep up appearances. Afterwards, everyone would head back to the manor to either get ready for patrol or just hang out. The entire family was invited and so were the significant others, hence you. It's not something you could cancel and Jason was so happy to ask you to go. You were determined to tough it out. For him.

You sat down at the table and your chair was uneven and wobbly. Ok. Ignore it. Move on. The lights were almost painfully bright. You tried not to think about it. The music was on loop but there was a small static gap when it looped and the song itself wasn't long, so the static was every minute. Ignore it. You were seated with your back to the door so you couldn't see when or where noises were coming from. Ignore it. There was a baby crying somewhere around the back of the restaurant. Ignor-

Someone taps you and your shoulders raise. Jason retreats his hand back immediately.

"Are you ok?" You can see the worry and calculation in his eyes.

"I'm okay." Your words sound grating to your own ears.

He doesn’t look like he buys it. "Do you want me to order for you?"

You nod your head and he has you point to what you want on the menu.

You hold polite small talk with the entire family and try to avoid touching the napkin that's texture felt like sandpaper. You can do this.

You ignore the shuttering of paparazzi photos from the window and the constant buzz of screaming from outside.

Deep breath in. Deep breath out. You can do this.

The waiter comes back and hands out the food. Yours is very clearly burnt.

But Bruce is paying for the food and it would be rude not to eat it, right? Yeah that's something that your mother told you.

You put it in your mouth and do your best not to gag at the texture. Jason narrows his eyes at you. Fuck, he's onto you. You smile and put your all into not gagging until he turns back to look at Dick, who is telling a story.

Nailed it.

Eventually. Finally. You get to leave the restaurant.

But it's already too late for you. You can hear cars wizzing by, horns, tires screeching, engines revving, people yelling, and all other sounds of Gotham traffic. You're thankful Jason drove his car today and not his motorcycle ir you think you would have died. Steph and Duke are engrossed in their own conversation in the backseat after they refused to ride back with Bruce after he disagreed with their opinions in some fight you didn’t get the full picture of. Jason eyes you warily, but doesn’t say a word.

It's barely 5 minutes before you're at the manor. You're sitting on the couch, back straight and legs together. Alfred likes the living room to be bright, so all the lights are on. Great for Alfred. Terrible for you. You swear there must be 50 people in this fucking family because you can hear each and every one of their voices.

The sounds are grating, the lights are too bright, Cass and Tim are tossing their gear at each other over the couch and over you head, the dogs are barking, someone is yelling, Dick squeezes your shoulder as he walks past (with good intentions), you can't fucking think-

Jason's helmet is slipped over your head. He's done it before, just not often, so you forgot it even had the function.

Everything is made dark. The noise, instead of sounding like its coming rom inside your skull, sounds low and distant. Cass catches her last piece of armor from Tim and moves presumably to go down to the cave.

It's like a sensory deprivation tank and you think you might just cry of relief.

You see Jason crouch in front of you. His voice, though quieter than it usually would be, is still clear.

"Better?"

You wordlessly nod your head. In doing so, you notice that everyone else is gone. When did that happen?

"Why didn’t you tell me?" You start getting nervous. You just knew how excited he was and didn’t want to ruin it for him. And you know he still would have wanted you to tell him, but you felt terrible. You anxiously raise your shoulders into a nervous shrug.

He sighs. "I shouldn't have asked. Questions only make it worse, huh?"

You nervously nod your head. He laughs.

"'M sorry, baby."

You shake your head no before he can continue that train of thought.

"You wanna go put on one of my big comfy shirts and we can put you in my bed?"

You nod again. That sounds like fucking heaven.

He holds out his hand and you take it.

[kunikidas-lost-glasses]

BSD college!AU headcanons - Study group on friday

TWs: Slight mention of OCD, Slight mention of heart palpations, slight mention of SH? I think? It's Fyodor's finger biting/hurting them in the process if that's triggering to someone.

It's all very slight though

Obviously thier mental health isn't as fucked up as in the canon universe here.

Also Oda is alive in this.

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

Usually, Dazai, Kunikida, Chuuya, Fyodor, Nikolai, Shibusawa, Sigma, Ranpo, Poe, Mushitaro, Yosano, Atsushi, Akutagawa, Higuchi, Bram, Gin, Lovecraft, Steinbeck, Louisa and sometimes even Jouno and Tecchou meet every Friday in the little Cafe close to their college in order to study together, do homework or just gossip about the day

They are all either majoring or minoring in literature so the all know each other in some way

It all started with Atsushi frequently joining Dazai, Chuuya and Kunikida after their lectures in order to study together with them because he dislikes studying alone.

Besides this, Dazai literally was his tutor for quite some time and still helps him out with homework sometimes (Atsushi still has to do a lot of convincing most of the time)

Atsushi actually picked the café because Lucy works there and he can see her more often now

Atsushi then told Akutagawa about their study sessions and begged him to come with him next time which he eventually did

Akutagawa then told Gin, Gin told Higuchi and so on

Dazai on the other hand once begged Fyodor to join them at the café once for whatever reason and Fyodor dragged Nikolai, Shibusawa and Sigma with him. Sigma told Bram, Bram told Lovecraft, and Lovecraft told Steinbeck

Ranpo is there because Yosano, who knew about the study group from Chuuya, convinced him to come too and he decided to drag Poe and Mushitaro with him.

Poe also told Louisa and Louisa was surpringly thrilled about coming with them to the café since her girlfriend works there

Jouno and Tecchou once decided to study at the café after their military training one day and saw the large group studying the same stuff as them and so they scooted over to that table to exchange some informations and to compare what they've written.

Since then, they sometimes join them once or twice a month

They don't just do their work for their literature course there. Fyodor is mainly coding something on his laptop for his coding major, Nikolai is revising his plays or makes Sigma read out the other roles while he revises his lines and Ranpo is whining about criminology being too easy and that college is unnecessary

Usually thier meetings are 50% studying and 50% gossiping

Thanks to Louisa, Lucy let herself get convinced to let them stay in the café even after it's closing time during the exam season

Bram and Lovecraft doze off nearly every hour so Steinbeck has to wake them up again all the time

Lucy coming to thier table, sitting down next to Louisa and chatting a bit during her short breaks is a thing

Her making sure that Louisa is doing fine and isn't overworking herself, kissing the top of her head and praising her but also roasting all the others for choosing to study and now suffering every few months because of exams while she decided to start to work instead of torturing her with even more school is a thing too

Ranpo often wears noise canceling headphones when the café is too crowded

They all grew kinda close to each other, some more some less, after some time. After all, they studied and talked together for hours every single friday

They also found out a lot about each other there

Bram found out that Dazai suffers from chronical pain aswell and now always keeps some less intense pain killers like the ones he has to take with him in case Dazai forgot his ones again with him

Sigma and Chuuya found out that the other suffers from OCD as well and now they always keep an eye on each other and comfort each other when it gets too bad

Dazai nearly always blasts pop music from 2010/2011 over his headphones

He is also always chatting with Fyodor for literal hours.

They don't get a change to chat for long super often due to Fyodor having afternoon classes and usually working until late at night while Dazai takes morning classes and works in the afternoon so those Fridays are great to finally talk with his best friend again

All of them bitching about the amount of work they have to do is a thing too

Atsushi loves the study sessions extremely much. He feels super comfortable in that group, even though he is admittably a bit scared of Nikolai, Shibusawa and Fyodor

Sigma and Atsushi always chat. Just like Dazai and Fyodor they see each other rarley during the week so this is a great opportunity on catching up on how the other is doing

The Perfect crime trio always orders an concerning amount of coffee

The tables which they shoved together to one big table are usually cluttered with laptops, papers, worksheets, books, plates with pasteries, headphones, cutlery, pencils and pencil cases, different kinds of folders, phones and a ton of cups

Due to this, Dazai, who only drinks his coffee decaf with sugar and not hot but warm, once accidentally blindly grabbed Fyodor's cup of hot black coffee and took a big sip while he was writing on essay on his laptop

Needless to say, he spit it out and dramatically complained and whined about the taste as well as about accidentally burning his tongue with the hot drink while also judging Fyodor for drinking such disgusting things

Fyodor just listened with a small amused smile and the judged Dazai for drinking decaf

Dazai complaining about literally anything is a thing too

Mostly he is complaining about studying

He can complain and whine about not wanting to do the work for college for hours

Chuuya and Kunikida are the complete opposite tho. They can work for hours without an break and especially Chuuya always works past his limits so Dazai has to keep an eye on them and especially on the redhead so that he won't end up horribly overworked and dizzy again

Shibusawa working quietly most of the time, only occasionally sliding his sketchbook over to Fyodor, Nikolai or Sigma, asking them what they think of his designs

He always has his one little lunch box with apple slices with him for some reason. He eats them when the employees of the café aren't looking

It's diffrent when he has an art/design block though.

He is in a horrible mood then most of the time, sketching sometimes only to skribble wildy over it again or he isn't even touching his sketchbook and is complaining about everything being so boring and every design looking dull then

Dazai "helping" Akutagawa with the latters tasks only to tell him the most cursed shit and giving him wrong answers is a thing

Usually Atsushi overhears it though or see the notes Akutagawa made and proceeds to lecture Dazai

Atsushi likes Dazai, that's put of question. He admires the older. But he's also so done with his shit like 80% of the time

Especially when he is messing with Akutagawa again

When Chuuya finds out, he usually smacks Dazai's head, scolding him for messing with Akutagawa (Chuuya took Akutagawa under his wing after and became his tutor after Dazai dropped him so by now he cares a lot about the younger student in a mentor/big brother kind of way)

Ranpo could technically help nearly everyone with their tasks but he only helps when he recrives payment in form of candy or other sweets. The more difficult the task or the more the work, the more candy he demands

Usually you get roasted about not being able to solve such an easy task too

So asking Ranpo for help is something you usually do if there is litarally no other solution

Ranpo or Mushitaro often hold Poe's hand under the table if the café is very groweded and they sense that he's becoming nervous again

During exam phases, everything is a tiny bit different and everyone looks pretty done with life

Dazai once even arrived to the café in his pyjamas during the exam phase

It actually made Fyodor laugh for the first time that day even though he tried not to laugh about it at first

The russian didn't looked any better though. He wore comfortable pants, a lavender zip up hoodie, had his hair tied up in a messed low pony tail and looked like he hadn't slept since days

His fingers were covered in colorful band aids for kids which Nikolai put on them after Fyodor bit them all bloody and wound again

No matter how long Dazai and Fyodor knew each other, it still felt weird to see him in other clothes than the black, white and lavender silky, a bit old fashioned but elegant looking clothes which he usually worse

Atsushi also looked like he hadn't slept since years, Yosano had wine in her water bottle, drinking it like water and looked like she was close to loosing her mind (she studies/majors in medicine), Chuuya had been overworking himself since the past week, Sigma had probably been through five panic attacks since Monday and Bram was just sleeping it off

It's not like for example Dazai and Fyodor think the topics are hard to understand and can memorize it in a matter of two days but it's the sheer amount of work which tires them out

Thier part time jobs, lectures, studying, it's all just a lot

Lucy supports them with regularly bringing them new coffee, tea and their favorite pastries to thier table (They happened to have them in stock. She absolutely didn't order them to made especially for them because she knew they were in the exam phase.)

Fyodor just dozing off on the table is a thing too then

Nobody dares to wake him though. For different reason

Some fear his anger, some are just happy that he finally gets some sleep

Poe and Nikolai usually bring thick plush blankets with them during that time and completely wrap themselves up in said blanket for comfort

Shibusawa once brought his sewing machine, sewing tools and fabrics with him and finished a whole outfit which he started sewing at his dorm at the café, completely unbothered by the stares he got by some costumers

Lucy keeps an emergency kit in a storage room ever since the study sessions became a regular thing

Chargers, tissues, pain killers, scotch tape, band aids, lavender pills, pens, ear plugs, pads, bandages, iron pills, you call it.

She often overhears them forgetting stuff so she made that emergency kit

She then, happened to have the needed item there by coincidence

She'd rather die than to admit she buyed stuff to help them

After the exam phase is over, Lucy opens the café for exclusively them on Saturday so that they can celebrate

Ranpo often simply snatches Mushitaro's tablet away from him when he notices that Mushitaro is close to getting a migraine again or when his heart palpations which are always acting up when he has a lot of stress, are acting up again so that he can't continue working on his tasks since he knows that Mushitaro is prone to work past his limits

When someone can't come to their study sessions, at least one of them, will send a long report about today's meet to them, usually with some solutions to some tasks attracted to the message

Sometimes Oda and Ango who happen to come to the café during their breaks, stroll over to the group, greet them and chat a bit with Dazai who's always excited to see them, already waving to them from his seat as soon as he sees them entering the café

[mvshortcut]

#Show Curtain wildly misinterpreting the relationship between the adults while fleeing the island in his $10mil helicopter < prev im weeping#next time they find each other nicholas being like HOLD UP. HOLD UP TIME OUT. TIME OUT#nathaniel i need to know. i NEED--last time you said. it's. it's been HAUNTING me you#you called [gestures incoherently] my DREADFUL LITTLE POLYCULE???#(yes? did you think i wouldn't hold disdain for your ridiculous little fourway?)#nicholas starts making a painful sounding little wheezing noise#(it's not because of the polyamory for the record. it's that you all have terrible taste and also you're my brother#and therefore should never date. also bc youve weaponized your polycule against me)#NATHANIEL.....WHY DO YOU THINK WE'RE A POLYCULE I'M WEEPING....#(ARE YOU NOT??) NO??!??!?!?!? (WHAT THE FUCK)#NATHANIEL WHY DID YOU HTINK WE WERE AF UCKIGN FOURWAY. WHAT IS HAPPENING#(YOU LIVE TOGETHER! YOU HUG SO FUCKING MUCH! THOSE WOMEN HAVE SO MUCH SEXUAL TENSION!)#*in tears* THEY'RE ADOPTED SISTERS NATHANIEL.#(they're WHAT!!!!!!) im going to fucking cry. this is the worst thing that's ever happened to me#[number two: what including the emergency? the kidnappings? the childhood trauma?] this is the worst thing that's ever happened to me.#(YOU'RE NOT EVEN KISSING MY STUPIDLY BIG FORMER CHEMIST?) your WH--you mean MILLIGAN?!??!#(that's definitely not his name. what the fuck i was so convinced you were married.)#😳😳😳 wh. why would you think that.#(......................WAIT) shut up SHUT UP SHUT UP SH#(WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT NICKY DO YOU HAVE A CRUUUUSH!)#SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHU#(HAHAHA!! FUCK THIS IS GREAT! BRAINSWEEPING MYSELF OF POLYCULE KNOWLEDGE CANCELLED)#brainsw--what?? wait no i DON'T HAVE A CRUSH SHUT UP (HAHAHAHA)#HE. IS ON. THE LINE. NATHANIEL. HE! CAN! HEAR YOU! (.....)#..... (.....) ..... (well. chemist. are you going to ask him out or not.)#[...] (...) [.........mr. benedict‚] (HE CALLS YOU MR. ?!?!?!??!) SHUT UP IM GOING TO KILL YOUUUUU#(even if i get you a date????) <um. sir.> (What Is It.)#<im sorry to interrupt but a small child seems to have destroyed The Evil Machine(TM) with a hammer?> (SHIT)

@bi-demon-ium get prev tagg'd idiot

you and your dreadful little polycule haven't seen the last of me

[hikeyzz]

meltdown ranting below the cut, tw for SH & SI (i am safe, just letting out thoughts)

woke up & everything was overstimulating. i was soaked in sweat bc meds give me night sweats so i had to shower but the idea of being naked made me want to plunge a dagger into my heart. but being sweaty and sticky would be worse. had to vacuum and take out the trash and something made my hands sticky in a way the soap wouldn't wash off which made me want to take a kitchen knife and chop my fingers off like baby carrots. and there's construction going on that's so loud it sounds like it's happening inside my building which is making my skin crawl and itch and makes me want to skin myself. and then my stomach hurts from overindulging all weekend but i'm so hungry but if i eat it'll only make the pain and discomfort worse. and every single joint in my body hurts so moving whatsoever feels like i'm pulling nails out of my bones. and then i'm crying bc it's all too much and i'm trying trying trying trying not to hurt myself but it's so so so so hard. SH is a really bad reallyyy old way i used to ground myself and deal with being overstimulated and upset like this. the crying just makes my stomach muscles tense which makes the pain worse which makes the crying worse. everything is bad and idk how to handle any of it, there's nothing to do??? literally even my bose noise cancelling headphones aren't enough to tune out all of the noises. i work from home and have maintenance coming today so i literally cannot leave or go anywhere quieter. no amount of soothing items will help me and i have work to do so i can't just try and distract myself with games or comfort shows. i just wanna fcking rage and thrash and beat my fists into something until i'm just torn flesh and ripped muscles and broken bones. it literally seems like the Only thing that will make me feel better even though i know it's Insane. why is my brain like thissssssssss god fuck me. literally been crying for 20min and can't stop and i have a work meeting in 40min fuck me fuck me fuck me. like the worst part about it is that i am FINE i know i am safe and i know who to reach out to if i feel unsafe and i know it's just going to be an uncomfortable day but i will be FINE. the level of discomfort is just purely, deeply uncomfortable and that's what is soo hard to cope with. there's no way to make it more comfortable, i just have to get through it, and it's so fuckingggg uncomfortable. viscerally, tangibly uncomfortable.

[dreamerstreamer]

Office Lunch

Pairing: Quackity / Alexis x gn!reader

Summary: [Dream SMP!AU] Being vice president is far from an easy job, and it’s starting to take a toll on Quackity. Thankfully, you’re always there to pick him back up, again.

Warnings: some cursing, minor mentions of alcohol

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: requested by the lovely 🐌 anon, who wanted some reverse comfort & fluff for big q! the story takes place during schlatt’s presidency, and also serves as a bit of a character study. i hope you enjoy!

The quiet ticking of the clock felt absolutely deafening in the barren silence of the office. You fidgeted your feet, your thumbs nervously tapping at the throw pillow at your side. Despite how plush and comfortable the couch cushions were beneath your thighs, they felt as stiff as rock digging into your skin. Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you sat up straight, your eyes glued to the clock as you stared down the taunting, ticking hands.

Were presidential meetings always this long? You were no professional, but employees still had a lunch break, right?

Sighing, you tore your eyes away from the clock on the walls, sweeping your gaze across the office. A tall window decorated the wall opposite from the looming mahogany door, the warm, midday sun washing the room with light. The bookshelf tucked away in the corner of the room was adorned with shelves upon shelves of files, alongside a framed photo of the Manberg flag. On the floor sat a deep crimson rug, the golden tassels brushing along the soles of your shoes.

It was a beautiful office, really. But it looked so much more dull when it was as empty as it was.

Your gaze flickered down to the container sitting on the coffee table in front of you, your lips curling into the smallest of frowns. So much for giving him a surpris—

All of a sudden, the office door swung open, slamming into the opposite wall with a loud thud. Jolting, you whipped your head up, your eyes landing on the huffing figure standing in the doorway. You watched as Quackity stomped across the room to his desk, his gaze stormy as his grip tightened around the already crumpled stack of files in his hand. He was practically seething as he dropped the stack of papers onto his desk, cursing loudly under his breath.

“What an ass,” he muttered, irritation lacing his every word. Reaching up, he tugged at his navy tie, the tight fabric unravelling around his neck. “Always keeping me late because he can't be bothered to show up on time.” His scowl deepened. “That lazy piece of sh—”

“Alex?”

Quackity froze at the sound of your voice, whirling around to face you with wide eyes, his lips parted in shock. “[Y/N]?” he whispered.

You lifted your hand in a shy wave, offering him a sheepish smile. “Hi.”

His lips split into a wide grin as he strode over to you, crouching down next to you. “What are you doing here?” he breathed, his bright eyes scanning yours. “Don't get me wrong, I'm always happy to see your beautiful face, but you're here.” He gestured vaguely to the space around him, his eyebrows knitted together. “In my office.”

Heat crept across your face at his words, something fuzzy and warm blossoming in the crevice of your chest. Bobbing your head, you reached across the coffee table to hold up the container you had brought with you, a glimmer of hope flitting through your eyes. “Yeah! I, um, wanted to surprise you today, so I brought you lunch!”

Quackity blinked at you once. Twice. Then, he opened his mouth, an enamoured expression creeping onto his face. “[Y/N],” he said, gentle and soft, “have I ever told you how incredible you are?”

Your heart flipped in your chest, joy sparking in your chest like a firework as you shot him a cheeky grin, winking slyly. "You could stand to mention it more often."

He laughed at that, getting to his feet before settling into the space next to you on the couch, his side warm against yours. Leaning over, he rested his head against your shoulder, letting out a long sigh of relief.

“God,” he sighed, the tightness trickling out from his body as he melted against you, “I can't even begin to describe how happy I am you're here.” He glanced up at you curiously. “What did you make?”

You grinned, your fingers curling around the container lid. “I figured you would want something easy to hold that was still tasty, so...” The lid tugged open with a pop, revealing an array of sandwiches stacked next to one another, stuffed full with vegetables and spreads. “Ta-da!”

Quackity gasped, sitting upright to gape at the lunch you had made, elation shooting across his face. “Are you an angel?” he blurted, his mouth practically watering at the sight. “You must be a fucking angel, I swear.”

A giggle bubbled up in your throat, warmth fluttering in the pit of your stomach. “Last time I checked,” you hummed, gently nudging his shoulder with yours, “I was just the love of your life, but angel works, too.”

Quackity's eyes gleamed fondly, but you didn't miss the way his fingers twitched in anticipation. Tilting the container toward him, you smiled, amusement seeping into your voice. “Yes, you can eat.”

His eyes lit up like the sun, and you could only laugh as a “thank you” tumbled from his lips before he was grabbing a sandwich. As his teeth sank in for the first bite, his eyes fluttered shut and he made a pleased noise. In an instant, he was absolutely devouring the sandwich, his cheeks puffed with delight.

“This,” he said between bites, “is so good.” Swallowing the final bite, he reached over for a second, his tongue darting out to swipe at his lips. “I don't think I would mind eating this for the rest of my life.”

You flashed him a grin. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Leaning back against the soft cushions, you lifted a sandwich to your mouth, savouring the burst of flavour across your tongue as you took a bite. “By the way,” you said before you took another bite, casting a curious glance in Quackity’s direction, “how’s your day been so far? I missed you.”

In an instant, Quackity’s eyes went dark, the smile falling from his face as he let out a long, drawn out sigh. “Schlatt,” he said.

You swallowed, raising your brows at him. “Schlatt?” you repeated.

He deadpanned. “Is the fucking worst.”

You winced at the exhausted look that flitted across his face, setting your sandwich down on the container lid. “So, I take it your morning went badly.”

The groan that escaped his lips was absolutely gut-wrenching, frustration soaking into his every movement as he got to his feet, pacing around the room. “Like you wouldn’t believe. He cancelled two meetings—the first because he was hungover, and the second because he wanted to drink. Then,” he said, whirling on his feet with a glower, “when he did actually schedule a meeting, he was late.” He threw his hands up into the air. “Like, what the hell?”

Your heart churned in your chest at the sight of his irritated face, the bitterness in his tone winding rising higher and higher, filling the air like a dam that was about to burst. “Plus, he still hasn’t read the report I submitted last week, and also he interrupted me six times today.” He held up six fingers toward you, a deep scowl etched into his features. “Six! That’s seven times too many.”

You had half the mind to laugh at his words, but the sorrow you felt outweighed the flicker of amusement that shot through you. “And did I tell you that he made me make him coffee this morning?” He groaned again, his hands tightening into fists at his side as he collapsed back onto the couch, draping his arm over his eyes. “Sometimes,” he grumbled, “I feel less like a vice president and more like an unpaid intern.”

You shuffled closer to him on the couch, reaching your hand up to gently stroke his back. “I’m sorry that’s happening, baby,” your murmured, rubbing a soft, soothing circle around the base of his neck with your thumb. “Schlatt sounds like an awful boss.”

He whipped around to face you, a grimace stretched taught across his face. “He is!” he cried. “He’s such a fucking... dick! There are so many things I could say.” He lifted a hand, counting off on his fingers. “He constantly misses meetings, he’s always goofing off, and he’s always fucking drunk. It’s like he doesn’t even care about this country.” He sighed, dragging his hand over his face. “Like, why run for president if you’re not going to at least try to make a difference?”

Suddenly, he went quiet, his hand freezing around his chin. You watched as a cloudy fog passed over his gaze, his voice dropping to a low whisper. “God, am I making a difference?”

Your breath hitched in your throat as he turned to look at you, his heart hanging heavy in his lungs as you watched the gears turn in his head. “What have I done?” he whispered, his brows sloping downward. “I’m just helping push Schlatt’s agenda, whatever that is.”

He dropped his head, resting his elbows on his knees as he hung his face in his hands. “Why did I even support him in the election in the first place?” His voice cracked, and you felt your own heart cleave at the sound. “Seriously, just what the hell am I doing?”

A long, thick silence fell over the two of you, Quackity raised his head, turning to face you with a cloudy, broken gaze. “Maybe I’m just as bad as he is.”

The words were out of your mouth in an instant, a wave of protectiveness crashing over you and filling every inch of your being. “Don’t say that.”

He gazed at you sadly, regret flickering across his face. “But, aren’t I—”

“No,” you said, firmer this time, “you’re not.” When Quackity’s eyes went wide at your sudden shift in tone, your gaze softened, adding gently, “I swear.”

Pulling your hand away from his back, you let your eyes scan his doubtful expression, your lips pressed into a thin line. “People like having power, Alex. Physical power, bargaining power, political power—” You shook your head with a sigh, disappointment tugging at the back of your mind. “It can be obsessive, and a lot of the time, that power’s misused.” You sent him a knowing look, brows raised. “You would know.”

His lips twitched the tiniest bit, and he bobbed his head, almost as if there were a set of weights on his shoulders. “Yeah, I really fucking do.”

“But,” you hummed, a smile tugging at your lips, “it’s not always misused.” You leaned against him, your soft side pressing into his. “Look at you—you’re trying your hardest to make this country a better place, and that’s amazing.”

You felt him shake next to you, the fabric of his suit trembling against you. “But,” he said quietly, sounding so very unlike the bold, confident man you loved, “I’ve hardly been able to do anything.” He squeezed his eyes shut, sucking in a weary, ragged breath. “Everything I try to do just gets shut down, or pushed aside, or it’s not even looked at.”

You reached over, slipping your hand in his and intertwining your fingers together. “That doesn’t demean your hard work and effort, though,” you said softly. “I’ve watched you work overtime so many days in a row, and you’re always spending late nights at the office to pick up Schlatt’s slack.”

Your lips curled into a smile, genuine and fond. “You’re wonderful, Alex, and Schlatt is lucky to have you. You’re a wonderful vice president, and an ever better person.” Your eyes curved into soft, crescent moons. “Don’t put yourself down like that, okay?”

Quackity stared at you for a moment longer, then lowered his gaze to your connected hands, the light in his eyes flickering. “Even if you’re right,” he said quietly, “Schlatt’s still the one in power. He’s the one with the most control.”

You scooted a fraction closer to him, your knees brushing against his. “The thing about power is that one person hardly ever gets to keep it to themselves forever.” You reached your other hand up, pressing your palm to his cheek, his skin warm against yours. “Schlatt may be president now, but a new term will come soon, and he’ll be voted out, I’m sure of it. And when that happens, you guys will be able to turn a new leaf.”

You brushed your thumb over his cheekbone. “I believe in you.”

Another silence fell over you, but this one was different—it wasn’t tense or heavy like the last, weighing down on you like an anchor. Instead, a certain brightened bloomed across the room, and you watched with kind eyes as Quackity lifted his head, his eyes meeting yours with a serious expression.

“I love you.”

Your heart leapt into your throat, heat exploding across your face as your chest shook with a hazy whirlwind of emotion. “Wh—huh?” you spluttered, your face growing hotter by the second. “I-I love you too, but where did that come from?”

His hand squeezed tightly around yours, an ardent spark of affection springing inside him. “My heart,” he said honestly.

You couldn’t stop the smile from splitting across your lips, wide and bright. You opened your mouth to respond when, without warning, he was tugging you forward until you were pressed flush against his chest. Wrapping his arms around your waist in a tight embrace, he dipped his head down next to your ear and murmured, “Thank you, [Y/N].”

You blinked for a moment, then melted against him, resting your head on his shoulder as you snaked your arms up and around his backside. “For you, anything.”

For a long moment, the two of you simply held each other, nestled closely within each other’s arms. You let your eyelids fall shut as you brushed your nose against the side of his neck, inhaling his lingering scent of linen and lemon.

After a few minutes, you felt his breath tickle your cheek as he opened his mouth. “Hey, what time is it?”

You opened your eyes, your gaze darting to the clock on the wall behind him and squinting. “Um, quarter past one.”

Quackity’s eyes shot open to the size of saucers, and in a flash, he was scrambling off the couch, stumbling across his office to his desk. “Oh shit, I’m late for my next meeting!”

Your eyes widened as he quickly picked up a new stack of papers from his desk, grabbing a pen from his cup holder before slipping it behind his ear. While he balanced the mess of office supplies in his arms, striding back over to you, a flurry of swords tumbled from his mouth. “The sandwiches were fantastic, everything you said means the world to me, you’re beautiful, and I love you so fucking much.”

Your heart swelled in your chest, love rushing through your veins as you struggled to process his words. “I—”

All of a sudden, he leaned over the coffee table and pressed his lips to yours in a sweet kiss, pulling away just as quickly as he had arrived. “See you when I get home?” he said, his cheeks flushed a rosy pink.

Your head spun with dizzying waves of adoration, and you felt your own face grow warm with affection as you nodded hazily, offering him a wave. “See you then.”

The grin he flashed you made your stomach soar with butterflies, and in a whirlwind of papers, he was rushing out the door, his undone tie still hanging around his neck. The office door slammed shut behind him, and just like that, you were alone again, accompanied only by the ticking of the clock.

You let out a breath and pressed a shaky hand to your chest, feeling your heart thump against your rib cage. Sitting up, your eyes dropped down to your half-eaten sandwich still sitting on the coffee table. An image of Quackity flashed across your mind, and you couldn’t help but feel your lungs blossom with something that you were absolutely certain was love.

With warm sunlight caressing the side of your face, you picked up your sandwich and took another bite, a thoughtful smile gracing your lips.

Maybe you should bring him lunch tomorrow, too.

[sad-boy-hank]

im working on smth so have this- madcom characters as things ive said out loud.

~~~~

Crackpot: I need noise-cancelling headcannons.

Sheriff: I'VE BEEN HIT IN THE FACE WITH A HORSE HOOF, GET ON MY LEVEL!

Jorge: Parry this, you peasant bitch.

Dave: It's the emotion that can only be unlocked when you finish reading a book at midnight.

Hofnarr: What in the Hoover Dam. . .

2BDamned: You people are goddamn lucky I have executive dysfunction.

Bert: If I have to go to school tomorrow, I think I will commit very real crimes.

Deimos: Well, then, I guess I'll go back to obsessively sharpening my pencils. Is this what you wanted.

Tricky: I DO NOT CONTROL THE REMEMBER!

Auditor: My trans is so gender that you can feel it through your screen.

Hank: Once my mental gets healthy, it's over for you bitches.

Torture: Sorry if I seem a bit homicidal. I have chronic pain.

Skinner M.D.: Don't trust the others. Despite appearances, I am a doctor. Have a seat.

Jebus: I think I ripped something in my shoulder, but I used up all my sick days so I guess I'll just suffer.

Gestalt: *baby gibberish* kill kill *more baby gibberish* maim

Sanford: I want to sink slowly into the ground like that scene in Jumanji

Scrapeface: *sobbing* PLEAAAASE MY FRIENDS ARE IN THERRRRE

Phobos: I'M SLEEPING OUTSIDE I JUST CAN'T FUCKING DEAL WITH THIS I AM GOING TO SLEEP OUTSIDE

ROMPs: Who's on front- what the sh- WHO'S ON FRONT?

Church: This is the queerest thing- besides me, of course.

[i-write-newsies]

A/N:

(Y/N) - Your Name

(L/N) - Last Name

(N/N) - Nickname

(H/C) - Hair Color

(D/N) - DEEZ NUTS!! /j Deadname

(E/C) - Eye Color

(H/L) - Hair Length

(Y/A) - Your Age

Ships Included:

- Jack x Davey

- Spot x Race

- Finch x Smalls (Platonic)

- Albert x Elmer

-Katherine x Sarah

- Spot x Reader (Brotherly Platonic)

- Race x Reader (Brotherly Platonic)

Summary:

You have always dreamed of living in the world of your favorite characters, to escape from whatever rotten life you have and make friends with the people you love. One day, fate decides to give you a chance. But when you're not prepared to be rushed into that universe, it becomes a roller coaster of balancing good and bad emotions and events.

Good luck, Reader!

!!TW!!

~ SELF HARM

~ TRANSPHOBIA

~ MAJOR INJURY

~ ABUSE

~ ARGUING

(Y/N) POV:

I'm (Y/N) (L/N). I'm (Y/A) with (E/C) eyes and (H/L) (H/C) hair. At least it used to be (H/L). I cut it all off today. I can tell my mom just found out because of the loud cursing and stomping. "GODDAMMIT, (D/N)!!" she yells. What scares me the most about this situation is the fact that I'm kinda used to this. I hear her coming up the stairs to my room and rush to the door and lock it. As expected, the door handle starts rattling violently, "(D/N) YOU LET ME IN RIGHT NOW, YOU UNGRATEFUL LITTLE SH!T!" She starts banging on the door, stressing the lock.

I sigh. Today was one of the worse days. I slip on my noise-canceling headphones and press play on my musicals playlist, consisting of:

- Waving Through A Window

- On My Own

- A Little Fall Of Rain

- Angel of Music

and of course...

The entire Newsies soundtrack.

By the time I get to 'Seize the Day', it's twilight outside. I lift one of my headphones to check if my mom is gone. I hear nothing. I look out the window and don't see her car. Perfect.

Unplugging my headphones and letting the music play, I walk over to my dresser, open it up, and reach deep in the back. Aha!

I pull out some bandages (A/N: DO NOT ACTUALLY BIND LIKE THIS OK BYE). I take off my shirt and try not to look in my mirror, fearing what sort of feminine body I may see. I start wrapping my chest to the point that it gets a little hard to breathe. This kinda hurts, but my dysphoria is stronger than my need for comfort and, let's be honest, safety.

Slipping my shirt back on, I look into the mirror and smile, satisfied with my flat chest and somewhat choppy short, (H/C) hair. I jump onto my bed and plug my headphones back into my phone which is now playing Santa Fe. Santa Fe honestly makes me think. I'm only, what, (Y/A)? And I still go through all this BS. I need out. Somewhere my mom can't tell me I'm female. Somewhere like...Newsies. I mean, Race is canonically trans, right? Not to mention all of them are definitely fruity. They'd accept me. The fresh, bandaged cuts on my arms are the only things keeping me in reality right now

As the song ends, I realize that I've been crying. God, why am I stuck in this wretched place? The question as well as thoughts of Newsies reverberates in my skull, a sort of white noise until I fall into a much-needed sleep.

"Aye, kid! Watcha doin sleepin on the street?"

"Especially in a place this..."

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Jack POV:

I yawn, rubbing sleep from my eyes as the circulation bell drones on an' on. I let my eyes adjust to the view of the sunrise from my penthouse in the sky.

As I try to get up to get ready, a pair of arms drag me back down. "Jackieeee" a half-awake Davey groans, "come back down, it's freezing up here." "Dave, we gotta get to work. The boys can always count on me being at the gates early, so if you don't get up, I'm leaving you behind." This seems to wake him up a little more, "Alright, alright fine." he shivers as he gets up. I throw him his top shirt and vest and he desperately claws them on to gain warmth. Carefully, we climb down the ladder.

"What'd I tell ya, Dave? Even in the middle of summer, the night's always freezing." Davey rolls his eyes and does a little shiver "I know, Jackie, now c'mere and warm me up" I grin and move in closer, holding his hand, as we start walking to the gates. "Still not warm enough!" Davey said in a singsong-ish voice. I sigh and feign annoyance, leaning in to give a short but sweet peck on the lips. I think he's satisfied now. We're not usually this lovey-dovey, but I think we're both touch starved and subtly begging for a hug.

Davey, being the amazing boyfriend he is, stops by Jacobis to get us some breakfast. "Dave, you really don't hafta-" "I insist, Jack. After all, breakfast is the most important meal of the day," he says in an almost snobbish voice. I give him a small smile. That's my smartass Dave.

As we get to the gates, I notice a small figure leaned up against it. By now, the sun has come up some more over Manhattan 'n Dave 'n I don't have to walk as close to warm ourselves up. The figure seems to be sleeping, a newsies cap over their eyes. I think it's a kid. Maybe a new newsie looking for work?

I crouch down in front of him lift his hat, and start tapping his shoulder, "Aye, kid! Watcha doin sleepin on the street?" "Especially in a place this..." Davey notes. The kid seems to wake with a start. He rubs his eyes, and I chuckle a little "Whatsa matter? Ya look like youse seen a ghost." He doesn't seem to find this funny and repeatedly switches from looking at me then Davey with some confusion and shock in his eyes.

"I um-" he stutters over his words, "Aye, aye, kid, calm down, you ain't in trouble or nuttin." He takes a few deep breaths. "Okay... I'm (Y/N). I'm just freaking out because This isn't where I fell asleep, and- and I just- feel like I know you..." "Well, (Y/N) it sounds like you're one of da Newsies now," I say with a grin, "Now, we gots ta give you a nickname, we rarely eva call someone by their real name, 'cept Dave 'n Albert of course," The kid stays silent, clearly still shocked from waking up in a foreign place. "I feel like I know you.." he says, barely discernible. "Maybe ya do, maybe ya don't, Dave here's the only one good with faces." The kid looks up at Davey, who seems deep in thought, "(N/N)" he exclaims, "Ah, sorry, what I meant was your nickname should be (N/N)!" "I like it! But why (N/N) exactly?" I question, "Well, *insert reason why here*" "Well ain't you a clever boy, Dave!" I say, ruffling his hair. Davey shies away, "Jack! Now I have to fix my hair!" he complains, "Sorry, sorry." Davey then leaves to fix his hair in front of a shop window nearby, leaving me and (N/N) alone.

(N/N) seems to want to say something, but as soon as he opens his mouth, he shuts it just as quickly. I try to fill the awkward silence, "So, what's wit' da bandages, kiddo?" He freezes, "Nothing, just a ploy to get people to buy more papes..." he trails off. I have a feelin' he's not tellin' the truth, but I go along with it anyway, "Ha! What an idea, I wonder how I neva thought a' that before." he smiles, seeming satisfied with the praise. Davey returns from the shop window, "Alright! Ready to start the day?" (N/N) nods, and so do I.

Newsies start gathering, some glancing at (N/N) and some anxiously peering through the gates. I look at the headline for today: New Newsie Price! "Aye, Dave, you seein' this shit?" "Language- and yeah... what in the world was runnin' through Pulitzer's head when he thought of this??" I look at (N/N), whose mouth is a thin, pale line but whose (E/C) eyes are glinting with determination. "Heh, kid, what's that look for?" He looks at me, a little startled, but quickly regains that same tough expression, "I have a feeling that this ain't some silly little joke. And I'm worried 'bout the kids that may get hurt in the crossfire." I laugh, "Youse just bein dramatic! Surely, they wouldn't be as dumb as to underpay their own employees." I walk over to Weasel and slap down a penny "100 papes please!" "That's gonna be dime, Kelly."

My heart almost stops, and it takes all my strength not to break down in front of the boys. I fake a laugh, "Surely you're joking." "100 papes costs a dime, take a look at the headline." I hit the money box out of anger, "Then we'll just take our business to Brooklyn." Someone pipes up, "The same thing's happenin' there." "Then we'll go to Rushing!" Specs jogs over, seemingly out of breath, "I'll save ya the walk; it's the same everywhere."

Fuck.

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Y/N POV:

A sharp pain in my chest temporarily distracts me from the situation at hand. Ah. I almost forgot. I still have to bind. This sucks. I feel a pair of eyes on me and turn just in time to see Racetrack Higgins avert his eyes. I give him a confused look and turn back to Jack singing "The World Will Know" I forget all about his weird staring and get back into the determined beat from before.

Soon, the newsies and I make our way to Jacobis for some...water I guess? I do happen to have some extra money in my pocket so I think I can treat all the boys to some seltzer. I sit down on a hard wooden chair in a slouch. The room is buzzing with excited talk of the strike. I give a small, sad smile. These boys have no idea what they're getting themselves into. Crutchie sits next to me serving a wide smile just as Jacobi enters with a tray full of waters, "And here's one for you, and for you, and for you- who's the big spender that ordered everyone seltzer?" shyly, I raise my hand, "That's me, sir." "You know these cost a quarter each, right?" I pull out a handful of quarters with a cheeky smile "and I got more where that came from." The boys go wild, "Where did ya get all that money, kid??" Davey, being the concerned mom, asks "Please tell me you didn't steal that." I shake my head, "I used to live comfortably, but my mom kicked me out for...reasons." my grin falters for a second, but no one seems to notice.

"Well!" Jack stands on a table, "Here's to the strike! And, of course, (N/N)" He gestures towards me with a wink as everyone cheers. As Katherine enters, I start to zone out and stare at a speck of dust on the ground. After all, I know the plot all too well. I perk up, though, as soon as Jack asks who's goin' to Brooklyn. My hand shoots up, "I nominate me and Race!" I exclaim. I look over at Race, who's staring at me, blushing and jaw dropped a little. I grin at him and look back at Jack, who's a little shocked. "A-alright! Me and Dave'll take the Bronx, I guess."

*Timeskip to after the restaurant scene*

I walk down the Manhatten alleys blindly, no clue where I'm going, when I hear someone come up behind me. "Hey, (N/N)! It's me, Race." I smile weakly, "Oh, hey." "I always sell my papes at Sheepshead in Brooklyn, so I know where to go."

It's almost completely silent except for the clicking of our shoes on the paved roads. "So... how'd ya get here as a Newsie, (N/N)?" "Well, Jack 'n Davey found me sleepin' on the street just this mornin'" He laughs, "Wow! So you got used to the Newsie life real quick!" "Yeah, I did.." I let out a small chuckle as well. Race pulls out a cigar and clamps it between his lips and goes to light it but hesitates. "Uh- Wanna cigar?" "Wow, Racetrack Higgins giving me one of his own cigars? I'm flattered!" I joke, "But, yeah, I need smoke." He digs into his pocket and hands me another cigar, "You eva' smoked before?" he stares at me as I put the cigar in between my lips. I grin sheepishly, "No." "Okay, maybe we should stop for a second. Coughing while walking ain't the most fun thing in the woild."

We lean up against a wall as Race lights first his, then my cigar. I inhale and immediately spiral into a coughing fit. Race smacks my back, "You good, (N/N)? I ain't neva' seen a fella cough that hard on the first puff." I roll my tear-filled eyes and continue coughing.

Once my coughing fit subsides, I feel a wave of relaxation. "God I should do this more often." I groan, Race grins, "Yeah, once you get past the whole blowin'-your-brains-out part of smokin', it's real nice. Anyway, shall we continue?" he gestures to the streets ahead. I nod my head and take another puff, "Yeah, it's gettin' kinda late and we do NOT wanna wake up the Spot Conlon." Race nods in agreement and we hurry along. Even though I know Spot is kind of a softie, that doesn't stop me from being intimidated by his prowess.

We reach the Brooklyn lodging just as Race's cigar burned out. Race takes a deep breath and gives three solid knocks on the door. A kid younger than me answers the door, "State ya business" "I'm here to let Conlon know about some very important news." The kid squints his eyes but responds "I'll ask him if he's willing to meet with anyone right now. Who should I tell him is askin'?" "Race. Higgins." He says somewhat awkwardly.

The kid closes the door. Race and I stand quietly waiting for the OK to see Spot. Suddenly the door swings open to reveal Spot. "Ra-" he notices me and coughs, "I mean- Higgins, would you like to step in to discuss the important news?" I almost laugh at the way he went from totally in love to distinguished gentleman. I shoo them away, holding in laughter, "don't worry, I'll wait out here and give you lovebirds some space." (A/N: or should I say sprace) I see them both go tomato red.

I sigh as they head inside. I take a drag from the cigar and start thinking. How did I end up in the newsies universe and act this calm about it? This feels so surreal. But I want to stay here forever. Far away from my sh!tty mom and all my responsibilities.

Lost in my own head, I barely notice as Racetrack storms out of the lodging, clearly pissed. "C'mon (N/N), we're leaving." he grabs my hand and angrily powerwalks to the next street over. Once we're there, he lets go of my hand and sighs harshly, walking slow. "I assume it didn't go well?" I ask, already knowing the answer. "Not. Well." "Wanna talk about it?" he shakes his head and starts walking "No, thanks. I think we's better get to bed before Jack gets worried." he stops. "Do you have a place to sleep?" I look down, "Not really..." "Well!" he grabs my hand again with a big grin, "Looks like youse bunkin' wit' me." I start to protest, but realize it'd get me nowhere with this stubborn SOB, so I let myself get dragged along. Oh, well. I might as well get rest for the strike tomorrow, goodness knows I need it.

As I settle down into the rough sheets, the gentle snoring rocks me to sleep with thoughts of the strike. One thought flashes through my mind before I fall asleep; God help us all.

I wake up to someone poking my face. My eyes flutter open and I almost fall off the bunk at the sight of Race's face right in front of mine. "JESUS CHRIST, RACE, YOU SCARED THE SH!T OUTTA ME!" He backs off, putting his hands up in surrender, "Sorry, sorry, it's just that Jack said you had to be up and out in 10 minutes so we can have an organized strike or whateva'" Race rolls his eyes, "I'm startin' ta think that Davey's rubbin' off on 'im a lil' too much."

I groan, tempted to slide back under the covers, but get up anyway. I slept with my clothes on so I don't have to do anything about that. As I look into an old, rusted mirror and comb my fingers through my now tangled hair, I feel another sharp pain in my chest, accompanied by a dull throbbing. I really should have taken off the bandages while I slept, but now it's too late. I take one last look in the mirror and, ignoring my eyebags, quickly head out the door to join the others. As I get to the gate, everyone's waiting with anticipation, faces grim but hopeful.

Everything happens in a blur. One moment we're striking, and the next we're beaten into a pulp. I manage to soak a Delancey in the eye when suddenly a familiar sharp pain fills my chest and wince, faltering. Morris takes this as an opportunity to knee me in the stomach, forcing me to the ground, where their take turns kicking my chest and body with those damn steel-toed boots of theirs until my clothes are torn and the cuts on my arms reopen. Suddenly, there's a small crack as my body swells up with pain and the taste of metal enters my mouth. I let out a blood-curdling scream as the pain registers in my brain. In my blurred vision, I see the Delancey's walk away, ready to torture their next victim; Crutchie.

I try to get up and reach out, try to scream at them not to hurt him, but all I can do is weakly move my hand in their direction and spit out blood. Suddenly, a small but rough hand reaches out and drags me into an alley. "Dammit, (N/N) what were you thinking?! Fighting in a gawddamn binder, and a makeshift one, no less!" "R-..Race..?" "Not now, (N/N) I have ta get youse to safety foist." I watch as he chews on his nails in thought, "Dammit! The only way back to tha lodge is through the Delancey's again!" He sighs. "Brooklyn it is..." He gingerly picks me up and carries me as fast as possible to Spot's turf.

Setting my feet on the ground and propping me up against him, he bangs on the door. "Spot!" Please! This is serious, I need your help!" I can hear the tears in his voice. Spot flings open the door, obviously very concerned. He's confused for a second, then looks at me and his eyes go wide. "GET THE MED KIT AND A COT OPEN, WESE GOT SOMETHING HORRIBLE THAT'S HAPPENED" he yells behind him. Race, now more calmed down, takes me in his arms again, but seems to refuse to look at Spot, who looks away as well, but more in shame.

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Race POV:

I watch as some of the Brooklyn newsies take (N/N) and lay him on a cot, anger surging through my veins. I take a deep breath "I'll take care of him. You guys don't have to worry about it." As they leave the room, I look down at (N/N) and can't help but feel guilty. Like this is my fault. I only got away with a black eye, but he got all this?

I regain my composure and start by taking (N/N) shirt off. I can already see the bruises starting to form and cringe. I take off his binding bandages and see his chest expand immediately. Poor kid. He must have been hurting in more way that just one. I take the gauze from the wooden box and gently wrap his torso with it. Maneuvering around his arms, I notice something. The bandages on him arms. When he was wearing them before, Jack said it was a marketing ploy, but now I see red bleeding through the white gauze.

I unwrap (N/N)'s arms and gasp. Hundreds of tiny, but deep cuts litter his forearms and wrists. F#ck. He was hurting so much more than I could have ever known. I wrap them with fresh gauze and treat the rest of his wounds, stepping back to admire my handiwork. That's when I start to cry. Full-on tears falling, face in hands crocodile tears. I turn my head with a start to see Spot, standing over me with a hand on my shoulder, looking apologetic "I'm so sorry..." Suddenly this sadness turns to rage. I grab him by the shirt collar and drag him outside to an empty alleyway. "SORRY?? SORRY, MY 4SS! (N/N) AND SO MANY OTHER 'HATTEN NEWSIES ALMOST DIED OUT THERE BECAUSE YOU DIDN'T WANT TO JOIN UNTIL YOU KNEW WE WOULDN'T "CAVE" WELL, WE DIDN'T CAVE, AND LOOK WHAT F#CKING HAPPENED! AND DONT YOU SAY SORRY TO ME AND EXPECT ME TO FORGIVE YOU JUST BECAUSE I LOVE YOU, THAT'S FOR CROW TO DECIDE." Spot seemed silent at first, but now I could see his anger building up; "WADDAYA THINK WOULD O' HAPPENED TO MY BOYS, HUH?? I WANTED TO WAIT TO SEE IF WE WOULD BE THE ONLY ONES FIGHTIN IN THIS BATTLE AGAINST PULITZER."

I open my mouth then close it. He has a fair point, but doesn't he trust me and the udda newsies not to bail in their hour of need? I sigh, pinching my nose. "I'm sorry Spot, I just-... I just wish you trusted me a bit more..." I look up at him to see tears in his eyes. "OH, SPOT HONEY, ITS OKAY, I'M NOT MAD, DON'T CRY, DON'T CRY" I shush him, pulling his head into my chest, which isn't tough considering his height.

As he lets go, the adrenaline rush from today dies down. God, I'm so tired. My knees nearly buckle and Spot notices, "Aye, aye! Tony, you doin' okay?" I nod at him, but the bags under my eyes are making them droop, "Race, honey, you need to get some sleep, okay?" I shake my head but soon fall into Spot's arms as my legs give way. "Fine..." I mumble. I can feel him grinning, "Good, we gots an extra bed for youse to sleep in." I sigh, grateful. I can feel Spot picking me up, the rhythm of his boots tapping along the ground, a pause and shift as he opens the lodging door and kicks it closed behind him as I fall asleep.

I wake up in a cold sweat. (N/N). I need to see (N/N). I need to check if he's okay. I climb out of the bed Spot laid me in and let my eyes adjust to the dark before maneuvering around all the other sleeping kids. I make my way as quietly as possible to where (N/N) is resting. I crouch down and take his hand in mine. How could I let this happen? And how did I not notice his suffering? I press the back of his hand to my forehead, closing my eyes. My body is so tired right now, but my mind is too tortured with guilt to let me sleep.

By the time my thoughts finally leave me alone, the sun is rising in the sky. I'm finally drifting when- "Race?" I turn my head to the voice, "Oh, jesus, you look horrible!" Spot exclaims, "did you even get any sleep last night?" I shrug, to be fair, I lost count of the hours. Spot sighs, "Race...go sleep. At least for a few more hours. I can watch (N/N) if that makes you happy," I nod, rubbing my eyes. I stumble back to my bed amongst all the Brooklyn newsies and fall asleep the moment my head hits the pillow.

My mind dreams of talkin' cigars and bloody bandages. I see Crow propped up against the wall, smokin' a cigar. "(N/N)! (N/N)! Oh my god, I'm so happy that you're okay!" (N/N) doesn't answer, I slowly starts walking towards him, "(N/N)...?" he starts laughing. Softly at first then roaring, and the laughing turns into a heavy coughing fit. As (N/N) coughs, red smoke pours out of his lungs and clouds my vision. I swipe at the air, trying to brush away the fog, "(N/N)?? (N/N), where did you go?!" suddenly, the smoke clears and I see (N/N) bruised, damaged, bleeding body at my feet, I gasp and step back. (N/N) slowly turns to face me, and in a painful, teary, almost sickly whisper asks, "Why did you let this happen?" Tears start spilling down my face, "I- I didn't me-" "You did this to me Race. Race. Race. Race! Race! RACE! RACE!--

Spot POV:

--RACE WAKE UP!" He wakes up with a gasp. He looks around wildly, tears dripping from his chin. I've never seen him like this. He must care for him like a brudda. To be honest, I'm worried as well, not only about (N/N) but now that we know 'Hatten isn't gonna back down and we join the fight, what's gonna happen to the newsies in general? Kids could get hoit. Bad.

"Spot?" Race starts sobbing, clinging to my shirt fabric, "Please...tell me it'll be okay..." I can't. Race, I don't know if it will. I almost start sobbing on the Spot ( A/N: heh...), but I hold my composure and smile at him, "It'll be okay, Tony...we're all gonna be fine" He seems to believe this, at least a little bit. "Now, don't you gotta meet up wit' da udda newsies?" He retracts his head from my chest, eyes wide. In a nasal voice, he goes "AW SHOOT, I 'MOST FORGOT" I watch him with a small smile as he rushes to get dressed like the goof he is. God, I love 'im.

Race POV:

Silence. I got there too early. Fuck. I can't just be alone with my thoughts, but at least I have some extra money to... I don't know? I walk up to the bar, where the owner of Jacobi's is cleaning out glasses. I sigh and sit down, "Got anything to help forget? At least for a little while...?"

"Ain't you a little too young for that, kid?" I give him a look and push my money over the counter to him. He quietly collects it, "So what can I get ya?" I'm silent for a bit "Fireball." I say with some demand in my voice. He disappears behind the counter and comes back with some shot glasses and a Fireball bottle, pouring it out into the glasses as I watch. I notice as he sighs, "Feel betta, kid." Can't promise that.

I pick up a shot glass, watching as the orange liquid spins around in it. I take in a breath of spicy cinnamon before letting the liquid slip down my throat, leaving a trail of a burning sensation. Soon, one turns into another, and another, and another and before I could comprehend it, the room starts to spin and blur. Eventually, the room fills with newsies, mumblin' 'bout how crappy the strike went. I do my very best to fit in and not act drunk, but the time zooms by and I find myself singin' 'bout bein' the king o' new york. At some point in the blurry memory, Katherine suggests getting drunk and I throw my hands up and cheer. More free Fireball! But then she clarifies that it was a metaphor, to which I am very disappointed.

The rest whizzes past me and soon I'm stumblin' my way to Brooklyn. I knock heavily on the lodging door, then lean on it. Unexpectedly, the door opens and I'm left to fall flat on my face at the feet of my boyfriend, Spot Conlon. "Race! Darlin', you okay? Youse fell flat on ya face!" He extends a hand that I receive and pulls me up. I giggle, "Ahhhh, my Spotty! Always carin' 'bout uddas. Pshht! Yeah, I'm fiiiine." I flop my hand down to wave off his concern. He wrinkles his nose, "You reek of cinnamon....and alcohol." He widens his eyes and I let out anudda giggle, "Race! Tell me you didn't jus' get drunk!" he whines, I grin, "Okey, 'you didn't jus' get drunk'" I imitate him in a deep voice and he sighs, "Jesus Christ, Racer.." he grabs my hand pulls me inside, eventually laying me on a bed, face red with a giggling fit. "Goodnight, my liege," I giggle some more, "and you my Prince," he gives a small smile before covering me with a blanket. I fall asleep before it's up over my shoulders.

Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω

I wake up with my head feeling like it's going to explode.

Fuck Life.

I groan and sit up. "Mornin' Sleepin' Beauty" Spot smirks and hands me a cup of water, "Shut the fuck up" I whine and grab the glass, "Ooh feelin' feisty today, huh?" I shoot him a look that could rot a squash with one gaze. He holds up his hands in defense, "Alright, alright, my bad," He shrugs. I sigh and take a sip of water, which turns into me chugging the whole thing. "You betta get ova this hangover fast, hon" I groan, not ready to do anything at all today, "We gots the meetin' wit' Jack."

End my life.

"No, I don't think I will," "fuuuuck did I say that out loud?" I let out a small wail, and Spot chuckles a little, though you can tell there's somethin' on his mind still, "Yeah, ya did sweetheart." I grumble something incomprehensible and look down, red. He smiles, "Get dressed and drink as much water as possible, okay? We can't have you hungover for the big meeting, right?" I nod...which causes my head to hurt. Ow.

I sigh and decide to take my sweet time getting dressed. This sucks. "Spotty!" I call, then cringe after a new wave of pain hits, he pokes his head through the door "Yeah?". "I don't have the energy to deal wit' all dese gawddamn bandages. Help me?" He blushes a bit but agrees to help me bind. All I focus on is not hurting my head again. Spot ties the bandages and stands back to admire his handiwork but quickly notices my cringin'. "Do you want somethin' cold?" he asks gently, I nod as gingerly as possible.

*Timeskip to after the newsies meet n greet bcuz I'm power-finishing this at 12am and my mental health is steadily declining*

My hand shakes as I bring a fresh, unlit cigar to my lips.

Jack. That sellout, that traitor.

A sharp pain knocks me out of my angry thoughts. Ah. I burned myself.

I feel a hand on my shoulder, "Racer.." says a gentle voice, "You okay? that's your 3rd cigar in the past 2 hours or so." I look up to see Finch leaning over me as I sit on the ground, a concerned look on his face, "You're gonna run out all too soon" I give a bitter laugh, "Yeah, I guess I will." Finch can see that there's not much he can do to help me. He gives a weak smile and turns to walk away.

I see Davey run off somewhere. I wonder where they're going? I sigh and turn my head back down to the ground. Who cares? Without a leader, the strike'll just fall apart and Pulitzer'll win. Who was I kidding when I bragged abt being da "King o' New York"? I'm just some nobody kid without a nickel to my name. The bigger guys always win, so what's with me tryin'?

Jack POV:

I can't let any more kids get in this much danger. I visited (N/N) today. I found out about all his... injuries, as well as whatever he was born as. He's been through so much before all this, he doesn't deserve it.

It's my fault for being so ignorant. For not noticing anything was goin' on. My fault for inciting this stupid strike. For getting all these kids hoit. and Crutchie...poor Crutchie, locked up in that godawful place. I know he ain't helpless, 'e's a cheeky little bastard, I'll give him that, but the Refuge breaks down even the biggest of smiles and smothers the brightest of people. I will never forget that hell I went through. I went in a cheeky fightin' kid with a deep, strong flame, and came out with the embers barely glowing. It took years just to spark it up again. I'm terrified as to what'll happen to him.

I lean over the railing of my penthouse, not even noticing as it shakes and squeaks, making way for a young boy a little younger den me. "-Jack! JACK!" "Jesus Christ, yeah??? Oh, it's you, Dave..." I look away shamefully, he's probably here to chew me out and tell me we're done and gone. "What the hell was that?" I wince, I knew it. "Waddya mean 'what the hell was that?'?" "You know what I mean, JACK KELLY." I'm fucked. "YOU BETRAYED US FOR MONEY?!" "I WOULDN'T HAVE FELT PRESSURED TO IF I WADN'T DEALIN' WIT' A FLAKER!" Davey gives a bitter laugh and balls up the front of my shirt in his fist, tugging me towards him. "Ohoho! And if I wasn't your 'best friend' you'd be lookin' at me through one swollen eye!" "Oh, yeah? Well, don't let that stop ya, huh? Gimme your best shot!" something soft roughly pressing against my lips. The only thought at the moment is; 'Well, this is new... and passionate, 'specially from Dave' there's a heavy, awkward silence.

I back away from him, knocking over my drawings in the process. One specific drawing rolls out seemingly by fate. It taps on Davey's shoe and he looks down. His eyes widen a little as he reaches down to get it. "Is this.. the Refuge?" he puts a hand over his mouth, "weren't you stuck here once? Rats, cockroaches everywhere, 6 kids to a bunk? Holy fuc- I mean fudge." If the moment weren't this tense, I might've laughed. "Jack..." I feel a hand on my shoulder. "You don't have to tell me if you're not ready." I shake my head and he drops his arm understandingly. "Either way, we could use this. Heck..." Davey seems deep in thought before his face lights up, "We could make our own newspaper!" I look at him in disbelief, he notices, and speaks again "think about it, Jackie! Kath's a real talented writer! This art could change the perspective of hundreds! We could write to tell all the workin' boys to go on Strike tomorra'! And we could expose Snyder in the process!" Hey, that's not too bad..."But, Dave, how're we gonna print it?" His face falls, "I didn't think about it...we're banned from every printin' press in New York.."

Oh no. Ohhh no. "No. Noooo." I whine, Davey chuckles, amused "what?" "I know a printin' press that no one would ever think of!" Davey grins, "Then what are we waitin' for?" He puts my drawing back into the case, and slings it over his shoulder, getting ready to climb down. Suddenly, a thought strikes me, "Wait-" "Yeah?" "Dave- what are we exactly? Like I know how we act to each other n' everything, but we've never really said out loud what we are..." Davey giggles, "Jackie-" "No! Tell me right now, are we... in love? Boyfriends, I guess?? Or am I just something for your own experimentation?"

He cups my face in his hands, "Jackie..." he kisses my nose, "Of course I love you! And yes! We are in love! Dating! Boyfriends! Whichever way you want to define us!" Soon we're both grinning ear-to-ear and blushing. "Now!" he exclaims, hopping up, clearly on a high from the whole kiss and convo, "Let's get to it!" I laugh and stand up as well, following my over-enthusiastic boyfriend down the ladder. As Davey said; Let's get to it!

(Y/N) POV:

'My head hurts...' I think groggily. I try to open my eyes, but my vision is blurred and wonky. I sit up. Nevermind. Everything hurts. As my vision starts to clear, I see a very tired Spot Conlon sitting in a chair in the corner of whatever room I'm in rubbing sleep from his eyes. He fixates his eyes on me for a second, and I can see the sleepiness and confusion in his eyes turn into shock and joy. "(N/N)! Ohmygod! I'm so glad you'se awake!" I can see him go to wrap me in a bear hug before holdin' himself back after he remembers all my injuries. Wait. My injuries. "Does this mean you know about...?" I vaguely gesture to my arms and Spot nods sadly, "And..." I cringe and gesture to my chest, now only lightly bound with medical tape, but tighter than needed for a typical injury. I smile to myself. That must've been Race. He's like a perfect older brother, not only thinkin' about my physical health, but also my mental well-being.

Spot notices the look on my face and sees me lookin' down at my chest, he chuckles, "Yeah, Race decided on that. He wanted you to feel as comfortable as possible while you heal." I start grinning even harder. Spot spoke up again "Don't forget that even boys born seen as boys don't have perfectly flat chests, so binding as tight as you did wasn't necessary or safe, for that matter." I give him a look, is Spot really trying to be the cis savior right now? He gives me a look right back, "What? I know what I'm talking about." He lifts his shirt up to reveal two scars on his chest. I gasp, "But you're only *insert years/months* younger/older than me! How did you even know that this was an option, as well, how did you do it?" He smirks, pulling his shirt back down, "Thought so. Anyway, I don't really know. I needed them off desperately and randomly thought of it. As for the how, Buttons is AMAZING with scissors and blades. Like, scary amazing." He shivers. I blink. Damn.

He gives a shy grin "Do I really pass that well?" I look at him enviously "Of course! But... how do you look so...masculine?" "Well, I tried my best to copy the behavior of other boys I saw. And the whole working out didn't hurt." I nod, taking a mental note. Behavior, got it. Can't promise sticking to a workout, though. Spot scoots closer, taking my hand in his, "But the most important thing to understand is- behavior, body type, and a powerful reputation doesn't define being a true boy. What does is what's in here-" he taps my head, "-and here." he points to my heart. Spot looks me in my eyes, "You could wear dresses, skirts, use a 'girly' name, hell, even go by she! and you'd still be a boy in my eyes." I feel my eyes water, and Spot opens his arms to me with a sincere look. I fall into his arms and cry tears of joy. Spot and Race are the older brothers I never had, helping me at every fork in the road of my transition.

(A/N: I noticed that a big issue in trans fanfics was that the cis person was always the one to condescendingly teaching the helpless trans kid how to bind properly. I decided to make both of your mentors trans, had them both know what they're talking about, and made sure that you weren't completely useless or clueless, only that you needed guidance seeing as (Y/N) is a trans kid with no former knowledge about his transition. As well, I kinda wanted this fic to be of help to any newcomer trans men. Anyway, on to the last of the story!)

"So how are your ribs feeling?" Spot asks after we both calm down, "A little sore, but pretty much moveable. Is it really this painful to bind? I mean, the past few weeks I had the binding stuff on was my first time." "It shouldn't, I mean, lookit Race. He seems energetic and flexible even when he's binding." I think he sees my insecure face because he speaks again, "What I mean to say is- if you have more experience binding, you'll know how to mix mental and physical comfort. Either way, what fucked up your ribs wasn't the binding, it was the Delancey's. Not saying the way you were binding wasn't bad and wouldn't have caused lasting damage, of course."

I see Spot have a flicker of thought behind his eyes, he pulls out an obviously stolen silver pocket watch with the initials H.A. engraved on it to check the time. "Almost time..." he mutters. I give him a suspicious look, "Almost time for what...?" he looks sheepishly at the ground, "Nnnnnothing." I let out a noise halfway between a snort and a scoff, "Uh huh." "Fine." he sighs, "All the newsies and workin' boys is comin' together today. We'se hopin' ta finish up this strike Once And For All."

"Let me guess, I shouldn't go because I'm still healing." He nods, "Spot!! I need to do my part in this strike! I can't miss the most important day of my life." he gives me a weird look, "You don't even know what the outcome'll be, plus I promised Race that you wouldn't get hurt." "Please, I've been bedridden for WEEKS. And I won't get hurt" I protest stubbornly, he sighs exasperatedly "FINE, but I'm gettin' you right outta there at the foist sign o' danger, okay?" "Okay!" I say, content with the compromise. "We should prolly get you up and used to legs again before the strike--" my stomach rumbles harder than Les when he sees the chocolate croissants in the Pastry Shop window, and that's seriously saying somethin', "--and something to eat, too."

Spot holds my hands as I get out of bed and basically learn to walk again with wobbly legs. You could just paint my back with spots and call me a baby deer. Once I get my legs to work with me, Spot leads me to a tin tub. I give him a 'seriously?' look, "What am I doin', goin' ta church?" he laughs sarcastically, "Ha, ha. (N/N), you haven't cleaned yourself since the last time you were conscious. I also need to refresh your bandages since those haven't been touched since Race changed them in the foist place." "Fiiiine" I growl.

Spot unwraps my arm and chest bandages, but when it comes to me taking off the rest of my clothes, he looks away (not even for my privacy, but just because he is highly repulsed to the idea of naked bodies) I add enough soap suds on top of the water to cover my body so he's comfortable.

He grabs some soap and lathers up my hair with it, soon rinsing it. He also lathers and rinses my face, removing the built-up dirt, grease, and sweat, which accumulated surprisingly quickly for only spending a month, or was it two, here. Spot brings out a small piece of scrap fabric and a bottle of some liquid, then gently grabs my arms. "This might burn a little," he said empathetically. He dampened the cloth with what I am assuming is disinfectant and started pressing it against my healing cuts. I tried to hold in my pain but let out a small hiss when the cloth reached the deeper cuts on the backs of my arms. Spot stopped temporarily, letting my arms adjust to the sting a little, before continuing. Once he's finished, he hands me the soap and leaves the room to let me bathe myself in peace and picks up my dirty clothes and old bandages. "Holler if you need anything!" he yells on his way out.

I create a lather in my hands and stand up so I can actually wash my body. The air is chilly compared to the bathwater, so I do my best to be quick as I let my soap hands travel gingerly over my body. I look down, and for the first time in a long time, I don't feel ashamed. Spot words echo in my mind as I smile softly; 'You could wear dresses, skirts, use a 'girly' name, hell, even go by she! and you'd still be a boy in my eyes.' I guess, for now, I'm confident in my masculinity.

I sit back down, enjoying the warmth, and rinse myself off. I step out of the bath and look at the grey-ish brown-ish water. Ew, was I really that dirty? As the cold air envelops me once more, I realize I don't have a towel. Or clothes. "Spot!" I call out, "Yeah?" I hear a faint voice, "I need a towel and some clothes!" I answer. There's quiet, then a series of rustling sounds that slowly get closer. The door opens a crack and I see a tan, muscular hand slide a pile of clothes and a towel in my direction. I smile gratefully, "Thanks, Spotty!" "Aye! Only Race can call me dat..." "Okay, fine."

I dry my hair as much as possible, before continuing to my body. There's not much actual rubbing rather than patting because of my injuries, so when I get my pants on and slip my button-down onto my shoulders, they get a little damp. "Spot?" I call out again, "Do you think you could help me with my bandages?" "'Course!" He casually picks up the chest bandages and binds it pretty much perfectly- Tight enough to make a difference in my chest size, but loose enough to let my ribs heal. Spot then starts re-bandaging my arms, "Can I ask you a question, Spot?" "Sure, (N/N)" he says nonchalantly, "Why is it you are repulsed by fully naked bodies, but you're perfectly casual and fine about helping me bind my chest when I'm half-naked?" he clears his throat as if he was ready to spin a whole story, "Well, Race used to live with me and we started trusting each other a lot more than when we first met. He trusted me enough to teach him the best way to bind, and he trusted me enough to feel comfy without a top on when around the house, so I'm kinda desensitized. But when it comes to people being naked or bein' overly suggestive, I just..don't like it. At all."

'Asexual,' I think, 'Knew it."

"Anyway, you ready to fight off the bulls and get our rights back, (N/N)?" He stands up and offers a hand to help me up, which I receive. I catch my reflection in the dirty bathwater. I can see crystal clear, that I am dapper, strong, and ready to kick some Delancey ass.

But first, Lunch.

Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω

I arrive at the strike on Spot's shoulders, hyped for the happy ending they all worked so hard for. Spot sets me down gently and scans the crowd for someone. It seems he found them because his face lights up. I see Race run over to us. "(N/N)! Oh my god, I'm so fuckin' glad that you're awake! Especially today of all days!" however, his enthusiasm is soon replaced with concern, "But is ya sure yer okay? You must've woken up just today, so are you feeling good? Yer injuries don't hurt too bad, you're not dizzy, hungry, thirsty?" "Calm down, Tony, I gave him a bath, changed his bandages, gave him food n' water, even a pep talk, so you don't need to worry!" Race takes a few deep breaths, "Okay, okay, yeah I'm fine. But that's great!" He engulfs me in a firm, but gentle hug. I look around the crowd and see some familiar faces, Katherine seems to have brought another girl with her, who I'm assuming is Sarah, Davey's sister. I see Albert and Elmer tightly holding each other's hands. I see Finch and Smalls exchanging jokes as a form of distraction. I look back at Race and Spot, who are being so romantic, it's almost gross. Almost.

The adrenaline still hasn't left me so when people start getting as excited as me, it just hypes me up even more. We look up at the window of Pulitzer's office and see Jack and a few others standing there, waving. I wave back vigorously. Not too long after, Jack, Davey, Pulitzer, and The Governer appear on a balcony, Jack at the front. "Newsies of New York City..." cue the pause for dramatic effect, "WE WON!!" The crowd of newsies roars with joy. I watch as Crutchie limps out and beats Snyder's ass as the abuser is dragged away, I don't understand why so many people see him as an angel, it's obvious that he's a cheeky lil' rat bastard.

Suddenly, it's like everything is in slow motion. I look around once more and see Katherine and Sarah kissing, same with Albert and Elmer, Finch and Smalls are hugging each other tightly. I look back up at the balcony and see Davey and Jack gettin' it ON. I look once again to Spot and Race, who just finished kissing. Spot reaches down and hoists me onto his shoulders to cheer. And as I take in this momentous victory one sense at a time, I realize in a moment of pure bliss-

I finally found my true family.

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

Word Count: 8190

(A/N):

This took VERY LONG (approx. one month, I just finished after working from 9 pm to 5 am) I know it was supposed to be a simple one-shot, but since there was no one to help narrow down and shorten the plot for me, I got carried away. I am, however, pleased with the length of it. This may be the longest fic I've ever written. As well, I hope any underlying advice or tips mentioned in the story helped you to understand/realize something.

I would love it if you were to vote, give me some constructive criticism, and/or request something for me to write! Don't forget- I live to write that one fanfic you can never find.

Love y'all!

~ Race

[bechloeislegit]

My Spy - Chapter 8

A/N: I know I said I was going to jump ahead about 6 months but decided to put the events that occurred during that time here for context later. I hope you enjoy what I've done.

One month later, in Copenhagen, Denmark, the Barden Bellas had become the first U.S. team to win the World Acapella Championships.

"I can't believe we won," Stacie said as the Bellas gathered in Beca's room.

"I can't believe DSM was a no-show," Flo said. "I wonder what happened to cause them to drop out."

"Who cares?" Jessica said. "We won and the Bellas live to sing another day!"

The Bellas started yelling and cheering.

"Um, guys!" Beca yelled over the noise. "I love that we won, but look at this."

Beca turned her laptop toward the girls and they all quieted when they saw the news article on the screen.

"Members of the award-winning German singing group, DSM, were arrested during a drug raid in New York," CR read aloud. "Beloved leaders Kommissar and Pieter were killed during a shootout with the FBI. Wow!"

"Oh, my stars," Emily said, reading further in the article. "They were drug smugglers."

"Do you think Chloe was involved in killing them?" Fat Amy asked.

"Why is that the first thing you'd think of?" Beca asked, glaring at Amy. "Chloe isn't the only FBI agent out there."

"It just seems fishy to me," Fat Amy said. "Although, if she was, we might just have to send her a nice gift for eliminating our only real competition."

"You don't think we could have beaten DSM if they had been here?" Ashley asked, looking at Fat Amy.

Before Amy could respond, Beca spoke up.

"I think we would have won no matter what. We had a great set, precision choreography, plus an original song and some of the old Bellas performing with us. There is no way we could have lost."

"Beca's right," Aubrey said. "And I for one think we should celebrate the fact that the Bellas are the World Champions."

"Woo hoo!" Stacie yelled out, causing the Bellas to start cheering and yelling again.

Beca stood off to the side, watching the celebration unfold. While in the back of her mind, she couldn't help but wonder if maybe Chloe had been involved in taking down the leaders of DSM.

~~ My Spy ~~

The Bellas had been back home in the U.S. for two months. The pomp and accolades from the win had died down after a few weeks, and the Bellas had moved on to other things.

CR had gotten married in Maine and all the Bellas managed to attend.

Jessica and Ashley were living and working together in Atlanta.

Emily was preparing to be the Captain of a new crop of Bellas.

Flo had found a job working on a juice truck in the hopes of someday owning and operating one of her own.

Stacie was a fitness instructor in an up-and-coming gym near Barden University.

Aubrey had returned to run the Lodge of Fallen Leaves, even though she still hated it.

Nobody is sure what Lily was doing, and none of them had the guts to ask.

Beca and Amy had moved to New York together and were sharing a one-room apartment in Brooklyn.

Beca was walking home from her job at the recording studio when her phone rang. She was shocked to see Chloe's name on her caller ID.

"Chloe?" Beca questioned as she answered the call.

"Yeah, Beca, it's me," Chloe said. "It's so good to finally hear your voice."

"You, too," Beca said, stopping at the entrance to her apartment building.

Beca sat down on the step but didn't say anything; Chloe could hear her breathing.

"So, I understand congratulations are in order," Chloe finally said.

"Congratulations?" Beca asked.

"Yeah," Chloe said. "I heard the Bellas won the World Acapella Championship."

"Oh, right," Beca said, looking around. "We did."

Beca's heart was pounding in her chest. She couldn't believe she was actually talking to Chloe after so many near misses and almost conversations; she was hearing Chloe's voice for the first time in a little over three years.

"So, um, what are you up to these days?" Beca asked, mentally face-palming herself.

"I'm actually on another assignment," Chloe said.

"Oh, um," Beca said. "Were you involved in that whole DSM thing? Never mind, you don't have to answer that."

"I kind of was," Chloe said. "But, I can't really talk about it. The AG still has to prosecute those arrested."

"AG?" Beca asked.

"Attorney General," Chloe responded.

"Oh, um, I see," Beca said and went silent

Chloe could hear the sounds of traffic and the hustle and bustle of people on the streets.

"Beca?" Chloe asked after a few minutes of Beca not saying anything. "Are you okay?"

"What?" Beca asked, running a hand through her hair. "Yeah, yeah. I'm, uh, I'm good."

"Is it always going to be this awkward between us?" Chloe asked with a sigh; she wasn't sure if she really wanted to know the answer.

Beca sighed, too. "God, I hope not," she said, laughing at herself. "I've really missed hearing your voice, seeing your face. Hell, who am I kidding? I miss everything about you."

Chloe chuckled softly. "I feel the same way about you."

Beca smiled and relaxed back against the door.

"So, I was wondering what you might be doing two weeks from Saturday?" Chloe asked.

"Nothing that I can think of," Beca said. "Why?"

"I'm coming back to the U.S. in two weeks for some meetings in New York," Chloe said.

"You're coming to New York?!" Beca asked, sitting upright.

"Yeah," Chloe said. "I was, um, wondering if you'd let me take you out. On a date. We can talk and maybe start fresh on a relationship."

"Hell yeah!" Beca responded, her smile stretching from ear to ear. "I'm in. Just tell me where and when and I'll be there."

Chloe chuckled. "I'll figure out a place and let you know."

"Looking forward to it," Beca said sincerely.

"Me, too," Chloe said.

Beca heard a muffled voice call for Chloe in the background.

"I'm sorry, Beca," Chloe said. "I have to go. But, I'll call you again once I figure out where to take you on our date."

"Okay," Beca said. "I still, um, lo-." Beca quickly swallowed what she was going to say and cleared her throat. "I, uh, am looking forward to seeing you. Um, for our date."

"I still love you, too, Beca," Chloe said, smiling as she ended the call.

~~ My Spy ~~

Amy came home to find Beca sitting on the fold-out bed, staring at her phone with a goofy grin on her face.

"What's going on over there?" Fat Amy asked, looking over at Beca.

"What do you mean?"

"You have a goofy grin on your face," Fat Amy said. "What's that all about?"

"Chloe called me," Beca said.

"For real?" Fat Amy asked. "What did she have to say?"

"She's coming to New York and asked me out to dinner," Beca said.

"She asked you out on a date?"

"Yep."

"That's amazing, Beca," Fat Amy said. "How does she sound? What else did she say?"

"She sounds good," Beca said. "She said she was on an assignment out of the country and was coming back in 2 weeks. That's when she asked me out. I was going to tell her I still loved her, but I chickened out at the last second. But she did say she still loved me before the call ended."

"She did?"

"Yeah," Beca said. "I'm really excited to finally get to see her in person. I wonder if she's changed?"

"Will you actually get to see her is the real question," Fat Amy said "She always seems to be canceling on you because of her job."

"Not this time," Beca said, with more confidence than she felt. "This time we're really going to be together."

"Then I really am happy for you, Beca," Fat Amy said. "And I'll be here for you if she cancels again."

Beca sighed and shook her head. "I'm hungry. Want to order something for delivery? My treat."

"I'm hungry, too," Fat Amy said. "Can we get pizza?"

~~ My Spy ~~

Chloe called Beca a week later to confirm their date.

"I hope you still like Italian food," Chloe said. "I made a reservation at a place called Terre on Fifth Avenue. One of the guys from work recommended it. I checked them out online and the food looks and sounds amazing."

"I do still love Italian food," Beca said. "And I've heard good things about Terre. What time is the reservation?"

"I made them for six," Chloe said. "Is that okay?"

"That's perfect," Beca said. "I'm really looking forward to seeing you."

"I'm looking forward to seeing you, too," Chloe said. "Do you want me to pick you up?"

"That's okay," Beca said. "It's not that far from my apartment. I'll walk."

"Okay," Chloe said. "So, how's work? Did you have a good day?"

Beca chuckled and proceeded to tell Chloe about her job, and her day. They spent close to an hour catching up. When the call was over, Beca realized she had done most of the talking; she didn't learn anything about what Chloe had been up to.

"I guess I'll find out more when we have our date," Beca thought.

~~ My Spy ~~

It was finally date night and Chloe was really nervous as she got to the restaurant early. She was sitting alone at her table, watching the door, hoping each time someone new came in, it would be Beca. She started looking at the menu and was startled when someone plopped down in the seat across from her.

"Jason," Chloe said when she saw him sitting in Beca's seat. "What the Hell are you doing here?"

"Director Collins asked me to join you so I can speak to Beca," Jason said.

"What the actual fuck?" Chloe whisper-yelled, slamming down her menu. She looked around to make sure no one could overhear. "I told the Director I did not want Beca involved in the investigation at all."

"He thinks she's our only option to get to Patricia Hobart," Jason whispered across the table. "Which in turn will get us to Fergus Hobart."

"There has to be a better way," Chloe said, running a hand through her hair. "Why don't you take Amy in and question her? You don't need Beca for that."

"Because we don't have an evidentiary reason to," Jason said, sighing and running a hand through his hair. "I get you don't want to involve Beca, but I've been ordered to explain everything to her and find out if Patricia Hobart has mentioned anything about her father's dealings."

"That's unacceptable-"

"Hey, Chloe."

Chloe jerked her head up to see Beca standing at the table. Her heart started beating faster and she quickly jumped up to pull Beca into a hug.

"I'm so glad you're here," Chloe whispered in Beca's ear. "I've missed you so much."

Beca pulled out of the hug and looked at Jason. "So, um, who's your friend?"

Chloe couldn't stop the warm feeling that went through her when she noticed a hint of jealousy in Beca's eyes.

"He's nobody," Chloe said, turning to glare at Jason. "And he was just leaving."

Jason stood and held out this hand. "Miss Mitchell, I'm Agent Jason Parker, Chloe's partner. I have a few questions I need to ask you."

"No!" Chloe said, looking at Jason. "Not here and definitely not now."

Jason looked around and saw a few people looking over at them. He sighed and looked back at Chloe.

"Then where and when?" Jason asked.

"How about never and nowhere?" Chloe retorted.

"Um, what's this all about?" Beca asked.

"It's nothing," Chloe told Beca. She turned to Jason, saying, "You can go now. You're in Beca's seat."

"Miss Mitchell," Jason said, ignoring Chloe. He lowered his voice as he spoke directly to Beca. "What do you know about Patricia Hobart's father?"

"You mean, Fat Amy?" Beca asked.

"Yes."

"She said both her parents were killed before she came to the U.S. to attend Barden. What's this all about? And why are you asking me about Amy's father?"

"We are helping Australian authorities investigate Mr. Hobart," Jason said, keeping his voice low. "And we believe his daughter may know something about his illegal enterprises."

Beca stared at Jason for a moment before turning her eyes to Chloe. Chloe's heart broke when she saw Beca's eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

"That's why you wanted to see me?" Beca said. "To use me to get information from Amy on her father?"

"No, Beca," Chloe said. "I wanted to see you because I've missed you. I wanted nothing to do with dragging you or Amy into any part of the investigation. You have to believe me."

Chloe reached out for Beca and Beca moved away from her.

"I. . .can't," Beca said, holding up her hands. "I'm don't with whatever this is. I have to go."

Beca turned and started walking away. She wiped a tear from her cheek as she went.

"Beca, wait!" Chloe cried out.

Beca kept walking and Chloe started after her. Jason grabbed Chloe's arm to stop her.

"Let her go," Jason said. "I'll try again later when she's had a chance to calm down."

"No!" Chloe pulled her arm away from Jason. "You've done enough. Now, get the fuck away from me!"

Jason sighed and let Chloe go. Chloe ran out to try and catch up to Beca.

Chloe got outside the restaurant and looked up and down the street, hoping to spot Beca. She didn't see her anywhere.

"Fuck!" Chloe screamed up to the sky.

Jason walked out of the restaurant and heard Chloe. He walked over to her.

"Chloe?" Jason said, getting Chloe's attention. "I'm sorry."

"Fuck you," Chloe said.

"Okay, I deserve that," Jason said. "If you're done cussing me out, we should really go back to the office and give the Director a report."

"You and the Director can kiss my ass," Chloe said.

"Come on, Chloe," Jason said. "I was just following orders. Come with me and help me explain what happened. I've been your partner for over five years, that should account for something."

"Fine," Chloe spit out. "I'll go with you, but don't expect to be on your side in this."

~~ My Spy ~~

Beca stormed into her apartment and slammed the door behind her. She threw her bag on the sofa and toed off her shoes, leaving them by the door.

"You're home early," Fat Amy said. "What happened?"

"She, he, they, ugh!" Beca sputtered. "I'm so mad I can't even talk."

Fat Amy got up and led Beca over to sit at their dining room table. "I'll get you some water."

Fat Amy reached over to the refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of water, handing it to Beca.

Beca removed the top and took a large drink from the bottle.

"Thanks," she said. "I needed that."

"Can you tell me what happened with Chloe?"

"When I got there, there was some guy sitting with her. I greeted Chloe and asked who the guy was. She said he was nobody, but the guy stood and introduced himself as her partner Jason."

"I thought Chloe was gay," Fat Amy said.

Beca looked at her with furrowed brows. "No, not that kind of partner. Her work partner."

"Oh," Fat Amy said. "So, why was he there?"

"He said they had some questions to ask me about-." Bec stopped herself, unsure of whether she should tell Amy that the FBI was working with Australian police to investigate her father.

"Ask you questions about what?"

Beca remained silent and played with the label on her water bottle. Beca let out a sigh and looked at Amy.

"About, um, you."

"Me? What about me?"

"Actually, they wanted to know more about your father and what you might know of his illegal activities."

"What?" Fat Amy said and looked down at the floor. "Why are you mad about that? I told you my father was dead."

"I know," Beca said. "And that's what I told them. But, they seem to think he's alive and that you know something."

Fat Amy didn't say anything as she continued to look down at the floor, unable to meet Beca's eyes.

"Oh, my God," Beca said, staring at Amy. "You do know something. I told Chloe I was done with whatever was happening because I thought she only wanted to see me so she could use me to get to you." A tear made its way down Beca's cheek. "I accused her of lying about why she wanted to see me. I thought I was protecting you from her, but instead, I may have just lost the love of my life for good."

"I'm sorry about all that, Beca," Fat Amy said. "For what it's worth, I don't really know anything about what my dad might be accused of doing. I just know he's a bad man who does bad things. And as far as I'm concerned he is dead to me."

"Would you be willing to talk to the FBI and tell them that?" Beca asked, sniffling and wiping away more tears.

"If it will help make things right between you and Chloe, I'll do it."

~~ My Spy ~~

Jason and Chloe arrived at the office. The Director was standing in the middle of the room, talking to another agent. As soon as Chloe saw the Director, she marched up to him and got in his face.

"How dare you!" Chloe yelled. "You sent Jason to interrogate Beca while we were on a date. I told you I didn't want her to have anything to do with the investigation. If you wanted Amy to answer questions, you should have had Jason get her and bring her in, not blindside me by going after Beca while we were on our date."

"Chloe, calm down," the Director said, looking around at the other agents in the room.

"No, I will not calm down," Chloe said. "You knew what this date meant to me. How important it was. I've given up so much for this job. Why couldn't I just have this one thing, Uncle Matt? Why couldn't you leave Beca out of this?"

"Because we firmly believe Beca Mitchell is our best option at getting Patricia Hobart to tell us everything she knows about her father," the Director said.

"That's fucking bullshit and you know it!" Chloe yelled.

"Chloe," the Director said through gritted teeth. "I am the Director and will not allow you to talk to me like that."

"You don't like the way I talk to you, Director?" Chloe said, her voice rising. "Well, you're going to really hate this. Go fuck yourself because I quit!"

With that, Chloe turned and started walking away, leaving a shocked Director standing stone-faced as he watched her walk out the door and disappear into the hallway.

Jason called after Chloe but didn't make a move to follow her.

Chloe heard Jason but did not stop or turn around.

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

A/N: Don't hate me.

[jalapeno-princess]

You Weren’t Mine to Lose

Mark Tuan X Reader

Word Count: 9.4K

Genre: Angst

Warning: Mentions of sex, cheating

Summary: You made the mistake of falling in love with someone who was never yours to begin with. What started off as a one night stand turned in to months of sneaking around with each other and devoting most of your time and energy to a man who was already in a relationship. However, the high you get from fooling around with Mark is the only thing that’s been keeping you from going completely insane. But what happens when lust turns to love?

A/N: Hey guys, so I have good news and bad news. Let’s start with the bad news, I had to get a second job (On top of my teaching job and being a full time college student) so this means I won’t be able to write as much as I normally do (I haven’t even started on my new series just yet and I’m sorry for those who are anticipating it I have no clue when I will actually get around to writing it) but the good news is I have two stories prepared to post within the next few weeks so there’s that to look forward to. I hope you’re all doing well, especially after the news of Yugyeom signing with another company but honestly, I am so happy for him. If all seven of them end up leaving the company entirely, good for them. They deserve so much better than the shit excuse of a company JYPE is and I support each and every single member in all of their endeavors and plans for the future. With that being said, happy reading. (Based on August by Taylor Swift). 

Salt air, and the rust on your door I never needed anything more Whispers of "Are you sure?" "Never have I ever before"

But I can see us lost in the memory August slipped away into a moment in time 'Cause it was never mine And I can see us twisted in bedsheets August sipped away like a bottle of wine 'Cause you were never mineYour back beneath the sun Wishin' I could write my name on it Will you call when you're back at school? I remember thinkin' I had you

But I can see us lost in the memory August slipped away into a moment in time 'Cause it was never mine And I can see us twisted in bedsheets August sipped away like a bottle of wine 'Cause you were never mine

Back when we were still changin' for the better Wanting was enough For me, it was enough To live for the hope of it all Cancel plans just in case you'd call And say, "Meet me behind the mall" So much for summer love and saying "us" 'Cause you weren't mine to lose You weren't mine to lose, no

“Fuck—go faster, please—M—Mark, I need you to go faster—sh—shit shit, just like that.” 

Mark Tuan, ever the gentleman did as he was told. However, he would do anything you asked of him during moments like this, God knows he wanted it too. His cock felt so wonderful grazing against your tight, sopping walls. His hardened tip continuously hit the back of your cervix, kissing it with each and every thrust. 

The two of you were going at it for almost an hour now; both of you reached your highs after giving each other mind blowing head—but you had yet to come together. You edged him three times, riding him until his cum reached the tip of his cock only to lift yourself off of him, earning you a scowl and the sexiest grunts of frustration. 

He left multiple slap marks on your ass; letting you know that he wasn’t going to let you have all power against him. No matter how much fun he’d have whenever you did dominate him and take over the sex session, he wasn’t letting you have all the fun tonight. There was sweat dripping down both your bodies—his entire body was warm with fervor as he continued to leave multiple hickeys along the valley of your breasts. 

His breath was hot against your neck as he tried his best to conceal his moans; it was surprising, his room had no echo whatsoever—yet, the many sinful noises falling from his mouth and yours bounced off the walls along with the sound of skin on skin slapping against each other. His thrusts were relentless as he picked up his pace; pumping in to you as if he was trying to punish you for being naughty. His pelvis ramming against your bare cheeks made a loud crack sound each time he pulled out and shoved himself back inside of you. 

It was addicting; feeling him bury himself balls deep inside of your pussy, but you were well aware that the sensation had an even bigger effect on him than it did you. Doggy style was Mark’s favorite position right next to watching you bounce up and down on him as your breasts jiggled all but gently. Something about being able to see his cock sliding so easily in to your tight walls drove the older boy fucking crazy. 

“Fuck y/n—so fucking tight as always baby. Tell me how it feels—I want to know that I’m driving you insane—“

“Feels—so good Mark—so, so good.” 

He hummed contently against the crook of your neck while picking up his pace if it was even possible. At this point, he was practically drilling himself inside of you; it came as a shock that you both still had yet to cum. On other occasions, you and Mark had no problem with reaching your highs with just your hands and mouths alone. Penetration was your favorite part of sex, so you had a feeling your body wanted to indulge in having Mark’s cock inside of your pussy for as long as you could have him for. 

“You feel so amazing y/n, I could fuck you for hours. I will never get tired of having your cunt wrapped around my dick. Please—tell me you’re close. I’m about to lose my damn mind here pretty soon.” You giggled softly against his chest; nodding in agreement while placing a few wet kisses near the sensitive spot right below his ear. 

“I’m close, so close—“

He bit softly against your collarbone, trying to hide the fact that he was seconds away from losing his will to do anything. You were just that mind blowing. Unfortunately, right as you were about to let the wave of lust consume your entire body like a wildfire, there was a new sound that filled the room. The piercing ring of a cellphone broke you out of your Mark induced haze. T

his wasn’t the first time his phone went off while the two of you were busy loving up on each other’s bodies; there were multiple situations where Mark had to cuss out his friends because they always seemed to try and get in touch with him at all the wrong times. There was even one night where he threw his phone at the wall because it wouldn’t stop ringing. When you felt Mark tense up at the blaring noise, you had a huge feeling you knew exactly who was on the other line. He looked up at you and released an exasperated sigh before doing the unthinkable. You wanted him to ignore it, just like he did almost every single time, but he tapped gently on your thigh; as if he was nonverbally asking for you to put your late night romp on pause. 

“Mark, are you fucking serious—“

“It’ll just be a minute, tops. I promise. No funny business, please.” 

To your dismay, he reached for his phone and answered the call. It was tempting—the idea of palming his naked sex, fondling his balls or even grinding your wet folds against his thigh—you knew you would get some kind of reaction out of him. Mark was a very sensitive person; physically and mentally. It didn’t take much for him to cry; emotionally and sexually. 

He cried in front of you more times than you could count on your fingers. Whether it was because of a sad movie, when school could get a little too much for him to handle or the time he got the news that his grandfather was diagnosed with stage three lung cancer, he didn’t hesitate to pour out his feelings in front of you. You felt special knowing that you were one of the very few people who’d get to see that side of Mark; his soft, gentle, fragile side. Not the confident, overbearing and egotistical asshole he’d portray himself out to be on campus. 

During the times you would find yourself on your knees, milking him dry of his white, creamy liquid and making sure his legs would wobble by the end of the night, he’d always cry out in pleasure while begging you to do something—anything to help soothe the pleasurable soreness you caused to his lower body. You knew you’d be treading in rough waters if you did tease him in any way while he was on the phone with her, but you were coming to the point where you didn’t even care if she were to find out anymore. 

“Hello? Hey, what’s up? Everything okay?” 

You laughed sarcastically in disbelief—what was so important that couldn’t wait a few more minutes? Something had to be wrong with Mark—who in their right mind would put a halt on fulfilling their carnal urges just to answer the damn phone? You rolled your eyes in irritation—it’s because she was the one trying to get in touch with him. His girlfriend of a year and a half, Aubrey. 

You never understood why Mark continued to fool around with you when he had a girlfriend. What started off as a one night stand at a house party one of his friends threw a little over five months ago turned in to a dangerous affair between the two of you. For the longest time, you knew nothing of the girl in question; Mark was really good at hiding her existence. 

He never told you that he was in a relationship, you didn’t see her at any party or gathering nor did you get a chance to see her around school. But that was because she was his girlfriend from back home. He only saw her during breaks or if she flew up to see him, but for most of their relationship—they were long distance. That was the only plausible reason you believed he allowed this relationship or whatever it was between the two of you to continue. 

One day, you were playing games on Mark’s phone when she sent him a message, asking him what he was doing. At first, you just assumed it was a friend of his or maybe even a classmate, but then, she told him that she missed him and told him to call her when he had the chance. You confronted him in anger; sure, you found it completely weird that he continued to see you—especially for more than just sex. The two of you couldn’t even be considered fuck buddies—no, not when you’d go to sleep wrapped tightly in his warm embrace only to wake up in the morning to his signature gummy smile and stinky morning breath. 

You’d go on cute little dates—or what you assumed were dates. He’d hold your hand and compliment you on your beauty and whatever outfit you put together that day. He’d call you if he couldn’t sleep, he’d pick you up from and drop you off to school, he’d cook you food if he noticed that you were tired and he even made a playlist of songs that reminded him of you; albeit, most of them were meant for when the two of you would stumble in to bed together, but it also contained songs that were more heartfelt and romantic. 

You had a hard time understanding why you were letting him continue to use you. You hated cheaters with a passion; you’ve seen homewreckers ruin multiple marriages within your family and the idea of someone in a relationship fooling around with another person made your skin crawl—yet here you were, fucking with another girl’s boyfriend. You went against all your beliefs and every single rule you were taught to follow just for the devastatingly handsome and sweet talking man sitting right in front of you. 

Honestly, you felt bad for his girlfriend. It was obvious that Mark meant a lot to her. She would constantly text him and send him pictures of what she’d be eating or if she went somewhere the two of them used to frequent. You felt horrible; Aubrey seemed like such a sweet girl and she was completely oblivious to the fact that there was someone else involved in Mark’s life. There were so many times you wanted to call it quits with Mark, you couldn’t keep fooling around with him considering the fact that he had someone at home who loved him—almost as much as you did. 

When you first found out that you weren’t the only one, you should have told him it was over. You should have told him that you weren’t the kind of person who was fine with committing adultery nor did you want to be the other woman—you were a firm believer in monogamous relationships but you didn’t have the strength to tell him no when he began to leave wet, sloppy kisses all along your jaw. You were in deep and you despised the fact that you were so hooked on to him. Mark was everything you could ever want in a significant other; not only was he the most attractive man you have ever laid your eyes on, but he was soft-spoken and gentle towards you. 

At school, he was a cocky prick; his group of friends were some of the most popular guys at your university. It seemed as though every student either wanted to be them, be friends with them or to be with them. But when the two of you were alone, his demeanor would take a 360 degree turn. Sometimes, you’d find it hard to believe that he had two personalities; one meant for his friends and everyone he associated himself with and another one meant for you and only you. It got you thinking though, how did he act when he was with Aubrey? 

Did he treat her the way he did you? Was he protective over her? Could she make him laugh the way you seemingly never failed to? Did he get flustered by a single smile or graze of her fingers against his arm? Was he constantly checking up on her to see how her day was going? He hardly ever talked to her when the two of you were together and seeing as how most of your free time was spent with him, you wondered when he had the chance to call her. 

There were only two instances where he answered her phone call when you were hanging out together. He always gave you an apologetic frown while taking the call and it was when you heard him tell her that he loved her that you knew, you were in love with him. It felt like a painful jab to the chest—for months, you’ve been lying to yourself. 

I don’t love him, I just love who I am when I’m with him. I love how he takes such good care of me and how he fucks me so well. 

You’d repeat those words to yourself every single time that you’d get to see him. With every kiss he’d steal from the corner of your mouth or every smile and look of adoration he’d send your way, you began to feel something deep in your chest. Whenever he’d drop you home, you always felt so empty—like a piece of you went with him back to his place. 

Mark Tuan owned your heart; there was no doubt about it. You’ve been with quite a few guys in the last three years of college but none of them could ever make you feel as over the moon or as elated the way Mark so easily did. He made you so happy; your heart rate would increase rapidly just by the mere sight of him. His laughter—his high pitched, contagious laugh always seemed to send fire through your veins. For months, you tried to accept the fact that all you would ever be to Mark was a place to put his cock while he was away from his actual significant other. 

Maybe, he was only kind, affectionate and generous towards you because it was the only way to get you to stay by his side. If it were anyone else in your shoes, they probably would have given up on him once it was revealed that he was already in a relationship. 

How did he not feel even the smallest ounce of guilt rearranging your guts; pressing you up against his balcony and fucking you in to the next week knowing that his girlfriend was waiting patiently for him to graduate so they could finally be together? And how could he not feel remorse considering the fact that he brought you in to this mess? He was selfish; that you felt wholeheartedly was true. If he cared about you or Aubrey, he would have either broken up with her as soon as the two of you found yourselves falling in to bed together the first time, or he would have never even cheated on her in the first place. How could he continue this facade? How was he fine with playing not just his girlfriend, but you too? He probably didn’t think you held any romantic feelings for him and God—if only that was the truth. 

If you had the choice, you would go back to the beginning of your arrangement and made it your mission to have never fell in love with him. You would have made yourself immune to his endless flirting, you wouldn’t let yourself kiss him other than when you would have sex, you would have made sure that what went on with you and him was strictly physical. No feelings—No emotions—nothing. It was only natural for you to have felt something for him. If you knew back then what you currently know now, you would have never allowed him in to your life—in to your heart. 

You would have never let him tear down the walls you’ve built so high in attempts to keep people out. You would have never allowed him to take up your entire mind—you wouldn’t have given him your body if he wasn’t willing to take all of you. Who were you kidding? There was no regretting Mark Tuan. Even if you were given the chance to go back to the past, you wouldn’t change a thing. Mark Tuan was your person, whether you wanted to accept it or not. He was the rightful owner of your heart, even if you didn’t own his. You couldn’t really hear what she was saying over the phone, but Mark’s brows began to furrow; as if something bad happened. 

Since he was distracted, you took this time to pull away from him—retracting his cock from your now dry folds. Tears were brimming at your eyelids and you would rather die than give him a reason to inflate his ego. He’d have a field day if he found out that you were in love with him; that was the last thing you needed—the last thing he deserved. You would always come second to Audrey. He might have currently been in bed with you; his limbs tangled with yours—running his hands through your hair, tracing the outline of your features feather lightly, kissing every corner of your face, but at the end of the day, Aubrey had the rightful title of his girlfriend. Not you. Nor would it ever be you, even if they did break up one day. 

If Mark saw you as someone with more than just a casual fuck to him, then he would have solidified your relationship months ago. If he harbored any sort of feelings for you, he’d feel wrong telling another girl that he loved her.  Did he though? Did he love her? If he genuinely loved her or at least cared for her—especially because they were in a relationship together, he would never have cheated on her. 

When you love someone, you never want to put them in any kind of situation that would hurt them and you most definitely wouldn’t feel right giving yourself—your time, love, effort and energy to anyone else but that person. As soon as he saw you getting up from off the bed, he asked Aubrey to wait a minute and gave her the excuse that someone rung on his doorbell. You had to force yourself not to say or do anything that would get him in trouble with his girlfriend. 

“What are you doing? I said I’d be hanging up with her soon I’m literally about to end the call—“

“Don’t bother—I’m no longer in the mood anymore so you go finish up with her while I finish myself off.” 

You picked up your clothes from where they were thrown on the ground and headed over to the bathroom; locking the door before he could try and stop you or get you to change your mind. In the corner of your eye, you could see him attempt to follow you, but he must’ve stopped altogether once you shut the door. 

A choked up sob fell from your lips and you tried so hard to prevent any tears from falling, but it was inevitable. Why did you let this go on for so long? Mark was breaking your heart more and more as the days went on and you were the pathetic fool who continued to allow him in doing so. You were wrapped around his finger and there was nothing you could do about it. As soon as you put on all your clothes, you rinsed your face free of any tears and took a deep breath before returning outside. 

All you wanted to do was return back to your apartment. You needed some time to think out this entire arrangement. The idea of losing Mark—no longer having him in your life, no longer being able to kiss his pretty lips, to be held in his protective embrace, to hear him whisper sweet nothings while he passionately made love to you, it broke your heart. It was as if he had somewhat of a Stockholm syndrome hold on you. He was ruining you mentally; he was holding you captive and you weren’t able to leave him—nor did you willingly want to. At this point, you were fine with Mark taking advantage of your patience. All you wanted was him; in anyway you could have him. 

Once you felt like you gave yourself enough time to breathe and recollect your thoughts, you hesitantly made your way back in to his room and you were secretly hoping he’d still be occupied with Aubrey so you didn’t have to worry about him stopping you and questioning what just happened. If this were to happen in the beginning of your affair, you wouldn’t have let it got to you and you were sure you’d continue from where the two of you left off from; but now that there were feelings involved—specifically your feelings, there was no way you could pretend that nothing was wrong. That—you were fine with being a side chick who would drop anything and everything just to be at his beck and call. You were sure you’d spill everything; knowing the kind of person you were, you would probably tell him how and when your feelings of lust turned in to love and how you respected yourself a lot more now to continue staying with someone who technically belonged to another woman. 

He might not have seen her in a long while, but he continued to act like everything was fine between them. Not once has he ever told you exactly what she meant to him—she hardly ever came up in conversation. It’s as if he never wanted to bring her up and you understood that it was because Mark was well aware that as someone who was sleeping around with him, you probably wouldn’t want to hear about his girlfriend. To your dismay, he was no longer on the phone and he was sitting at the edge of the bed—still naked and waiting for you to come out. 

Right as his gaze landed on you, he leaped up from off the bed and made a beeline toward you. He tried to reach out to you, but you shook your head—you didn’t want to give him the benefit of the doubt. You were exhausted; he continued to take, take, take from you and although he was very generous in bed, he didn’t give the same amount of devotion in a romantic aspect. He didn’t fulfill your heart’s desires like he did with your lustful ones. 

“Where are you going baby—“

“Don’t. Don’t give me that baby shit Mark, you just got off the phone with your girlfriend for heaven’s sakes. I think it would be best for the both of us if I were to leave before I say or do something I will regret.”

“Wait—what are you even saying? What happened y/n? Why do you sound so upset? You knew exactly what you were signing up for as soon as we hooked up—“ 

You let out a scoff of disbelief. Was he being real right now? It was too late, you were going to let everything out tonight. If he ended up not reciprocating your feelings, then there was nothing you could do. These last six months opened your eyes to the reality that you were never going to mean as much to Mark the way he did to you. You could try anything; you could fuck him as much as both your time and energy permitted you to. You could do whatever it was he asked of you, but it would never be enough. You would never be enough. 

There was something Aubrey had that you didn’t; you couldn’t quite put your finger on it—it couldn’t have been because they have a longer history. Maybe he felt obligated to continue staying with her. Although you knew Mark like the back of your hand—you knew practically every little thing about him, there had to be some information that he left you in the dark about. Maybe their parents were friends and he just wanted to please the both of them by staying with her or maybe he genuinely liked her, but he had his desires that needed to be fulfilled and he was going to use you until they could finally be together again.

“I didn’t know anything you asshole! You kept Aubrey a secret from me for an entire fucking month. I shouldn’t have told you I was okay with continuing whatever it is that’s going on between you and I. It’s not fucking fair Mark, to her or to me. We were fucking when your girlfriend called! Does it not bother you in the least way that you’re playing the both of us? Do you not sit back and think that what you’re doing is wrong? Yes, I’m sleeping around with a man in a relationship, but you’re the one allowing it! You’re just as at fault here, so don’t try to make it seem like you’re not doing anything wrong! Admit it, you get off on some kind of high knowing that you have the ability to manipulate two different women. One who you call your girlfriend and one who you call when you need to get your dick wet. I don’t know who you think you are Mark, but I’m tired of being your puppet. I’m tired of giving you the ability to break me—to do whatever you want with me. I let it go all these months; I know it was wrong and I feel like such a bitch for getting involved with you knowing you have a girlfriend. I made a vow to myself never to do such a thing but look Mark—I’m a fucking mistress! I can’t blame you completely because I’m still here, but I need you to know that I can’t do this anymore. I’m done. With this—with you. Have a nice life, I no longer want to be apart of it.” 

You quickly grabbed your bag from his bedside table and stormed out of his room—if he were to come after you and attempt to sweet talk you in to staying; at his apartment and in his life, you would’ve gave in to him and that powerful speech you just poured your heart in to would have all been for nothing.  As much as you wanted to rid him from your thoughts entirely and say that you felt as though a huge weight has been lifted from off your shoulders, you’d be lying if you said it didn’t hurt when you realized he wasn’t chasing after you. But then again, this was what you wanted—your heart could no longer handle the fact that he didn’t care for you or love you the way you practically gave him your entire being. 

You would have done anything for the older boy—you were well aware of that and so was he; but allowing him to play with your emotions all the while leading you on was something you refused to let continue. From the time you were a little girl, you were extremely insecure about every single little feature on your body; your bushy eyebrows, your chubby cheeks, your sharp nose that you believed was too big, your crooked teeth and short neck. You also didn’t like the fact that you were only 5”2—you felt like people didn’t take you seriously because you were so tiny. However, over the course of your arrangement with Mark, you didn’t know how you did it—but you fell in love with everything you believed you hated about yourself. 

Unfortunately, you knew Mark had a lot to do with it. He praised your body on a daily basis, like it was his duty to tell you how breathtakingly beautiful you were and how your body was handcrafted by Leonardo DaVinci himself. During your sexual activities; whether it was when he’d find himself with his face buried in your cunt, or if he had you pressed up against the counter, he never failed to compliment you on how soft your skin was, how insane your curves were and how he truly believed you were God’s favorite with how amazing your body was. 

Only then did it hit you—Mark only ever seemed to compliment you when his dick was deep inside of you or right after the two of you reached euphoria together. You had to accept it—you were just a fuck buddy, a play thing—someone to help him relieve stress and find pleasure through. When you reached your car, you sat in it and cried for a few moments; allowing everything to come out. 

It was hysterical; less than an hour ago, you were crying out of frustration because he kept fucking you with his fingers but refused to fill you with his length until you begged him to do so. Now, your sobs were filling up your entire vehicle all because you couldn’t let your affair to continue anymore. Everything seemed to be getting out of hand. You put so much effort in to something so pathetic all for a boy who couldn’t give less of a shit about you—a stupid, egotistical, manipulative, selfish asshole. You wanted to wait until you were completely calm and free of any more tears before you began to drive back to your apartment. 

Did all of that really just happen? What were you going to do now? There was no way you could just pretend like he was nothing to you. Six months of memories; kissing him in bathrooms that was hardly ever used at your university, singing along to Disney movies, helping each other with homework, attempting to cook meals that either of you saw on food network and ultimately failing, driving to another state on a whim just because you needed a break from life—every single beautiful moment spent with him was forever etched in to the back of your mind. 

Mark Tuan was the rightful owner of your heart; he was the reason why it would flutter and rapidly beat as much as it would sink and tear apart by the smallest mistake or argument. You continuously repeated to yourself that this was what you needed—you needed to let him go sooner or later or else he would end up breaking you completely; until you were a shell of nothing. 

Two weeks went by since that night and you could honestly say they were the worst two weeks of your entire life. You weren’t even exaggerating—you were miserable beyond belief. Mark hasn’t tried to get in contact with you at all since you stormed out of his apartment and with every swig you took of whatever alcohol beverage you drank in order to take your mind off of the man in question, you attempted to coerce yourself in believing that this is what you wanted. 

This is what was best for you. That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt like hell though; sure, you told him that you were done with him and you no longer wanted to have anything to do with him, but he gave up so easily. It felt like a slap in the face by reality that your biggest worries were true—he had no legitimate feelings for you; just lust. He could get anyone he wanted to take your place; you were just another useless body. You wouldn’t be surprised if you were to find out that he told his friends about you and what the two of you have been doing for the last few months. 

His group of friends were notorious for having a group chat that they would brag about all of their hookups. You were so tempted to reach out to him and the multiple amounts of alcohol you’d consume would only make you crave his presence a lot more. Some days were better than others and by better, you didn’t cry as much and you actually would get some sleep. Why did you allow this to happen? 

Anyone who knew anything about friends with benefit relationship were well aware that it could never be just sex. Things always got messy; one person fell in love while the other didn’t reciprocate the same feelings. In this case, you were the poor unfortunate soul who got the short end of the stick—you fell in love knowing that your feelings would never be reciprocated. It was heartbreaking; the first time you ever loved someone—it just so happened to be a person that was never yours in the first place. Once you were to move on from Mark completely, you were afraid that you would never be able to love anyone else. 

This entire arrangement ruined your outlook on love permanently. You had to force yourself not to try and reach out to him—there was a point where you even hid your phone because you were afraid you’d give in and call him. He obviously didn’t care—losing you wasn’t a loss to him at all. Not if you never meant anything to him in the first place. Your friends tried to reach out to you multiple times throughout your emotional episode; it wasn’t like you drop off the face of the earth without an explanation. But nobody knew about you and Mark—nor would anyone understand what you were doing with him. 

You were still in your early twenties, but you weren’t too young to realize that having an affair was wrong. You’ve known that even when you were a little girl—if your friends or even your family were to find out the mess that you’ve gotten yourself in to, they’d be so disappointed. Every time your phone went off, you held on to a tiny string of hope that it would be Mark trying to get in contact with you. It was too much of you to hope that maybe, just maybe he came to the conclusion that he missed you, that he was nothing without you and that he accepted the thought of loving you. However, it was always your close friends trying to get you to go out with them. 

As much as you felt like you should say yes to them and allow yourself to move on by joining in on activities to keep you preoccupied, you didn’t have the strength, energy or desire to do anything at all. At the three week point, you came to accept that Mark wasn’t coming back. He was done with you, and there was nothing you could do about it. When you returned back to school, your friends were on your case—pointing out the fact that you looked like literal death. Claiming that you’ve lost at least ten pounds since the last time they saw you and that your cheekbones were more prominent. 

They also stated that you looked as though you haven’t slept in days—your eye bags were dark and your eyes were puffier than usual. Like you had done with everyone else in your life; you lied and gave them the excuse that you had some kind of bug and that your doctor told you that it would be best for you to stay bedridden. Thankfully, they bought it—you didn’t need the constant reminder of why you were acting like someone died. 

“Hey, I know you don’t care about anyone from Jinyoung’s group of friends, but did you happen to see Mark’s girlfriend yet? She’s here for spring break. She’s so pretty; I don’t understand why she would want to come to a university on her vacation, but maybe she just wants to spend time with her boyfriend no matter what it is that they do. They’re so cute together.” 

Everything your best friend was telling you about Mark and Aubrey felt like a punch to the gut. Every single word twisted your heart and you began to grow lightheaded. So that’s why he didn’t come after you that night; maybe she told him she was coming to visit him. He didn’t need you anymore—he’d have someone, his someone in particular to give him his fill. He might have been cheating on her, but you didn’t think he’d be the type to sleep with two different girls at the same time—then again, it would probably raise his confidence levels in such an obnoxious way. 

If only your friend knew how much her words were taking over your mind—how much they were ruining you and slowly tearing you apart. You wanted to cry—you felt like screaming to get her to stop. She had no idea about your relationship with Mark, so it wasn’t as though she was trying to make you feel bad. Even if she did know, she wouldn’t do anything to hurt your feelings—although, she would have been upset to hear about your poor choices. 

“I—uh—no. I’ve only been here for about ten minutes so—I wouldn’t know. Cool. I should get going. I’ve already missed out on so much—I’ll call you later.” 

You wasted no time briskly heading to your first class. Honestly, you didn’t even want to go anymore. Coming to school was a mistake—what was another day of missing class? You’ve been doing your work online; there was really no reason to be there other than for attendance purposes. You didn’t feel like you learned anything anyway, so there was really no point at all. You mentally cursed yourself at your negative thoughts—this was all Mark’s fault. Before him, you genuinely enjoyed school. 

Your education meant everything to you. Whenever you were assigned homework—you completed it before your next day of class. Some of your professors complimented your on your work ethic and your English professor even asked you to become their TA because you were always so on top of things. Now, you couldn’t wait for school to be over with and you didn’t even care whether or not you passed any of your classes this semester. 

Nothing mattered to you anymore and it was so disheartening that you allowed a stupid asshole to have this effect on you. To flip your world upside down and make you hate everything that used to bring you so much joy and contentment. You were busy trying to avoid people in the hallway and you couldn’t care less about whether or not you ended up bumping in to someone. Today was just not your day and if people were smart, they’d stay far away from you.  

Your phone began to ring, and when you saw that one of your other friends were trying to get in touch with you, you were debating on answering. Human interaction wasn’t something you wanted to put up with for the rest of your time on campus. Everything was all too much for you to take in. The idea of Mark—introducing Aubrey to everyone as his girlfriend, the risk of seeing them together—kissing, holding hands, hugging, acting sweet to one another, it was messing with your head. 

Heard you’re back, if you’re free right now, did you want to get some coffee?

The word no was at the tip of your tongue—you were afraid that you’d give yourself away if you showed any sort of emotion that proved you weren’t sick at all. However, you loved coffee and you were sure it would be the only kind of positivity you’d be able to have at all today so you were going to take what you could get. 

It didn’t take too long for you to reach the coffee shop—there were three spread throughout campus, so you made your way over to where your friend said to meet them. You put in your headphones and blasted your playlist of sad songs—most people would try to steer clear of melancholic music while they were going through such a difficult time but it actually brought you peace. Some weird, twisted kind of peace but nonetheless, it helped you cope with the pain that Mark’s sudden absence left on you. The smell of coffee was soon ridding you of your anxiety and you were quick to see your friend towards the back of the shop. She waved you down and you acknowledged her before getting in line to place your order. 

“Next in line.” 

You gave a soft smile to the barista and gave him your order—going with a large caramel macchiato with three shots of espresso, you were in need of caffeine in the hopes that it would give you enough energy to last through three classes. When you pulled to the side and began to scroll through Instagram, your friend sent you a playful text message about how she was glad that you went with the biggest size, you were definitely going to need it. 

“I have a grande matcha latte and a venti iced americano with almond milk for Aubrey—“ 

Your heart felt as if it was about to combust out of your chest at the sound of her name. Sure, there could have been multiple Aubrey’s on your campus. It wasn’t an uncommon name—but you knew the americano was Mark’s go to beverage. He was lactose intolerant and the first time you went to get coffee together, he told you that americanos helped him stay awake. You didn’t want to look up—you were afraid of seeing her or worse—seeing him. 

Life could be a bitch sometimes. Maybe this was your karma for fooling around with someone who was already taken. You couldn’t help it, you lifted your head up to see the girl who owned the heart of the man who owned yours and you ultimately regretted doing so. She was beautiful—there was no doubt about it. No matter how much you wanted to be bitter and say that she was ugly or that you couldn’t understand what Mark saw in her, you knew that was far from the truth. You’ve only seen a few pictures on her Instagram when you accidentally stumbled upon her account one day but her pictures didn’t do her justice at all. Her long brown hair was in big, bouncy waves.

She was wearing a red, summer dress with a pair of heels. You could feel yourself choking up at the sight of her and all her beauty and you began to mentally scold yourself for not putting any effort in to your outfit at all today. But what did it matter? At the end of the day, it was her who got to say that Mark was her person. She got to tell people with confidence that they were a couple while you had to hide behind the cafeteria or shopping malls in the fear of anyone recognizing the two of you. 

She grabbed the two drinks and made her way to a table near where your friend was sitting. Out of all the places that she could have decided to meet you, it just had to be the same place that Mark’s girlfriend was currently at all the while waiting for him. Was it too late for you to come up with an excuse as to why you couldn’t stay for too long? Surely she’d be able to understand right? 

There was no way you could be able to withstand being in the same room with the man that ripped your heart from out of your chest and threw it on the ground right in front of you—stepping on it like a used cigarette. That’s all you were to him—a cigarette. You were bad for him—but he was addicted to you and he used you only when it was beneficial to him. Just like the way smoking addicts would turn to cigarettes for stress relief, Mark would come to you for a way to release any pent up frustration and just like when the cigarette burns out and the high is over, you’re thrown to the ground and discarded until he needed another hit. 

“Y/n, I have your venti caramel macchiato.” 

Your hands were shaking and all the wind was knocked out of you. After politely thanking the barista, you took in a deep breath as you sauntered to the direction of your friend. You began to plan out ways to escape this unfortunate situation you found yourself in. Fate must’ve had something against you; this wasn’t a coincidence that you’d be in the same exact place at the same exact time as the both of them. This was your payback—your punishment and you were just going to have to take it like a big girl. 

“Hey y/n. I’m so happy to see you again, although, from what everyone who has seen you has told me so far, you really don’t look too good. Maybe you should have asked your doctor to give you a few more days off—“

“I’m fine, really. I can’t afford to miss out on any more school or else I won’t graduate on time. Don’t worry about me. Let’s talk about you, inform me on everything I missed.” 

As she began to tell you about how her life was going and how much you missed out on so many fun outings, everything she was saying went through one ear and out the other. Thankfully, your back was facing where Aubrey was sitting. You were sure if you were able to see her, you wouldn’t be able to take your eyes off of her. Your friend continued to explain the crisis she was experiencing with one of her AP classes and you felt bad for not giving a shit at all. You tried to muster any kind of response and you could tell your “oh really?” and your “that sucks” were completely insincere, but if she noticed anything out of the ordinary—she didn’t say anything. 

You didn’t think anything of the chime of the front door, but something in your chest—probably the fact that you grew accustomed to the distinct sound of Mark’s footsteps made it known that he was now there and your suspicions were soon answered when he spoke up. 

“Hey, sorry I’m late. My professor held us back for five minutes. You weren’t waiting too long were you?” She giggled softly at her apology and it had to be the green monster of jealous on your back that was growing annoyed at the sound. 

“No. I just got our drinks. So how was class baby?” 

The term of endearment made your skin crawl—baby. You used to call him that; but then again, it was only when you were fucking him. Only once did you ever call him baby other than when you were having your fun together and he never really reacted to it. He must’ve been used to hearing you say it during your many hookups that it was second nature to you. You couldn’t handle staying in the coffee shop for a minute longer—you were afraid that something inside of you would get you to walked over to their table and tell her everything. 

Mark didn’t deserve to have a happy ending—not after all that he’s put you through. If you had to suffer, so did he. But you weren’t like that. You weren’t a terrible, heartless person no matter how much you wanted to be. You wanted to hurt him—break him—ruin him the way he so easily did to you. You wanted every single one of his thoughts to be filled with you and how he played you. Your mind was begging you to leave—the last thing you needed was to make a fool out of yourself and who knew? He could pretend that he had no idea what you were talking about and make you seem like the biggest idiot ever. 

“Hey, I actually planned on talking to my physics professor about missing assignments so I think I’m going to head out. Sorry about that.” The younger girl shook her head before giving your hand a comforting squeeze. 

“You’re fine! Don’t stay away from us any longer okay? We’re only young once, let’s make the most of what we still can.” 

You mirrored her expression and nonverbally agreed before picking up your books and your bag. Right as you said your goodbyes, you abruptly turned around and collided with a body. Not just any body—the body you’ve grown so familiar with in the last half a year. The body that made you feel so safe, so comforted, so happy and so serene. The body you’ve missed more than anything—Mark.

“I’m so sorry I should have looked where I was going—y/n?” 

Hearing him say your name again after almost an entire month of not seeing or hearing from him sent you through so many different emotions and you felt like you were on the verge of both throwing up and crying. It wasn’t a sensation you were used to nor did you ever want to get used to it. You just wanted to get the hell out of there. You didn’t even look up at him; your initial instinct would probably be to either punch him or to kiss him and both options would bring you so many problems. 

“It’s fine. I’m fine. Now, if you’ll excuse me—“ you attempted to walk away from him; being this close in proximity to him was suffocating. Your chest felt heavy and you were growing nauseous. 

“Y/n, I’m sorry—that night—I can explain—“

“There’s nothing for you to explain Mark. I’d watch myself if I were you. Your girlfriend is right over there. You’re not as quiet as you think you are, I don’t even know why you’re talking to me or what you feel the need to explain yourself. What we had is over. You and I are over, so there’s no need—“

“Please, we need to talk. I need to tell you something—“ 

Now would be a good time to just bring your fist up and force it against his cheek. Did he hear himself? He was gone—he stayed away for weeks. He made you feel like complete and utter shit. He didn’t fight for you or your relationship—he didn’t beg you to stay nor did he try to stop you at all. Seeing him right now, you noticed that you were more angry with him than you were missing him. Did he really think that you were going to take him back with open arms as though the last three weeks of hell that you suffered through never happened at all? Did he think you were that stupid and that desperate enough to go crawling back to him with the snap of a finger? 

He knew that he had the power to get you to come running to him even if he didn’t try to stop you that night. If you were to tell him why you were so angry with the fact that she interrupted your time with him, he would have seen right through you. If Mark had any kind of common sense, he would be able to pick up on the fact that it had nothing to do about being interrupted during sex. You wanted to laugh sarcastically—his girlfriend was a mere five feet away, he was truly unbelievable. 

“Your silence that night spoke volumes for you so I think it’s best if we pretend like what we had never happened at all. You better go return back to her or else she’ll know something is up. I meant what I said when I left you, I no longer want to be apart of your life if my place—my presence isn’t as much of a priority as yours is in mine. Now, before I end up walking over there and telling her exactly who you are and who I was to you, be smart and leave it as it is.” 

You shoved passed him and walked out of the shop with so much weight off of your shoulders. Telling him off felt amazing; there was so much more you wish you could have said, but you already felt eyes on the two of you and you didn’t want to bring any more attention to the two of you. You were sure your friend must’ve saw the entire exchange go down and she would most likely have a lot of questions, but you didn’t care about anything at all—your mind was set on going back home. 

Sleep sounded so good right now and as much as running away from your problems wasn’t ideal, you deserved some rest. You didn’t even attend one class and you were in more or less words exhausted to the tenth degree. The image of him begging for you to hear him out with just his eyes alone was now imprinted in the back of your mind. Mark was never a man of words—not with you. He preferred using actions and you liked it that way. 

But now, those actions were being used against you, not for you. There was something inside of you; pleading for you to hear him out—you knew it was the part that still loved him wholeheartedly. You wanted to give up your pride—you were proud of yourself for standing your ground, but there was a hole in your heart that could only be filled by Mark himself. As you started walking towards your car, you felt your phone vibrate in your bag and it didn’t take a genius to know who might have been texting you. 

That was who he was; Mark was insufferable. He was the type who wouldn’t stop until he got what he wanted and if he wanted to talk to you, he was going to do anything and everything in his power to get you to listen. You contemplated taking a glance at your phone for quite some time. It was tempting; what if he decided to just confess everything since you weren’t willing to let him talk to you in person? There was really no harm in looking at his messages; you just weren’t going to respond. If you even sent a simple “back off” you were allowing him to continue sticking around in your life. By not responding at all, you’re giving him an answer. 

Getting over him completely was going to take some time, but you owed it to yourself to be released from the confines of Mark’s hold that he had on you. There were so many other men out there; men who didn’t come with baggage. Men who were both physically and theoretically available. Men who would love you—only you. Men you didn’t have to worry about their place in your life or your place in theirs. You bit your lip in anticipation; what was there left for him to say or do after you practically shunned him from your life? He might have believed he wasn’t going to give up this time without a fight; you probably did damage to his ego but your mind was set. 

You were done with Mark Tuan, for good.

Mark: I love you and I’m sorry. 11:25 A.M.

'Cause you weren't mine to lose

[wreckofawriter]

Heartbeat

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Angst

Summary: This is based off 'Points Scored' on my fanfic vote. Sirius and others play a game to see who can sleep with reader first.

An: Sorry for not writting!

"Beat that, fuckers!" Sirius exclaimed busting through the door.

Avery and Mulciber were seated, they looked at him with nervous excitement that they couldn't quite describe. 

Sirius then threw a lacy bra onto the table proceeding to bow as the other two boys glanced down at the fabric. 

"Don't tell me that’s-" 

"That's right, Grace Huddleston!" Sirius beamed. 

"No way!" Avery complained, "She wouldn't even come within ten feet of us!" 

"That's because you’re slimy gits, not the smooth and handsome Sirius Black." He grinned enjoying the distraught looks of his associates.

Mulciber rolled his eyes and glanced down at the sheet, "As impressive as that is Black, you’re still losing." 

"What?! How?! She's worth 10 points!" He said completely aghast. 

"Yes, but while you did that I scored Narcissa and Andromeda, both 6 points," Avery smirked.

"My cousins you sick fuck? I thought we agreed on no family?" He growled. 

"Yes, we agreed on no DIRECT family, and since neither of us wants to fuck your brother I'd say we're fine." Mulciber smiled. 

"Fuck you guys," Sirius muttered plopping down onto a chair examine the chart they had made. He was indeed behind Avery by 7 points and only ahead of Mulciber by 3. The game was ending at the end of the month, leaving him only two weeks to pull ahead. This would have been easy if Avery wasn't scoring points fast enough to keep his lead.

"If you actually want a chance to win I say you go for one of the big two." Avery sneered.

There were two names at the bottom of their little chart, each worth 30 points, an amount which would pull Sirius far enough to win. 

The first name scrawled in Mulciber’s not so impressive handwriting read. ‘Lily Evans’. 

Now, of course, Sirius would never go for that one. For one, the thought of sleeping with Evan's made him sick, for another even if he managed to somehow seduce her, James would kill him before he even got his points redeemed. 

Sirius rolled his eyes, "You guys know that they are impossible." 

"I thought you were the Great Sirius Black?" Mulciber mocked. 

"Or was that all talk?" Avery grinned. 

"Fine." Sirius huffed, "Just don’t come crying for your money back when I win." 

"If you win Black. If." 

"You know what, let's make it more interesting," Sirius smirked, "Since all of us know I'm not gonna go for Evans, how about whoever can sleep with y/l/n first wins? No time limit, just racing against each other. Whoever gets her first wins?" 

Avery and Mulciber glanced at each other. 

"Or are you guys too scared?" Sirius jeered. 

"Fine." Avery agreed "We're in." 

You glared down the girl in front of you, almost begging her to do what you knew she was planning.

“Oops.” Marlen drawled sarcastically pouring the cup of pumpkin juice delicately onto your head.

You didn't flinch, your heart still sustaining its soft, steady beat. You swiped your tongue out onto your lips humming at the taste of the spiced gourde.

Marlen stared at you, you could tell that this was not what she was used to. She was used to girls screaming or bursting into tears. Of course, you did not fulfill these expectations.

“You’re going to regret that Mckinnon.” You murmerd a signature smirk still twitching on your lips.

You saw her eyes flash with fear before darting around and resetting on your own.

“Oh, are you going to write to mommy and daddy about it, they're gonna fix it for you? Or are you gonna break your psycho uncle out of Azkaban and have him kill us?” She smiled sweetly, the sugar that coated everything she did made you want to vomit.

“Don't worry you'll see him in there soon enough.” She giggled; a ridiculously sharp noise.

“Do not ever compare me to my family.” You growled.

“Oooohh, I'm terrified.” She mocked although you could read the truth in her eyes, the truth she would never share with the girls who were crowded around you. 

“You do it again and I won't have to break out my uncle to kill you.” Your voice was so low the girl you were speaking to could hardly hear it.

“Don’t worry I’ll put you where you belong, behind bars.” 

Her smile and the girls laughs only lasted for a short second. 

You heard a loud crunch as your knuckles connected with her nose, a sharp yell of pain echoed through the corridor followed quickly by gasps and screams. 

You hissed at the pain your hand now held, it throbbed lightly, your heartbeat finding itself there.

Sobs then grasped from Marlen’s mouth causing you to scoff, mumbling “Pathetic.” quietly under your breath before you turned to leave. 

"Miss y/l/n!"  McGonagall shouted, her voice inflated with fury. 

"Yes Professor?" You drawled turning to face the women, a bored expression taking your features. 

"I just ran into Miss McKinnon and her nose is broken!" She yelled glaring down at you, it was no secret you were one of her least favorite students. 

"She shouldn't be sticking it in other people's business." You shrugged picking at your nails.

"Are you telling me that you are the one who broke it?" She gasped. 

"Godric, I would have thought you had figured that already." You rolled your eyes. 

"Detention, my room, for a month." She hissed. 

"I'm so sorry, I'm going to have to cancel." You hummed a disappointed look falling upon you. 

"Miss y/l/n detention isn’t something you can just cancel." She scoffed 

"It is when I already have detention with Flitwick." You shrugged. 

"Fine then. Morning detention. I already have a group of students serving then, you will join them." 

"I'm gonna gave to cancel again." You smiled.

"Don't tell me you have more detention." McGonagall sighed.

"No, I'm just not a morning person." You smirked. 

McGonagall sharpened her gaze on you and you just smiled back.

"I expect to see you there Miss y/l/n." 

"Of course." You mocked.

McGonagall turned on her heel mumbling something about the need for discipline and left. 

You did the same continuing towards your common room. You reached the room and was about to whisper the password when a booming voice echoed through the dark corridor. 

"Y/l/n!" 

You turned to be met with a pair of stunning green eyes and floppy blonde hair. A mischievous smile danced in white, tucked neatly behind a pair of pink lips. 

"Avery." You drawled attempting to keep your eyes from rolling. 

"You look stunning as always." He complimented this time nothing could have stopped your eyes from turning in their sockets, "How are you?"

"Better when you weren't here." You sighed.

"Oh come one y/l/n, we're friends." He smiled.

"Just because I have been forced to go to the same social gatherings as you since I was four doesn't mean we're friends." You drawled before mumbling the password and slipping into the common room. 

Avery followed, as persistent as ever, "Good, I never liked the friend zone anyway."

You scoffed, "Well I hope you enjoy the dickwad-who-harasses-me zone." 

"I wouldn't call it harassment." He smirked placing his hand lightly on your waist. 

"I would," you spoke snatching his palm from your skin and twisting it harshly. 

He gasped but continued to smile, "I bet you like it rough in bed." 

You dug your nails into his flesh hearing his hiss in pain, "Speak to me like that again and I break your wrist. Clear?"

"Crystal." He whimpered. 

"Avery!" Another voice called through the common room, "Will you please stop harassing the beautiful girl?" 

You let go of Avery's wrist and turned, this time to see Mulciber. 

Avery through him a sharp glance before backing away from you.

"Are you okay?" He asked, placing his hand on your shoulder and examining you closely. A little too closely. 

"Fine." You shook his hand off your shoulder once and tossed one more icy glare at Avery before ascending to your room.

You groaned wincing as you sat up slowly from your bed, your head pounded. You swore, regretting the small bottle of fire whiskey which now lay empty on your floor. 

You stood slowly, the grey of early morning dulling the colors of your dorm room. You stepped down from your bed, your warm feet cooling on the wooden floor. You glanced out of the window to your left. 

You let your mind sink into the green murky water, you watched something dart by calmly. You wished to stay there forever, watching as the kelp swayed slowly back and forth, part of you wanted to grab the closest thing and smash the glass letting yourself become part of the dark wet. 

You brushed the thought from your head dressing in silence, downing a few painkillers and, sliding on your robes before grabbing the black leather school bag which rested at the end of your bed. 

You exited the room slipping slowly down the stairs before sighing and pushing open the door, greeted by the warmth of the dungeons. You listened to footsteps echo off the walls listening to your heart pound calmly. You let your mind wander, but never too far, you kept it in chains, holding it from dark corners which you wished would fall away.

You accened a stairwell enjoying the soft hum of the changing steps and the murmurs of the portraits which surrounded you. 

You walked a few more steps before pushing open a heavy wooden door to be greeted by five pairs of eyes.

The first you locked with were a deep grey, silver almost seeming to swirl within them. Your mind filled with memories of searches and hiding, pinning and secrets, hearts thumping, blush rising. 

They left your thoughts as quickly as they flooded them. Your heart thumped its usual slow pace, no change taking place.

“Ms. Y/l/n, nice of you to show up.” McGonagall snipped glancing at a clock which read five-o-five. Five minutes late. 

“It was nice of me to show up, you should be thankful.” You spoke back, your headache seeming to remerge. 

You heard a pair of sneakers and felt a glare on you, but you refused to look down at the boys who sat at the tables in front of you. 

“You should be thankful I don't have you expelled.” She wiped.

You nodded and took a seat at one of the tables in the back, you felt the boy's eyes follow you, you could hear whispers being exchanged. 

“Well, I hope you all like paperwork because you will be organizing it for the next three hours,” McGonnagle spoke earning a groan from James who sat in front of you. She waved her wand and papers appeared on each of your desks, most were disciplinary forms. Some papers you didn't quite feel like reading and some were littered with spells and charms. You reached for your wand, only to have it ripped from your hand.

“No magic.” The woman in front of you smirked almost as if she enjoyed your pain. 

“Give me my wand back.” you hissed.

She didn't follow her orders and instead examined the wand with intense criticism, “Hawthorn?” she asked.

You replied with a curt nod. 

“Core?” 

“Dragon heartstring.” You snarled missing the feeling of its rough wood in your hand.

“Very nice.” was all the professor said before setting it gently back onto your desk. “Wand away Potter!” 

You glared at the papers in front of you, the harsh black against pure white hurting your eyes. You leaned your head down hiding your eyes in the crook of your elbow, attempting to stop the pounding of your head by cowering from the light. You slowly let yourself be immersed back into black. 

You stifled a giggle, your heart beating wildly in your chest as you clamped your hand over your mouth. You were enveloped in blackness, the only visible light was sliding through a small sliver at your feet before it spread like a bird’s wings until it stretched too thin and disappeared. 

You felt another giggle rise in your throat. You were tempted to shed the uncomfortable dress you wore, but you didn't want your mother to scold you again. You choked back laughter as footsteps grew louder dress shoes on polished granite sounding loudly in your ears. You could feel a broom handle digging into your back, your heart now thumped so loudly against your rib cage you were sure that the boy outside could hear it, and maybe he could. 

The door whipped open, blinding you with light as you let out a small shriek hiding behind your hands before peaking through them and seeing a deep, swirling grey.

You awoke with a start, your eyes met grey once again and you stifled a light shout. 

“You awake y/l/n?” Sirius asked with a small smirk.

“No.” You answered turning away from the boy. 

He chuckled a dark rich sound, “Well you might want to change that, we’ve got class in four minutes.”

“Fuck.” You mumbled turning back to him. You watched as his eyes sparkled in a godly way, his silky hair falling from behind his ear, his milky skin uninterrupted by blemishes. Your heart thumped its lazy beat, almost bored. 

“You coming?” He asked moving away from you to gather his stuff. You nodded, although you weren't quite sure where you were going.

You gather your things and trailed slowly after the boy who waited for you at the door.

“I've missed you y/l/n, we haven’t spoken in so long.” Sirius spoke and you felt as if you were finally jolted awake. 

“You did?” Your voice was filled with doubt and menace.

“Of course, we were great friends as kids, how could I not?” He smiled at you.

Something changed, your heartbeat stuttered, your breaths quickened and you felt yourself falling, so slowly, like the hero in an action movie, you just hopped cupid had just as terrible aim as the villains always did. 

You struggled to keep your eyelid’s incredible weight up. You felt your mind nod into darkness before you snapped your head back to attention, Flitwick’s high voice echoing in and out of your head. You finally gave up and let your head fall back onto your arm, your hair spilling onto the desk as you let the world disappear behind you. 

You woke in a dark cold room you recognized far too well. The echoing of heels on marble floors ringing in your ears. You could feel the dress you wore scratching the back of your neck as the large earrings poked through you snagged in your hair. You looked across the table and met the face of a tall woman, her smokey black hair pulled into such a tight bun you almost thought it would rip the skin from her scalp. Your small hands grasped a fork, you suddenly felt a sharp hiss of pain and you bit back a whimper glancing at your mother who glared at you her wand clutched under her skirt, ready to perform another act of punishment. You set down the fork you held and grasp the one to its left earning a small nod of approval. 

You glanced to your right to meet the softness of pillowing grey eyes. You felt your heart thump loudly as the small boy reached for your hand under the table, grasping it and giving it a small squeeze. You bite your tongue as false laughter surrounded you, the soft tinkle of silverware hitting china running in the cold dining hall, the chandelier above you sending an icy light through the area. 

Yet you felt warmth on your cheeks and in your hand as the boy next you held you. You wished to tell him, you hoped for him to tell you something in return, but it was secret you knew you would die with because as your mother said, you're ten years old now, you aren't children anymore. You don't have time for feelings. You have obligations to meet. 

You jolted awake groaning slightly as a sharp pain spread from your shin, you glared at the girl next to you who only returned the favor.

Suddenly a voice greeted your ears, it was sharp and high making you cringe.

"Ms. Y/l/n!" Flitwick repeated, although the first attempts to gain your attention went unheard.

"Yes, professor?" You droned.

"What is the answer?" He spoke harshly.

"Ummm," you glanced at the board in hopes of seeing some hints for the riddle you were just handed. None were found, your heart remained calm, it’s beat steady and smooth as it always was.

With slight desperation in your eyes you glanced across the room and found two storms of grey. Your eyes trailed down to his lips which moved slowly, the word they were speaking exaggerated.

"Portus." You spoke suddenly glancing at your teacher, "The answer is Portus."

Flitwick’s eyes widened slightly before narrowing suspiciously. 

Your lips twitched into a cheeky grin, challenging the professor in front of you. 

"That is correct." He spoke slowly.

Your smile widened, you glanced across to Sirius mouthing a thanks. He winked back unfazed.

You felt your heart flip as he looked your way. Its steady beat was interrupted and it was sent into a frenzy as you glanced back down at your hands, laying your head back onto your desk

The next day you awoke with the same sense of dread you seemed to hold every moment you weren't asleep.

You slowly made your way to McGonagall's room, never quite waking, eyes half-lidded.

You came to the same seat you occupied the day before and glared down at the papers in front of you.

You yawned, eyes snapping shut as your mouth widened. When your lids parted again you were met with a cheeky smile.

"Sirius." You greeted lazily.

"I think I'll sit here today." He responded setting his bag down on the opposite side of your table. 

Your heart snapped aggressively, "You can't." 

"Why not?" Sirius asked almost looking hurt, almost.

Your mind went blank, reasons evading you as your head began to ache, "There's no chair." 

"Well, I can change that." He shrugged walking to the table he had occupied the day before grasping the chair it held and dragging it noisily back to his original position.

You winced at the sharp sound the legs emitted on the classroom's floors, "Can't you pick it up?" You growled.

He rolled his eyes playfully lifting the chair above his head and walking back in front of you, "Better?" He asked before dropping in onto the ground.

"No." You pouted slightly.

Sirius' smile widened largely, "You're really cute ya' know."

Your heart leaped uncontrollably.

"You always have been, even when you were little, you were always so adorable." 

You felt your cheeks heat, your breaths becoming irregular, "Shut up." 

"Are you blushing?" He teased bringing his finger up and poking your cheek.

You swatted his hand away biting back a smile, "No."

"Are you sure?" He jeered.

"Positive." You grinned sarcastically.

You attempted to focus on sorting the papers in front of you, but it was practically impossible when you could feel Sirius' eyes boring into you.

You snapped your head upwards, "What?" 

Sirius only smiled back, "You should come to Hogsmeade with me."

"What." You repeated, eyes wide.

"Ya' know, the village with all the shops and things." He explained

"I know what Hogsmeade is you moron." You said back, heart beating irregularly.

"Yeah well you should come, James, Remus, and Peter will be there. And Lily if she gets over the whole poly juice thing." He shrugged.

Your heart slowed back to a normal pace, "What is the poly j?- you know what, I'm not even gonna ask." You cut yourself off.

"So will you come?" He asked voice inflated with hope.

You bit your lip, "I don't know, I mean Lily and I aren't exactly best buds." 

"Come on y/n/n, for me?" Sirius pouted, jutting out his bottom lip in a pitiful pout.

You ignored your heartbeat growing loud and sighed, "Fine." 

He let out a little yelp of happiness, earning a glare from McGonagall, "I swear you won’t regret it." 

"I better not." 

As you made your way to your first class your momentary happiness was interrupted by a certain brunette.

"Y/l/n!" Mulciber shouted through the halls running towards you. 

You wondered if you could make a break for it, but before you could decide his hand was on your shoulder spinning you around. 

“Yes, Mulciber?” You asked in a deflated sigh. 

“I saw you weren't at breakfast and I didn’t want you to go hungry.” He smiled holding out a blueberry muffin.

You knitted your brows in confusion reaching out for the muffin, “Umm thanks.” 

“Yeah of course.” He said back, “Do you want me to carry those?” he gestured to the books tucked under your arm. 

“Sure.” You shrugged passing him the books and beginning to nibble on the baked good he brought you. 

“Where are you headed?” he asked trailing behind you as you began to walk down the corridor.

“I’ve got Herbology. You don't have to follow me all the way down to the greenhouses though.” You glanced back over your shoulder eyes narrowed, you were still suspicious of the boy’s actions. 

“It's no problem.” He smiled happily catching up to you. 

You suddenly stopped in your tracks causing the boy to come to a skidding halt, “Why are you suddenly being so nice to me?” you asked, never one to beat around the bush; your mother always told you it was a sign of weakness to be indirect anyway. 

His face grew a bit red, “Umm, I just, ya know.” 

“I don't know.” You cut in.

“I just think your kinda cute and I don't know, I thought maybe you might finally start paying attention to me.” He spoke scratching the back of his neck, his golden eyes refused to meet yours. 

“You’re lying.” You smirked. “I'm not an idiot Mulciber, I don't know what you’re playing at, but I will find out and you will regret it, you can be sure of that.” 

The boy’s eyes widened he opened his mouth to speak but before he could you had snatched your books back from him and dropped the muffin to the ground, stepping on it as you continue your way to class. 

As the week continued getting out of bed seemed to get easier. Your eyelids lost some of the pounds they seemed to be carrying and your heartbeat never felt the same. It jumped unpredictably, sped to inhuman rates and stopped abruptly. Your thoughts filled with those of black hair and leather jackets. The smell of fresh pine and chocolate clouded your dreams, grey eyes were all that you could see. You wished you had disregarded the schoolgirl crush you had for the eldest Black brother but it only seemed to grow stronger and stronger, from infatuation to true feelings. 

You went to Hogsmeade, despite everything in your body telling you not to, and it wasn't half as bad as you predicted. Lily was shooting you glares - no doubt because of what you did to her dear friend and darling Marlen Mckinnon - but no one else seemed to have a problem with you, although Peter seemed a bit scared of you. 

By the end of the month, you began to look forward to your detention. You got just about nothing done but the conversations with Sirius were endless. You reminisced over the awful dress robes his mother insisted he wore and argued over which quidditch team was superior. You laughed more than you had in far too long. You suddenly felt alive again. It was as if the boy you now fantasized about had finally showed you what existing was for. 

You felt the dew soaking through your robes as it numbed your toes and wet your hands as your fingers danced in the grass. You heard a slight grunt as Sirius plopped into the green beside you, your shoulders brushing as your heartbeat sped. You tore your gaze from the boy beside you and glanced up at the sky.

A small gasp left your mouth as you stared up at the stars in awe. Your lips stayed parted as your eyes traced the heavenly body above you. You just stared. You might have laid there for a minute, for ten, for an hour, you didn't know and you didn't care. You could have stayed, sprawled in that field for the rest of your life as you stared into the stars, tracing the constellations, disappearing into the universe above you. 

“It’s beautiful.” You sighed out in a dreamy haze.

“Not as beautiful as you are.” Sirius commented causing your cheeks to flush as you turned your head to meet his gaze.

“That was a really cheesy line Black.” You smirked, “You sound like you're in some terrible rom-com.”

“You make me feel like I’m in some terrible rom-com.” He sighed, staring at you in a way you couldn't quite comprehend. 

“That was just as bad.” You giggled. 

Sirius disregarded you comment leaning close to you, you could feel your heart pumping uncontrollably. “Can I kiss you?” He whispered, his breath fanning directly over your nose. 

You nodded slowly and without another warning, his lips were on yours. They brushed your own hesitantly as his hands found your waist. You felt your hands creep up to his hair tugging on it lightly. Sirius released a small moan and you took the opportunity to slide your tongue past his lips as you tasted butterbeer and mint. 

You broke away blushing harshly, your lips swollen, light gasps pulling from you. 

“I think I might be in love with you,” You whispered scared if you raised your voice anymore you would break the spell the two of you had been placed under. 

Sirius only stared back a you and reconnected your lips. 

The next morning you woke with a smile for the first time in ages. You practically leaped out of bed dressing quietly.

“You look dazzling today as usual y/n.” Sirius winked when you arrived at the classroom

“Only for you.” You respond as your heart stuttered in your chest. 

The hours passed in haze and you soon departed to potions. On your way, you felt someone tap your shoulder. You turned on see Avery who had been becoming slowly more and more kind over the past few weeks. 

“Avery. How are you?” You asked continuing to your class. 

“I'm alright.” He shrugged “How about you?” 

“I’m great.” You smiled as the two of you continued to potions. 

Once seated in the class you made a decent effort to pay attention to what Slughorn was speaking about but you couldn't seem to focus on anything, your mind wandered to the texture of Sirius’s lips, the taste he held, the way his hands felt on your waist. 

You glanced to were Avery was seated, seeing a numbered sheet of paper and catching a glimpse of your name at the bottom before it was torn from your view. 

“What is that Avery?” You asked him quietly.

“What was what?” He responded.

“Don't play dumb with me, I am not an idiot.” You hissed, your hand gripping his arm harshly. 

He whimpered sliding the paper over to you hesitantly. 

You opened the parchment your eyes scanning the list of names, but seeing yours on there wasn't what hurt. When you saw another's scrawled at the top your heart stopped. 

“No.” You whimpered, your throat tightening as your world spun. 

You stood abruptly, knocking your knees on the desk in front of you, moving the things on it, one jar falling to the ground and shattering. 

“Ms. y/l/n?” Slughorn asked hesitantly, the entire class watched you in a mixture of fear and curiosity. 

A wrecked sob left your lips tearing from your throat as your eyes welled with tears, “No!” You shrieked a sharp noise that made those around you wince. You darted from the classroom without another word, collapsing into sobs before you could even reach your common room. Your head began to throb as cries tore from your mouth, you could taste salt as you sunk to the ground. 

You slowly regain your footing and stubbled up the stairs, sobs still echoing around you, your throat becoming raw. 

Just as you reached the corridor you were looking for classes were released and students flooded the hallways, you didn't bother with anyone, not caring about one pair of eyes on you. 

When you saw him your heart halted altogether. He was a masterpiece, his hair shining in the light as his teeth flashed a dazzling white. You wanted to tear him open, rip him to shreds.

His gaze met yours and softened. You didn't speak a word to him, snatching his wrist and dragging him away, you didn't pay any mind to his protests as you dragged him into an empty classroom and slammed the door behind you. 

“Y/n/n wh-”

“Thirty points.” You choked out. “I’m worth thirty points.” 

His eyes widened mouth falling open to speak. 

“I’m impressed, Black.” You laughed darkly tears spilling down your cheeks like hot raindrops. “I truly am, you managed to trick me, you managed to seduce the cold-hearted bitch of a Slytherin right?” 

“Y/n, I don't know what to say.” He spoke slowly. 

“Say you love me.” You hiccupped.

“You know I can't do that.” He said as you bit your bottom lip in attempts to keep it from quivering. 

“Then get away from me.” You spat like venom.

He turned and left without another word and you collapsed to the ground, your nails digging into your wrist. 

You lay on the ground for hours, silent tears spilling down your cheeks, wishing your heartbeat would stop forever.  

Part 2

Taglist: @accio-rogers @k3nz-doodl3 @roslea @songforhema @wangmangagavroche

[likelightningafterthethunder]

Like Lightning After the Thunder: Chapter Three: Message from the Shadows

Fic Summary:

His breath wavered as he stared into Katsuki’s eyes. He knew he could get out if he tried. He could knock Katsuki out, hope that no one else would find them, and run back into the shadows where he belonged. Katsuki may have had him pinned down but he was in Denki’s range now and it would take little effort to send a charge through Katsuki to paralyze him temporarily.

It would take barely any additional effort to kill Katsuki.

As the sparks began to charge, lighting up the air around him, Katsuki refused to back down.

–

Katsuki always knew he was destined for great things.

He didn’t think he’d have to turn his back on all he’s ever known to get there.

Rating: T

Warnings: Eventual major character death, implied/referenced child abuse, psychological trauma

Other Tags: Bakugou Katsuki/Kaminari Denki, slow burn, alternate universe - canon divergence

Read on Ao3 (links to corresponding chapter) or read below

Previous Chapter | Fic navigation to read the fic on tumblr

–

As the reunion approached, it was becoming increasingly difficult to pretend that everything was fine.

Katsuki had been added back to the group text with Eijirou, Mina, and Hanta; he wasn’t sure if Eijirou had told them or if they had figured it out on their own, but almost all of the pictures sent after he was added back in lacked a certain pair of amber eyes. He appreciated their attempt to make things less stressful for him, but it just made him think about how the rest of the class might not share the same sentiment and that there was a non-zero chance of having to see those eyes― or worse, that damned smile― during the reunion. He didn’t say anything about it, of course, but the idea of suddenly canceling and saying he was sick was looking more and more tempting.

Ochako and Katsuki had met up a few more times at Takeshi’s, but to Katsuki’s frustration, their sparring sessions seemed to do little to help prevent his mind from wandering off to that damned smile and digging its claws in. The most recent session, his guard had slipped enough that Ochako even dared to repeat his own words against him, even if the threat of him wasting her time was empty. Despite that, she still didn’t ask what was keeping him up at night, a small blessing Katsuki was thankful for.

Work was the one aspect of his life where he had a bit of normalcy, and no one could ask about the telltale sign of sleepless nights when his mask was on to hide them. He didn’t interact with anyone else at the agency often enough for them to note any potential changes in his behavior caused by the recent hauntings and there certainly wasn’t enough time for his mind to wander off in the middle of a battle with higher stakes than an ongoing scoreboard and bragging rights. His work didn’t suffer so he was certain that he would be able to get through this… thing, without anyone at work noticing, and if he was lucky, maybe the big red bow his mind needed to finally tie the memory up and shelve it away was the upcoming reunion and he wouldn’t have to worry about anyone noticing, period.

Except his boss knew about what happened too.

It was hard for her not to know. Shion had been there that day, and while she hadn’t arrived early enough to stop Katsuki’s anger from kicking in, she had definitely seen the toll the fight had taken on the surrounding area. She had definitely seen the still smoking singes of clothing, seen the furniture and paperwork that were strewn across the room, heard the cackling of flames, of his palms, of the remnant electricity in the air, seen the―

Katsuki inhaled sharply, shaking the memory from his mind.

He’d like to assume that the main reason why Shion offered him a position at her agency was his hard work both at UA and on the field. He’d like to say that maybe it was because she saw a similarity between his explosive fighting style and her own, or maybe she noticed the quick calculations hidden behind seemingly impulsive actions. Hell, Katsuki would even be willing to say that she found some sort of sick twisted pleasure in watching his fuse burn.

Still, he couldn’t shake the idea that maybe it was out of pity.

That maybe all she saw when she looked at him was the teenage boy from that day ten years ago. That maybe he was some sort of passion project, an attempt to see if she could “fix” him. That maybe she thought that one day, Katsuki might break, and that it was best if she was nearby to take care of it.

That maybe, just maybe, Katsuki was stuck standing in that damned shadow.

Katsuki could normally easily avoid Shion asking him about his life outside of work. She only ever seemed interested in forcing him into having a life outside of work, but always left the details of what that entailed up to him and rarely pried past ensuring that Katsuki hadn’t secretly been doing paperwork or something when he was supposed to have the day off. She seemed to do the same to everyone else who worked at the agency though, so there was very little room to complain― though that didn’t stop him from taking every inch he got when he found the chance. (Not that it seemed to stop her either, especially when everyone else was more than happy to talk about their personal lives.)

But, between her knowing about Katsuki’s past and about the upcoming reunion, Katsuki was not surprised when Shion started being curious about his personal life “out of nowhere.” She asked if the reunion had some sort of plus one system and if so, if there was a lucky person Katsuki would be taking with him to formally introduce them to his former classmates; if there was a lucky person, how come she didn’t know of them yet; if Katsuki would introduce her to them so that she could get them on “Team Make Katsuki Bakugou Take a Vacation”; maybe if he took a vacation there would actually be a lucky someone; and a seemingly endless list of other questions every single time he saw Shion, even if it was in passing and there was no time to respond to it before they were out of earshot from each other.

He knew the worst of it was coming when he saw that he was scheduled to patrol with her in the afternoon. She left him alone during the morning― a small but welcomed blessing― and unlike every other time they had been scheduled to patrol together, she wasn’t waiting for him after his lunch break either. Katsuki wondered if maybe she was trying to give him space before she brought up the inevitable, or if maybe he had misread the schedule and he was going on patrol alone.

When he saw her in the agency lobby, standing at his approach, he held back a curse.

The walk exiting the building was uncharacteristically quiet, the only noises between them being the sound of Katsuki’s footsteps and Shion’s skates. Katsuki wasn’t sure what he dreaded more― the idea of a silent Shion for the entirety of patrol or the fact that when she did start speaking, it would immediately be about his personal life.

Thankfully (or not?) after a failed attempt at getting Katsuki to let her hook onto his arm and make him do the “hard work” of walking (“Fuck off, you’ve got legs,” “You walk too fast, I should be saving my energy for fighting villains, not trying to keep up with your rocket legs,” “Sucks to be you then,”), Shion started talking. It started off normally enough― Shion mentioned some workplace gossip that Katsuki didn’t particularly care about, some information about a new sponsor that was supposed to reach out later that week, how her roller derby match had gone the past weekend― but even though he was expecting something different, it didn’t prepare him for what she said next.

“The Commission’s looking into the Acolyte.”

Katsuki stopped in his tracks, Shion rolling to a stop a few feet ahead of him. Katsuki felt his throat tighten, like there was something trying to suffocate him from the inside out, his jaw clenching as he tried to hold back something between a laugh of desperation and a scream of frustration.

The Acolyte. The fucking Acolyte.

For once, Shion didn’t speak. Katsuki wished she would, even if it was an insult, even if she picked away at his shell and attacked the part of him that was still just a scared, lost teenage boy that was in over his head, anything so he didn’t have to deal with the deafening silence. Anything to jump in and distract him from the tidal wave of emotions and thoughts rushing at him, to redirect his thoughts away from the dark corner of his memory, to keep him here, in that moment, in reality.

He let out a shaky exhale as he forced the uneasy feeling back down, trying to shake it off. “Thought the Acolyte was taken care of.”

“I thought so too,” Shion paused, giving Katsuki a look over that he knew could see right through him. He forced himself to hold his resolve, waiting for her to continue. “Rumor is that someone on the outside has been in contact with Mother and is trying to prepare for her return. Recruit new members, spread their message, and find someone called the Son,”

Katsuki scoffed. “The bastards at the prison aren’t doing their job if the bitch managed to make contact with the outside,”

Shion laughed, moving closer to give him a playful slap on the arm, “I knew you’d see it my way. That’s what I said at the Commission meeting― well, in a more poetic way, of course. Those Commission workers wanted none of it though, even though it’s obvious that heroes aren’t to blame for this particular mess up. Now, come on, let’s keep walking while we talk,”

He hesitated briefly, brows furrowed as Shion started to skate ahead. Were they really going to continue patrol while talking about something like this? “Shouldn’t we be discussing this back at the agency?”

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it,” Shion waved a hand dismissively as Katsuki caught up to her, ignoring the glare sent her way at her phrasing. “Besides, the agency is full of gossips,”

“You’re the biggest gossip there.”

“How do you think I know?” She gave Katsuki a wink and a nudge in his side, laughing when it was met with a scowl. “It’s fine. That was the most confidential part of the conversation I had to tell you.”

“Why did you tell me, anyway?”

Shion looked up at him, amused. “I’ve been asked to help find someone for their task force. You’re on the short list, Katsuki. Well, correction, you are the short list. Though, you do have the right to decline, in which case you and Hibiki will be in charge of keeping the agency in one piece whenever the Commission drags me away. Or, you know, as close to one piece as possible, so our public relations people don’t try to have our heads on a platter.” If she noticed the hesitance in Katsuki’s face, she didn’t comment on it. “You don’t have to give me your answer now. In fact, I encourage you to take your time― since the Commission’s being so rude about who’s to blame for this whole ordeal, I say we let them wait a few days before I tell them which one of us will be working with them. They have other things to do while they wait for my decision anyway― like actually finding the prison leak and getting information that heroes can actually act on, instead of acting like we’re all Divine Prophet and can find people in the blink of an eye. You know, kind of surprising that they haven’t dragged Divine Prophet into this yet either actually. They weren’t at the meeting and no one mentioned them, so I guess they’re busy doing something else for the Commission or something.”

Katsuki let her ramble on for a while longer, thinking back to the Acolyte. He had hoped he had heard the last of them, years ago when a raid on an Acolyte base resulted in Mother’s capture and the destruction of their intel. Some members had died but enough had lived and been captured that through the combined work of the police force, heroes, and the Commission, every Acolyte member had been imprisoned.

Almost, Katsuki corrected. Someone must’ve slipped past and hid until they could get a message to Mother. He could only hope that the leak had been found early enough before Mother could weave another web of misery.

Even if the Acolyte hadn’t gotten the chance to rebuild itself back up, helping take it back down would be a pretty important achievement to put on Katsuki’s hero resume. The original downfall of the Acolyte and capture of their information had resulted in the downfall of several smaller villain groups and prevented some large scale villain attacks from occurring, so while it was unlikely that whatever the Commission wanted the task force to do would be flashy and public, it was also likely the Commission would take the potential damage prevented into account when calculating the next Billboards rankings.

Yet…

Katsuki was dragged out of his thoughts when he felt a hand on his arm, his hand already gripped tight around Shion’s wrist before he realized it was her and let go.

She smiled softly, giving Katsuki a moment to reorient himself. “Just think about it, okay? You don’t have to say yes, but I know you’re the right man for the job.”

“Of fucking course I am,”

“Glad to know that you know. Anyway, let’s talk about that reunion of yours! You never did answer me about if you were bringing a special someone.”

Katsuki groaned.

Katsuki was half considering taking the last week before the reunion off just to avoid Shion’s questions by the time he finally made it back home. While the questions about the reunion had helped keep his mind off of the Acolyte shit, it took maybe half an hour before Katsuki was wishing they were talking about the Acolyte instead. There was only so long that Katsuki could deal with questions about his supposed love life (both present day and anything that might have happened back in high school) and the type of clothes he planned on wearing to show off his “post graduation glow up”, whatever the fuck that meant.

He cursed under his breath when his phone started going off while he was preparing dinner, not really feeling like talking to anyone. He let it keep ringing, focusing on chopping the vegetables instead and sighing in relief when the ringing finally stopped― until it started back up. He ignored it one more time, only giving in and checking his phone after he heard a few text ringtones.

Shitty Hair

Missed Call (2)

Well shit. Probably shouldn’t ignore him if it was important enough to call instead of text.

Shitty Hair: Katsuki!!!

Shitty Hair: Are you free bro??

Shitty Hair: I need your help for this project

Shitty Hair: I can’t figure out what I’m doing wrong and I don’t know how to put it into words so I can ask the internet

Katsuki: If you can’t put it into words, how the fuck am I supposed to help?

Katsuki: I’m cooking right now but I’m free otherwise.

Shitty Hair: Can you video call??? I’ll just show it to you

Katsuki: Sure.

Katsuki propped his phone up on the counter, making sure that it wouldn’t get in the way of his cooking and that he’d still be in frame when the call connected. He scowled a little when the call connected and the only thing he could see was Eijirou’s eyes and forehead.

“Back the fuck up from the camera, Shitty Hair, I can’t see anything. Unless you’re calling to see if there’s an eyelash in your eye, then the answer is no.”

“Just give me a sec! I dropped my phone while it was ringing.” Katsuki waited as Eijirou readjusted himself and propped the phone up. “Okay, it’s not great, but ta-da! Not bad for an amateur, huh?”

“Are you knitting?”

“Yeah!” Eijirou grinned brightly. “There’s this group near my work that’s doing like, an auction of knitted and crocheted and other handmade things for charity, and I asked if I could try making some stuff for the auction. I’m not great at it but I figure some people would love to buy something that a hero made, and the money’s going to a good cause, so why not? And I thought, maybe I could knit on the train over to Musutafu, except it’s doing this twisty thing around my needles and I don’t know why, and I need to know what’s going wrong so I know if I have to buy new yarn before the reunion or if this is salvageable,”

Katsuki paused. “What makes you think I know what the fuck is going on with your knitting?”

“Dude, I know you’re the one who knits all of the knitted gifts you’ve given me, Mina, and Hanta. I figured it out years ago.”

“And you didn’t think of telling me that you knew?”

Eijirou shrugged. “You never said it yourself so I figured you were just waiting for the right moment to tell us or something,”

Katsuki huffed and shrugged it off. Eijirou wasn’t completely wrong, after all. “It’s salvageable. Look up ‘frogging’ to undo everything. Make sure the row’s straight on the needle before you start and that you’re not accidentally holding it in a way that makes it twist on the needle either.”

“Cool, cool. And what about these random holes, like this one?”

“Probably wrapped the yarn an extra time before you made a new stitch. Count your stitches, I bet you’ve got more than you started off with.”

“Thanks Kats! Mind if we stay on the call while I try to figure out this whole knitting thing?”

“Do whatever the fuck you want.”

Eijirou laughed and started talking about his day while he worked on his knitting, stopping here and there to ask Katsuki to see if he was doing things right. After he was done with his update, he asked Katsuki how his day had gone.

“Shitty,” Katsuki grumbled. “Damned Four Eyes kept asking me shit about the reunion, the entire fucking afternoon. While we were on patrol! I fucking swear, she enjoys pushing my buttons.”

“Oh come on, it couldn’t have been that bad.”

Katsuki paused cooking to stare at his phone camera directly, silently daring Eijirou to contradict him again.

“Okaaaaay maybe it was. Do you think maybe she’ll leave you alone about getting your ‘special someone’ to join the ‘Team Make Katsuki Bakugou Take a Vacation’ team if I officially joined the team?”

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Katsuki pointed his knife at the camera, ignoring the laughter that came from the other end. “It’ll probably plant the wrong fucking idea in her head and make all this shit worse.”

“Okay okay, I won’t join behind your back or anything, but if you skip out on Hanta, Mina, and me for the reunion or the squad hangout the day after, not only will I join the team, but I will get Hanta and Mina to join too. Maybe even Midoriya and Uraraka.”

“I already said I’m going, you damned Shitty Hair! Back the fuck off already.”

“Just checking! Are we still good for rooming together?”

“Yeah. Cheeky and I should be arriving in Musutafu around one, unless shit runs late.”

“All right, I should be there around eleven, so I’ll go ahead and check in first and text you the room number―” Katsuki barely caught Eijirou’s hand suddenly reaching out towards the screen, knocking the phone over onto the ground. He heard the sounds of Eijirou fumbling with something off screen before a faint voice that sounded like a news reporter came on.

“What the fuck, Shitty Hair?”

Katsuki briefly got a screenful of Eijirou’s eyebrows again as picked the phone up, frowning when he noticed the panic in Eijirou’s eyes. “Look,” was all he said before the camera flipped to show his TV screen, turning up the volume.

It was a live broadcast, with the banner indicating that the reporter was standing in Miyazaki. In the background, dozens of police cars and firetrucks surrounded a tall fence, officers and firefighters rushing in towards what looked like a large hole in the side of a building. A few of the heroes stationed in Miyazaki were rushing in as well, all of them escorted by people who looked like―

Prison guards.

Katsuki put down his cooking utensils, hands moving to grip the counter’s edge until his knuckles turned white in an attempt to ground himself. He could almost feel the thick tar build in the back of his throat and it took all his self control to force his breathing to steady. He could barely focus on what the reporter was saying, nearly missing Eijirou’s hesitant, quiet voice.

“Isn’t that…”

“...Yeah.”

“Shit.”

[assembledherethevolunteers]

Stay

A/N: Well, hello again! Who’s ready for another songfic? This is the song ‘Stay’ by Sugarland (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zPG1n1B0Ydw). I’ve been in a SUPER angsty writing/reading mood lately, and this is what I came up with. And now I’ll be doing songfics for the other members of Queen as well. Not sure when I’ll get them up because work is going to be ‘back to normal’ and I won’t have as much time to write but I will get them up! Wow this is a long one. Okay. Love you guys!

Pairing: 80s Brian May x Reader (I didn’t intend on making them gender neutral, but I think it ended up that way)

Summary: You and Brian are in love. The only problem is that he’s married to somebody else.

Warnings: Angst, Cursing, Mentioned sex, Cheating (also we’re going to pretend that Brian didn’t have kids)

Taglist: @queenlover05 @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye

 You heard the clock ticking, knowing that it was mocking you. It was just counting down to what you knew was eventually coming.

You felt a pair of arms tighten around you and pull you closer. A pair of lips were pressed against your neck and you sighed, closing your eyes.

“You’re thinking far too hard for having just had incredible,” Brian’s lips moved down your neck. “Mind-blowing,” his lips continued to move. “Sex,” his lips finished their journey to your shoulder.

“I’m just enjoying it while I can.”

Brian sighed. “Can we not talk about that right now?”

You rolled over so that you were facing him. “How can we not talk about it? I’m sure she’ll call soon. Where does she think you are?”

Brian’s face was fixed into a neutral expression, but his eyes were filled with hurt. “Roger’s.”

You scoffed. “Just pulling more and more people into this doesn’t make things any easier, Bri.”

“I know, love, but…”

You sat up and scooted away from him. You hated when he called you that in these situations. The situations where you discussed your relationship.

Well, for you it was a relationship. For Brian, you weren’t sure. You should’ve known better than to get involved with a married man. You should’ve walked away as soon as you realized who he was. But you didn’t. You kept telling yourself one more time. Just one more time. And now, you were in love with him.

He would call you when she went out of town. He would call if the two of them were fighting and he ‘had to get out of the house’. He would call you when he would be at the studio late and you would go and see him there. The other members of the band weren’t exactly rude to you, but you knew they eyed you a little warily. As if they didn’t approve of you being there but weren’t going to say anything.

Brian sat up next to you and looked at you. You didn’t look back. You were trying not to cry and if you looked at him, you would start bawling. The two of you had had this conversation so many times that you could probably have it by yourself by now.

“Please look at me,” Brian’s voice was soft, almost a whisper.

You breathed through your nose and looked at him, his hazel eyes were searching yours for some sort of confirmation that you weren’t going to leave him.

“I’ll be all yours soon.”

“When?” You shot back. You knew he didn’t have an answer. It was always what he said. ‘Soon’. Soon had nearly become a curse word to you.

“Darling, y…you know now’s not the time.”

“It never will be, will it?” You paused for moment, knowing Brian wouldn’t answer, before continuing. “Do you love me?” You asked him. He opened his mouth to answer, but you cut him off. “Because I am desperately in love with you. I have done everything for you. I haven’t been with anybody else. I’ve kept my mouth shut for so long that my friends are worried about me. I cancel my plans just for a chance to see you. I’ve hidden everything of yours around my flat so that nobody even suspects anything. I’ve come to understand that we can only go on dates during certain periods of time or certain places. I haven’t even taken any pictures of the two of us,” the tears had started flowing now. “And yet, she’s the one that gets to go out in public with you. She’s the one that gets to call you her husband. She’s…” your voice cracked and you couldn’t keep talking anymore.

Brian wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into his lap. You let him for now because you were just crying. You didn’t have much strength to fight him.

“Sh sh, oh sweetheart,” Brian cooed at you. “I’m so sorry. I…I know this isn’t easy.”

You laughed bitterly. “No, Bri. No, this isn’t fucking easy.”

The two of you were quiet for a few moments.

“Do you love her?”

“Haven’t we been over this?” Brian pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Pretend we haven’t been.”

“At one point, yes. We were in love, but the past five years have been…bad. And we’ve tried everything. We’ve tried therapy, we’ve tried breaks, we’ve tried holidays together, all of it. At this point, we’re only married in name.”

“Then why don’t you get divorced? Then you and I could actually be together. Have a life together. That’s all I want.”

“Y/N,” Brian started, but he must’ve lost his nerve because he just held you closer.

You rested your head on his shoulder and he rested his head on yours. He started humming a song that you didn’t recognize.

“I do love you, you know,” he whispered, tracing shapes on your thigh. “I love you more than anybody I’ve ever been with. And I want us to have a live together. It’s just that I’m in the public eye and something like that…”

“You mean a divorce? If you can’t even say the word, how are you going to bring it up to her?”

Brian sighed. “Yes, a divorce. It could lead to so many questions and things could get messy. For not just me but for you.”

“Like what? What would they do to me that would be as painful as you leaving? What would they do to me that makes me sadder than thinking of you with somebody else?”

Brian lifted his head and looked down at you. You looked up to him and reached up to push his curls out of his face. He leaned down and kissed you. You wrapped your fingers in his hair, kissing him back. There was a slightly salty taste from the tears that were still coming down.

You pulled away but held Brian close.

“I need you to make a decision, Bri. I can’t keep doing this.”

Brian was watching you, waiting for you to continue, when your phone on the night stand rang. He glanced at your phone and then back to you.

“Answer it. It’s probably Roger.”

Brian hesitated, but reached for your phone and picked it up.

“Hello?….” Brian’s face collapsed. “And what did you tell her?...Okay, thanks, Rog. I’ll see you at the studio tomorrow…bye,” Brian placed the phone back on the cradle and then looked down at the bed before meeting your eyes.

You crawled off his lap.

“She called him, didn’t she?”

Brian nodded and stood up to get dressed. You watched him, the tears coming back to your eyes. You wrapped yourself in your blanket and tried to get the courage to say what you were thinking. You had to say it.

“Brian?” Your voice was still shaky.

Brian came to your side of the bed and knelt in front of you. He took your hands and smiled at you sweetly.

“Yes, my love?”

“The next time you want to call me and ask to come over,” you took a deep breath. “Just…don’t. Alright?”

Brian blinked at you. “Wh…what do you mean?”

“I mean the next time you’re fighting or she’s out of town or…or anything? Don’t come over. Don’t come over unless you can stay forever. Because I just can’t do this anymore.”

You heard Brian gasp slightly. He squeezed your hands, but you slid them away from him.

“Y/N, I…I love you.”

You looked into his eyes. “And I love you. That’s why I’m tired of sharing you. I’m tired of you having to disappear when that phone rings. It’s practically a Pavlovian response now. I just want you. All of you. And If I can’t have that…” your throat felt like it was closing. You just shook your head.  

Brian’s mouth started moving as if he was trying to come up with a response, but no noise was coming out.

You leaned forward and kissed his cheek, but then didn’t pull away. Brian turned his head and kissed your lips. You could tell that he was trying to deepen it, but you pulled away.

“Brian, you should go.”

Brian stood up and moved away from you. You watched him go to the doorway of your bedroom and pause.

“Give me a little bit of time. And I’ll be yours.”

“Just don’t contact me until you can be.”

 Six Months Later

You were staring out the window, watching the sunset. You wrapped your arms around your middle, taking a sip of your glass of wine.

You hadn’t heard from Brian since you told him that you were done sharing him. You were slowly (VERY slowly) healing. You’d been avoiding the papers and magazine that would report anything about him. You were taking time to focus on yourself and your work. Now that you didn’t have a secret relationship to worry about, your mental health was getting better.

You were pouring yourself another glass of wine when there was a knock at your door. You put the wine down and walked to the door. You opened the door and gasped.

“B…Brian?”

“Hello, love,” he cupped your face in his hands and pulled you in for a searing kiss.

You kissed him back for one glorious moment before you pulled away.

“What are you doing here?”

Brian reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out some papers.

“I wanted to show you this,” he handed them to you.

You cocked your eyebrow at him and then read over the paper.

It was a divorce decree. Not just the paperwork to file, but one that had gone through. Meaning Brian was no longer married.

You read it again and then looked up at Brian.

“Is this real?” You asked him, trying to keep your voice neutral.

“Very real. You can call anybody you’d like to confirm. I spoke with a lawyer the morning after I left. I wanted everything to be final before I told you because I didn’t want anything to come between us anymore.”

You threw the papers onto the floor and grabbed Brian by his shirt, crushing your lips to his. He grabbed your hips pulled you closer, deepening your kiss.

“I’ve missed you,” Brian told you as he kissed your chin. “So much,” he continued kissing down your neck.

“I’ve missed you too, Bri,” you sighed. “But can we,” you gasped when Brian gently bit at your pulse point. “Continue this inside and not in the hallway?”

Brian chuckled against your neck. “I’d love to.”  

You pulled Brian inside and shut the door.

“So she just agreed to the divorce?”

“We haven’t seen each other in six months and you want to talk to about my divorce?” Brian chuckled.

You put your hands on either side of his face, stroking under his eyes. “Humor me.”

Brian pressed a kiss to the heel of your hand. “She told me she knew it was coming. Wasn’t really a surprise. “ Brian continued  kissing up your arm. “Neither of us were exactly happy with the settlements, but they’re done. It’s all done,” he kissed up your neck again.

“So you’re all my mine?” You asked him breathlessly.

Brian pulled away and smiled at you.

“I’m all yours.”

Later that night, you were lying in Brian’s arms , flush against him, your legs intertwined. The two of you were pressing kisses anywhere your lips could reach.

In the morning, you woke up in Brian’s arms. You rolled over and watched his sleeping face in the morning light, something you’d only done once or twice in your relationship and never without being interrupted by a phone call.  

You weren’t sure how much later it was, but you watched as Brian’s eyes slowly fluttered open. He looked at you and smiled widely.

“Good morning, my love.”

[badsext]

Sunshine and Possibilities: Diego x Reader x Klaus

This one is for @chipster-21 💜 Sorry it took me so long. I hope you like it. Special thank you to @moorehollandplz for helping me with plot stuff!!! 🤗

Author’s Note: Since the show takes place in a world without cellphones and internet, I thought it would be interesting to stay true to that for this fic. Reader has an old-timey phone and answering machine.

Warnings: Just fluff, a tiny bit of blood, and maybe a naughty word or two. ————————————————————

Your job at the pharmacy is good for people watching. You have the quirky old regulars coming in to pick up their blood pressure meds and insulin, couples buying cheap candy to sneak into the movie theater down the street, rushed people buying last minute gifts and greeting cards, anxious people buying condoms or pregnancy tests, and some just seeking something over the counter for their cold, flu, allergies, etc.

You are changing the receipt tape, a task that always takes a bit longer than you need it to, when someone steps into your peripheral vision.

“I’ll be with you in a second.”

“Ok, no problem. Take your time.”

You look up, closing the lid on the printer. He is really cute, hispanic, nice body, handsome face and a scar on the side of his head that looks like it just missed his ear. He is dressed all in black and his arms are filled with first aid supplies: peroxide, gauze and antibiotic ointment.

“Wow, look at all this. Did someone get shot or something?”

He is quiet, staring at you. It was only a joke. Maybe you offended him. You should have learned by now not to make embarrassing comments. Ugh, why can’t I keep my mouth shut, you think to yourself. That’s when you notice a drop of blood on the counter, then another. They appeared to be coming out of the man’s sleeve.

“Holy shit! Are you okay?”

“Oh!” He looks down and notices the blood for himself. “You got some paper towels back there?”

You tear several off the roll and hand them to him.

He wipes the blood off the counter, then holds the wad of towels up to the part of his sleeve that is dripping. “It’s just a scratch.” He can tell by your expression that he failed to convince you. “Occupational hazard. I’m fine with blood. It’s just needles I can’t stand.”

“Are you a cop?”

“Not exactly.”

“A criminal? Is that why you’re bandaging yourself?”

“You’re full of nosy questions.” He says with a grin. “Not a cop, not a criminal…I’m Diego. What’s your name?”

You respond in a daze, lost in his eyes for a moment.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N. How about you give me your number before I bleed out here.”

“Yeah. Okay.” You write it out on the back of his receipt.

“I’ll call you!” He kisses the receipt then flies out the door.

You can’t keep the smile off your face, even through the monotony of the next few hours, customers shuffling in and out: the diabetics, the candy smugglers, the gifters, and the snifflers, all like clockwork. Your mind keeps wandering back to Diego.

That’s why it catches you off guard, the strange man making a scene with the pharmacist. From what you can gather, he is trying to pass off a bogus prescription for pain meds. The pharmacist is trained to look for this. When you are caught it is best to go quietly, but this guy is being very dramatic about it.

“Fine, I’ll just have to take my business elsewhere!,” he exclaims. Then he turns with a flourish, his long coat flaring out around him. You are watching all this from the other end of the pharmacy. Then he starts walking toward you. The more he comes into focus the more you realize how attractive he is.

He begins lining his pockets with candy and snacks, looking deviously in your direction. He teases you with each item he plans to steal, bringing a finger to his lips to keep you quiet. You struggle to hold back your laughter. He winks and heads out the door with his coat bulging and making crinkling noises. Your manager runs up to the register a few seconds too late. When he asks you if you saw anything you just shrug.

That was a very odd chain of events, you think as you drive home. Your roommate will, of course, be staying at her boyfriend’s place again so you have the apartment to yourself. You order lo mein from your favorite Chinese takeout and play your voicemail as soon as you get home just in case. There are no messages from Diego, but it’s just as well. He probably doesn’t want to sound too eager. You have a few drinks and fall asleep in front of the TV.

———–Meanwhile, at the Hargreeves Mansion———–

“You gotta just do it. Rip it off like a band-aid.” Klaus mimes the action for emphasis.

“You know I’m not good on the phone. Sh-sh-she’ll hear m-m-my stutter. I wish I’d asked her out right then and there.” Diego tilts his head back in frustration.

“Well, man you’re gonna just have to relax. Do you want some weed?”

“No, man. I don’t put that shit in my body.”

“Chamomile tea? Guided meditation? Aromatherapy?” Diego’s face remains skeptical with each suggestion. “Okay, what do you do to relax?”

Diego thinks for a moment. “I hit stuff.”

Klaus grabs a pillow from Diego’s bed and holds it flat against his stomach. “Punch me in the gut.”

“No, man.”

“Come on, tough guy. Show me what you got.” Diego rolls his eyes and hits him square in the middle of the pillow. Klaus staggers back. “Damn, Diego.”

“You ready to call now?”

“Yeah, actually. I think I am. Thanks, man.”

Klaus tosses the pillow and groans. He leaves the room clutching his stomach. “Yeah, don’t mention it.”

————-Back at your apartment—————

The phone wakes you out of a dream. “Hello?”

“Hey, Y/N. This is Diego. We met at the pharmacy yesterday.”

You block the receiver to clear the sleep out of your throat. “Oh, yeah. What’s up? How’s your arm?”

“The arm is…fine. How do you feel about a date…with me?”

You block the receiver again, this time to temper your excitement. “Sure. When were you thinking?”

“Wanna get some coffee on Saturday at 11:00? I know a doughnut place with decent coffee.”

“Griddy’s. Yeah, I know the place. I’ll meet you there.”

“So, it’s a date?”

“It’s a date.”

It fells good to have something official, something to justify your optimism. You go back to bed with sweet dreams. Tomorrow will be Thursday. Only two more days until your date with sexy and mysterious Diego.

For the next few days it’s hard to focus at work. It’s April and all the flowers and bunnies and bright, happy imagery only highlight your good mood. You are restocking all the shelves where that wacko shoplifted a third of the stores peanut butter cups and cheese curls. Suddenly, you feel a presence behind you. It’s him. The wacko. Gone is his long black coat. He wears a colorful sleeveless shirt. He is surprisingly fit with arms tattooed. In his hand he holds one of those chocolate roses from aisle four.

You look at him quizzically. “You’re back.”

“Yep. I forgot something…Y/N.” He says, reading your name tag.

“You forgot to steal that chocolate rose?”

“No. I’ve got cash.” He reaches into his pocket for two wadded up bills. You ring him up for the purchase. He is staring at you. His green eyes sparkle.

“You need a bag?”

“Nope.” You try to hand him the rose. A few seconds pass and he hasn’t moved.

“So what was it you forgot?”

“Sorry, you’re so cute, I lost my train of thought. I came back to see if you’d like to hang out. My name’s Klaus. He leans forward and kisses your hand. "And that’s for you.” He motions to the rose in your hand. You smile and blush at the gesture.

“Yeah, okay. I’d like to…hang out.”

“Saturday…early…Say 11:00?”

“Sure.”

“You like doughnuts?”

“Yeah.”

“Saturday - 11:00 - Griddy’s doughnuts!” Then in a flash, just as before, he is gone.

The bell on the door brings you back to reality. ‘Saturday 11:00 at Griddy’s’ - Why did that sound so familiar? “Oh, fuck!,” you realize aloud. Then you peel the red foil off the chocolate rose, snatching the whole thing off the plastic stem in one giant bite.

That night you can’t sleep. You think of calling one them to cancel, but it is impossible to choose and even if you could, you didn’t get either of their numbers, not even a last name to look them up. You’ll just have to face the music in the morning.

You dress for the best case scenario, wearing your favorite sundress, the blue one with tiny white flowers on it. You put your hair up so you can let it down at some point in the date…assuming there is going to be a date. It’s your secret weapon, guaranteed to kick things up a notch.

When you arrive, your eyes find Diego sitting alone at a table, flagging you down. He gets up to greet you. Klaus walks in the door a split second later. Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, God!

“Y/N. It’s good to see you.” Diego comes near. You watch his expression change as he spots Klaus over your shoulder.

“What are you doing here?” The boys shout simultaneously.

“She’s my date.” Diego confirms.

“Wait, you guys know each other?”

“He’s my brother.” They grumble in unison. Suddenly aware of the scene you are making, you shush them and get them to sit down.

The waitress comes over to your table. “Hi, I’m Agnes, can I get your -”

“Wait, sorry, Agnes.” Diego turns to Klaus. “Is this the girl you were calling Wednesday night?” Klaus is incredulous.

“I’ll just give you folks a few minutes to decide.” Agnes says, walking away.

“Yes, we met at the pharmacy. I went to get first aid supplies for my arm. Tell him, Y/N.”

“That’s right.” You reply awkwardly.

“Wait a minute.” Klaus looks at you. WE met at the pharmacy on…I’m not great at remembering what day it is, but I think it was Wednesday.“

"Yep.” You cringe.

All eyes are on you now. Your cheeks are red with embarrassment.

“You met both of us on the same day.” Diego throws up his hands.

“When did Klaus ask you out?”

“Yes…ter…day - but that’s really not relevant here.” You hate the idea of them fighting. They both look so disappointed. And honestly, you don’t know who you like better, they are both so different. Then a risky thought suddenly pops into your head. Now is no time to be shy, you have two gorgeous boys vying for your company.

You get up, take a deep breath, and let your hair down. “It’s a beautiful day out there, boys! Let’s not waste it.” Klaus and Diego look at each other and after some consideration, stand up and follow you out the door. You hook arms with Klaus on one side and Diego on the other. The three of you walk off into the sunshine and a world of possibilities.

@moorehollandplz @bubblyani @helena-way07 @bi-satanist @dandycandy75 @renegadesheehan @bitch4bagels @zombiedixon89 @zoemassingale @renegadesheehan @yeetskeetbuddy @klaushollandyoung @diegoh4rgreeves @elliethesuperfruitlover @marvelnerd18 @punknatch @siriuslynore @deadlynyghtshayde @vinawyatt @klaus-hargreeves-energy

[bobones]

Some chronically ill crowley headcanons plus other hcs

Crowley definetly has GI issues and that's why we never see him eat with aziraphale and just watches

He eats one food bite and his stomach kills him

Even when he doesnt eat his stomach hates him

Also I'm 100 percent sure his joints hate him and are always causing him pain

I'm specifically thinking his back and hips and ankles

And that's why he walks so weird

Because I have chronic issues with my ankles and my mother constantly points out how funny I walk because of it so yeah that's why crowley does that walk

He is always in pain, like his stomach may be killing him, or his joints, or the light is killing his eyes, but it's always something

I may just be projecting on him at this point but

Also his fingers are crooked like you can not tell me this idiot shifted from a snake into a perfect human body hes so dumb he probably messed up and is too lazy and used to it to fix it

He probably has chronic fatigue and that's why he canonical slept for a few centuries and likes sleeping even though he doesnt need it

He probably uses crutches and or braces on his legs on moderate pain days, on bad days if he does get out of bed he probably uses a wheelchair I'm not sure what else because I'm too stubborn to actually ask a doctor for help johf9u

Also yeah hes probably fought some doctors who told him he was fine and nothing was wrong

Everytime he moves his knee it makes a popping noise and alerts the guards that hes there

He probably sleeps in the most awkward and painful looking positions ever because they relieve most of his joint pain

Memory problems too like Hes constantly trying to remember what day it is, what year, sometimes if it's bad and its what century

He probably suffers from his limbs going numb. Like just randomly his arm goes tingly n numb and he hates it its so freaking annoying. Hates the pins and needles he gets in his legs from it too. Also you cannot tell me he doesnt have a few pinched nerves. Like his face is so weird. He has to have a pinched nerve that makes his smile crooked when he smiles big and that's why he doesnt .

Also I'm laughing because if he has a pinched nerve in his face, that can partially lead to the weird noises he makes. Like. He tries to say something but because of the pinched nerve his mouth wont move the right way and mess up what hes saying sh diyd8

"And that's why I blame the bapsis"

"I keants nazis"

"F U CK "

He just never says anything correctly and has to concentrate ai hard to say things correctly which is hard when concentrating sucks because of the pain

Also I swear to God imagine hes constantly in unimaginable pain but he gets liek... a cat scratch and is crying like he lost a limb his pain tolerance is fu ked

Sometimes his back hurts so bad he cant do anything. No laying, no moving, no breathing, nothing. And then its suddenly gone the next day

Sonetimes he gets sudden stabbing pains and he cant breath deeply or moves suddenly for a few minutes up to an hour until it fades.

Doctors have tried to find out what's wrong, stuck cameras in him, taken his blood, stays, everything but cant find shit about what's wrong with him. Some even think hes faking. Others give him an impossible list of things to avoid.

Tries to walk and slams into a wall because his ankle gave out

Falls down stairs constantly because his ankles are shit.

If he sits forawhile his knees fucking hate him and will NOT move without sharp pain

Random aches in his limbs that keep him from sleeping. It doesnt hurt, it's just there enough to annoy him and keep him up

Has definetly cried from frustration about not being able to go out because of the pain.

Has felt bad about making plans and having to cancel them. Or not being able to go do something he was really looking forward to.

Yeah. definetly hides his pain from people because hes afraid they'll think hes faking or pity him n all that

Okay yeah I'm just projecting a lot hsguxgu I hope this makes sense but yeah

[leonawriter]

Leave A Message After The Tone

Read it on AO3

Fandom: Bungo Stray Dogs

Characters: Chuuya/Dazai

Summary: Chuuya tries to call Dazai after the incident with Shibusawa, only to find that getting through is much harder than it really should be.

...

The first time Chuuya tried to call Dazai after the whole thing with the dragon and the so-called ability user suicides, Dazai didn't pick up.

Then again, Chuuya had just got back home after a job, and by the time he'd got his hands on his phone, he was half drunk (okay, more than half drunk). He'd called the number he could still remember so damn well without even thinking, ready to talk Dazai's head off, even if he did have to deal with the comebacks he'd not be able to come up with decent answers to.

The phone had rung. And kept ringing. Eventually, a voice told him that the call had gone to voicemail. 

Chuuya remembers having dropped his head on his desk, wondering why he'd bothered, and part of his being able to remember so well is that there's a slight bruise that he's going to blame on something somehow having caught him off guard on the job, because it'd be humiliating to admit he'd just done it to himself.

...

The second time Chuuya attempts to call, he's paced across the length of the floor of his living room several times, phone open on Dazai's number, and he's completely sober.

He doesn't know why he's so filled with nerves. He's never exactly needed to psyche himself up to talk to one shitty Mackerel before, after all - what difference is there? There isn't any, right?

His hand doesn't shake, because he isn't anxious, and he isn't afraid of what it might mean if the waste of bandages just ignores him again, after all they'd been through, all he'd done, again-

It's easier when he's drunk and angry. When he's sober, and when they're not face to face, it's harder to keep it up. That's a rather violent way of waking Snow White, he remembers, the words only just caught words through the fading haze of Corruption.

His finger accidentally brushes the Call button, and he swears, because now the phone's ringing, and ringing, and...

It's just going to keep going to voicemail again, the bitter voice in the back of his mind said. 

Chuuya hears a click, a lot of noise - both voices and movement - and Dazai's saying Oops, bad timing!, and then...

Gone, again.

Chuuya sighs, and wonders why he'd expected anything different.

...

The third time Chuuya calls Dazai's number, he's exhausted, and his fingers find the number more by muscle memory than anything, and the call timer says that well over a minute's passed since the call had gone through, and he's just been staring at it like some dumb idiot.

Then again, it's not like Dazai's said anything either. It's enough that he's left wondering, really, if Dazai'd just left the phone on and swanned off somewhere, assuming Chuuya was going to say whatever he needed to into thin air.

He's tempted to just walk away himself. Cancel the call himself. Walk off, go have a glass of wine, go the fuck to bed, because hell knows he needs to sleep even if his sleep's been rudely interrupted with dreams of Dazai not waking up, his hands covered in Dazai's blood instead of his own, from when he'd seen that white coat of his, which Chuuya had no idea where it'd come from, come off. A knife in the back, then, and he knew (from being on the other end of the knife, more than enough times) how fatal that could be.

The familiar-yet-wrong sensation of feeling too big for his skin had faded after a few days, but there was something that felt as though it hadn't abated, something that hadn't yet slotted into place.

Just because Dazai wanted death like most people wanted to fall in love, didn't mean that Chuuya had to be okay with that particular brand of idiocy. It'd pissed him off years ago, and it still pissed him off now.

He groaned, caught between resignation and frustration, unable to move to figure out what he wanted.

"...Chuuya?"

He starts at the quiet voice that doesn't have any of the usual masks on it; just the differences from before that he was starting to see as Dazai's new version of 'normal', a normal that Chuuya couldn't help but still feel angry over. 

It had only taken a complete betrayal of his trust, after all.

"Huh," he says, and wishes his voice didn't sound quite that flat, because-

"Is something wrong, Chuuya?"

Dazai could always tell. 

"I tried calling," he says, figuring that the truth would work best. No use pretending, after all. "Almost thought you'd decided to start ignoring everything again."

Me, is unspoken. Ignoring me.

There's a blank pause, just long enough to start to irritate, and then there's the sound of Dazai tutting, like he's that damn tiger kid who's been bringing in so much trouble.

"Ah, but I was busy," Dazai says, and there's that teasing tone of voice again, more alive than it ever was in the mafia, patronising and playful. "Besides! Chuuya was hardly in any danger, or-"

"What? I've got to be risking my neck for you to actually answer my damn calls now, is that it?" He snaps out, without thinking, because if Dazai's going to talk like that then he's not going to take shit. And then he groans, again, because that's not how the call was supposed to go, not what he'd wanted back when he'd first called, all those days ago. Over a week, now.

"...No," Dazai says, and if Chuuya weren't so off balance himself (and it's always Dazai who does that to him, isn't it) then he'd notice something off about his voice. "The Agency's been busy since Shibusawa, however, and I knew that if it was that important, Chuuya wouldn't have stopped at just one call, but would have been annoying until I picked up."

Something about the way that Dazai said the Agency's been busy since Shibusawa resonated with how the mafia had hardly been having an easy time of things either. Apparently, a fair few idiots had thought that just because most of the mafia had disappeared and the rest were busy, they could take advantage of somehow not being killed by their own abilities and making trouble for themselves. 

None of which he was actually going to outright say - it was one thing to talk, as if they weren't enemies, but another thing to sell out exactly what the mafia was up to for Dazai to pass the information along.

"Just... fuck, Dazai. That happened." He runs a hand through his hair, almost knocking his hat to the floor if he hadn't caught it and wound up staring at it instead. The words are humans not all frames for deeper experiences flit through his mind, and he scowls. Most humans can't shove a fucking building down a dragon's throat. And yet...

"It did." For a moment, Dazai sounds almost serious again, almost like he's reading his damn mind. But the serious tone doesn't last. "And Chuuya should know that I didn't really expect that second attempt at being Snow White's Prince Charming, but who am I to deny a-"

"Sh- shut up! You were the one who-"

It was hard to do more than just splutter and he could feel the way his face was going red, and he could hear Dazai laughing, and the worst thing was, he wasn't sure any longer if he wanted to punch his face in for it, or something else, because Dazai sounded happy, just like he could remember him looking happy while they were waiting for the fog to lift, as though there was no way things could go wrong, and everything was just how he wanted it, Chuuya's presence included.

The kiss had been short, and maybe he could have thought he'd just been lured into it for future blackmail, if it weren't for the slight expression it'd been so easy to convince himself must have been something his imagination had conjured up; a split second of surprise, not even that, but vulnerability, on Dazai's face.

Vulnerable. Dazai. Maybe the world had been ending in more ways than one. Maybe being dead for as long as that had done something to his head.

Dazai's laughter fades away, and they fall back into silence - not a companionable one, but that awkward one that happens when you just don't know what the hell to say to each other.

He puts his hat back on, and looks away from the phone, out of the window and into the Yokohama night. A night that they'd allowed to be possible. 

"We should talk," he says, and what he should say next should be something along the lines of "it's not gonna work", or "don't think this is gonna change anything" - but he'd never just done as he was supposed to, not when it came to Dazai, and not when he was hearing startled noises from the other end of the phone.

"Chuuya, I..."

The sound of Dazai not knowing what to say is like an angelic choir to Chuuya's ears, and he could listen to it every day for the rest of his life. He can just imagine the look on Dazai's face - eyes wide, mouth open, just like some shitty Mackerel that'd been fished out of the river one too many times. He just wishes he could see it in person.

"And next time, either you pick up, or you can call me, got it?"

"Somehow, Chuuya makes that sound like a threat."

Dazai can't see the sharp smile he's wearing, but he'd bet that he can guess it's there anyway. It is a threat - but not one of the ones they're used to trading, where they throw words like knives and knives like knives, because both are the same thing anyway, to people like them, who've been saying next chance you've got, go die in a ditch since they met, but instead...

"What, as if that's ever stopped you before?"

He ends the call.

Prove to me that meant something. Prove it to me, Dazai.

...

He gets the call several days later, in the middle of a job, while he's hanging off the ceiling, and he could swear the bastard knew just how bad his timing was, but at the same time, it was as though the thing that had been still out of place had comfortably settled.

...

AN: In Dazai's defence, he didn't actually mean to leave Chuuya hanging up until then, because he had, in fact, actually been busy, and unable to really answer. And also, just as importantly, Dazai and emotions are not good friends on the best of days, and this requires a fair bit of accepting that yes, emotions are indeed involved, and he has to deal with them.