#they are like super soft and also pathetic when it comes to water but genuinely beautiful

[starsofthestorm]

forestcore moodboard this, blue moodboard that, wheres my band moodboards? wheres my moodboard with a shot from blue devils metamorph in the middle? or bluecoats jagged line? wheres my marimba moodboard?

yeah so i made one. i call it the marimboard.

sources

x | x | x x | x | x x | x | x

[rachelmsterling]

Things I loved about Tasha Suri's The Jasmine Throne...

I just finished reading the book and am having approximately 75 different feelings about it simultaneously, so thought I'd spew them here (what follows is less of an actual review and more a disorganized list of things that made my brain light up and go "cool!!!"). Keeping this as spoiler-free as possible.

The romance between Priya and Malini! They spend so much of the book at cross-purposes, and they certainly aren't always kind to each other--and at times, can even be pretty brutal, but despite that, I spent the whole book rooting for them to be together. And just, really, seeing a sapphic romance that isn't fluffy, where there is sharpness and the characters are allowed to prioritize themselves and the things that are important to them without the narrative condemning them as characters or their relationship is just !!! So good!

Priya's kindness. At the start of the book, her kindness and compassion are so loud and come through so clearly (her treatment of Rukh, her reputation among the other children with rot). That struck me as such a unique character detail. Not like there aren't many kind characters, and kind female characters, in fiction, but I often see characters' kindness (especially in women) portrayed as a weakness, preventing them from making bold or lesser-of-two-evils choices. Or, if they're kind, often that's all there is to them? Their journey can so easily become about the other characters in their life. But this doesn't happen with Priya, because...

Priya's fierceness! Priya isn't just a kind person, she is also willing to do whatever it takes to protect the people she cares about and then, later, for all other Ahiranyi, even those whose methods or politics she disagrees with, and even those who actively fought against and hurt her. Priya is willing to fight when she needs to, willing to kill when she has to, willing to prioritize her people over even her relationship. She may be kind, but she isn't soft, and I love that.

Malini's manipulativeness. Unlike Priya, Malini doesn't have magic powers that help her in a physical fight, so she's learned to use the tools available to her, namely, manipulating people. She does this to keep herself safe and to further her political cause. She also uses whatever she can to survive, and that feels so human. But despite how much she has to use manipulation, making herself seem at times pathetic and at times demure, her true character comes through so clearly. And she never really seems to be able to lie to Priya, even when both characters believe she is.

The anger in the world-building. Between the emperor who wants to burn his sister, a woman married to the regent oppressing her people, and a rebel willing to spill as much blood as it takes to root out the empire's control, there is a lot of brutality in the book. The heroes don't always get to do the nicest things, but the powers they stand in opposition against are oppressive and cruel. And the oppression and cruelty feel only too familiar to our own world. It makes the stakes and the world itself feel very real, not always in ways that are comfortable, but in ways that always pulled a genuine emotional reaction from me.

The yaksa are genuinely creepy. I never would have imagined deities with so much flower imagery could be so disturbing, and yet...I certainly wouldn't want to be on their bad side.

Ashok's character arc. I don't want to say too much since I'm trying not to get into super-spoiler territory, but it's so perfectly crafted, the shifts in his relationship with Priya, the conclusion to his deathless waters journey--it all lands so satisfyingly and makes my writer's brain buzz in the best of ways.

Many deities, no single truth. Priya and Maili discuss their different creation myths in a scene that I absolutely loved, but beyond that, there are different systems of belief here, different gods affecting the world, pushing characters toward their destinies. I enjoyed seeing the ways the different religions interacted throughout the story, and I'm very curious to see more of how the various deities might have similar goals or clash completely to further shape the events of the next two books.

[mavzoon]

JJBA blowjob headcannons

(I’m so thirsty for these men oh god)

This includes Bruno, Abbacchio, Mista, Melone, Jotaro, Risotto, Rohan, Doppio and Polnareff

(Cut for length)

Bruno

Bruno wouldn’t expect you to go down on him but don’t worry! You just have to assure him that you want to do it

This man will be gentle and careful

He would be quite vocal, after all, he has to let you know you’re doing well. 

“That’s it amore, you’re doing such a good job~”

Complimenting Bruno and looking up at him with those lovely eyes is the quickest way to have him blushing.

Bruno is extremely selfless, so he would lose his mind if you take him all the way in.

Once he does let himself relax into the pleasure, you’ll be in for a treat. Bruno is used to being a leader and caring for others and so being on the receiving end of things is the best kind of comfort for him. 

If he sees your throat bulging from his cock, he’s going to be both extremely turned on and concerned. 

He wouldn’t mind being a bit rougher with you as long as it’s something you’re absolutely into.

Bruno wouldn’t really mind where he comes, as long as you’re comfortable with it. That being said, if you let him cum in your mouth, expect him to go down on you because he can’t just let that kind of intimacy be left unrewarded. 

Expect a lot of cuddling and affection afterwards. Need water? Bruno will bring you water. A cleanup towel? Bruno will clean you up with one while whispering how good you were.

Mista

Mista wouldn’t hesitate for even a second in fact, he’d probably be the one to ask for one. You wanna give him a blowjob? He’s gonna be unzipping his pants in less than five seconds. 

He will be absolutely shameless with his noises. Expect everyone in the near vicinity to hear what’s going on.

He would hold onto your hair and maybe tug a bit, but not too much to actually hurt. 

Mista would waste no time relaxing. He’d let himself bask in your warmth the moment your lips touch his cock. 

Mista would be the type of guy to babble his heart out.

“Oh fuck, your mouth feels so good, cara/caro! S-shit.”

He couldn’t help bucking into your mouth if you took him all the way in. 

Your throat bulging from his cock is a definite confidence boost.

Mista would love to come on your face. The sight of your plush lips and cute cheeks covered with his cum is heavenly in his eyes.

Mista would be a smiling mess of happiness and euphoria afterwards.

Abbachio

Abbachio reaction would be mixed. On the other hand, you would look breathtaking taking his cock down your throat, but then again, he couldn’t stop himself from wondering if he deserved to feel your lips around him. 

He would gently hold your head while you take his cock into your mouth. 

It may take him a while to relax but once he does there is no coming back.

Abbachio is addicted.

Your mouth and lips are so soft and oh dear god that tongue! The warmth of your mouth would be like ecstasy to him.

He is in cloud nine once he relaxes into pleasure.

He does try to keep his voice down at first, but it always ends up coming out in the end. 

His dirty talk is either soft or full-on nasty. There is no in-between. 

“Mmm, you feel so warm and good, tesoro… God, what did I do to deserve you?” “Fuck, c’mon, you can take more than that. Be a good girl for me, won’t you, tesoro?”

He’d massage your throat if you took him that deep. The sight would make him moan and buck his hips closer.

Abbacchio would want to be gentle with you at first, but he would be totally down to facefuck you later on when you’ve gotten used to him.

He would love for you to swallow his cum.

Expect a lot of cuddles and kisses afterwards. 

Melone

The kinky melon will be the one to bring it up first.

He will be confident from start to finish.

His hands will be tugging your hair and controlling your pace.

Melone wouldn’t bother trying to stay quiet. To him, it doesn’t matter if people can hear, in fact, he’d like to let others see how well you’re taking him.

His cannot for the love of god shut up and his dirty talk is FILTHY.

“Di Molto! You’re sucking my cock so well! You must’ve had a lot of practice, eh slut?” 

Taking his entire cock in your mouth will only heighten his usually cocky and lecherous behaviour. 

“Fuck, you took it all, huh? You must’ve been really desperate…”

He’d pet your cheek affectionately. 

“My poor, poor little cock hungry slut, the wait must have felt been terrible!”

Melone would use your mouth until you could hardly breathe.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you never feel hungry again!”

Melone doesn’t care where he cums. Seeing you swallow his cum is hot, your face is beautiful when coated with it and your chest looks absolutely delicious when covered with it. 

The dirty talking will not end after he cums.

“Aw, poor baby… Your mouth must feel so lonely now that I’m not filling it.”

Melone is a horny bastard and one blowjob will not be enough.

Jotaro

Joot would approach you first if he wanted a blowjob, being the straightforward person that he is.

As per usual, he would try to remain calm and collected, though he would definitely let out a few moans and grunts here and there (especially when nearing his release)

He would rest his hands on your head and tug your hair in rougher sessions.

Jotaro doesn’t expect you to be able to take his entire cock, but if you do, oh lord. He will be particularly loud. The sight of his cock stretching your throat is just so good.

He would refuse at first to fuck your throat, but don’t be disappointed! He is just concerned that you won’t be able to take it.

His dirty talk would be a minimal mix of curse words most of the time. He can, however, throw in proper dirty talk if he is especially pent up.

“Fuck, just keep doing that, shit…”

He’d prefer to cum in your mouth since it’s the least messy option. 

Jotaro couldn’t help but show his softer side afterwards. 

Risotto

Risotto doesn’t care who brings it up first, but he won’t adamantly press you to give him a blowjob.

He likes the power trip of it but will be cautious because he knows he’s bigger than most. 

He would try to stay quiet during the ordeal but can’t help letting out deep and husky moans and groans when you take him particularly deep.

He would be very gentle and careful at first, not wanting to accidentally hurt you but if you prove you can take him, you’re in for one hell of a ride.

He’d pull your hair and make you take him as deep as possible while muttering praises or degradations depending on his mood.

“Vita mia, your mouth feels so good on my cock! Hng, you were made for this.” 

“Is that all you can take? tsk, pathetic”

He’d tilt your head while you still have his cock in your mouth so you’d look at him with tears in your eyes from the unbelievable weight of his cock in your mouth.

“Surely a slut like you can take more, so come on, prove that all your training hasn’t gone to waste.”

The deep rumble of his voice is bound to drive you on to take him further than you thought possible.

A visible bulge will show once you’ve taken Risotto’s cock all the way in. He will be genuinely surprised if you manage to fit his entire cock in your mouth. He will always be taken aback by the sight. He will be mildly concerned for your wellbeing but it will also fuel the possessive side of him.

He’d love to fuck your mouth, but don’t worry! Most of the time he’d be able to control himself as to not go too roughly. 

Risotto, much line Melone, would love to cum pretty much anywhere. He does have a soft spot for you swallowing his cum as he sees it as deeply intimate (and it has the chance to make him want a second round).

Risotto is the king of aftercare. He WILL bring you water. Though he is a busy man, he will always take time to cuddle you afterwards. 

Rohan

This cocky bastard will probably bring it up first. 

Rohan absolutely loves blowjobs and seeing you on your knees for him is like a delicious treat to his arrogance. 

He would love to draw you with your mouth full of his cock.

He would try to hide most of his more “pathetic” noises and instead opt to dirty talking. 

“Just look at how you’re taking my cock. You love being on your knees for me, eh? Oi, don’t pull away, just keep sucking my cock like a good girl.”

Rohan would either just sit back, relax and have you suck his cock or he’d fuck your face with no mercy.

He’d most likely tug your hair or cross his hands behind his head.

If you take him all the way in, he’d taunt you after moaning desperately. 

“Fuck, you took it all in? If I’d known you wanted my cock in your mouth this badly, we’d have done this sooner!”

Rohan wants to see his cum coat you, be it your face or your chest. However, if he was feeling jealous, he’d want to watch you swallow his cum.

He would become incredibly relaxed afterwards. You should expect a few kisses and praises. 

Doppio

Your sweet little Doppio is going to be on cloud nine. 

He wouldn’t approach you first thinking that it’d be rude, but he will absolutely not turn down a blowjob.

He’s going to be tense with excitement and nervousness as you take his cock out. 

He’s going to let out a string of high pitched yelps when you first take him into your mouth. 

You’re sorely mistaken if you think he’s going to quiet down as time goes on. He’ll be moaning and whimpering from start to finish no matter how many times you go down on him. 

His dirty talk is sweet

“Oh, Gods amore! You’re so good at this. Hng, I love you so much! Sei la mia vita!” (you are my life)

Doppio has no idea where to put his hands, so he’ll most likely just be clutching them together unless you give him a little direction. He also loves to stroke your cheeks lovingly.

Doppio will let you take the lead and would be super shy if you asked him to fuck your throat. He is, however, likely to buck into your mouth when you swirl your tongue. 

He’d most likely come in your mouth because he doesn’t want to mess up your pretty face with his cum.

He’s going to want to cuddle and scatter small kisses all over you afterwards

Polnareff

He would bring it up gently (although he does prefer being the one to go down on you)

Pol is going to be confident from start to finish.

He’ll try to keep quiet enough as to not have you two caught (unless he is in a mood to let the world know how well you’re doing). He will be moaning and occasionally grunting as you go down on him because he wants you to see how good you’re making him feel.

He will be caressing your face and hair through the process.

Polnareff will dirty talk almost constantly. 

“Oh Gods! Your mouth feels so good! Je t’aime de tout mon coeur.” (I love you with all my heart)

He doesn’t expect you to take him in all the way, he’s just happy to have your pretty mouth all over his cock. If you do take his entire cock, he will praise the hell out of you.

“Mmm, you took it all, huh? Such a good girl… You’re doing so well, ma chérie!”

Polnareff tries to be as gentle as possible, but he wouldn’t turn you down if you wanted him to be rougher. 

He doesn’t really care where he ends up coming. He does really enjoy seeing your chest coated with his cum though.

He will pamper you afterwards (and probably return the favour and go down on you). 

[thewistlingbadger]

It's Over.

Summary: Spencer is approached by a handsome stranger while crying at Morgan's wedding. Inspired by the song it's over, isn't it?

CW: emotionally Hurt Spencer Reid, ralvez with post Moreid, angst, betrayal, Spencer has a panic attack, Luke is a good guy, they're both nuerodivergent, hurt/comfort, curse words.

To be honest, he never thought he'd be in this situation. He's at Derek Morgan's wedding, currently pushing his way through the crowd. Derek Morgan: The player of all players, getting married to some random girl. At least it felt random to Spencer. They don't even know each other, He thought. She doesn't love him. She can't love him like I do. The way I have been doing for the past 11 years.

The whole night he'd been trying to hold it all in. This whole entire time he's been trying to hold it all in, to not react. But how do you not react to the love of your life throwing everything you two had away? As though it were nothing? Was it nothing to him? Tears pushed out his eyes, He walked even faster. I gotta get out of here.

Yeah, it's safe to say that this is not at all how he expected the night would go.

He quickly scanned the venue for an area that wasn't heavily populated. After a few minutes, he found a quiet, secluded spot.

He descended to the ground. His fingers fumbled when trying to take off his tie. He threw it away from himself in fury, letting every pent up emotion out.

For once in his life he let the sobs rack through his body. For once he let out every fucking tear imaginable and he did not wipe them away. He let the snot drip down to his chin and his lungs feel like there was no air left on earth.

Spencer Reid was full on ugly crying. It would be a first for everyone, including Luke Alvez.

Luke didn't really know what he was doing there. I guess he was just stunned when Peneople Garcia, the person who hates him the most, asked him to be her plus one to this wedding. He couldn't even remember if he's ever actually been to a wedding before. But he was trying to get on her good side so he had said yes.

The whole night was weird for him. The venue was packed with faces he didn't recognize; And at first chance, Penelope ditched him to go talk to the groom.

At least the food was free and the champagne was expensive right? He started to wander when his ears picked up the sound of sobs. He cautiously followed the sound and and a person with shaggy light brown hair with a long torso was revealed to him.

"Are you okay?" The voice of a man breaking Spencer out of thought. God give me a break. How the fuck was he supposed to lie his way out of this? There's no way in hell he can explain why he's having a meltdown at a wedding.

Luke sat next to the crying person, now getting a better look at them. They were wearing a tuxedo, had white skin, and a sharp jawline. "I'm sorry I didn't mean to...interrupt what you were doing? I was just looking for a way out of the commotion. I don't really know anyone here." Luke stumbled through his sentences awkwardly.

How do you get invited to a wedding of a person you don't know? This encounter increasing in its weirdness, Spencer asked who the man was. "I'm Luke Alvez, Penelope's plus one. I work at the bureau like her."

"Oh of course you are." Spencer murmured without thinking. "What's that supposed to mean?" Great. Now Spencer's got this stranger on defense mode. "Nothing. She always knows how to pick the strong, attractive guys that work at the bureau." Luke thought about the compliment. "Like the groom?" He asked.

This made Spencer think too. How well did he actually know Derek? Did he even know Derek at all? "As of my knowledge, they never dated. But nothing would surprise me when it comes to that man." The bitter tone of the person brought Luke back to the problem at hand and away from his questions about the groom.

Luke desperately tried to ease his way out of the awkwardness. But he was Luke Alvez, so he failed miserably. "It's a nice spot you picked. Outside but not near the valet. It's nice to get the breeze through your hair. It's also not super-" A laugh interrupted his description of the site.

Luke joined in with the soft chuckles. "This has been a strange night to say the least." "Yeah no kidding." Luke said with a smile. "I never thought it would be like this." Spencer admitted, looking up to the night sky. "... what'd ya mean by that?" Luke was looking at the other person.

"I was fine, with the women. Who'd just stroll into his life now and again. I was fine, because I knew, that was just a silly game to him. It was just someone to grind with at the club. Someone to go home with, who he had no intention of seeing again. A 'How many women could I take home in one night?' kinda thing."

The person let out a sigh. "I was even fine with her! Because I knew, she'd be like all the others. Either he'd get bored of her in 3 weeks tops or she would be disappointed that he always had to go and then she'd leave. And after, being with him for over a decade, I just." Spencer hugged his knees. "I just never thought I would loose." Spencer brushed the tears out of eyes. The fuck was he doing? Crying in front of a stranger?

"I'm sorry." Spencer laughed. "I'm not one that tends to loose... I'm not accustomed to it." The man gave a look to Spencer that just made him melt. His composure was gone for the second time that night. Spencer started sobbing and this stranger, this person that wasn't even supposed to be at the wedding, was holding him. He was comforting him.

"I'm so sorry." Luke said softly. "Did....did anyone else know?" "No." Spencer barley managed to croak out. "We were on and off the whole time, off when he was seeing someone else. Most of the time a random girl from the club or some ditzy girl he bumped into on the street. Gay marriage wasn't legal yet we didn't want to be terminated. We didn't want our friends to see us differently." Spencer sobbed. "And now they won't see us at all."

Luke rubbed small circles slowly into their back. "I think the worst part is is that I didn't see it coming. The whole time I thought he was genuine. Then one day he walked into the office with a ring on his finger. That's when I knew it was over." The Luke leaned against him, resting his head against Spencer's and holding him close.

"He didn't even tell me! He didn't even address it. He just asked me if I would be a groomsmen as if we never even happened." His mind was telling him to shut the fuck up. You can't admit that you're gay to a stranger! But his heart was utterly smashed. He needed to vent, even if it was just for this one night.

Eventually, Spencer stopped hyperventilating and all he was left with was puffy red eyes.

"Well," Luke started, "From what you just told me, it sounds like this night has been horrible for you." Spencer gave a pathetic nod. Luke smiled at him in return, telling him it was ok. "No one should feel bad at a wedding, even if it's not there's. It's supposed to a celebration right? Or at least fun. Free food, free booze, cake even! Surrounded by people you love and- and music!"

"I don't drink." Spencer said. "Respectable. Tell you what- how about you and me, we get up and we go back ok? At least to get you a water you must be really dehydrated from all the tears. Did you get to try the cake?" Spencer shook his head.

"Oh man it was really something else. Do you like cake? If you like cake you'll think that the cake they got is fantastic. Let's go grab a slice and if you wanna go home then I can drive you home. You've had quite the eventful night you deserve to go home, only if you want to though I won't force you to obviously. I mean, it would be weird if I forced you to do anything I'm a stranger after all. How's that sound?"

Spencer smiled at the man. He's clearly nuerodivergent, Spencer thought. ADHD, was Spencer's guess. This night was already one he never wanted to remember, so it can't get any worse. So he took the hand of the stranger, introduced himself, and they went back to the wedding, arms linked together. Spencer grabbed a water bottle, Luke grabbed them a slice of cake and without saying goodbye, they went home.

By: Mic

[thewayshedreamed]

Under the Weather

Nessian AU

I really liked this prompt, so thank you to whomever submitted it! Hope y’all enjoy a little soft Nessian this afternoon 💕

Nessian prompt: Nesta is sick and Cassian takes care of her and then Nesta is surprised and Cassian realizes that Nesta hasn’t had ppl take care of her since her mom died ♥️♥️♥️

acotar masterlist

——————————————————————————

Nesta was so sick and tired of being sick and tired. She had made it through the acceptance phase, which was impressive considering it was often the hardest for her. Today made day three, and she was officially in the resentment phase of her illness. She was taking a mental inventory of all the others who had attended the small gathering of friends from her senior thesis class, noting how most of them remained well despite their less than stellar hand hygiene that night. She, on the other hand, was a meticulous hand washer. By her very nature, she wasn’t the type to remain in super close proximity with others’ needlessly, either. How she was the one who fell sick (thanks to Claire) was beyond her. 

So, here she was, a senior at Prythian University and mere months from graduation, sick as a dog and banned from the research lab until she went 48 hours without fever. She tried not to think about that fact too often as to spare herself the mild panic it occasioned. She repeated her current mantra for the umpteenth time that day.

You have plenty of time. You have plenty of time. You have plenty of time. 

The only way she found comfort from the chills and fever-induced cold was on the couch, surrounded by cushions, and wrapped as tightly as possible in her mother’s quilt. At this point she thought herself to be a glorified burrito, but unfortunately, she was far more infectious.

She was finally starting to doze as she heard a polite, yet firm, rapping on her apartment door. Her eyes flew open as she scanned her brain frantically for several things: the day of the week, the time of day, and who, based on that information, could possibly be here to disrupt her rest.

Just before she decided to close her eyes again and ignore them, she heard a deep, friendly voice through the door. They weren’t speaking to her directly, but the voice was no less familiar.

“Hey, man. Yeah, doing good. You too!”

Even though she didn’t hear the other party’s end of the conversation, she knew Cassian was engaging in pleasant small talk with one of her neighbors. It could have been any one of them; he seemed to have more rapport with most of them than she managed after years of renting her place. He ran into any one of them at random on Wednesday afternoons when he met Nesta to work on their thesis together.

She launched herself from the couch, wincing at the aches that wracked through her body in the process. Dehydration had her vision blurring; dark spots working their way into her visual field. She steadied herself on the arm of the couch, cursing herself for forgetting to cancel this week’s thesis session with him.

He knocked again, this time a little louder. She glared at the door as if he could see her, hobbling toward him with her arms wrapped tightly around her body as she moved. She cracked the door open enough to peak out at him, and she felt a sudden rush of guilt at wasting his time. He was standing there with a small smile on his face, thumbs hooked through the bottom of his backpack straps.

“Hi,” she croaked.

His smile faltered immediately, his face morphing into an expression of genuine concern.

“Nesta? Are you okay?” He pressed gently on the door to get a better look at her, but he made no attempt to cross the threshold without her invitation.

“So sick. Got it from Claire. I forgot to tell you.” Her voice was raspy from disuse, and she only had the energy for short statements or sentence fragments.

He didn’t look the least bIt offended at her forgetfulness as he scanned her for signs of the severity of her symptoms.

“Don’t mention it. I’m fine. Who’s here looking after you? Ask them if they need me to run and pick up anything.”

The widespread aching applied to her facial features as well, as proven by the sensations she felt as her face slid into a look of confusion.

“It’s just me, Cassian. You know I live alone.”

He scratched the back of his neck, showing his discomfort.

“Yeah, I know. I just figured...” he trailed off, a new thought flashing across his handsome face. “Can I come in? I’ll get you settled before I head home. It’s the least I could do since I’m already here.”

Nesta didn’t have it in her to respond vocally. She simply walked away, door ajar, and made her way back to her couch. Had she been feeling even a fraction better, she may have refused him, but she knew Cassian well enough to know his stubbornness rivaled her own.

She flopped down into the cushions, pulling her pillow close to her chest. She reached blindly down her body in search of her quilt as shivers ran through her, letting out a small whimper when she couldn’t reach them. She grimaced at such an outward expression of vulnerability in front of another person.

A quiet chuckle sounded from above her as she felt her quilt being pulled over her legs and body.

“Oh, she’s pitiful, I see.” Mirth danced through each and every word.

She opened one eye, glaring at him through the side of it. He laughed openly at that as he lifted her feet to tuck the quilt beneath him. Only her mother had ever done that for her before today. She felt a pang of longing rush through her chest, but she took a deep breath and pushed it away.

“I’m going to do a quick inventory of supplies. Where’s your medicine cabinet?”

Her eyes were already squeezed shut again, sleep sinking its claws into her consciousness.

“Bathroom,” she muttered into her pillow, before sleep took her once more.

——————————————————————————

She awoke to the jingling of keys in her lock, followed by heavy footsteps and the unmistakable crinkling of plastic bags. Her body tensed, forgetting for a few seconds who was entering her apartment. A deep voice was muttering under its breath, cursing the loudness of the bags as he deposited things on the coffee table.

Lifting her head from her pillow, she glanced over to see Cassian’s massive form hunched over the coffee table as he attempted to quietly unload his haul. He noticed her attention within seconds and greeted her with a broad, friendly smile. Somehow, Nesta didn’t think it was the fever warming her cheeks this time.

“Hey sweetheart,” he whispered, totally unaffected by the glare she shot at him for the nickname. He raised his voice slightly, comparable to a murmur, and she felt herself flush all over again as he kneeled next to her. “I hope you don’t mind, but I took your house key off the hook when I went out. I didn’t want to leave it unlocked while I was at the pharmacy, and I didn’t have the heart to wake you.”

She nodded, letting him know she couldn’t give a shit less in her current state. He continued.

“You had some ibuprofen in your cabinet, but that’s about it. I got you some cold & flu meds to help with your other symptoms. It’s acetaminophen-based, so the pharmacist said you can alternate ibuprofen with it to help out with the aches and stuff if you need to.” His eyes scanned her face, making sure he had her attention. She witnessed a faint blush across his tan cheeks, her heart warming at the care he’d taken in selecting medicine for her.

“I also picked up some tissues and cough drops. Oh, and some menthol rub in case you get congested while you sleep. Have you been drinking much water?”

It took her several seconds to realize he was asking a question and that her participation was necessary. All she could offer him was a pathetic shake of her head.

“I figured as much. I got some of this hydration drink to help you rehydrate. I know it’s technically for kids, but I made do with the options I had,” he explained.

“Cassian. You didn’t have to do that,” she started. She watched as something similar to hurt flashed across his features, and she realized her tone hadn’t expressed a shred of gratitude to her lab partner. He was going far beyond the call of duty as her thesis co-investigator, and she didn’t want him to think she wasn’t appreciative.

“That came out wrong. Sorry, I’m all fuzzy. Thank you. You’re a lifesaver,” she supplied.

A small smile graced his face again. “It’s not a problem, Nes. Really,” he replied, as he rested his large hand on her upper arm. His eyes widened suddenly, locking onto her own in alarm.

“You’re burning up,” he stated as he pulled the blanket away from her.

“What are you doing?” she demanded, feeling assaulted by the chill that gripped her.

“Your fever feels higher than I thought.” He rested the back of his hand on her forehead. Unsatisfied, he brushed the baby hair away from her face, leaned forward, and pressed his plush lips to the spot his hand had just vacated.

She flinched, not out of offense, but because it was something her mother used to do anytime her, Elain, or Feyre was sick. She claimed it was easiest to tell if the girls were running a fever that way, the lips being far more sensitive than her hands. Nesta wasn’t aware that others grew up doing the same.

Realizing what he’d done and the flinch that immediately followed, Cassian bolted upright with a guilty expression.

“I’m sorry,” he lamented, “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. It’s just my mom... she used to check my fever like that when I was little. I wasn’t thinking.” He started to move away from her, but her small hand gripped his forearm. His hazel eyes locked on hers, and she watched as he noticed the tears streaming down her face.

“Nes,” he whispered, his brows pulled together in worry.

“No. It’s okay,” she assured him. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable. It’s just that no one’s done that since... since my mom passed away. Any of this, really.” She gestured to the medicines and other items on her table. “I usually just fend for myself. I think I got a little overwhelmed is all. It’s actually really, really nice to be cared for. Thank you.”

She originally thought her small whimper was as much vulnerability as she was willing to show today. She’d been very wrong, apparently. She blamed it on her fever.

The tension in his shoulders practically melted away from him, his face relaxing back into the friend she knew. “I’m glad you think so,” he said, as he stood to go find her thermometer. He returned with it in hand, looking at her with raised brows as if to say “open.”

She obliged, her eyes crossing as she attempted to read the digital number on the tiny screen. He huffed a laugh at her expense, but he was interrupted by the loud beeping of the thermometer.

“102 degrees. Sorry, Nes, but the blanket has to come off for a little bit. You’re basically cooking in there.”

He pushed a glass of bland electrolytes into her hand, urging her to drink. She took a few small sips and set it softly on the coffee table. She flopped back onto her pillow, pulling her arms tightly around the quilt and hoping to absorb any remaining warmth from it that she could.

Cassian pulled the blanket away from her body but chose wisely not to fight her grip from around it.

“I’ll make a deal with you,” he began, as he eased himself to a sitting position on the carpet. “You get some more rest while those meds kick in, and we’ll reassess the fever when you wake up. If it breaks, I’ll give all quilt privileges back.”

He leaned back on the couch cushion near her body, his shoulder blades almost grazing her own as she snuggled into her pillow. She was facing away from him and toward the back of the couch to shield her face from any and all light.

“How am I supposed to get rest when I’m freezing?” she whined pitifully. She couldn’t bring herself to care that she sounded much like a petulant toddler.

At her words, he leaned farther back into the cushion so that their shoulder blades were flush. She felt his laugh rumble through him as a result of their proximity, but more importantly, she felt his body heat seeping into her.

“Does this help at all?” he asked.

“Mhm,” she mumbled, “but you can’t just sit there forever.”

“I can do what I want, Archeron,” he teased. “Plus, I’m here to work on thesis. I’ve been working on a formula that will populate all of our data entry into their respective graphs without us having to do it manually. I was going to blow your mind with it today, but I’ll settle for fine tuning until you’re coherent next week.” She could hear the smile in his voice and imagined his laptop perched on his long, jean-clad legs as he worked.

Contentment settled through her bones, and she slipped into oblivion once again.

——————————————————————————

Nesta rejoined the land of the living several hours later, she assumed, feeling almost entirely human again. She was still clutching the blanket, thanking her lucky stars for the deep breaths she was able to take in the absence of congestion. Even more noteworthy was the refreshing scent that surrounded her— something like smoky sandalwood and fresh air.

She eased her eyes open, feeling completely mortified at the shift in her position. At some point during her nap, she had rolled toward Cassian and was now wrapped around his shoulders. Her knees were tucked close to his right arm, her torso against his broad back, and most embarrassingly, her face was tucked tightly into the side of his left arm.

She didn’t dare move, hoping she could pretend to be asleep long enough to shift away from him. Delayed by her foggy state, she became aware of a comforting weight resting against her waist. Her eyes moved over his shoulder, glancing down her body. They fell on Cassian’s dozing face, head rested back and angled toward her, as if he’d fallen asleep while checking on her.

Nesta was incredibly aware of their closeness, especially upon realizing his face was less than a foot away from her own. She studied his face, softened by sleep, and let a small grin spread across her face. Cassian had cared for her all afternoon, working on their joint project, and deserved every ounce of sleep he was capturing at the moment. At least, that’s how she justified staying tucked close, afraid to disturb him.

To her horror, his eyes fluttered open, catching her in the act of admiration. Rather than looking off-put or creeped out, he offered her a small smile in return and angled his head even more toward her.

“Feel better?” he asked, his voice rough from sleep.

“Like a new person, actually.”

He learned forward, repeating his action from earlier in the afternoon. Warmth coursed through her at the feeling of his lips against her temple, noting that they lingered just a bit longer than necessary before he lifted his head.

“I think your fever broke, Nes,” he supplied, twisting his body to rest his arm across her waist as he spoke.

“Good news all around, I guess,” she murmured, her smile still in its rightful place.

He cleared his throat, looking almost sheepish now. It was the most adorable thing Nesta had ever seen.

“I got you some soup earlier. I could heat that up if you want—“ He made to stand as he spoke, but she interrupted by grabbing his forearm.

“Wait. Stay?” She was just as surprised as he was when the words left her. “I don’t think I’m hungry yet.”

His face softened, eyes scanning her for any apprehension at all. Finding none, he smiled down at her in response.

“Of course.”

Before he could settle back onto the carpet fully, she tugged his forearm in a silent request to join her on the couch. He eased behind her, wrapping his arm tightly around her waist to tug her closer to his body. She relaxed back into him as he nuzzled his nose into her messy braid, just behind her ear.

She couldn’t remember a time where she’d been so comfortable, and she felt another rush of gratitude at being cared for in a way she hadn’t been since her mother died. The feeling wasn’t something she could properly articulate, but it meant the world to her. It almost felt like... love.

Cassian huffed a laugh into her hair, mirth returning to his tone. “I was wondering if I’d get a turn to be big spoon,” he teased. She should have known he wasn’t going to let her pretend she hadn’t wrapped herself around him only a handful of minutes ago.

She chuckled in return, finding that she wasn’t embarrassed by his teasing as she’d originally thought possible.

“I guess it’s only fair,” she joked, as she settled into him just a little more.

He gripped her a fraction tighter, his nose brushing against the sensitive skin behind her ear. She groaned as his arm left her waist, but she stopped it quickly when she realized what he was doing. He was covering her up again, true to his word, and tucking her in tightly. His arm assumed its original position, and a contented sigh left her of its own accord.

“Thank you, again, Cassian. For everything,” she whispered.

His only response was a tight squeeze around her middle before they both eased back into a deep, peaceful sleep.

——————————————————————————

If you’d like to be tagged in any of my fics, please send me an ask, a message, leave a comment, or reblog! I’ll be happy to add you!

[And, if I’ve left you off my list unintentionally, please don’t hesitate to remind me! No offense taken!]

Tags (masterlist + Nessian):

@polireader // @justgiu12 // @hizqueen4life // @sis-it-dont-add-up // @b00kworm // @bookstantrash // @gisellefigue08 // @maastrash // @superspiritfestival // @girl-who-reads-the-books // @sayosdreams​// @ladywitchling​ // @keshavomit​ // @over300books​ // @sleeping-and-books​ // @welcometothespeaknowworldtour​ // @drielecarla​ // @perseusannabeth​ // @my-fan-side​

[villainousshakespeare]

Putting it Back Together Chapter 4

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

Adam/OFC

Rated M (will probably change to E) - Grief, angst, eventual smut, mention of characters dead before the start of the story, blood, slow burn, touch starved

Summary: Since the death of his beloved Eve, Adam had been barely living, only alive due to a promise he made to her. Then one night he meets his new neighbor, a woman dealing with grief of her own. Will they help each other heal or drive each other crazy?

@yespolkadotkitty @just-the-hiddles @hopelessromanticspoonie @wine-and-whines @arch-venus25 @caffiend-queen @devilish–doll @enchantedbyhiddles @hiddlesholic @i-do-not-fangirl-i-fanwoman @kellatron55 @ladyoftheteaandblood @latent-thoughts @gorgeous1974 @maryxglz @myoxisbroken @nuggsmum @nildespirandum @pedeka @redfoxwritesstuff @sinfully-lustful-darling @vodka-and-some-sass @wrathkitty @kingtwhiddleston @wolfsmom1 @poetic-fiasco @shiningloki @dangertoozmanykids101 @bookworm-christina @thecutestlittlebunbunfairy @amwolowicz @delightfulheartdream @frostbitten-written @what-a-flammable-heart @tom-hlover @nonsensicalobsessions @myraiswack @loki-yoursaviourishere

This had not been part of his plan, Adam thought as he switched on a lamp and cringed at the disaster that was his livingroom. Instruments and musical equipment were strewn all over the place, wires and amps just waiting to trip the unwary or uncoordinated. Which, by everything he had observed so far, definitely included his companion.

"Sorry for the mess," he mumbled, clearing a path to the sofa with his foot.

"Don't be," Lilly smiled, looking around with avid interest. "It's exactly how I envisioned it!"

"Great," Adam rolled his eyes.

"Not that I've been envisioning it," she blurted out, face turning scarlet. "I just meant... well, if I thought about it at all, which I only did because I could hear you so clearly over here... and what with all the clattering around..."

"You expected it to be a wreck," he finished for her as he swept a collection of books off of the ancient sofa and onto the floor.

"It's cozy," she said lamely.

"If you say so. Sorry I don't have anything to offer you except water to drink. I don't entertain. Ever."

"Water would be perfect," she smiled encouragingly at him, as though he were a toddler displaying acceptable manners in company.

Which, he supposed, was about right. Fuck, he wasn't even sure if the water here was potable. He had never drank any of it, of course. He only used the kitchen sink to wash the cordial glasses from which he drank his blood. Fetching a slightly larger cup that he had found in the cupboard when he moved in and giving it a quick clean, Adam let the water run for a few minutes to help clear out the pipes. It didn't look too contaminated; he hoped he was not about to poison her.

"Here," he walked back to the livingroom and thrust the glass into her hand. "No ice, freezer doesn't work."

"I'd say you should call the super, but I guess that doesn't work if you're the owner."

"It doesn't really bother me," he replied with a shrug. "I'll fix it myself eventually."

"After all, you don't have guests," she said impishly.

"Right."

"Perfectly drinkable," she judged after taking a sip from the cup.

"Good. Now, let me see if I can find that tape player."

That was what she was doing here, after all. Why his invitation had popped out he could not fathom, much less how he had ended up bringing her back here that very night. At least this way he could limit the time he spent with her, he supposed. It was already two in the morning; not long until the sun began to approach the horizon and he would be forced to show her the door whether he wanted to or not.

Glancing over to where she lounged on his sofa, he was not so sure what the decision would be on that one. Her legs, stretched out on the cushion, were quite shapely despite her petite stature, and the red top just invited one to run their hands over it to feel the silky material and the lush curves underneath. And then, of course, there was her neck, long and white and begging to be bitten.

Adam swallowed and turned away. He  could not help but think of the last time he had had a mortal in his home, though it had not been this one. Ian, his supplier of instruments and all around procurer had been almost a friend, if a zombie could ever be thought so. He was sweet and harmless, and Adam had a genuine affection for him in a distant sort of way. It had been a horrid shock to walk into the room one night after sun set and see the young man sitting lifeless on the couch, blood drained from his body and drying on the face of Ava, Eve's feral sister.

Adam had always hated Ava, and that night had been the last straw. It was also the beginning of the end to life as he knew it. Within hours he had tossed her out on her skinny ass, disposed of poor Ian's body, and was on a flight with Eve to Tangier, where she was destined to drink tainted blood and die. All because Ava had sucked Ian dry. All the more reason to hate his late wife's bitch of a sister.

Still, looking at Lilly stretching herself out, he could understand a little better how Ian had come to die. Ava had whined to them about how cute he had been, how she couldn't resist. At the time he had scorned such a thing as a pathetic lack of self control. He still did to a large extent, but at last he knew the urge. Not just the urge to feed, an impulse they all shared, but an urge to take a human in such an intimate embrace. When Eve was alive it would never have occurred to him, he had had her for such connections, he needed no one else. Now though, alone and untouched for years, he longed to feel Lilly's smooth skin against his mouth, to hear her gasp and sigh as he ran his lips over her neck.

Not that he would ever drain her, of course. He was not such a monster. He would not even drink from her. To do so would expose his true nature, and that would mean relocating again, as well as putting her life in danger.

No, he would do her this one favor, and then he would return to seclusion. He would make sure that he left through the basement when absolutely necessary so that she did not hear him, would otherwise stay inside so that their paths would cease to cross. It would be better for them both.

"Here it is," he mumbled with satisfaction. "Give me a moment to set it up."

"Take your time," she said happily.

Glancing over, Adam saw that she had given up lounging and was now coiling up all of guitar cables into neat rounds. He had to admit that she did a good job - they were neither too tight so as to damage the wires nor too loose so as to unravel as soon as she walked away. With a shrug of his shoulders he allowed her to continue. The cables could use sorting, and he was certainly not inclined to the task.

"Sorry," she said with a blush as she caught him staring. "I warned you, I fidget. I seem to always need something to do with my hands."

He could think of several things she could do to keep her hands busy, he thought. God, what was wrong with him? Was he really so touch starved?

"Where's the tape?" he finally asked

She leapt up from where she had been sitting, breasts bouncing as she did, and almost reverently handed him the box containing her Grandmother's recordings. Adam turned back around, discreetly adjusting himself as he did. He carefully placed the spool in his machine, grateful for something to occupy him until he got himself under control.

After a short series of clicks and static while the tape began to unreel, a scratchy blare of a trumpet began to waft through the air, soon joined by a piano and soft brushes on drums. Adam was taken back to a different era. A time when he had circulated more among the general population of humans. Women wore dresses and hats, men suits and ties, and a sophisticated style permeated the music scene. He had forgotten how much he enjoyed that era, the end of the 40s and beginning of the 50s. Between his excitement at the recent technological advances and his nostalgia for the old days of the height of classical composition, Adam sometimes forgot the joy and sorrow, the feeling that jazz could evoke.

When the voice, low, smooth, and heavy with emotion, slid in like honey, he looked instinctively to Lilly. Her mouth was open, shaped with a hint of smile at the corners. Her eyes blinked quickly, struggling he was sure to hold back tears. This would be the first time, he supposed, that he had heard her Grandmother sing since she had died. Even without the connection to the woman, Adam himself was moved by the song. He was struck by how strong Lilly was being, listening and holding back her tears.

Moving one step towards her, Adam opened his arms. With a catch of indrawn breath Lilly took two steps of her own and for the second time buried her face against his chest. It was so different thought, he thought as his arms came around her. That first night on the roof, she had been some annoying zombie woman, pushing herself in where she was not wanted. Her blubbering all over him had been almost violent in the way she sobbed and clutched at him. Now, she simply melted against him, and he gently stroked her back as he rested his chin on the top of her head.

The song ended and another began, this one he remembered. It had been a huge hit, still was sung every so often, covered by lesser vocalists. Lilly's Grandmother was not one of those. She was a true artist.

"There's a somebody I'm longing to see, I hope that he turns out to be Someone to watch over me..."

As the music continued, Adam found himself swaying to it, bringing Lilly along with him. She was stiff at first in his arms when he began to dance with her, but when she realized what he was doing she relaxed and allowed herself to feel the rhythm. She would never be a natural dancer, and she was clearly still in her head, but there was something sweet about that. She tried so hard at everything. Tried to be strong, tried to keep busy, tried to learn, tried to be happy.

When was the last time he had been happy, Adam wondered. When was the last time he had even tried? Not since Eve, certainly. Before that, he was unsure. There were moments, of course, even at the end with her when he had been so. He loved her with an enduring passion. But he had been going through the motions for decades, shutting himself off from the world around him. Ian had been practically his only connection to it.

Pulling back a bit, he spun Lilly about and half smiled at her. It felt strange to smile even that much. Muscles he had not used in forever only half remembered how to work. He had always had a brooding nature, but of late it had become harsh even for him.

They kept dancing until the tape ended, adjusting to the tempo and style of each song. It felt so good to lose himself in someone else's music for a change. To hold someone, to connect with someone. She was right, what she had said earlier that night. Music required no discussion, no messy dialogue. You could just feel it, let it move through you. And where there was someone else there, someone who even if not a musician herself clearly had an ear and more to the point a soul for it, to share it with it could be a profound experience.

When at last the song ended, Adam and Lilly's eyes met and something deeper than a smile passed between them. It was sad and joyful and required no words. They both collapsed on the sofa, Adam pulling her into the crook of his arm as he sat sprawled and tired. Lilly's legs were curled under her and she rested her head against his chest. He could feel the rise and fall of breathing, fast at first from the exertion of dancing, begin to slow. It was some time later that he realized she had fallen asleep on him.

How strange, he thought, that she should be so comfortable with him that she could so easily drift off. He had perfected the art of scaring people off, and yet this tiny woman had tenaciously refused to be run off. She seemed to trust him, even, had shared something deeply personal with him.

The sun would be up soon. He should wake her, he knew. Yet, looking at how peaceful she looked he could not bring himself to do so. Gently, Adam slid out from beneath her, lowering her head down onto a convenient throw pillow. He foraged about until he found a blanket on an armchair and draped it over her, tucking her in. Lilly sighed and burrowed deeper into the sofa, a light sigh escaping her lips.

Taking one last look, he made sure the curtains were drawn, turned off the light, and headed to his bedroom. Things would go back to normal tomorrow; they had too. But let them both sleep peacefully today.

***

Lilly scrunched her eyes and stretched a bit, trying to wriggle away from a hard lump she could feel under her left side. What had she left on her bed that was poking into her with such insistency. Feeling under her blindly, she pulled out something long and wooden. A drumstick? How on earth had that ended up in her bed? And why did the mattress feel like velvet?

As she emerged from the fog of sleep, Lilly came to the sudden realization that she was not, in fact, in her own bed.

Sitting up, she felt a smile cross her face that was lit from within. Last night had been a good night. She had reconnected with some old friends, and maybe even made a new one. Twenty-four hours ago Lilly would have thought the possibility of a friendship with Adam a fantasy at best, delusion more likely. And yet he had approached her, he had accepted her invitation to the club, and he had issued an invitation of his own that led her back to his apartment.

Oh, not that Lilly was crazy enough to think that he meant anything more by it than friendship. She was not the type of woman that brooding musicians stayed up composing love songs for. She was the type who hounded them with her insistent chirping until they finally relented and occasionally allowed them inside, like the mangy cat you gave milk to once who would forever after haunted your door. She was fine with that, she told herself. He had been a friend when she needed one, lending her an arm to dance with and a shoulder to lean on when she needed it most.

He had also, it seemed from the blanket draped around her, tucked her in. Her grin widened. Despite how hard he tried to cultivate his grumpy persona, Adam had could not hide the sweet kindness in his nature from her any longer. She had felt it as he had held her last night, and later when they danced.

That had been something she would not soon forget. Lilly was too tense as a rule to be graceful, but Adam was such a strong leader that she had stopped worrying about his poor toes and let herself simply enjoy. His body had been a continuation of the music, feeling it to the tips of his fingers and the ends of his hair it seemed. All loose and yet firm where his hand lay on her back, he had guided her flawlessly, swaying to the sound.

All in all, it had been a far better send off for her grandmother than the stuffy funeral planned by her father. The old woman would have enjoyed last night, Lilly knew, and she would have enjoyed Adam. Beyond the shared love of music, his sharp tongue and kind heart would have been just to her liking.

Not wanting to send her mind down fruitless paths, Lilly stood up to get a better look at the room. It really was exactly how she had imagined it, if not more so. Every flat surface from the floor to the mismatched furniture was covered in instruments, sound equipment, mechanisms for which she had no names, and the odd notebook or staff paper. Three of the walls were covered in sound proofing foam, the third in an odd collection of portraits. Looking at them, Lilly found scientists, authors, artists, philosophers, all sorts of creative and intellectual types. She made a game of naming them all, only coming up blank on two (although three more were guesses), and trying to decipher meaning from who was present and who absent. Somewhere in there, she was sure, was the secret to his mind's inner working.

Part way through her perusal, Lilly realized that nature was calling. Assuming the layout to his home was similar to hers, she made her way as quietly as she could up the creaky staircase. Once at the top, she was greeted with a long hallway, three doors on each side.

The first door she tried opened into a room dominated by a large drum kit. Scattered about around it were a music store's worth of other percussive instruments. Some day, she thought, she would like to come back and play in here, to see if she could bang out some of her inner frustration. It must be as good as therapy in some ways!

As she opened the second door an avalanche of what she thought were rugs or tapestries of some sort threatened to come spilling out and bury her. She quickly leaned all of her weight against it to close it shut again, hoping she hadn't disturbed anything expensive and moved on to the third door.

Lilly forgot how to breath as she opened it. There, spread out on a large bed covered in pillows, lay Adam, completely naked.

Lilly knew she needed to quickly exit, closing the door behind her, but she could not seem to make her limbs obey her. If Michelangelo had wanted a model for his David, he could have used him, she thought. Adam lay on his stomach, face buried in a pillow. While this luckily or unfortunately (she could not decide) preserved some of his modesty, there was still quite a bit on display to appreciate.

Broad, well muscled shoulders and back gleamed pale, contrasting against the dark of his hair where it fell. His waist segued gorgeously into a pair of slender hips and - dear lord, there should be a law! - a perfectly firm and round ass that Lilly would have given her right hand to squeeze. Long, lean legs seemed to go on for days, and actually fell off the bed before reaching his gigantic feet. A mischievous part of Lilly felt the urge to reach out and tickle them, and she actively clasped her hands behind her back to keep from acting on this awful impulse.

Had she really tried to convince herself, just moments before, that she was perfectly happy to just be his friend? If so, she had been deluding herself. Oh, she would take what she could get, but Lilly knew in that moment that she would go to her grave ruined for anyone else.

As she stood staring unabashedly at him, Adam mumbled something incomprehensible into the pillow. Lilly started to make for the door, but his head turned towards her and she realized he was still asleep. Cautiously, she lingered a moment longer, watching as he reached out to the other side of the bed, as though searching for something not there.

"Eve," he said, clearly this time. "Baby, I miss you."

Someone had reached into Lilly's chest and crushed her heart between their fist.

She had no idea why it had never occurred to her that he might have a lover, or even a wife. He was beyond gorgeous, brilliantly talented, and obviously had money. Anyone would want him. Why should she assume that just because there was no woman here at this moment he was single?

And yet, clearly, she had. The raw emotion in his voice, the need as he called the woman's name had been all it took to destroy her heart.

Following the direction he was facing, Lilly realized that in this room of dirty laundry and bedding, one picture stood out like a beacon. Placed on the table next to the bed where it could clearly be seen was a photo of Adam and a woman of ethereal beauty. She was not "pretty" in a conventional way, but had something far beyond that. Almost as tall as he was, and perhaps even paler, she was stunning in a cream colored suite with yellow gold hair. Adam had his arms twined around her center, and looked at her with such love in his eyes that it was unmistakable.

Forgetting her need for the bathroom, Lilly bolted out of the room and down the stairs. She needed to get out of here. Away from the perfect man who she was afraid she had already fallen for and the perfect woman who was clearly everything Lilly was not. Including it now became clear, the one that Adam wanted.

[aliaslua]

Everything I wanted

Michelangelo (TMNT 2016) x Fem!reader 

Summary:  A deep friendship flourishes between the reader and Michelangelo. Despite your attempts to disregard what your heart desires, the affection between you is impossible to ignore. One day, for no apparent reason, Mike starts treating you coldly. Could this be the end of a relationship that never even started?

Category: Romantic, some angst but mainly pure fluff. 

WARNINGS: None c:

A/N: So I've been feeling super romantic lately, couldn't help but to write this fluff piece to calm my heart! Hope you like it! Also, English is not my first language, so constructive criticism is always welcome. Thank you for reading!

You can also read it on AO3 <3

How long?

You sighed deeply and continued to stir the sauce pan.

How long has it been since you realized you were in love? The memories of that heavy rainy day when Michelangelo had knocked on the balcony window were still vivid, you remember it as if it were yesterday, even though it was almost a year ago. At that time you weren't yet part of the group, effectively. You had met those vigilante - the turtles - only two weeks ago, and despite having made maybe two or three visits to the lair, their attitude towards you was still very reserved, very cautious. It made sense... They didn't know you and had a life that did not allow suspicious people around, it was the most rational thing to do. Even though you understand the point of view, it still brought you a little discomfort to be treated so coldly.

You sighed again. They all did treated you like an outside at that time... Everyone but him. In that night that now inhabited your mind, Mike had sought refuge in your apartment. The rain was too heavy to come home, could he stay overnight? Well, of course! So you brought towels and a thick blanket, you increased the fire in the fireplace and made him hot chocolate. He was so happy, so grateful. He was like that, after all: humorous, cheerful, positive.

So you spent the night together... Talking, cooking, playing cards and waiting the end of the torrential rain that insisted on falling. That had been the first time you had been up all night but the wait was not at all tedious, Mikey was so funny and so joyful that the hours passed like minutes and only when the first rays of the sun appeared on the horizon did you realized how long it had taken. 

"Damn, is it day time already?." He had said "Thanks for the company, Babycakes. Best date ever." He winked and chuckled. 

You shared with him a genuine smile and even after he left you continued to smile for the rest of the week.

That had been a year ago. After that, Michelangelo started to neglected his patrol shifts to visit you. You ordered pizza, watched series, played board games. He loved to watch you doing your hair and once or twice he had let you gave him a manicure session, his company was the highlight of your day and you guys started to see each other at least three times every week. It didn't take long for his brothers to find out and Leonardo gave him a scolding that seemed monstrous by Michelangelo's reaction when he told you - Well, guess you lost the chance you had to make a good  impression. At least Mike liked you - he did, a lot - but indiscipline had resulted in punishment and now he could only visit you when he was off duty.

It was during that period that you realized you were in love. The realization came through you like thunder. You were waiting for him to come in through the window, but he didn't show up. You remembered that he wouldn't come - the punishment also involved not leaving the lair for a month, only for missions - and you realized the terrible sadness of knowing that you wouldn't see him. Suddenly, his absence felt like a hole in your chest and the pain was more than spiritual: you could feel the unbearable contraction of your own heart. In the weeks that followed you tried to rationalize: "He's my friend and I like him. Of course I miss him! That's absolutely normal. Nothing wrong or unusual. It doesn't mean I am in love" Maybe, maybe. If you don't say it, if you don't accept it, if you deny it until the end, then it won't be true. It is not love.

But it was. It undeniably was. When that month finaly passed and you saw his shadow crackle on your balcony again the vivid heat that stung your chest screamed that he was the man you loved. You still remembered the feeling of being in his arms again. His scent, his skin, his laughter, his soft voice that whispered in your ear how he had missed you, you still remembered the thrill you felt in your body when he popped a kiss on your ear.

From then on things had gone downhill. Your denial transformed into a snowball that grew to a point that was impossible to ignore. You started to visited him at the Lair once a week and you still had weekly visits in your apartment, you had your own internal jokes and non-verbal codes. The hugs became longer and longer and letting go seemed irrational, while everything about him felt right: his smile, his arms, the way he scratched his neck when he needed to think, the way he tucked your hair back behind your ear , the teasing, the flirting ... Everything was perfect, it was suffocating, it was too much.

The kitchen alarm woke you out of your trance. You drained the noodle water. Today was wednesday and Michelangelo had promised to visit, but canceled at the last minute. Recently things have been... weird. One day you had arrived at the Lair and you felt a tension that hung in the air, that kind that remains after an interrupted fight. Mike started to be awkward, embarrassed, shy. This suspicious posture caught you off guard and suddenly it seemed like you didn't even know each other. He had stopped calling you by petnames, he didn't give you hugs anymore and the messages were so rare that sometimes they didn't even come. You didn't understand what had happened. What had you done? It was impossible to know. But canceling today's meeting had been the last straw and the message was clear to you. It had ended before it even started.

A deep sigh made you swallow the knot in your throat and with a forkful of your dinner, you held back your tears. Maybe it wasn't meant to be. You were too different. How could it be? He was the hero of the city and you couldn't be more ordinary. A large sip of wine warmed your body. This time, a single tear ran uncontrolled down your cheek. You would never get over him. You would never stop missing him. You would be forever haunted by the cruel doubt of not knowing where it had gone wron-

A soft knock on your balcony window made you jump in fright. You immediately recognized the noise, how could you forget? That had been a harbinger of your happiness for the past year. Mikey.

In a hurry, you wiped away the single tear with the back of your hand. When you arrived in the living room, he had already entered. There was a giant space between you. Normally you would run to hug him but it all seemed so inappropriate now. Your heart was beating so fast that you could feel it in your throat. You looked at him and it seemed that you weren't the only one who had been crying.

"Y/N I ..." He took a deep breath. He looked different. Perhaps older, matured by sadness. His eyes no longer had the sparkle that had made you fallen in love with him. "I'm sorry to come at this hour. I ... I ..."

A deafening silence filled the room.

"I can't stay like this anymore." He finally said, in a sigh "I can't, it's impossible. I can't eat, I can't drink ... I can't think of anything... I have no motivation to do anything I ... I can't live anymore with all of this in the chest. I ... I need to hear you reject me. "

"What?"  Was all you could say, astonished.

"It's all I am asking for. Please reject me. Tell me already that I am a monster, that I took advantage of your trust and friendship and that if you knew it that would came to this you would never have been so kind. Please ..." This time you had no doubts, he was crying. "Please, just tell me! End all my hopes, because I can't think of anything else. I-I can't live in peace until you finally tell me the obvious. For God sake. Tell me that you don't love me back. So I can finaly get over this stupid dream and move on!"

"What." You said pathetically, for the second time in a roll.

He crossed the room with determination. He approached you with the same delicacy and affection that you thought had disappeared and with the same care he kindly held you face.

"I'm in love with you. I am in love with you since that first day when you gave me a blanket and made me hot chocolate, when we played cards and talked about basketball. You are a sight inked on my mind and since I met you I can't think of anything else." He closed his eyes bitterly "If everything was different ... I-If I were different, I would do anything to be everything you needed. But I know ... I-I know I'm not... I am not the man you want and more than that I know that I’m not the man you deserve... But I can’t spend another minute pretending I don’t dream about you every day, because honestly, I’m going crazy. Just say it. Say that this is impossible and that I am the last person in the world that you would like to be- "

When your lips touched, it was as if an electric current was running through your body. There he was, Mike, your Mike, back in your arms, asking you to do the impossible. There was nothing to be said - You could only show him. His eyes widened with the unexpected advance, but with the same speed he returned the kiss, deepening it. His lips were everything you had imagined, warm and soft and it was almost impossible to contain your moan when he dropped his hands to your waist and pulled you closer. Your body was hot but it was no longer because of the wine, the repressed desire turned to caresses and your bodies seemed to scream "finally, oh god, finally!"

The pause for breathing was followed by two panting bodies. Leaning on his arms, a stunning view of his blue eyes was the only thing that interested you.

"I love you, Michelangelo. "You said, almost whispering." I love you, I love you, I love you. "

He smiled for the first time since arriving at your apartment, you saw clearly when his eyes started to shine again. You joined together again in a long, hot, lingering kiss. Lost in the heat between your legs, the cold in your belly and the joy in your heart, you could only think of how everything was perfect.

You sat on the couch, you on his lap. The night was still young and silence was enough to describe the joy you shared in that embrace. Finally in his arms, you laid your head on his shoulder while he played with your hair. Staying there, with him, was everything you wanted, for the rest of your life.

"I will make you the happiest woman in the world." He said while sniffing your hair.

"I already am." You said, after kissing his neck "You already did."

[danganronpa-21]

Naegiri Week Day 2 - Work

Looks like I spoiled all of you yesterday by posting in the afternoon! As you can see, we’re back to more “regular” Koto posting times. Fear not, though, as my piece for Work is finally here! This time around, I have no warnings to issue before you start reading the text. It should be pretty safe. I hope the story is to your liking!

_______________________

Makoto was at the computer again.

 Should that have surprised her? He’d been there every day for a week. He migrated to it in the way that a moth might journey towards a flame; it entranced him in a way that others could not comprehend. Well… perhaps the moth metaphor wasn’t the best way of putting it. Any idiot would be able to see that his fixation on the system had been born of desperation, rather than admiration of its beauty. After all, how could he grow to admire a healing project that become corrupt, swallowed by the very despair it was meant to fight against? His heart was far too gentle to ever be drawn in by something like that, and Kyoko supposed that was why she worried. Too many hours subjecting himself to all of that suffering wouldn’t be good for his kind soul. The fact that he scarcely ever seemed to leave it behind would be just as bad for his body, too.

 “Makoto.” Her hand found its way to his shoulder without thinking, squeezing tightly as if that would somehow reassure him that she was there. Everyone knew they should have been more worried that he’d gotten to the point where he needed that, but with the program going haywire and students losing entire consciousnesses… well, the mental health of the Super High School Level Hope had to be put on the backburner. That was what the others told her, anyway. She, on the other hand, struggled to believe it.

 Her friend seemed to respond only slightly, glancing back at her. Though she couldn’t see his face fully, she noticed the dark circles and half-lidded eyes right away. He looked so tired that she feared he might suddenly drop at any second. “Yeah? You need something from me, Kiri?”

 Kyoko’s brows furrowed, but she couldn’t be bothered to change them back to a more neutral position. Makoto wouldn’t listen to that. She doubted that he would listen to any change in expression, even if she glared and scowled. At this point, he was a man possessed. “This is your eighth day managing the Hope Restoration Program.”

 He blinked sleepily at her, reaching up to rub one of his eyes without a hint of irony. “What about it?”

 “You were also up managing it until four o’clock in the morning last night. Togami-kun told me you had very clear intent to continue working on it, and would have if he hadn’t stopped you. He also informed me that this was not the first night this week that he caught you managing the program into the late hours of the morning.” She hated having to be stern with him. It always made her feel like she came off as thinking he was inferior to her in some way, but it was more about using status to get him to take a break. Sweet as a peach, that boy was, but he failed to listen when it came to taking care of himself. This wasn’t the first Kyoko resorted to pulling rank to get him to do as he needed. “You need some time away from the computer. This is getting out of hand.”

 Makoto could do little more than grin weakly at her. “I appreciate your concern, Kirigiri-san, but I’m okay. Really!” The yawn he suppressed did little to convince her. “I honestly feel like… like I’m at my best when I’m here working.”

 “Yes, well, being consumed by rampant anxiety about what will happen to Class 77 at any moment that you’re not around would be the reason for that.”

 You’d think Kyoko had kicked him with the way his expression deflated, tilting his chin down like a puppy who had just finished being scolded for chewing an armchair. Hints of rouge spread across his cheeks at the reprimanding. She supposed she could have felt guilty, watching him slump in his chair like that. Heaven knew that she probably should have, but she couldn’t justify that pit in her stomach when she was already so worried about him. Tough love would hopefully be the reality check he desperately needed. Makoto certainly had the tendency to be stubborn when he set his mind to something, but did he really intend for this to be the battle he picked?

 Folding her arms, Kyoko let out a sigh. “You know I am right, do you not?”

 He didn’t meet her eyes; his blinking growing rapid for a few seconds. Did she perhaps cut too deep with that comment about his anxiety? She suddenly felt the urge to snatch every word back out of the air. It felt like she’d just picked the wrong option in a dating simulator game and lost relationship points. If she hadn’t been raised to be perfectly stoic, perhaps she would have been able to reach out to him. Instead, though, she could only stand as still as she could manage; her gaze fixed itself on him intently.

 “I do...” Her heart broke over how slurred the words sounded. Two simple words, and he could barely keep them apart. The tension his shoulders had lost transferred to her own with ease. Something about this behaviour was very much not right, and the feeling of it squirmed in Kyoko’s belly like a ball of worms. “I’m just… is just… I’m…”

 “Naegi-kun?”

 It surprised her, how soft her voice sounded. It had been ages since she’d had to speak to anyone that softly, much less him. When push came to shove, he was usually the one lifting her spirits. Not the other way around!

 Without thinking, she crept closer to him, leaning over slightly to try and lift his head to look at his face. She had barely even reached her hand out to place it upon his chin when he tilted his head up for her, staring at her with pathetically sleepy eyes. When he tried to speak, all that came out was a pathetic whine.

  “Kirigiri-san…”

 “I have never seen you this pale before. I know you have not been sleeping recently, but what about eating and drinking? If you are lacking in sleep and in blood sugar, then I think we have lots of cause to be concerned.” She blinked quietly at him, waiting for an answer. “Well?”

 “Um… I had some berries, recently. I think.” He was practically a ragdoll in Kyoko’s hand, his neck feeling almost like it would let him fall limp if she didn’t keep her hand where it was. “One of the older recruits brought them for me.”

 “What kind?”

 “Blackberries and blueberries.”

 Ugh. Of course they brought him a bowl of berries that didn’t serve to elevate the blood glucose levels by more than a hair. As sweet as it was that they were looking out for him, she couldn’t help but be annoyed that they hadn’t made better nutritional choices. Admittedly, some of that irritation did come from the fact that she knew she probably should have been the one making him sandwiches or something… but that was beside the point. He’d been too long without proper elevation in his blood sugar, and his use of the word ��recently’ told her all she needed to know. She found herself shaking her head in frustration.

 “Do you remember when you had them?”

 He blinked slowly. When he got to be this way, she supposed he kind of reminded her of a sloth. All slow movements and droopy eyes. Come to think of it, she actually quite liked sloths. They were cute, just like sleepy Makoto would be, if he weren’t on the verge of collapse. The more girlish, romantic part of her wanted to scoop him up in her arms and carry him off to bed as if he were a cuddly pet. But that would be unprofessional in a workplace environment.

 “Um…” He looked down at his hands for a moment, as if he were prepared to start counting on his fingers. He never was all that good at math. “No, I don’t… don’t know.”

 Could one involuntarily roll their eyes? If they couldn’t, Kyoko felt uncertain of how she would explain her response to his answer, then. Shame crept into her being. Realistically, as his boss and best friend, she should have been doing a better job of looking out for him. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t known that he would be at the computer all day, every day for the next little while. She had seen all of the signs of his fixation, and just hadn’t known how to stop it. Seeing where that fixation brought him only made the horrid sense of dread pooling in her belly worse.

 “Alright,” she gently released his face, “We need to get you out of here. You have spent enough time in front of the computer as of late and I’m genuinely worried that you are going to collapse. What you need now is food, water, and a good sleep.”

 A frown etched itself into Makoto’s expression, making the already exhausted boy look borderline pitiful. He was practically     sulking. “Kirigiri-san… I don’t want to… to… to leave them.”

 Tenderly, she reached over and grabbed hold of his arm to try and help him to his feet. “Nor should you have to. I will see to it that someone takes your place here monitoring Class 77.” Though seeing him in such a state hurt, she pushed what little smile her iron mask could manage. He said to her once that her smile gave him strength, and at this point, she figured he needed all of the strength she could give him. “You have done excellent work so far, Naegi-kun, but I need you to rest. Perhaps we can have Togami-kun take over from here. You trust him, don’t you?”

 He nodded. “I do… you promise… things will be okay?”

 “Of course, Naegi-kun. You know that Togami-kun and I share your ideals just as much as anyone else. We want to see these students survive and succeed as well. We would never want to do anything that would hurt them, nor you.” She nudged him slightly. “Now, really. We need to get some food in your system sooner rather than later.”

 He nodded again, the beginnings of a grin cracking through his tired face. He didn’t appear stable otherwise, but she imagined she should be allowed to count that twinge of hope as a victory. Now, if they could just overcome the trouble of the fact that his body was absolutely trembling from lack of energy, that would be great. The tremors were so strong that she almost worried that he might start to make her shake too.

 “I’m going to help you to your feet, okay?”

 “Okay.”

 ‘On the count of three’, Kyoko told herself. For most people, having health this bad would be cause for concern, but for Makoto it was all that much worse. Not only had he poorly taken care of himself, he somehow thought it was a good idea to neglect his health when he was prone to fainting. Whether it was extreme psychological or physical distress, Kyoko had seen him faint faster than Byakuya could reject “commoner food”. She witnessed it only a few times, and each and every time it got more uncomfortable to watch. Every time it happened, she found her heart rate increased to the heaviest levels it could maintain. Holding onto Makoto now, she prayed silently that he wouldn’t faint.

 One.

 Two.

 Three.

 Warily, she took hold of his other elbow and began to lift him from his seat. Though it would benefit her to check her surroundings as they moved, she refused to take her eyes off him. As far as she was concerned, his expression needed to be surveyed at all times. Any twist or twinge could alert her to his potential collapse. She couldn’t afford to let the situation fall outside of her control — she liked her control, thank you very much. For his sake, she tried to keep her cool. It was a bit of effort to ensure that anxiety didn’t force her finger tips to dig into him as she lifted him up, but she coped well enough. 

 Judging by the look on his face, they appeared to be making decent progress. For the most part his gaze directed itself towards his own body. He watched himself with as much intensity as his sleepy eyes could manage; he fixated on every shake and slight hesitation. Was he as worried as she was about completely falling apart? He was rising to his feet with as much grace as he could muster, only stopping to cringe when he stood at full height. His jaw clenched almost immediately. Kyoko’s heart skipped a beat.

Unable to control her worries, she leaned close to get a better look at him. He would certainly be able to feel her breath on his skin from this distance. “Is something wrong?” 

His skin paled rapidly, dragging itself to a hue that didn’t even appear human. Had she held less self-control, she would have scooped him up and carried him off to bed right then and there.

 “You’re losing your pallor, Naegi-kun.”

 He tried to wave her off despite his obvious distress, his body swaying slightly. “I’m just dizzy, that’s all. Just… dizzy.”

 As much as she wanted to believe that he would be fine, his eyes looked like they were about two seconds away from rolling back into his head. His feet were already starting to wobble off-course, and if that were to happen, the rest of his body would surely follow suit.

 “Are you sure?” Kyoko suddenly realized that she had a huge lump in her throat. “You have yet to see any spots? Your stomach is settled?”

 If the world functioned according to her preferences, Makoto would have answered right away. If things went according to her plans, he’d tell her that he felt fine, and had simply been overcome by a twinge of vertigo. In her ideal world, this is how things would be. It would not involve the ominously vague groan he released instead, with one of his hands reaching up to hold his head.

 Shaking him was the last thing he needed, but it was all she could think to do. “Hey. Naegi-kun, come on. Stay with me,” as his head began to hang once more, she tilted her head in a futile attempt to get a better look at his face, “Are you going to faint?”

 “Y-Yeah…”

 The universe could squeeze only a few more blinks out of him until he finally fell limp like a ramen noodle. Even with the advantage of holding his elbows, Kyoko still had to rush to catch Makoto before he hit the floor. That cheeky luck of his had been very close to running its course, too, for it tried to pull him to fall to the right. If she let him fall that way, he would smash his head into the desk and all of the computer equipment — and then they’d have a concussion to worry about, as well as his lack of sleep and poor nutrition. Catching him in time honestly felt like a miracle, her arms making quick release of his elbows to swoop under his arms and keep him from tumbling over like a deflated toy. Thankfully, her grandfather’s martial arts training made her skilled at moving quickly; they made the rush to grab him swift. Not elegant by any means — she nearly punched him in the chest as opposed to sticking her arm under his own — but it was doable. It did take her a minute to adjust to the weight of an extra person in her care, but she took it in stride. With a heave of her shoulders, she wiggled to stand him a bit more upright, so most of his weight leaned on her shoulder.

 “Please, Naegi-kun… Take better care of yourself,” she whispered, “If not for your sake, then… please do it for mine.”

_______________________

Waking up with no idea where he was or how he got there was the kind of thing that sent Makoto into a panic the second it happened. A year had passed since the killing game, yet he still startled awake in a feverish panic if he woke up with even a moment of forgetfulness. He’d immediately sit upright in bed, gaze tracing the room for some sign that he was still in the world he remembered. The rooms at Future Foundations’ headquarters tended to be so barren that there was never truly much to ground himself with. Perhaps a calendar flipped to the correct date and time, or a special trinket from a specific pocket of aided citizens. Nothing more than that, which usually made it difficult to figure out where one was. When this happened, panic would settle into Makoto’s bones within a matter of minutes; his heart beating wildly as he fought off the urge to dash around the room. Simply sitting there and trying to convince himself that he felt like a normal human being felt like far too much of a hassle to do, yet it was where he found himself. Groggy, disoriented, and light-headed, trying to figure out what happened. Where was he?

 His tired eyelids allowed him to blink once. Twice. Part of him wanted to be surprised by the fact that he still couldn’t see anything, but the heaviness of sleep just made things so damn blurry. Future Foundation rooms were already so arid, but their rooms on Jabberwock Island were somehow worse. Everything about it just screamed generic island room, or as Makoto saw it currently: generic island-flavoured blobs. He reached up to rub at his eyes, doing his best to ignore the spinning feeling that refused to ease into nothingness. Exhaustion had such a grip on him that even this barely helped. Somehow, everything still looked and felt unreal. Had the next occurrence taken place only thirty seconds later, he might have laid back down and decided that this was all a dream. But it clearly hadn’t been, for the knock on the door was completely off-cue.

 Thump, thump, thump.

 Plain, spiritless, to the point. Yep, anyone who knew her would recognize Kyoko’s knock within an instant. She always did have this formal way of rapping on a door. He used to tease her in their early days of working together, insisting that it was a ��boss knock”. Unfortunately, she never found it as funny as he did.

 “Naegi-kun? Are you awake in there?” Her tone came out so much softer than he expected to hear. Most of the time she spoke just loud enough to be audible, and clear enough so no adversary could detect emotion through it. In some ways, it still maintained this aspect of her character, but… he did remark it was a little outside of the realm of normal Kyoko things. Was she actually worried about waking him up?

 When he opened his mouth to answer, the words got caught half-way up his throat. “Yeah, I’m awake,” god, he could barely believe that strained voice belonged to him, “I think.”

 Kyoko let out a slight snort on the other side of the door; it made a smile tug at the corners of Makoto’s mouth. She almost never showed it to anyone, but she had an adorable laugh. That little snort was the extent of what she’d do in public, yet he adored hearing it all the same. “Well, if you’ll allow me in, I have something that might make you feel better.”

 Though he knew she couldn’t see him, he nodded to the door anyway. “By all means.”

 There was a split second of pause before the doorknob twisted, and then she nudged her way in with her foot. When the door swung open to reveal Kyoko, she fortunately looked the same as Makoto remembered her — tall, slim, long lavender hair tied out of the way, striking purple eyes and kissable pink lips. Gulp. Maybe not the time to think about kissing. He directed his attention instead to the brown cafeteria tray she held in her hands. He couldn’t see much on it apart from a tall glass of water, but the aroma promised him something with… chicken? Had she brought him cream stew? Something like that would hit the spot right about now. In all of his confusion, he’d barely had the time to process the painful emptiness of his belly. 

 “You seem to have woken up just in time,” she sounded half-amused as she strode into the room, but struggled to replicate the sentiment through emoting, “Your shichuu would have gotten cold otherwise, and I’m sure you know microwaved shichuu is nowhere near as good as fresh.”

He mustered a laugh. Her shichuu comment was something he’d told her once during his many infamous rambles. As corny as it was, the soup wasn’t the only thing that warmed his heart. The fact that she remembered something as silly as that worked wonders, too. “You’re the best, Kirigiri-san. Thanks so much.”

 Her shoulders quirked, her mouth twitching downwards ever so slightly. “Think nothing of it. In fact, consider it an apology.”

 By no intention of his own, his eyebrows squished together. A pursing of his lips followed suit. “An apology? What for?

 The detective let out a sigh, taking a seat in the rather unremarkable chair positioned at the edge of his bed. She slid the tray onto her lap almost teasingly, or perhaps it wasn’t so much teasing as taunting. His stomach let out a loud growl at the sight of it, causing him to clutch it in embarrassment. If Kyoko noticed, she didn’t utter a word. 

 “Do you remember what happened before you woke up here?”

 Makoto shook his head, wincing when that made the spinning worse. Note to self: don’t do that.

 “Well, in summary, you worked yourself to the brink of exhaustion and passed out. I carried you here.”

 Heat rose in his cheeks. God, he hoped she hadn’t carried him bridal-style. Oh, what if the other foundation members saw?! His temperature elevated suddenly. If anyone else saw her do that, he would never live it down! They already teased him for being wrapped around Kyoko’s finger. He’d even earned himself an inappropriate workplace nickname because of it, as well as the rumour that the two of them were taking a little too much pleasure in each other’s company outside of office hours.

 She appeared to notice the rising colour in his skin. “You needn’t make that face. Nobody saw apart from Togami-kun.”

 A groan tore its way through his throat; his hands rushing to clutch his head in exasperation. “You say that like it’s not bad. He’s going to taunt me about that for weeks.” 

The lavender-haired woman shrugged, her gaze not lifting from the bowl of soup in her lap. “He already tried it with me. Kept asking me if I was taking my boyfriend somewhere for a nap.”

 Though Makoto would have actually liked for that to have been true, he still found himself sighing just a bit. “I really hope that he’s gotten it all out of his system, then…”

 “We can only hope,” she continued to refuse to meet his face, “Getting away from that, though… there is something that I wanted to ask you.”

 “Oh?”

 That bowl of soup seemed to be getting more eye contact from his crush than he was. She was staring into it like a reflective romcom protagonist at a low moment. “Why?”

 What a clear question. He couldn’t help but shake his head again. Leave it to her to be as cryptic as possible. Sometimes, he wondered if she enjoyed being needlessly unusual, or if it was just a special talent. Still, he tried not to let his frustration show. “What do you mean by that, Kirigiri-san?”

 She poked at one of the vegetables with the spoon; it bobbed up and back down. “I want to understand why you were so fixated on the program,” a crease began to form between her brows, making it look vaguely like the soup had wronged her somehow, “There have been a variant of different people monitoring the Neo World Program participants, yet none of them took to it the way you did.”

 Thinking made his head ache. Not that much thinking had been done since he’d come to. An angrier part of him wanted to reach out and pry the soup from Kyoko’s hands just so the room would stop spinning so much, and he could actually consider her question. But that would be rude, and Makoto was not a rude man, so he just sat there. 

 “Well?”

 “I don’t know.”

 Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her pressing her lips together in a thin line. “I think you do.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he replied almost instantly.

 “Then you can’t have your soup.”                

 His arms folded across his chest; his lower lip jutting out. “You already haven’t given me my shichuu.”

 “Will you talk if I give it to you?”

 “Yes.”

  She lifted the tray into Makoto’s lap, allowing him to take in the full scent. It smelled amazing – someone else definitely had to have made this for him. As much as he adored his boss and thought of her like she painted the night sky, her cooking was the worst he’d ever had. One could usually confirm whether or not it was her cooking by lack of stench alone, so the pleasant aroma wafting into his nose meant that it would be safe to eat. “Then here’s your soup.”

 “Can I have my spoon?”

 She let out a small grumble and placed the spoon on the tray, tapping her foot impatiently. “There. Now eat.”

 For a moment he considered giving her a cheeky answer, but quickly decided against it. When her patience had worn thin, she didn’t tend to take so well to teasing. Deliberately pushing her buttons would only serve to get him into much more trouble. So rather than giving it any more, he dug into the delectable dish in front of him. He’d be the first to admit that his consumption of the dish ended up being a little sloppy, but he could barely help himself. More than a few times the liquid threatened to dribble down his chin, and he’d be forced to stop it from dripping into his lap. If Kyoko had any sort of opinion on this, she neglected to share it. She simply sat there and watched him eat. Man, with her watching him like that, it was like being a suspect she intended to interrogate. The air had grown a little too tense for his liking, especially with the only sound being his slurping and chewing.

 “Are you going to sit there and watch me the whole time?”

He hadn’t meant for the question to sound harsh, but she sure seemed to take it that way, retorting: “Are you ever going to start talking?”

 He bit his lip, tensity beginning to build in his shoulders. The affection he held for her was something he knew to be real, yet when she spoke to him like that, he couldn’t help but wonder if she even liked him at all. Her bluntness could be a lot. “If you wanted me to start talking, you could have just asked.”

 She scoffed and rolled her eyes.

 “What’s gotten into you?” He complained, startling even himself. “Why are you being so harsh about this? You were acting all sweet when you came in here, and now you’re grumbly. Did I do something?”

 Her frown deepened. “Yes, you did.”

 “What did I do, then?”

 “You worried me.” She answered curtly, the tone coming out so sharp that even she jerked herself back in surprise. Makoto opened his mouth to make an attempt at saying something, but shut himself up just as quickly when he saw blood rush in Kyoko’s cheeks. A flustered Kyoko was almost always a Kyoko with more to say. “You and I have known each other for several years, and I have yet to see you work yourself in a manner this dangerous. You have had a complete disregard for your health these past few weeks, and quite frankly, it’s frightening me.”

 He swallowed thickly and lowered his spoon toward the bowl. He’d barely noticed, but it was already half-full. “I’m… sorry. I never meant to scare you.”

 Her arms folded across her chest, bitterness dripping from her voice. “Then what were you trying to do?”

  “Help,” he choked, “The students in the program, I mean. I’m sorry, Kirigiri-san… I know I’ve given you nothing but trouble, but I just… I had to help them.”

 “I wouldn’t say that you gave me nothing but trouble-”

 He shook his head frantically. “No, it’s alright Kirigiri-san. I know I’ve been trouble these past few weeks, and I’m sorry about that. I just haven’t felt anything like myself lately. Ever since Monokuma showed up in the program, and everything got corrupted… I’ve been desperate to keep an eye on things. I feel like if I leave the students alone, they’ll…”

 She nodded gently, her scowl finally starting to ease. He wondered if she would give him her hand if he asked. Touch happened to be an aspect of connection that she struggled with, but she knew how much it reinvigorated him. Maybe he could get her to crack, just this once. “I know,” she whispered, “I know.”

 “We’ve lost so many of them already. I can’t stand the thought of losing more,” he willed himself not to cry, his words tripping over the lump in his throat, “Every time I’m away from the program, I can’t stop thinking about them. We know how that feels, and it’s our responsibility to stop it.”

 “We’re doing everything we can, Naegi-kun, I promise you.”

 “I want to be doing more, Kirigiri-san. I want to be giving them everything I have, because if the shoe was on the other foot, I know they would be doing the same for me.”

She shut her eyes softly. “You don’t want them to suffer like we did.”

 “Exactly,” he sighed, “Exactly.”

 “I understand your reasoning. Really, I do.” She rested her hand on his wrist without him even having to ask. His heart fluttered at the sensation of her gloved hands on his skin. “However, no good can come from working ourselves to the point of collapse. The lives of the students within that program are irreplaceable, yes, but so is yours. What would happen to everyone here if we lost you? What would I do?”

Oh. He… had not considered that.

 Guilty silence ate him within seconds. It would be simple to say that they could carry on in his absence with Kyoko as their valiant leader, he knew that would not be the case. When they lost their hope, he was the one they turned to for guidance and encouragement. His ideals were the ones that shaped their whole project; nobody would be there without him. If he were to keel over and die without another word, the team would be devastated. His friends would be devastated. “I guess I didn’t think about that.”

 “I’d suggest you start, then. We all want to have you around for the foreseeable future.” A slight smile carved its way into her face as she leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of his head. “You’ve been working so hard to give everyone this hope… I think you deserve to be around to enjoy some of it for yourself, too.”

 Makoto tried desperately not to blush. “I guess you’re right,” he murmured, finally finding the strength to smile, “I’ve got to take care of myself to share in that hope, too.”

[animetrashlord-007]

LTAS;; The Confession

Word Count;; 1.4k

Genre;; Fluff!

Pairing;; Hinata x Kageyama

Side Pairing;; Oikawa x Iwaizumi, Matsukawa x Hanamaki

Summary;;

Kageyama and Hinata decide to break away from the group and go on their highly anticipated date.

Published;; 03.24.19

Notes;; The End!

My Masterlist

Lemme Take A Selfie Masterlist

   “So, Tobio… what brings you out here?”

   Hinata played with the hem of his shirt as he walked beside Kageyama, the two wandering the streets of Tokyo without a clear destination in mind. The wind ruffled his hair as he glanced over at the other male, a soft blush on his cheeks as he admired Kageyama for the umpteenth time. After leaving the hotel, they hadn’t spoken aside from meaningless small talk but now even that conversation had died. While he didn’t mind the silence, Hinata was nervous at the same time.

   “Just shut up and keep up with me.”

   Hinata frowned, quickening his pace to match the setter’s. They weaved through the streets. Kageyama was searching for something, his eyes scoping out every establishment he passed. After about ten minutes, his eyes brightened. Grabbing Hinata’s wrist, he dragged him down the street, pushing through the growing crowd until they stopped in front of a restaurant. Muttering ‘perfect’ under his breath, the setter pushed his companion inside, following close on his heels.

   The restaurant was bustling. People were seated at all the tables and booths, as well as the bar. It was trendy and upscale but had a down-to-earth vibe and friendly atmosphere. Everyone seemed to be smiling, happiness oozing off both the customers and staff. Soft music played in the background but was drowned out by the many ongoing conversations. Upon seeing the two enter, a perky server jogged over, waving two menus around and grinning from ear to ear.

   “We’re full… unless you don’t mind using the outdoor seating,” his tone was dripping in sweetness and Kageyama felt sick just hearing it. Without waiting for their response, he began to lead them outside.

   “That’s exactly what we want to do,” the setter muttered.

   “Swell!”

   Once seated, the server disappeared for less than a minute before returning with drinks and complimentary toast. He waited, tapping his foot, expectations high and patience running thin. Time was money, after all, and he had other guests. With a sigh, he asked, “Not ready yet?”

   Before Kageyama had time to reply, a scowl already growing in full-force across his features, Hinata chimed in, “We’ll need more time, thanks!”

   He scoffed, “Whatever. My regulars need me anyway.”

   With him gone, Kageyama had time to settle down into his thoughts and reflect, but mainly he had time to become even more irritated at the server’s comments. What kind of service was that? His expression got darker by the second, as did the atmosphere. The few other guests nearby sent wary looks over to the table, murmuring amongst themselves and frowning. One even went as far as calling a server over and asking for a takeout box.

   “What the hell was that? What kind of hipster establishment is this?”

   “It’s okay! Don’t worry about it,” Hinata tried to laugh it off, his nerves getting the best of him. “So… why did you come all the way out here, Tobio?”

   After a brief moment of continued rumbling and then a heavy pause, Kageyama replied, “After your lousy confession, I figured you’d screw it up again so I took it upon myself to plan a better one.”

   “Lousy? It wasn’t that bad!”

   “It was pathetic and you know it. You should be happy that I’m taking pity on you and dating you.”

   “How cute. I’ll assume you’re ready to order if you’re able to have a little chit-chat instead of perusing our wonderful little menu,” the server was back, his eyes sharp as he glared at the two.

   “Seriously, what crawled up your ars-”

   “We’ll take two of whatever you specialise in, surprise us, thanks!” Hinata blurted out, shoving the menus into the server’s hands and shooing him away. Once he was out of sight, he kicked Kageyama under the table to regain his attention. With reddened cheeks and a fire in his eyes, he snapped, “Don’t pity me!”

   Kageyama’s eyes softened and his frown ebbed away as he gazed at his partner, a tinge of guilt building in his gut. The conversation once again fell silent as they waited for their food. Neither would maintain eye contact. It was awkward to say the least, and definitely the worst date he could imagine. Wanting to improve the mood, Kageyama racked his brain for topics to talk about. Nothing came to mind so he settled on what he had come to Tokyo for in the first place.

   “I don’t… pity you. I respect you. I respect your determination. You never give up. It’s admirable. I’m not dating you out of pity… I really do li-”

   “Two house specials! Super fresh, super hot, super steamy for two super lovers! Extra delicious and tangy tonight, lovebirds! Enjoy!” The server cheered as he dropped off the food, garnering the attention of the nearby guests. They ooh’d and ahh’d at the two, sending them small, cute smiles and thumbs up. The server was grinning once again from ear to ear. After giving them a round of applause and an impromptu cheer, he skipped over to the next table.

   “I’m getting mental whiplash.”

   “I don’t know how to feel anymore.”

   “This restaurant is the literal embodiment of Hell.”

   “Let’s just eat and go,” Hinata whispered, eyes shifting from side to side as he began to shovel the food into his mouth. With a shrug, Kageyama followed suit.

   As soon as the food was finished and paid for, they didn’t waste time in escaping. This time it was Hinata who led the way, dragging Kageyama out of the restaurant and down a few streets until the crowds dispersed and the noise died down. Without missing a beat, Hinata turned on his heels and jumped on the spot, excitement evident on every inch of his face.

   “That was without a doubt an experience I’ll never forget! Was it a tsundere café or something? That was so interesting but I never want to do it again! Well maybe not never, who knows!” Hinata laughed, the sound echoing throughout the streets and reverberating within Kageyama’s heart.

   “Still a better date than you could have managed.”

   “As if! I have something planned… and it’s super romantic. You just wait and see!”

   With a snort, Kageyama walked on ahead, guiding Hinata toward a park with a trail following the outskirt of a large pond filled with lilies and ducks. Checking every few steps to make sure the smaller male was still behind him, Kageyama walked around the edge of the pond until he found a small bench overlooking the water tucked away under a large tree.

   Sitting down and patting the seat next to him, Kageyama remained silent as he tried to organise his thoughts. He was grateful that Hinata was also taking the time to take in the atmosphere and just enjoying the serenity of the park until he heard a splash and indignant squeal and realised that the idiot was indeed not sitting next to him but had decided to instead harass a duck until he met his much deserved fate in the scummy, dark waters of the pond.

   “Tobio, help!”

   After spending a moment fighting the temptation to just leave him, Kageyama helped him out of the water. With shoes covered in mud and second-hand water splattered on his clothes, he glowered at Hinata, willing them both to disappear. After a few seconds, he gave up. Trudging back to the bench, he frowned when he noticed Hinata hadn’t followed.

   “You look so scary, Tobio! You should smile more. Spend more time chasing ducks and less time yelling at servers. That way you’ll live a longer, happier life!”

   “Shouyou, I really like you. Even though you’re an idiot, I want you to be my idiot.” Kageyama didn’t know where the words had come from, but he didn’t regret them. Hinata’s eyes brightened, stars dancing within them as he leapt forward and ran toward the setter. Kageyama had half a mind to avoid him, not wanting to get more of the dirty pond water on him, but when he saw how bright and happy Hinata was, he had no choice but to catch him within his arms. He held him close, arms wrapping around his back. Placing a chaste kiss on his forehead, Kageyama relished in the blush that exploded across Hinata’s face. “Be my boyfriend.”

   “Of course, Tobio!”

   It was a soft and small smile that crossed Kageyama’s features, sweet and genuine unlike what Hinata was used to and it made his heart flutter. He felt himself getting lost in it.

   “Let’s go home, Shouyou.”

   “To the hotel?”

   “What? No! Don’t be so forward!”

   “That’s not what I meant!”

   “Don’t make things weird!”

   “I meant to say goodbye to Oikawa-san and the others!”

   “I’m sure they’ll understand why we need to go now. I didn’t bring any other clothes!”

   “But shouldn’t I at least say goodbye?”

   “Just text them!”

[willow-salix]

Isolation Island update.

Day 64 of Isolation on Tracy Island and John and I made a terrible mistake today. What mistake could you possibly have made, I hear you ask? Well, we made a serious error in judgement...OK , I’ll admit it, I made the error in judgement, if I don't correct that John will do it for me. I thought that it might be a fun idea to record Live from Five on the island for once and get the other boys involved. Yes, I know, I had a case of the dumb. I've been told it frequently over the last four hours.

“OK, we’re out, we’re done,” I sighed, never having been so relieved to have cut a feed. Usually we’re on our own up there and take the chance to have a few hours of quiet. Not this time. 

“That was fun,” Alan grinned.

“Not how I would have described it,” John muttered, getting up and heading to the kitchen for a drink.

“It was fun to answer questions,” Gordon added, ignoring the grump that was his brother.

“That wasn't all of them,” I replied. “There were some more, but I picked out some of the best ones.”

“What were the others?” Scott asked.

“Oh you know, boring things like favorite food, favorite subjects at school, that sort of thing.”

“Yep, boring,” Gordon yawned. “Nothing else?”

I handed him my tablet to have a look at. He scrolled through the questions that had been submitted.

“Boring...rubbish...not answering that...hey, why didn't you ask this one?”

“Which one?”

“This one,” he pointed.

“If you could be any superhero, who would you be?” I read over his shoulder. "Huh, I must have missed that one."

"Yeah, that's a great question. Who would I be?" 

“Well that’s easy, Gordo, you would be Aquaman,” Virgil answered promptly. “Powerful in the water.”

"Hell yeah, King of Atlantis, can talk to sea creatures. I'd love that."

“Virgil would be the Hulk,” Alan joined in. “Big and green and likes to smash things.”

“I would not!” He looked genuinely insulted by that. 

“No, you would be Superman,” Gordon told him. “Strong, dependable, always on the side of good.”

“That’s better. Ruggedly handsome too."

“Who would you be?” I asked Scott.

“I don’t know.”

“You’d be Captain America,” Alan told him. 

I thought about it for a second then nodded. “Yeah, you’re right, he’d make a great Captain America.”

“I would?”

“Sure you would!” Alan assured him.

“Yeah, think about it. Military guy, stands up for injustice, born leader, smart as anything, always got a plan, always gets the job done,” I told him, ticking off items on my fingers.

"You would definitely be Captain America," Kayo agreed. 

“Jeff would be Nick Fury, just done with everyones crap and needs a vacation.”

“I can very much agree with that,” Jeff muttered from his desk where he was trying to work, emphasis on the trying.

“Or Tony Stark, inventing things to save the world,” I pondered out loud. “You wanna be Iron Man, Jeff?”

“Do I get any cool gadgets?”

“You get a super suit!”

“That’ll do. Yes, I’ll be him then.”

“Who would I be?” Alan wanted to know, bouncing in his seat, excited to hear people's suggestions.

“Spiderman,” I answered without any hesitation. “Definitely Spidey. Cute, brave, funny, yep, that's you."

“Yeah,” he grinned. “I can dig that. I’d make a great spiderman.”

“Who would you be?” Scott asked me.

“Is there a superhero called Couch Potato girl? Because that's me.”

“I don’t think there is,” Scott laughed.

“I don't know then! There isn't that many to choose from that don’t have really depressing backstories. Maybe Catwoman? Or Scarlet Witch? No, she’s had a miserable time of it too. Batgirl? She’s not too bad, she just wants to help out and do some good.” I was stumped.

“Batgirl could work. Catwoman isn't really a hero, more of a villian,” Virgil mused.

“I’ve always had a soft spot for the villainous type though, I’ve always thought that most of them just had a bad day.”

They all cracked up laughing. 

“A bad day?” Scott howled. “That’s your reason? They had a bad day?”

“Well, yeah,” I shrugged. “Think about it, they get hit by radiation, they get sucked into their invention, someone throws them in acid. It’s just bad luck really.”

“Oh, no,” Gordon was actually crying, wiping the tears of laughter from his eyes. “You cannot excuse them like that.”

“Sure I can, I make excuses for you all the time.”

That set them off again, everyone laughing for a good minute before they pulled themselves together.

“Kayo would be Black Widow,” Gordon continued once he could breathe again. 

“Definitely,” I agreed. “She’s kickass, she's sassy and she takes no crap. Totally her."

"I can live with that," she nodded. "She's not a wuss and doesn't just wait around to be saved. She's deadly and a super spy too."

"So, what you're telling us is that you are actually Black Widow and you've been undercover this entire time?" Gordon joked. 

"Yes, I'm a deadly assassin, sleep with one eye open." 

"That's not creepy at all." 

“Would Grandma be Aunt May?” Alan asked. 

“Probably, she’s pretty cool.”

“Here’s the real question though, would you be Team Cap or Team Iron Man?” I asked.

“Obviously Team Cap,” Scott answered. “I can’t abandon myself.”

“Team Cap too,” Alan added.

“What’s all this about teams?” Jeff asked, apparently taking more notice of us than we had thought.

“Team Captain America or Team Iron Man,” Alan answered. “There was a time when the government tried to get all superheros to register with them and work for them rather than on their own. Captain America didn't believe in it, Iron Man did. It split the group.”

“Well, considering we’re currently sitting on a private island and part of a privately funded group that doesn't work for anyone but saves people on a daily basis, I'd have to be on Captain America's side."

"You'd leave your own team?" Virgil laughed. 

"If they were being idiots, sure."

That got us giggling again, Jeff was in one of his very best moods, slightly exasperated with a side of smartass. He was always good for a laugh then. 

"I'd be Team Cap too," Virgil added. 

"So would I," Gordon agreed. 

"Me too," I said. 

"So no one is Team Iron Man?" Kayo asked. 

"Are you? And bear in mind, we will all judge you on your answer," I warned her. 

"Team Cap all the way."

"What did I miss?" John asked, coming back with his iced coffee and handing me a can of cherry coke. Boy is so well trained. I blew him a kiss in thanks. 

"Where's mine?" Gordon asked. 

"Fridge, go get it yourself," John stepped over my legs and shoved Alan out of his seat. "Why are you on the floor?" 

"Because it's comfy." 

"The fridge is so far away," Gordon whined, lifting an arm and then letting it drop pathetically. "How comes she doesn't have to get her own?" 

"Because I actually like her, that and she made lunch."

I stuck my tongue out at Gordon and popped the tab, taking a satisfying sip. 

"So mean," he pouted. "I make food too."

"No, you just make a mess," I argued. 

"So, what were you all talking about," John asked. 

"Superheros," I answered leaning against his legs, using them as a back rest. "One of the questions we got sent was if you could be a superhero, who would you be."

"I'm Captain America."

"I'm Superman."

"Spiderman!"

"Iron guy."

"Iron man," Alan corrected.

"I'm thirsty," Gordon moaned, sneaking out a hand to steal my can. "And also Aqua Man."

"I'd be Black Widow."

"And who are you?" John asked me.

"I couldn't decide. I liked the villains too much," I swatted at Gordon's hand before it reached my drink.

"You're always awkward."

"It's both a blessing and a curse," I admitted, unable to deny it.

"John, who would you be?" Alan asked.

John thought about it for a moment or two then answered confidently.

"Batman."

"Seriously? Batman? Why would you want to be Batman?" Gordon asked, distracted from his attempted thievery.

"Probably because he's dark and brooding and likes to hide in his cave," Scott laughed.

John shook his head.

"Because you get the Batmobile?" Virgil guessed.

"Nope."

"Cool gadgets on your utility belt?" I offered.

"Nope."

"Then why?" Alan demanded to know.

"Because he's an only child."

[pankittyxo]

You are Human ( Platonic Taekook)

Trans! Taehyung x Jungkook

(Platonic)

    It was a normal yet quiet evening in the BTS dorm. Everyone had gone to sleep except Taeri, who was currently taking her midnight shower. She couldn’t shower with any of the other boys due to her biological gender, so instead every night she waits until everyone goes to sleep to shower. As she washed her body, she felt the water run down her very curves as well as the two lumps of fat on her chest that were her breasts, and the feeling of it made her feel sick to her stomach. They were obviously there, and she hated it. Baggy clothes did help ease the feeling, but she was forced to wear tight clothes for their group concept every day. She gets a queasy feeling every time she puts them on. She had yet to come out to her company as transgender, but there was no way her group members or company would accept it. They only saw her just as a simple tomboy, not a man. She hated lying but she knew they would never understand.

After awhile, she steps out of the shower and dries herself off carefully with her soft towel, making sure all the wet spots on her skin had been dried. Eventually she stopped when she caught her reflection in the bathroom mirror. She stood up straight as she stared into the eyes of her own reflection. Her dark brown shoulder-length hair was damp and sort of stuck to her forehead, and her towel was doing its best to cover her chest and curves securely.

“Look at you..” she whispered to herself, internally wincing at her voice. Even her voice was super feminine, “your pathetic..” she insulted herself for feeling this way. 

She should be proud to be a woman, shouldn’t she? She didn’t know, but what she did know was that she wasn’t proud. She wished she could have a flat chest, and a more masculine shape as well as voice, just like her members. She wished she could be seen as a man, and not just a tomboy. She started to tear up in anger the longer she looked at herself, and soon her eyes traveled towards the scissors Seokjin had left on the bathroom counter after cutting his hair. She looked at herself one more time, the tears falling down her face this time, and she closed her eyes as she swore under her breath,

“Fuck it..”

She reached for the scissors and started to cut off her shoulder length hair. One by one the strands of hair fell to the ground, until her hair was as short as a male’s. She saw herself again, her hair now short, choppy, and messy, and she couldn’t help but cry some more. She dropped the scissors and fell to the ground, sobbing into the palms of her hands in order to keep quiet.

Jungkook, who had gotten up to go to the bathroom, had heard the sobs of Taeri from the other side of the door. His look softened, he hated when his members cried, especially his noona. He gently knocked on the door, “Taeri-noona? A-are you okay?”

Taeri stopped sobbing the moment as she heard Jungkook’s voice. ‘No, he can’t see me like this, not now’ she thought. She cleared her throat before speaking, “y… yes Kookie, I’m fine. Just give me a bit.” Her voice cracked at the end of her sentence and for that she cursed at herself.

“Are you sure? What’s wrong? Please tell me, I want to help,” Jungkook gently pleated, he just wanted to help. Whatever his noona was going through, she shouldn’t have to go through it alone.

There was a silence, and a bit of rustling on the other side of the door, but eventually the door opened slowly, and Taeri showed herself to her dongsaeng, fully clothed in a baggy shirt and pajama pants. Jungkook looked shocked as he saw his noona’s messily-cut short hair, and tears running down her face. “Noona, what happened? Why did you cut your hair??” he exclaimed, Taeri shushing him for being too loud. Taeri sniffled before speaking, “nothing Kookie, good night,” she tried to walk away but Jungkook grabbed her wrist.

“Taeri-noona… please tell me whats wrong,” Jungkook insisted.

“Stop calling me that.” Taeri accidently snapped. Jungkook was shocked by her outburst, “noona-” “I said stop it. Stop calling me noona and stop calling me Taeri” she snapped again, her mouth has got a mind of its own now. 

“What do you mean?” Jungkook asked, genuinely confused. “Tae-” before he could finish, Taeri began to cry again, and Jungkook’s heart hurt so much to hear her sob the way she did. He pulled her into a soft hug, rubbing Taeri’s back in an effort to soothe her. “Tae.. Whatever’s going on, you don’t have to go through it alone. Let me carry your burdens with you..”

Taeri sniffled before speaking, “you wouldn’t understand..”

“Why? Because I’m a kid?” Jungkook asked warily.

“No… no..” Taeri reassured him, “you just wouldn’t understand..”

“Try me,” Jungkook insisted, “whatever is going on, even if I don’t understand, I will try to. I just don’t want you to suffer alone like this. Your my best friend Tae.”

There was another silence as Jungkook held Taeri in his arms, only her soft sniffles filling the silent hall, before she finally spoke, “I hate being a girl..”

“Huh? Why?” Jungkook asked with a puzzled look on his face.

“I hate being a girl. I hate having this chest, I hate my curves, I hate my voice.”

“But they’re all beautiful-”

“That’s not the point Jungkook. I hate being a female. I wish.. I wish I were a male instead. Like the rest of you. I wish I were born a man, I wish I had a male body, and not.. This!” She motioned to her body in an exaggerated tone because she was so emotional. She wiped her eyes, “I probably sound insane don’t I..?”

“No.. I don’t think so..” Jungkook spoke softly.

Taeri looked at him surprised, “What?”

“If you feel like your a boy then, that’s okay, right? I mean, I don’t see anything wrong with that. I think what you feel is real by the way your telling me. You’re not insane, your being human. You are human, Tae..” Jungkook told her very honestly, “I don’t care if your a boy or a girl, I love you all the same Tae, and I’m sure the members will too.

Taeri, surprised by Jungkook’s understanding and acceptance, smiled for the first time that night, and she hugged him, drying her tears on his shirt as they hugged, “Thank you Kookie…thank you so much..”

They stay there for a little bit before Jungkook asked, “so.. Would you like me to call you Tae and Hyung from now on?”

“Actually.. Could you call me, Taehyung, from now on? And just, keep it between us until I tell the other members?” Taehyung asked him softly.

And Jungkook smiled, “Of course I will.. Taehyung-hyung.

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

This was my first Taekook fanfiction, and also the first time writing about a transgender. I’m sorry if I got some things wrong the transgender bit, it was my first time writing about it. 

Hope you enjoyed! Thank you!

[ask-rogertaylor]

((Here’s another fic. This time the story of when Roger first realised he had feelings for Brian and also had his first gay crisis—and then that one time they kissed and roger freaked the fuck out. This started as a ficlet but I’m sappy and can’t write my thoughts in a concise way .. so have pining sad roger ,, the ending is kinda sad ,, but just keep in mind that Rog and Bri end up together eventually!! Featuring @ask-brian-may and @ask-rogerina! It also has John, Jo, Freddie, Jamie and Melina very briefly!!))

Roger feels light.

It’s the buzz of the alcohol. It’s why he likes the stuff so much. Roger feels heavy most of the time. He doesn’t talk about it, and nobody really knows about it, so he relieves himself of that burden as often as he can. Because feeling light is a relief.

His head is also pretty light. Nothing really seems to be in focus right now. He doesn’t even think he’s moving himself, it’s mostly Brian dragging and guiding him along up the pathway leading into his and Rogerina’s place. The hand Brian has supporting Roger’s waist is very warm, but also cooling in a weird sense Roger can’t explain.

“M’sorry,” Roger slurs, he’s embarrassed, a little. Brian shouldn’t have to be dealing with the consequences of his shitty coping mechanism.

Brian smiles softly, “For what, Rog?

“This. I reek, I’m a mess, and you should be at home right now,” Roger explains, taking in the sweet scent of Brian’s cologne. He really is a stark contrast in comparison to Brian in this moment.

“Rog. I like being with you. Besides, you were right, I did need an excuse to show off my new clogs tonight,” Brian chuckles lightheartedly, but the smile he gives him is genuine and true. Roger can’t help but smile back. He probably looks goofy in his woozy state, but he can’t help himself.

“I had a fun night, Rog. Don’t worry about it. It’s actually kinda funny to see you like this. More blackmail material for me. I would ask you if you had one too, but I can tell you did,” Brian jokes.

Roger let’s out a hybrid of a giggle and a chortle, far too pleased for his own good. Brian makes him feel like he’s on a constant high. He likes being around Brian. He just knows with Brian. He knows this is a companion he’s made for life. And he’s happy to have him in his life.

He looks up at Brian, in this astounding stolen moment. He can see his profile, beautifully framed and lit by the soft moonlight above them. His eyes are warm. His skin is soft. Then he looks over at Roger with the kindest smile and his eyes twinkle with this softness and watchfulness. Roger thanks the universe, and he knows he’s on borrowed time, and yet the universe gave him this one spectacular moment, and he praises it.

And everything else seems to fade and all Roger can see is Brian.

His vision hazes into this rose colour. Flowers are blooming. His heart starts to race. He feels chilled but also very warm. There’s a ringing in his ears. He feels increasingly light. He feels like he’s falling.

Brian knocks gently on the door, and Rogerina opens up within a minute.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, Rogi, but your idiot brother here forgot his keys and uh..is slightly..very intoxicated,” Brian explains sheepishly.

She smiles amusedly at her own brother, “That’s alright, darling. I wasn’t asleep anyway. C’mon in, I would help you, but he’s gross.”

Roger flips her off—at least tries to, he’s far too drowsy to actually recognise if he has or not.

Brian dumps him onto the seat by the window, a chuckle escaping him as Roger flopped down like some rag doll. He shook his head and tutted fondly.

“..Well..I mustn’t stay too long. It is late. ..so uh..just—“

“—aspirin and a glass of water by his bed. Make sure he falls asleep on his side. A bucket too. Which is super gross to think about,” Rogerina grimaces.

“You’re a dear, Rogi. You really are. Well..goodbye, see you soon,” Brian announces, but looks over at Roger and comes closer to him, so they are at eye level. He rests a hand on his shoulder, and it’s warm. It also tingles. Roger smiles sloppily at him.

“I’ll see you tomorrow Rog. Sleep well,” Brian says sweetly, his eyes warm and inviting. It makes Roger feel at home.

Roger watches him as he leaves, and he shifts over to watch the window, his eyes following him as he fades away into the night. When he walks it’s like he leaves a trail of stardust behind him. He’s absolutely magical and Roger can’t keep his eyes off of him. He takes his breath away.

He doesn’t even notice the stupid smile on his face.

“Jesus, you’re like in love with him,” Rogerina jokes casually, as she picks up the coat he’s dropped on the ground and hangs it up on the rack.

Roger’s heart drops and his chest is cold. He feels so heavy and his ears are ringing. The pulsating in his heart gets louder and louder and his hands are clammy and he feels absolutely empty. He doesn’t even remember where he is anymore.

Fuck, he’s in love with Brian.

It’s a sinking feeling that pulls him down to the ground. It takes him over almost completely.

Roger’s scarily light. He pushes himself to his feet, and he stumbles, the world is collapsing in on him and he can’t breathe.

As he ravages up the stairs like he struggling through some sort of rainforest, he feels his heart rate begin to pick up as his head pounds and the lights start to flicker and the ringing of his ears gets too much, he’s so light, so light, until he’s so heavy and he’s falling against his bed and he’s sobbing. He’s crying so hard and he can’t even contain himself, he’s completely lost control, the image of himself he has carefully created for the world to see crumbles into dust. Just like that.

He cries and he cries because he is not meant to feel like this. This wasn’t allowed. His father would be so angry if he found out he had fallen in love with a man. He cries because he knows he cannot possibly have Brian. It hurts so much and it feels like he’s on fire and he doesn’t know how to put it out.

He tries to quiet himself down, stifle the sounds into the fabric of his pillow, for the sake of his sister. Even now he doesn’t want to bother her, not when this is a struggle he should be going through alone.

But his sister would follow him anywhere, and he hears his door creak open. He tries his absolute hardest to silence him.

“..Rog..” Rogerina coos at him gently.

He makes a folly attempt to appear asleep, but a pathetic sniffle ruins his endeavor.

She sighs and hops onto his bed, and lays next to him, and pulls him close for a hug, and it’s just that push for the dam to break.

“I.. love him,” Roger sobs violently into her chest, shrinking into her hold on him to try and make himself as small as he feels. He grabs on to her like a lifeline, shaking ferociously, in fear that if he lets go he’ll never stop falling.

Rogerina offers him a sad smile, “I know. And it’s okay. It’s okay, Rog, it’s okay to feel like this.”

“But it’s not,” He whimpers.

“It is, it absolutely is, Rog — it’s just love. It’s just love.”

Roger doesn’t say anything at that, and merely moves in closer, “I’m scared.”

“I know. And I’m here. I understand,” She whispers quietly.

She doesn’t leave him for a second that night.

Months later, maybe, and Roger is still falling.

It still feels sickeningly light to the stomach at times, and sometimes it makes his heart throb, but he’s learned to numb it and push it to the back of his mind where everything else is. He’s learned to control himself, and he’s painstakingly build up these walls around himself to keep himself from hurting too bad.

But there are still these moments where Brian makes it so difficult. Where he unknowingly swings a hammer and chips down at the walls he’s built for himself.

Moments like today.

Brian looks at the skies above and watches the stars shine.

Roger looks at his own star. But he’s on the ground with him.

They’re both buzzing. They’ve both had one too many. They’re piss drunk. It’s cold outside but they’re both still too warm.

He takes a long drag of the cigarette he’s smoking, and he’s surprisingly silent. He’s not like this. He’s loud and talkative but with Brian he just wants to soak everything in. When it’s all he can get.

“Look, I can see the corvus constellation..” Brian says softly, and when he speaks his eyes are so full of light and there’s that dumb smile of his and Roger can’t help his own smile.

He looks at him longingly. God how he wants him. Roger shifts uncomfortably, knowing full well that he’s just torturing himself, but how addictive the pain was.

But theres something that draws him to Brian. The whole universe is telling him to do this, like his destiny calls for it. And he knows it’s impossible. It’s not possible, they are too different on a molecular level. This is not how the story goes.

But when Brian turns over to look at him his eyes are so warm and those lips look so inviting, Roger collides with him and suddenly a star is born.

A whole new plane of existence opens up, and Roger feels like he’s exploring a whole new galaxy, everything is so exciting and so beautiful and he watches as planets collide and leave spacedust in its wake. Brian’s lips against his feel like they were always meant to be there, and he feels limitless.

But when he pulls away he is crushed by the gravity of what has happened, and it breaks his soul once he’s realises what he’s done. He has made a horrible landing back to reality and once he’s experienced the magic he just has everything is so much worse now.

Roger can’t breathe, “Bri.. I’m sorry, I—“

He can’t read Brian at all.

“I.. I need to go,” Roger says hurriedly, pushing himself off of his feet.

“Wait, Rog—“ Brian tries, only now returning to reality.

But Roger’s too far gone; and he runs like he’s never ran before. He doesn’t know where he’s going but at this stage he doesn’t care, he just can’t face him anymore, and in his drunken stupor he’s completely aimless.

All he can feel is the adrenaline pumping through his system and then suddenly he’s stuck.

And he just cries.

Until he hears a familiar voice.

“..Roger..?”

Jamie examines him, “..What are you.. doing.. in my rose bush?”

“I kissed Brian,” Roger slurs, still sobbing incoherently.

“Oh, sweetheart..” She coos softly.

“Who the hell is that in our rose bush?” Melina asks.

“A dumbass,” Roger sobs.

The two women help him release himself from the tangles of the bush, and once that’s done they drag him into their house, where they promptly drop him onto their couch.

“I’m sorry,” He cries pathetically.

Jamie smiles sympathetically, taking a seat next to him, “It’s okay.. darling.. just.. try and rest, okay?”

And the two of them talk to him for hours until he passes out.

Roger can’t face reality anymore. Everything’s too broken. Everything’s in ruins.

He tells Freddie over text that he’s caught the flu, and that he would just be complaining about Roger’s constant display of symptoms, and that he really doesn’t want to hear Freddie’s yapping. He tells John over the phone to not come visit him, because he doesn’t want his favourite bass player catching this too. And when Johanna tries and visits, he puts on a smile and tells her that he’s fine, that he just needs to get some sleep and he’ll be better soon.

But he doesn’t talk to Brian at all.

He doesn’t talk to him for three days.

He ignores all of his texts. There are hundreds of them at this stage and he doesn’t open one. And all of his calls. He ignores every single one. He ignores his worried knocking at the door, and the stones being thrown at his window. He locks the door when Rogerina lets Brian into the house. He just can’t face him. It’s too hard. It hurts too much.

He can’t even get out of bed.

And eventually he does attempt conversation with Brian again. But it’s empty and almost robotic. It’s rehearsed and emotionless. It’s like they’re complete strangers. Everything is worse now and Roger wishes it could return to how it used to be but he’s ruined it all. It’s just not the same.

He can’t face the music.

*** “God, Roggie — you’re in that jumper,” Rogerina sighs deeply.

Roger raises and eyebrow unamusedly, he’s wearing his glasses for once, gesturing towards a clearly well worn grey The Who jumper, which is also miles too large for him, “This? And? Your problem?”

Rogerina looks exasperated, “You always wear that when you’re sad and recluse. Last time you had that thing on you didn’t leave the house for a week! And last time you didn’t have friends.”

Roger is clearly unamused at that.

“Oh, come on, I’m being honest! Take it off and put on some jeans, get out of the house! And eat something, please! Talk to Brian! Fuck, talk to anyone! Just.. get out of here, okay?”

Roger is clearly unaffected by her pleads and merely sits himself on the kitchen table, looking completely null and void.

She softens, sighing and sitting herself next to him. He looks completely miserable. There’s no light in his usually sparkling eyes, he’s a ghostly pale, and he’s clearly been crying, and his hair is a mess. He’s such a stark contrast to the bubbly and energetic Roger that she’s grown to know.

She takes his hands in hers, wrapping her fingers around his, firmly, but in a way that shows that she isn’t letting him go. She strokes his hands gently. Her gaze is just as firm, and watchful, her focus is all on him. He struggles to look at her.

“..Roger..  please, love.. I know you’re hurting. And it breaks my heart, and if you really can’t have Brian.. would you really rather not have him in your life at all..? Is this worth completely losing him, dear? Because I don’t think it is. Do you remember who you were before you met him?”

Roger blinks, and slowly removes his glasses as he feels tears well up in his eyes. He bites harshly on his lips to prevent the cascading of them, and thinks about it. He doesn’t like the man he was before Brian. In fact, he’s a distant memory, a memory he doesn’t quite want to return to.

Roger thinks about it. And when he tries to place himself in his own head from those years ago, he only remembers loneliness. And fear. And so much rage. So much hatred. He tries to pinpoint the moment those feelings had begun to fade away, and all he can hear in his fucking head is Brian talking about constellations.

He doesn’t even understand them. But the emptiness is replaced by a sense of wholesomeness. He spent his teenage nights with a fucking radio as his best friend, longing and wishing to all the deities out there to give him a best friend, someone who he knew he could tell anything to, someone he could just feel safe with. And he has it now. And Roger feels so dumb for not appreciating that enough. He’s come so far he’s forgotten where he’s come from.

God, he can’t lose Brian because a life without him is so empty. It’s so dark. And it’s cold. And Roger hates the winter.

He feels so selfish and so ashamed of himself in this moment, because how did he let himself become so greedy? Why was he wanting more, when Brian was more than he ever deserved to begin with, how did he let himself get so entitled? He’s forgotten his place, but  fuck does it still hurt so, so much.

God, he wants him so bad. And he knows he can’t. But he can’t lose all of this over his own selfishness. He has to be better than that.

That’s enough, Roger. That’s enough now.

And is face crumples and he bursts into tears, unable to contain the pathetic noises he’s making, he tries to angle his face away from his sister, crying into his hands because dammit he’s still got his pride.

But she’s his darling sister and she sees past his bullshit and pulls him into her own touch, and holds him close, kissing him on the temples as he sobs his heart out.

“It’s alright, Rog.. it’s alright,” she tries to assure him as he cries into her chest.

“Fuck.. then why does it feel like nothing will be alright ever again?” He whimpers weakly. It feels like every star in the sky has been put out. It feels like someone has dismantled the sun and packed it away. He desperately wishes to return to a few days ago before he’s royally fucked up, but nothing is the same now. The walls have already caved in and he’s surrounded by its ruins. He can attempt and build over it but the damage has been done. History cannot be erased.

He wishes he could have tamed his heart. Told it to not yearn for what it can’t have. He doesn’t remember where he lost his way and thought that he could even have something this good. What was he expecting? He was not one of these people who got good things like this. He was born in filth. And he was to live in it. That good life was not made for him, and having had a taste of it has made the void hurt so much more because now he knows what he could have but cannot.

God dammit, Brian May, did you have to be an angel?

He exhales shakily. He’s terrified. But he’s not giving up on his band. They will not fail because he was too reckless with his own heart. The band will not suffer because Roger was too stupid to control himself. He couldn’t live with that. His hand lingers over the door knob, and he kicks himself once and lets himself through the door.

Roger can feel the air in the room shift once he   enters through the door, all eyes are on him. He inhales shakily, a chilling, buzzing sensation spreading across his chest. He turns over to see his band mates, and in particular, Brian, who’s mouth is agape.

Roger pushes aside all thoughts in his head, and tries to relax, and he puts on a show, he puts on a mischievous grin, “..Jesus, Bri, shut your fucking piehole before a fly comes and chokes you.”

And while he still feels like every wall has caved in, trying to replicate his old self brings him a sense of familiarity that does put him at ease. He knows he’s performing, but it’s all he’s ever known, and it feels like home.

Roger watches the wave of relief wash over Brian’s eyes, and he likes to think the walls are rebuilding themselves.

And Brian smiles that beautiful smile of his where it’s like the sun has decided to shine just for him, and Brian’s glowing and Roger can’t help but bask in that warmth.

Yes, Roger’s heart is aching but Brian is too good to loose.

It was but a silly fantasy to ever believe that Brian could ever be his, god, no way, not him, Roger is not meant to live in a pretty palace amongst royalty. He belongs to the stables and he is grateful he is even able to serve such royalty. His story just isn’t written that way.

Having Brian in his life at all is enough. It has to be enough.

Roger is still plagued by the sickly bittersweet fairytale of love and the idea of having Brian’s hand to hold, and the thought crushes him, and fuck Roger is hurting.

But he’d rather hurt every day of his life than not have him at all. A life without him is so empty and that life would absolutely shatter him. There is a magnetic connection, a molecular bond that draws and pulls him to Brian May, and he knows it’s going to hurt him, but he’s okay with it. He needs him in his life or the balance of the universe will tip against him. He needs him.

He’ll have to settle. And he thinks he’s okay with that.

He’ll make do. He always does.

[rueitae]

Frostbite

[Pidge is a renowned super villain. Lance is a hero in training. During their latest encounter, Lance pushes his powers to their limit and Pidge has some soul searching to do.]

A gift for @mbirdarts as she has graciously allowed me to dip my fingers into her details for this AU after I sent many pestering questions asked about it.

You can find the concept art here, here, here, and here.

The outfit inspiration is from @artylovebug here which was in turn inspired by @plancelance initial AU idea here.

This is now fic 2/4 I want to do for plance hero/villain. I am so weak for this trope and needed more. I love you all.

The fic is posted on Ao3 here, but you can read in its entirety below. About 6K words of banter, action, and hurt/comfort. ish.

~~~~~~~~~~

Pidge lets her back hit the brick wall of the alleyway, sliding down to sit on the concrete in relief. She closes her eyes and lets her heart rate slow to a rest. She has a good twenty minutes to spare before the next truck comes by this area and unloads its goods. That’s enough time to deal with her pursuer and escape.

Exhausted, but happy, she examines her latest acquisition. The disc fits perfectly in the palm of her gloved hand. The device is top of the line Galra Corp information storage. It contains hope - more hope than she’s had in a while. The style of code it holds is her father’s; the same he had passed on to her and her brother. The best case scenario is that it holds a message that the two of them were alive and well. Worse case Pidge hopes it would at least prove the Galra were up to no good.

Her lab is only a few warehouses away, further from the pier. As much as she wants to check it out right that minute - she has something more pressing to take care of.

She taps the side of her modified safety glasses and it displays the time for her in 3-D. She grins impishly. “Three… two… one…”

Lance barrels into the alleyway, tripping on Pidge’s carefully placed trap. He yelps as he is pushed into the wall, bounces over to the other end of the alley - only to ram into the dumpster with enough force to spill it, finally falling at her feet and into the pile of trash he unwittingly created.

The trap works perfectly, as Pidge expected it would. The sides of her mouth tug further up her face, thrilled at the accomplishment and seeing Lance on the wrong end of the admittedly childish prank.

To his credit, Lance lifts himself to his hands and knees quickly, glaring. “Real funny, Pidge,” he grumbles. He reaches out with a gloved hand, and judging by the look on his face, he’s just touched something extremely unpleasant. “Urgh...this is going to take forever to clean this off my uniform.”

“I told you not to follow me,” Pidge says, her smile stretching as far as her muscles will allow. Meeting Lance in costume is always a fun treat but today she can’t linger. She needs to examine the disc and can’t do so as Katie. The university computers aren’t compatible, and she doesn’t have the time to make them so, especially not when she has one ready to go in her lab. “At the same time, I’m also glad you did. I wouldn’t have gotten to try my new traps otherwise.”

Lance blinks, eyebrows rising. “Wait - traps?” His tone matches his increasing comprehension. “As in more than one?”

Pidge taps her orange glasses once more and pulls up the command she’s looking for, never taking her eyes off of the rookie hero. “This is the Warflater,” she explains. “I made it just for you.”

Lance scrambles to his feet. “Oh no,” he warns - summoning shards of ice into the palm of his hand. Frost forms up to his wrist in response to the use of his powers. “Not doing that. The last time you made something for me I ended up in the sewer.”

Necessary, Pidge thinks. If she hadn’t dumped him in the sewers a few months back he’d have been caught in crossfire. She bites her lip. Maybe she’ll tell him one day, but until he stops believing the Galra Corporation was a benevolent entity, it’s better this way.

He already knows too much for her liking.

“Pidge, come on,” Lance continues. His determined expression is replaced with one of genuine concern. “Give me the disc so I can give it back to Galra Corp. I promise we’ll find some non-villainous way to get your family back. I’ll even let you go. Please.”

“You? Let me go?” Pidge asks, pointing to herself. Her eyebrows rise in amusement. “I know where you live. I don’t know what kind of superhero decides to not have a secret identity, but you walked right into this one. You are not in a position to be making any demands.”

“Yes I am!” he responds indignantly. He points his ice shards at the ready. “I have - AH!”

The five power nozzles set up across the alley spit scalding water directly at Lance, who continues to yelp and flail in the intersection of the streams. Pidge looks on casually, unconcerned. Lance is one of a handful of people in the city who can come out of this unharmed. His ice core will keep his body temperature regulated so that he won’t get burned. The water will only be disorienting.

She still hates the fact that he can’t ever get sunburn. Some things in life just aren’t fair.

“Okay, that’s it!” Lance sputters, barely yelling words out in the bombardment. “No more mister nice- “ There, this was the moment of realization she had been waiting for. “Pidge! Why are my feet stuck?!”

Pidge slides the disc back into her pouch. A few taps on her glasses and the timer is set for the water to turn off. “New sticky web formula. Thanks for helping me test the waterproofing, Lance. See you next heist!” With Lance successfully off her tail, she turns to walk away.

“Pidge! Pidge turn this thing off!”

“Chill, Lance,” she jokes, pausing briefly in her escape. “It’ll be over in a few minutes and I’ll send Tesla to unstick you later.”

At this point Lance is shielding his face with his arms, which help his words come out more clearly but don’t help his movements at all. “Do NOT send that stupid little robot, it's just going to electrocute me again!”

“Awww, that’s mean, Lance,” Pidge teases. “Tesla really likes you. Don’t hurt her feelings.”

“It’s a robot! It doesn’t have feelings!”

Pidge chuckles to herself, smirking. “That’s what you think. See ya later, hero boy!” she calls out, relishing in the whimsical feeling of the moment.

Only to have it shatter by a laser whizzing just past her face, rooting her to the spot in shock.

It hits one of the hoses, causing a leak with a concentrated and powerful beam. Pidge turns around in horror. Blocking the other end of the alleyway are Galra security agents. She can tell from a glance they are not hired from the hero agency, but rather trained in-house specifically for Galra Corp.

They cock the guns and the largest one comes forward. Pidge’s breath catches as she recognizes Haxus, the most high ranking member of Galra Corp she’s ever seen on the streets. “Hand over the disc, thief.”

Pidge instinctively rests a hand on the pouch that contains the disc and takes a step back. There is no negotiating here. She can’t give it back to them. Even if she does, they’ll kill her or take her away like they had her father and brother.

Fighting back remains her only option.

“I’ll never give up!” She yells back, rage and determination overflowing from her very being. The traps for this alley may be sprung, but the grunts are far enough back that maybe…

Tapping her glasses once more, she enters the command code for the pier. Just off shore, the waters begin to stir

“Stop her!” Haxus snaps at his two subordinates.

Pidge jumps behind the dumpster, kneeling in case she needs to move again at a moments notice. She concentrates on her work despite the barrage of fire, stealing a look whenever she can to see if they are coming.

The Galra Corp flunkies scream as the scalding deluge from the remaining four hoses turn from Lance to them. Pidge grins in triumph as the force pushes them back off of the pier into the whirlpool she’d set into motion with her first action.

“Pidge - what was that?”

Lance is soaked, and clearly not pleased - looking utterly pathetic as he stands still thanks to the webbing all over his boots. His homemade hero costume sags with water seeping out of his pockets.

To Pidge’s flustered horror, it outlines each and every inch of his build. She forgets the situation at hand as her mind freezes as much as his powers.

He crosses his arms, his eyebrows raised. “I’m the wet one, but you look like the fish.” He smirks, as if a lightbulb has gone off in his head. “You like what you see? Not that I blame you,” he finishes smugly.

Pidge becomes acutely aware of the intense warmth has invaded her cheeks. “You look like soggy bologna,” she sputters lamely

Lance bristles indignantly. “I do not!”

Feeling sufficiently redeemed, her confidence returns with Lance once again becoming the flustered one and not her.

His body of all things?! This was worse than she first thought.

It isn’t even the main thing she likes about him. If they were at the university, maybe she could pull it off as a legitimate crush. Lance likes Katie, of that Pidge is nearly positive. Hunk’s questioning gazes and the way he remembers her class schedule, buys her ice cream, or recalls the name of her favorite robot - something she told him only very briefly in passing - is enough for her to get the message.

The only reason she hasn’t done anything about it is due to her commitments as Pidge. She refuses to believe her father and brother are dead, and rather are being held by Galra Corp against their will. She needs to rescue them, no matter what it takes.

Even if she has to break her own heart in the process. Because if she’s honest, she likes him too.

As Pidge, she can at least hang out with him like this and that was a small consolation. Her smart remarks were returned, and she can pretend it isn’t flirting.

She can also enjoy the soft looks he will probably give to Katie later tomorrow after she spends tonight pouring over the information on the disc.

Pidge opens her mouth to enjoy one last quip before leaving him.

The reverie turns out to be her downfall.

“Pidge, look out!”

She only has a split second to notice Lance’s alarmed face before she tumbles across the ground, unable to move her arms and legs. Once she stops, Pidge finds herself bound by a weighted net. Its purple glow gives it away as Galra Corp.

But she’s taken care of Haxus.

Pidge worms herself around to catch a glimpse of her attacker and forgets to breathe.

The massive form of Sendak blocks the opposite exit. The man answers only to Zarkon himself. If he’s here, the information in the disc must be valuable indeed.

Lance stutters as he takes in the scene, settling on addressing Sendak first. “I had it handled!”

You idiot, Pidge thought. Sendak has a nasty reputation and is not above harming heroes. Lance has to know that. Pidge prays he does. If not, he’s in just as much danger as she is.

“My apologies,” Sendak replies coolly. His smile was is not kind. “I had an opportunity, I thought I’d best take it to capture the thief as quickly as possible.”

Lance huffs and crosses his arms. “Thanks for the help, I guess.”

Pidge uses their conversation as time to escape. The net runs on quintessence, as all Galra Corp products do. She feels around for the power source, familiar enough with the tech to disable it with her eyes closed - or hands behind her back in this case.

“You’re the newcomer with ice powers, aren’t you boy?” Sendak flexes his left arm; a weaponized prosthetic.

“I’ve been doing this for almost a whole year,” Lance defends. “I’m not exactly new to this.”

Sendak draws back his clawed arm, and aims at the hero’s feet.

Pidge isn’t sure what comes over her, because screaming “Don’t you touch him!” and drawing Sendak’s attention away from Lance and onto her, deterring her escape attempt, is precisely what she did not need to do.

“Lance, no!” she still screamed his name in horror when Sendak doesn’t stop. Lance braces himself, wide eyed.

He is fine.

Sendak holds the torn pieces of Pidge’s sticky web in his mechanical claws. “She squeals for you more than for herself. I find that fascinating.”

Free, Lance seems to get the hint that he and Sendak are not actually on the same side. “Oh, um, thanks?” he says, taking an unsure step back.

Pidge holds her breath as Sendak does not answer right away. “Mr. Zarkon appreciates your services, but it is no longer needed. I will take charge of the thief’s punishment.”

Desperate, Pidge makes her break for it, rolling as fast as she can manage towards the water before Sendak can make his way towards her. Breath is taken out of her lungs as she is slammed face first into brick. She tries to plant her feet back the ground, but Sendak’s arm holds her dangling against the wall.

“H-hey, I don’t think she’s going anywhere. No need to do anything drastic,” Lance says.

“When dealing with thieves, it is best to add some finality to the approach,” Sendak squeezes and Pidge groans in terror, pain nearing unbearable. “You may report to the hero division that the felon 04032073 is taken care of.”

“Wait, hold it. This is not what I signed up for,” Lance says assertively. “Pidge may be a criminal, but she doesn’t deserve whatever you’re going to do to her.”

“This is a Galra Corp matter,” Sendak interrupts. “Do not make me report you to your supervisor.”

“Shiro would agree with me,” Lance says, standing his metaphorical ground. His voice brims with a confidence Pidge wishes she shares. She knows that Sendak is going to take his annoyance out on Lance before killing her. She closes her eyes in earnest. There is only one way they are getting out of here, and that’s if she uses her powers.

Pidge has been careful about them, never using them since she assumed her alter-ego. With only a quarter of the population born with superpowers, her plants would make her far too identifiable to Katie Holt.

No choice now.

“Then you leave me no choice.” Sendak drops Pidge and she lands on the concrete, breaking her concentration. She looks on in horror as Lance has summoned his own powers to face Sendak. Maybe in the past she might have been flattered that someone outside of her own family would show that much anger and determination for her life. She did not want it to be Lance. Not with Zarkon’s right hand man powering up his gun and pointing it at him.

An explosion of cold stops any other action.

Pidge turns away as sub zero temperatures blast against her body. Once calm, she turns to survey the scene. The cold has made her entrapment brittle, breaking apart without any effort.

Sendak towers above her, frozen stiff, icicles fraying off of him everywhere. He has taken the brunt of Lance’s attack, unintentionally shielding her.

She carefully side-steps the Galra man to look at the rest of the scene. She throws caution to the wind when she sees Lance on the ground, unmoving.

“Lance!” Pidge rushes over to him in concern, sliding onto the ice without a thought that it could break her ankle if she wasn’t careful. Immediately tapping her glasses, she scans his vitals. His heartbeat barely exists.

Pidge finds it a little easier to breathe. Like her own powers had physical consequences, so did his. Still, seeing him like this sends shivers up her spine. Lance is animated and talkative, not silent and still.

Even if this were natural for him, Pidge is sure it isn’t healthy in the long run. She needs to get him to her lab. The same lab where she has prepared for this eventuality, and hates herself for it.

She cares about him too much for her own good.

“I can’t believe you went and did that - you don’t even know its me,” she confesses quietly.

She places a hand over his frost covered body. Even with gloves the ice burn is nearly too much and she backs off momentarily. Pidge steels herself. He saved her. It’s her turn to save him.

~~~~

A few blocks away from the scene of the fight, the upper lefthand corner screen of Pidge’s lens flashes green in sync with the control panel on the side of a warehouse. A task that would have normally taken her seconds seems an eternity with shaky hands. A door opens at her feet and a gated platform rises to fill the space.

She drags Lance onto it, her hands numb after carrying him from the alleyway. Pidge is positive she will have to treat herself for frostbite too.

“Idiot,” Pidge whispers harshly, dropping to her knees once the elevator is safely carrying them underground. Tears stain her eyes and sobs hitch in her throat. “You’re a quiznaking idiot.”

Lance doesn’t respond and Pidge instead focuses on what she can do. She holds onto him tightly, despite the cold screaming at her to let go, trying to transfer her own body heat to his.

The elevator comes to a stuttering stop at the entrance to the underground laboratory. The gate pops down automatically, creating a cagey ramp for the last few inches to the concrete ground.

The lab itself is open, with no walls between the tiny living space or the various experiments that lay in wait on a wide assortment of tables. Miraculously, a tree takes up much of the space, roots making the concrete floor uneven and trunk sitting majestically in the middle. Pidge has her computer set up adjacent to it. From atop one of the monitors, a tiny robot putters down from it’s charging perch.

“Tesla, get the anti-grav table,” Pidge orders, voice still a bit hoarse. “I need to move Lance.”

The small, green robot beeps; the markings under its eyes glowing a cool white in acknowledgment of the order.

Pidge doesn’t have time to waste, her next command comes in quick succession. “Computer, reroute the water from trap number 14 to the sink. Fill the basin.”

Tesla nudges the anti-gravity table towards the ground near Lance. Although not Pidge’s original intent for it, she needs to use it as a gurney. In the background, a faucet opens on the computer’s command and water begins to pour into an antique wash bin - one of many that were long abandoned when the manufacturer moved out of the warehouse above decades ago.

She manually maneuvers the table under Lance, moving his body onto it in short spurts; first a shoulder, then a leg, then midsection - repeat until he’s secure. Pidge is able to lift the table and its weight to her own waist height, she then pushes it forwards towards the water.

“Hang in there, Lance,” she mutters.

Pidge soaks her own hands in the hot water first, feeling relief. Then she takes a cloth, dunks it, and places it on Lance’s forehead without wringing it out.

The basin is too small to immerse him, which is what he really needs. Their respective college apartments are too far away, though, and he needs immediate warmth. She dunks a larger towel into the water and places it along his chest.

She pulls her knitted hat firmly on his head, letting her long hair go free.

Out of towels, now she waits. Pidge hates waiting.

She bites her lip in thought as she examines him from head to toe. His clothes will need to come off once they thaw. Just the thought of it made her blush, but she knows they are doing more harm than good for him right now.

In the meantime, she has to make do. She tugs on his boots, getting them off after some physical effort and throws them to the side. Pidge repeats the process with his socks. All she has left is a thick blanket that she hopes to keep dry for Lance once he recovers enough.

So she wraps her arms around his feet tight, soles up against her chest, using her own body heat as much as she can. Pidge nearly lets go just from the sheer cold, but forces herself to hold on.

“I’m not going to let you down,” she promises, eyes squeezed shut in determination. “I don’t know if you can hear this, but you mean a lot to me - both versions of me.” Pidge opens her eyes mid-reverie and blinks, having spoken herself into a conundrum. “Well, I mean, I’m not two different people, I’m just pretending to be. Pidge is just a nickname my brother gave me. You can call me either one, I don’t care.”

No signs of moment from Lance. The silence from him begins to unnerve her. His vibrant personality is one of his bright spots.

“Don’t think this means I’m going to take it easy on you,” she continues, breaking off that particular train of thought. “I still have to find my family. I can’t let Galra Corp catch onto me more than they already have. I’m just one faceless bad guy in a city full of them.”

No response. Tears well up in her eyes, her heart turning as numb as her hands. “Please wake up. You weren’t supposed to do this for me.”

There is no change in Lance’s condition. Pidge growls. This is taking too long, and it isn’t enough. Pidge anticipated Lance overusing his powers, but berated herself in not preparing for this magnitude.

Lance needs to be in a bathtub. Pidge doesn’t have one.

Angry at herself, Pidge forces herself to watch the ice crystals that methodically form on her arms. They are pretty, in an objective way. She just hates that she hadn’t known the extents of Lance’s ice powers. When they’d first met, he hadn’t even been capable of handling them properly, let alone create a blast large enough to suffer this type of consequence.

She had been so wrapped up in searching for her missing family, she had forgotten to pay attention to her friends’ progress.

And supposedly cares.

Lance is the only one who knows why Pidge really stole from Galra Corp. Even if they stood off against each other time and time again, he never failed to at least try and be on her side in any way he could considering their positions - like today. A gesture she usually rejects.

Up until now.

“...Dad always said his coworkers were like family. You’ve tried to have my back.” Pidge smiles warmly. “It’s about time I had yours, and trusted you to have mine.”

Pidge removes her gloves and rolls up her sleeves. “It’s going to be hot tomorrow. You better appreciate this because I’ll have to wear long sleeves.”

Digging deep, she calls upon powers she hasn’t touched since childhood. Her face twitches as moss and seedlings grow from her skin; the consequences for using her own powers.

Small, but stringy vines extend from her tree. Pidge wills them to snake into the hot water and then wrap themselves around Lance and the table.

With them, she fastens something that resembles a bathtub - funny looking as it still floats in the air. Making sure there are no leaks, she gently raises his head to rest on the edge. Pidge then takes a spare hose and fills the makeshift container. Once all but Lance’s head is below water, she places the smaller cloth on his forehead.

Pidge scratches at her arms, the plantlife making her annoyedly itchy. Ugh, they are on her cheek this time too. No robotics club tomorrow for her. She’ll have to call Hunk to pick up Lance later anyway, might as well apologize for not being able to continue working on Funbot. There is still plenty of time before state competition at least.

Pidge groans. This could take days if it was anything like her plant-skin.

Back to waiting.

~~

Hours later, Lance has visibly improved.

The frost has gone from most of his body, and Pidge has been able to remove his uniform. It currently hangs to dry on old pipes, long since decommissioned and drained. Tesla works hard to blow dry it, moving in a rectangular formation while distributing jets of air from its mouth port.

Pidge refuses to remove his underwear. It’s bad enough having to stare at the rest of his naked body, watching for any sign of infection.

His eyebrows move - scrunched as if not wanting to wake up after a good nap.

“Lance? Lance!” Pidge perks up from her poor seat posture; hunching over the side of the plant tub.

His eyes open slowly, and Pidge makes sure her face is the first he sees. He closes them again and groans before opening them again. “Katie?” he asks softly.

Pidge’s brain freezes for longer than she likes. She seizes her hat from his head and hastily sticks her hair under it - away from his field of vision.

“No, just Pidge,” she tells him coolly. “Katie is your friend from school. I brought you to my lab. How much do you remember?”

Pidge feels unguarded as Lance studies her face, as if looking for something. She doesn’t know why it feels like he sees straight into her soul.

He doesn’t speak immediately, instead observing his surroundings. His mouth parts limply, eyes falling back to Pidge. “Lab? The secret one?” He asks slowly, face seeking comprehension.

Pidge nods. “That’s right. No one will bother us here.” She gives him a stern look. “But you are going have to promise not to tell anyone about it. It’s secret for a reason.”

“What did you do?”

“Huh?” Pidge says intelligently, eyebrows rising.

She notices what seems profound about Lance now. Despite being fully awake, his eyes are dim. They search her heart because they are… soulless; blank.

“Your lab,” Lance continues in near monotone, “did you run experiments on me?”

Pidge flaps her mouth in surprise before she can properly form words. “That was one joke I made months ago, Lance,” she replies earnestly. “I wouldn’t ever do anything to harm you, not for real.”

Lance does not respond, his gaze wandering around the room.

“Lance, what do you remember?” Pidge prompts again.

“Sendak. He was going to kill you,” Lance responds.

Pidge bites her lip. “Yes, he was.”

Silence from Lance again. It feels wrong.

“Is that all you remember?” Pidge asks again.

“Yes,” Lance says, now looking down at the bath he’s in.

“I have plant powers,” Pidge confesses, rolling up her sleeves to show him the small prairie that remains on her arms. “You attacked Sendak with what I’m assuming was your entire power core. Your whole body was covered in frostbite. I made this so I could get you in warm water - to help heal you. I don’t think you’ll need to see a doctor since this is your body’s natural response to your powers, but you probably shouldn’t do any hero work for a while,” she rambles. “It might even be best if you stay here. If it’s anything like my powers it’ll take days for the effects to go away - I have to wear long sleeves on the hottest day of summer thanks to you,” she grumbles.

Now that Lance is awake and on the mend she doesn’t feel too bad quipping with him. Her heart drops when he doesn’t so much as acknowledge it.

It seems his body warms quickly, but his soul takes longer to thaw.

“I think it’s time for you to get out of the water,” Pidge says. “I’ve got a warm blanket and a pretty comfortable couch waiting for you. I know it’s not quite your standard for bed, but it’s let me doze off hundreds of times.”

Lance doesn’t move.

“Lance,” she pleads, heart aching to see him like this. “Get out of the water.”

On that request he does. Pidge assists him by lowering the table and offering herself as support.

“Tesla, get the blanket please.”

The little robot zooms past the humans and flips the blanket onto itself. Pidge grins in pride at the sight. Tesla makes an excellent ghost, Pidge decided, she’s going to rock Halloween this year.

She wraps the blanket around Lance for modesty and warmth, carefully guiding him over to the well loved cushions. Once he lay stretched out, Pidge begins to feel better about the situation as a whole. His body is out of danger and she can relax.

Lance seems to sense this as well. He is sleeping again before Pidge can give Tesla a good pat of thanks for its good work.

She kneels beside him, taking a moment to brush a loose strand of hair from his face. “I meant what I said. From now on I’ll be a better friend as Pidge. No more tricks. I’ll let you help me find my family.”

Reaching over, she wraps her arms around him and rests her head to his chest. “You deserve that and more.”

Time to wait again.

~~

It was the next day before Lance stirs again.

Pidge has spent the hours pouring over the disc she recovered from Galra Corp. It did turn out to be her father’s code. Pidge is convinced there is a message in here for her. She sits in her old office chair, glasses glinting off the computer screen as her own program ran the code through, looking for any familiar patterns.

A thud and a screech of “What the heck?!” reminds her of her guest.

She twirls herself around to face him, relieved to see him up. “Good morning, Lance. Sleep well?” she says cordially.

Lance does not take it that way.

“Pidge? Where - where are we?” he whispers in panic. Pidge can’t help but grin at the sight of a fully recovered Lance flustered and out of sorts.

“My lab,” she answers, intertwining her fingers together. “I told you that yesterday, but you obviously don’t remember waking up.”

Lance gapes, panic growing on his face. “Your - your lab? As in your secret villainous lair?”

Pidge frowns, annoyed. “It’s my lab, and it’s secret, which means you cannot tell anyone about it - including Hunk.”

“I can’t promise that!” Lance exclaims. “Hunk finds out everything eventually. He’s my best friend!”

“He’s also insufferably nosy, which is exactly why he can’t know. Got it?”

Lance nods three times in quick succession, clearly nervous. He gulps. “You’re not going to do any weird experiments on me are you?”

“What is with you thinking I would do something like that?” Pidge wheezes, strained that this of all things is what he’s concerned about.

“Oh I don’t know,” Lance glares, “maybe it’s all the traps I’m lucky enough to test for you. All I ask,” he says much more calmly, holding his hands aloft in surrender and causing the blanket fall to the ground, “is that you do not harm my face.”

Pidge stares incredulously. “You are an idiot.”

“I am not!” Lance says, offended. He pauses before he can begin his rant and make the mistake of looking down. He screams and wraps the blanket hastily around himself again. “What happened to my suit?!”

“It’s drying over there,” Pidge points over to where Tesla is ironing out wrinkles with its laser eyes. “Although I don’t know why you even need it if you don’t bother to hide your identity.”

“A hero has a suit because it’s what heroes do! And I’m a professional!” He pauses, confusion flickering across his face. “Why do I not have it on? Who-?” Lance stops and a light seemed to go off in his brain. He turns a deep shade of red. “Holy crow - you undressed me?”

“I had to,” Pidge says, finally standing. She let the banter and teasing melt away in return for concern. “I don’t know how much you actually remember, but you saved my life by overusing your powers. I had to treat you for frostbite literally everywhere.” She sighs. “You slept for nearly 24 hours.”

Lance falls silent. He stares at her, just as when he first woke, but this time with a mix of concern and admiration.

“I did huh?” His laugh is hollow. “My first major job and I attack a Galra Corp executive, and save a thief. What a hero I am.” He then smiles genuinely. “But I’m glad it was you, Pidge. Sendak was out of line and you’re just trying to find your family.”

Pidge returns his smile, warmth in her heart. “Thank you Lance, for everything.”

“I guess we’re even then.” He scratches his head. “So my ice powers make me freeze up completely huh?”

“That’s right,” Pidge confirms, scientist mode kicked into gear. She whirls around in her chair and brings up Lances stats on her largest monitor. “This is your biorhythm through the last 20 hours,” she explains as Lance stands behind her chair. “As you can see from your heart rate, you were basically in hibernation. The applications to your powers expands two fold if you can use this for infiltration missions.” She grins smugly. “The bad guys won’t pay attention to you if they think you’re dead.”

“I’m a hero Pidge, not a spy,” Lance insists dryly.

“It’s your information,” she shrugs and turns to face him. Pidge sighs. She needs to tell him. “Look, Lance, your heart rate wasn’t the only thing that was affected. Your emotional response was as well. You woke up once and you were not yourself.”

Lance frowns. “I don’t remember anything after Sendak turned to face me.”

“...probably for the better.” Pidge is relieved; her identity is still a secret. She has no intention of telling him that if she can help it.

Lance’s eyes widen. “Oh no. If I’ve been asleep I missed my study date with Katie! She’s not going to be happy.”

Pidge smiles knowingly. “I’m sure she’ll understand. The hero business is pretty unpredictable.” She frowns, running his words through her head once more. “Wait - date?” Her heart beats wildly. “You like this girl, don’t you?” she finishes quietly.

“I might.” He glares, but his blush is unmistakable. “I just - I don’t want to look like too much of a goof. She’s too important. So don’t you dare bring her into this,” he rolls his wrist looking for the proper word, “thing we have going on.”

Pidge makes care to bite the inside of her lip to resist reacting to that particular statement. “Actually, Lance, soon we may not have to fight anymore,” she deflects instead. “This disc I got from Galra Corp hopefully contains a message from my dad, or proof Zarkon is up to no good. If I can get the hero association to buy it, then we’ll finally be on the same side.”

His face is oddly neutral for this type of good news, but he eventually smiles. “It’ll be kind of weird. None of the other bad guys ever monologue or exchange witty banter. I’ll miss it.

“But,” he continues, a sad smile on his face, “it’ll be worth it to find out what happened to your family. I really do hope you find something.”

“Thanks,” Pidge tells him sincerely. She turns back to her computer, not trusting herself to say anything else.

The silence is uncomfortable. Lance breaks it.

“So, I should probably be getting back to my apartment.”

“I already called your friend Hunk to pick you up at the pier in a few hours. He’s taking you out for pizza, you need the calories so eat whatever you want. I need to stay here and study the information on the disc,” Pidge says automatically, busy typing away.

“...How do you know Hunk’s number?”

Pidge stops typing. “I hacked the phone company,” she lies quickly. “I called with Katie’s number to keep this place hidden. Remember,” she swivels around to glare seriously at him, “do not tell Hunk how to get here or I will continue using you to test my traps.”

Lance brightens, his smile wide. “Really? Just like that? No more traps? And you won’t involve Katie in any of your schemes?” he finishes suspiciously.

Pidge nods, equaling his smile. “No more traps. Consider us a tentative working relationship.” No promises on Katie.

“I swear I won’t say a word then,” Lance promises. He pauses and sniffs at the air. “Is that Green Lion body wash?”

Pidge groans. At this rate her double life is definitely doomed to unravel.

[quiveringbunny]

Making Merry - An Olicity Holiday Story (G - 3/3)

Well, here I am, a bit late with the final chapter of this fluffy holiday meringue. I do hope you are entertained by the resolution. 

Many thanks to everyone who encouraged me along on this one with comments and kudos. Extra hugs to the world’s most overqualified beta @tinaday3w for being awesome in every possible way.

(Ao3 Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3)

Chapter 3: The Aftermath 

It was well-after midnight when Felicity finally finished her work. She had stopped the service attack on the SCPD, strengthened security measures, and written up a situation report. She also managed to trace the ne’er-do-well to a server in Russia. Fracking Bratva. Every so often, some guy had to show off to his boss by breaching an American network. Trying to have the offender arrested by Moscow police would be a wasted effort, but Felicity did manage to forward the hacker’s IP address to Interpol’s Cybercrime division as well as a couple of European white hat hackers she knew who liked to dabble in law enforcement.

She wasn’t tired in the least, but rather feeling a bit overstimulated from the rush of problem-solving she had engaged in. The thought of going straight home and dwelling on her botched date with Oliver Queen was more than she could bear. They had exchanged texts around 10 pm. He said he hoped her night was going okay. She sent back a hurried string of anxious looking emojis punctuated with panda bears. He responded with a thumbs up. So much for an evening of holiday romance.

In an effort to embrace her epic wallowing, Felicity decided to find a bar and have a drink before heading home. She engaged a Lyft driver to take her to Poison, Max Fuller’s notorious watering hole, but on the way, they passed Verdant. She recalled that Oliver had a connection to the club. Deciding that if she couldn’t see him, she could at least drown her sorrows somewhere associated with him, she asked the driver to amend their route at the last minute. A hefty tip was added to the final bill.

Felicity had never been inside what some of her police cohorts referred to as “The Jewel of the Glades” before. It was pretty impressive. Spacious and colorful. A solid crowd of smartly-dressed people from Central Casting filled the place. The sound system was quite good. When the early notes of a popular song played, a number of people fled the bar areas to fill the dance floor and Felicity took the opportunity to find a stool at a bar near the back of the space.

The bartender was drying barware when she sat down. He nodded to her, finished a glass and then leaned forward with a nod.

“What can I make for you, Beautiful?” His face was made for smiling, she thought. That was a good quality in a bartender.

“Do you have a blender?”

He looked genuinely contrite. “Sorry, I do not.”

Felicity’s face fell. So much for submerging herself in a super-girly frozen pina colada.

“How about I make you one of my super mojitos. Sweet and minty. Or maybe a chocolate martini.”

“Are there nuts? Because I can’t have those. I’ll look like a balloon in the Macy’s Parade and then I’ll die.”

“No nuts.” He raised his fingers in the Boy Scout salute.

“Can you make a chocolate martini a double?” She couldn’t help the sigh that escaped her lips at the end of the question.

“I’ll take care of you.” His voice was warm and understanding before he turned away to gather the magical ingredients he needed to soothe his forlorn customer.

While he worked, Felicity spun her seat around a couple of times before stopping to watch the people. The happy people. They were moving together to the beat, almost like water swirling in a pool and it was mesmerizing. She was distracted by it until the bartender placed a drink in front of her with a flourish.

“Here you go,” he announced. “One Mega Chocolate Martini. Guaranteed to help you forget whatshisname.”

Felicity dropped her head into her folded arms.

“Oh God. It’s that obvious.” She looked up to meet the bartender’s eyes. They were nice, but they weren’t Oliver’s eyes. God, she was so pathetic.

“I am so, so lame,” she continued, then raised the drink to her lips and took a deep draw while the mixologist looked on with curiosity.

“He’s a scoundrel and he doesn’t deserve you.” The bartender didn’t say it in a flirty way. He said it like a brother might say it, she thought. Nice. She didn’t have a brother. But if she did, she would want one who could make a chocolate martini like the one that was currently seducing her taste buds and dulling the sharp ache in her brain.  

Felicity shook her head. “Nope. He’s wonderful. And amazing. It’s me. I blew it. We had a date and I blew it.” Felicity took another draw on the glass. “You know, Chocolate is the only edible substance that melts around 93° degrees, just below our human body temperature. That’s why chocolate melts so easily in your mouth.”

The man squelched a smile.

“What could somebody as cute as you do to ruin a date with Mister Wonderful and Amazing?”

“I had to cancel. Really last minute. Work. Stupid Russian mob.”

The bartender looked on her with curiosity, then observed as she downed the rest of the martini in several gulps, then planted the empty glass on the bar

“Keep ‘em coming, Barkeep.”

The man nodded and resigned to look after this one. She was on her own and obviously having a bad night. No need to see it get worse.

Tommy Merlyn liked to work behind the bar occasionally. It was good to experience the club from a service perspective. It allowed him insight into the current customer base. He didn’t mind the fact that people really did look for consolation in the counsel of a bartender. Tommy wasn’t exactly a wise man, but he was a good listener, which was often times all the other person needed.

Tommy continued to make the sad blonde drinks, albeit progressively weaker ones, for nearly an hour. Eventually, he offered a glass of water to help reduce the pain that was likely to come the next day. When another bartender arrived to relieve him, Tommy moved to the other side of the bar and sat with her for a while.

On her third martini, Tommy finally learned her name. Suddenly, everything made sense. That morning, he met his best friend at the gym to collect his truck and the man was smiling. So many teeth. It was disconcerting, really. Tommy pressed for an explanation and was rewarded with a ten-minute book report on a woman. She was brilliant and funny and unpredictable and remarkable. Oliver Queen never described a woman as remarkable in his whole life. So, he made a point to file away her name for future reference. Felicity Smoak.  

>--->

The sound of the doorbell caused Oliver to wake suddenly and roll off the sofa in the den of the Queen Mansion. He had fallen asleep in front of the fire a couple of hours earlier and it was only embers now. It was 2:30 in the morning and he immediately felt dread overtaking his initial annoyance at the situation. Bad news was often delivered at this ungodly hour. He tugged the hoodie around his t-shirt and lounge pants and trudged to the foyer.

Nothing prepared him for the sight, really. There in the doorway stood his best friend with a ridiculous grin and his arms full of…

“Tommy!” Oliver gasped as his best friend moved past him to enter the grand foyer.

“Shh. Please assure me this slumbering princess is the correct Felicity. The one you were mooning over this morning. Because if she isn’t, this was a gross miscalculation on my part.”

“Of course it is. What happened to her?” Oliver’s voice was louder now. The sight of Felicity looking slightly disheveled, her purse piled in her lap as she rested in Tommy’s arms was very disconcerting.

“Down boy.” Tommy gave him a pointed stare. “She’s just sleeping it off.”

Oliver scrubbed his face with his palms. He was still waking up, really, and his brain was trying to make sense of the situation.

“Where do you want her?” Tommy asked blithely. With more thought, he corrected himself. “I mean, where should I carefully place your girl?”

“Sofa in the den. I’ll get blankets.” On that, Tommy headed for the Queen Mansion’s only casually appointed room and Oliver bounded up the stairs to fetch what was needed to make his guest comfortable.  

When Oliver returned, several blankets and pillows bundled in his arms, he found Felicity still sleeping on the sofa and Tommy in a leather chair. He had stoked the fire, sourced the scotch, and had a tumbler in hand. Another glass was set on a table next to a matching chair, presumably poured for his host.

The room was warming up again. The fire blazed and crackled in the hearth. The flames reflected off the modest-sized, beautifully appointed Christmas tree twinkling with white lights that filled one corner. It was one of four trees in the house. There was another in the Great Room next to the foyer, and both Oliver and Thea’s rooms had trees as well, as was the tradition.

Oliver carefully placed a soft, warm blanket over Felicity, taking a moment to study her face and assure himself that she was okay. He actually tucked her in, eliciting a snort from Tommy. Oliver shot him a glare and returned to smooth the blanket. Finally convinced the lady was in a deep and comfortable sleep, he plopped himself in his chair and grabbed the drink that was waiting for him.

“Okay, you want to tell me what happened?” He kept his voice quiet and even, so he wouldn’t disturb her.

Tommy took a swig of liquid and snorted. “All the gin joints in all the world and she shows up in mine. Ours.”

Oliver shook his head in disbelief and waited for a deeper explanation.

“I thought at first it was some kind of post-work, post-crisis thing and the woman needed to unwind, but she was just really sad. Fate brought her to me, I guess. And so I bring her to you.”

“Tommy, she’s a person, not an offering. Wait, sad?”

“Yeah, apparently she had a hot date tonight she wasn’t able to keep. Felt terrible about it.”

Tommy’s lips curled into a smirk as Oliver nodded and hinted at a smile. He was sorry she was so disappointed about what had happened, but he couldn’t help but feel happy knowing it had meant something to her. He meant something, perhaps?

“Good. I mean, it’s good you were there. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. She may have imbibed her weight in chocolate martinis…that I made for her.”

Oliver threw Tommy an exasperated glance. Tommy Merlyn shrugged.

“Hey, it was what the grown-up lady wanted. And Ms. Smoak assured me she wasn’t driving. Then she started waning and kind of fell asleep on the bar. I looked in her purse...just for ID, and her address was there. I thought about taking her home, but I was worried she would be alone when I left her there. So, I figured you were good for hangover nurse duty in the morning.”

Oliver sighed, signaling that he now understood.

“Of course. I’m glad you brought her here. It was the right thing. I’ll look after her.”

Tommy Merlyn affected a whisper now. “By the way, she may or may not work for the Russian mob. I'm not sure. She was kind of wasted. Anyway, she’ll keep you on your toes, Ollie. I approve.” He saluted Oliver with the remnants of the drink in his glass and finished it with a hearty swig before bolting for the door.

“Thanks, Buddy.” Oliver gave Tommy a smirky grin.

“Alright. I’m out. Beauty sleep. Santa’s coming.”

>--->

It was early on Christmas Eve morning when Oliver was gently nudged awake by his housekeeper. Raisa was a woman of formidable character and exceptional warmth who had been a part of the Queen family since Oliver and Thea were children. When it came to the Queen siblings, she was loved just as hard as she loved in return. Still, she took no sass from either of them.

“Mister Oliver,” she hissed. “Why is this young woman asleep on your sofa?”

Oliver’s eyes fluttered open and his brain skidded into wakefulness as he shifted in his oversized chair. He sighed heavily.

“She’s a friend, Raisa.”

“I should hope so,” she countered. “But that does not explain why a girl with the face of an angel is asleep in the den. The last time I cleaned, this house had five guest bedrooms with nice comfortable beds. It makes no sense to be on a sofa.”

It was rare that Raisa lectured him now that Oliver was a grown man, but he felt suitably admonished.

“I know. Tommy Merlyn brought Miss Smoak by quite late and she was already…asleep. I worried she might wake in the night and feel disoriented. This seemed like the best solution.”

Raisa studied him, as she had done hundreds of times, searching his face. When he was a callow youth, she had usually seen right through his attempts as misdirection. All she saw this morning was sincerity. Oliver Queen had outgrown his youthful stupidity years earlier to become a gentleman of character. That didn’t mean she didn’t keep him on his toes now and again.

“Mister Tommy should know better too. Now, you will be needing coffee for two?”

“A very large pot, please, Raisa.” He sighed and carded a hand through his mussed hair.

The woman looked over at Felicity and nodded before making her way toward the kitchen.

“Eggs, fruit and scones?”

“That would be wonderful. No nuts though. She’s allergic. Do we still have some of those preserves you make?”

“She must be special. You never share your favorite preserves.” Raisa smirked as she headed through the doorway.

“Thank you, Raisa.”

“Oh, Mister Oliver.” Raisa poked her head back in. “There may be some mistletoe…around.”

The woman smirked as Oliver rolled his eyes.

>--->

It was a crazy dream. One of those long ones that just goes on and on. So long that you suspect it’s a dream while you’re in it. There were panda bears and somehow Felicity was in charge of them. She liked that because they were obedient and she got to pet them. And her 9th grade gym teacher, Mr. Sadler, was there. He was wearing a furry hat like the Winkies in the Wizard of Oz and even though Felicity never smelled things in her dreams, he smelled like cigarettes. She just knew it. He was the enemy and everywhere she went – the grocery store, a server room at MIT, and the balcony at Winterfell. And he kept swinging an umbrella at her panda bears. That really pissed her off. In an unexpectedly aggressive move, she hit Winkie Sadler with an uppercut that dropped him on the ground. Felicity woke up when the panda bears hailed her as their leader.

She murmured, “Yes, I’ll be your queen,” into the soft brown suede of the couch that rubbed softly against her cheek. The utterance of his surname caught Oliver’s attention enough to pull his gaze from the weekend newspaper to his guest.

He studied her from his chair a few feet away, as he had done numerous times in the past hour. It wasn’t easy being a Queen. He had wondered for some time if he would ever find someone to share his life with. All of the obvious choices, from seasoned socialites to driven businesswomen, had drifted in and out of his life, but there had been no one who stood out, who challenged him and taught him. None of those women connected with him and made him think and laugh quite like this lady had since Friday night. Felicity Smoak was different. She saw things from a different angle, she was vivacious and funny. She could be trouble, he thought, challenging at every turn. But maybe he was ready for that. He didn’t want to rush anything, but maybe she was it. Maybe one day she could...  

“Queen of the Pandas,” she clarified in a groggy voice. Her arm even raised so she could wave to her subjects awkwardly before it dropped suddenly and she whacked herself in the face.

Oliver would have laughed quite loudly if he hadn’t been concerned she might have hurt herself. A moment later, she was sitting up, shaking off the pain. It didn’t take long for the blonde woman to look confused. Where was she? How did she get here?

“Felicity.” Oliver spoke quietly, trying not to surprise her. “You’re okay. You’re at my home.”

She looked at him but it was like she didn’t recognize him out of context. Then she scanned the well-appointed room and ran her fingers along the cushions.

“No way. This looks like a museum. This couch is suede. I can’t stop petting it. Nobody has a suede couch.”

“Felicity, it’s me. Oliver. You slept on my sofa last night.”

Suddenly, Felicity’s eyes grew wide and her skin turned pink. “Oh, my God. I drank too much. I had a cab bring me here, didn’t I? How presumptuous and rude. I am so, so sorry.”

Felicity bolted up and searched for her shoes, which were at the foot of the couch. Oliver watched wordlessly, not sure what to say next. As soon as she finished putting them on, she made a beeline for the door, but Oliver finally sprung into action and quickly headed her off before she got to the foyer.

“Don’t run away. You weren’t presumptuous at all. It was Tommy who brought you here.”

“Tommy?”

“My friend, Tommy…Merlyn.”

“Designer ski mask Tommy Merlyn?”

“Yes, him. You ended up at Verdant last night. Our club. Tommy served you some drinks and when you got…overtired…he brought you here. I hope you don’t mind.”

She cringed at her memory of the past evening. Not her greatest showing. Now Oliver probably thought she was a barfly.

“Oh, I’m so embarrassed.”

Oliver’s expression reflected a warm, charming smile. He placed his hands on her shoulders and leaned in for emphasis.

“Don’t be. You had a tough night. Were you able to fix the problems at SCPD?”

“Oh, yes. BritneyLovr888 won’t be infiltrating Starling City servers again for some time.”

“You found him and he’s caught?”

“Nope.” She sighed loudly. “He’s some jerkwad hacker in Moscow. I stopped him.  I would tell you what I did to him, but a lady likes to maintain some mystery. Just know it was fairly terrible and he won’t be bothering the SCPD anymore.”

“Wow. You’re kind of a badass, aren’t you?” Oliver grinned at her and watched her blush in return. It was fun to have her on the ropes for a moment, given how clever she was. “I guess I can take comfort in knowing that you cancelled dinner for a very good cause last night.”

Felicity’s head dropped against his chest and talked into his shirt. Oliver looked down at the top of her head and smiled.

“I did not want to cancel. I hope you know that.” She murmured.

“I know.”

Felicity looked up at him with sparkling blue eyes. “Good,” she replied.

“As far as I’m concerned, dinner wasn’t cancelled. It was postponed. Okay?”

“Okay, Oliver.” The air felt lighter suddenly. Oliver felt the change in energy and decided to embrace it.

“It’s Christmas Eve. Do you have plans?”

Felicity chuckled. “I don’t even know what I’m doing for breakfast.”

“Ah,” Oliver pivoted and pulled Felicity’s arm into the crook of his and began leading her across the foyer and toward the kitchen. “You are in luck. Raisa, she helps Thea and me with the house, she has made us a delicious breakfast.”

“Coffee?” She moaned.

“Yes, ma’am. And then, I was thinking…you have a great Christmas tree, but it’s not decorated.”

“Oh, I don’t want to make a fuss with it. The tree doesn’t need fancy decorations.”

“I was thinking simple, actually. When Thea and I were kids, our parents would make bowls of popcorn and we would string it and hang it on one of the trees while we watched movies.”

“One? How many trees do you have?”

Oliver looked embarrassed. “Four. We had eight one year. That was crazy. Now that it’s just Thea and me, we have four. Not very big ones.”

Felicity’s eyes twinkled. “Well, as long as they aren’t very big.”

Suddenly, Oliver gathered her up in a hug. He rubbed his cheek against hers as he had done the previous day and it made her giggle. Oliver held her until she stopped. He really didn’t want to let go. But eventually, she pulled away to look up at him.

“Could we do the popcorn thing tonight, Oliver? It would be perfect.” She sounded genuinely excited.

“Sure. As long as you’ll let me take you to dinner after Christmas.”

“Okay. No interruptions this time. Even if the city is under attack from ninjas.”

“Is that likely to happen?” He adopted a serious tone.

“You never know.”

Oliver took her arm and began to lead her toward the hall, the shortest path to the kitchen.

“I should warn you in advance, our housekeeper, Raisa, is a bit…how do I say this? Totally of her own volition, she may have spent the past hour putting mistletoe up all over the house instead of making breakfast.”

Felicity smiled quietly, then paused.  

He felt her stop moving suddenly.  Oliver wasn’t sure what might be wrong. Before he could ask, the blonde, so much shorter than him, rolled up on her toes, gathered her hands to reach around his neck, and pulled him down for a kiss. Her mouth was warm and soft against his. Without thinking, he wrapped an arm around her waist and pressed fingers into her soft hair, extending the moment a little longer. When their lips finally parted, Oliver pressed his forehead against hers and they shared the same air. Feeling her so close felt right.

“Felicity Smoak. You really are remarkable.”

“Well, I am impatient. I couldn’t wait for the mistletoe.”

>--->

That night, Oliver Queen made dinner for Felicity Smoak at her apartment and they strung popcorn to hang on her Christmas tree. It was a lovely evening and marked a tradition they would revisit again and again. Thea and her beau managed to get in a bit early on Christmas Day. When Oliver introduced Felicity as his girlfriend, Thea congratulated her brother on his fast work and took all the credit for bringing them together.

Tommy joined the party later in the evening. He watched Oliver and Felicity with interest, noting how they seemed to complement each other in every way that mattered. Later, he waited expectantly for Oliver to open his Christmas present. No one laughed louder than Oliver when he found a certain designer balaclava inside the box.  

The End.

Tagging: @scu11y22, @tinaday3w, @dettiot, @mel-loves-all, @andjustforthismoment, @aussieforgood, @florence-bubbles, @flailykermit, @diggo26, @olicityaddicted, @thewidowpazzy, @melsanfo, @emilybettqueen, @yourviewingparty, @lynslogic, @tanyaslogic, @angelalafan, @coal000, @triciaolicity, @choiceofluthien, @emilybuttrickards, @seaolicity, @supersillyanddorky06, @swordandarrow, @watsoncroft, @jsevick, @readerkas, @yespleasehawkeyee, @geniewithwifi, @befitandchase, @caedmonfaith, @myhauntedblacksoul, @casydee, @jamyfan-blog, @awesomeziziblr, @bigdeesmallworld, @alemap74, @angelicmisskitty, @almondblossomme, @callistawolf, @miriam1779, @imusuallyobsessed, @vaelisamaza, @mochababychristy, @juliesioux, @pjcmfalcon, @josephine-in-mirkwood, @i-m-a-fan-world, @ms-mags, @red-devilkin, @ah-maa-zing, @itshandledd, @olicityandsteroline, @turn-thy-paige, @wildirish23, @nlh03, @alanna-the-lionheart, @charlinert, @amytosh, @stygian-omada-fan, @multi-fandom-crazy-fangirl, @machawicket,  @biermank, @i-am-wordaholic, @memcjo, @jaspertown, @itchiygo, @oliverfel4, @tolivers, @ccdimples88, @ap-n, @pleasantfanandstudent, @emmilynestill,  @kainesbitt77,  @anthfan, @lyricalarrow, @laurabelle2930, @ellefraser17, @ireland1733, @mammashof, @chachurka, @somewhatinvisible, @tdgal1, @buffaleen, @suziesammy-blog, @missyriver, @lovelycssefan, @kh2o, @codebreakinsmoak, @letsnevergrowupfan, @memcjo, @bwangangelic, @arrowolicity88, @thebookjumper, @arrowlainie05, @pineprincess, @saebrfan, @olicityinmyheart, @razorbladenitro, @letsnevergrowupfan, @1106angel, @xflarrowbeforebloodx, @omglovechrissie, @benisa1608, @simonona-blog, @blindspot-fanatic, @hecatesan, @hope-for-olicity, @fangirlingkitten, @scandalnewbie, @just-arrowolicity

[confusedsiewmai]

Ocean Petals

Writer’s note: So this is my first fanfic EVER and I’m super duper nervous so here goes nothing! (Please don’t come to my house to murder me.) I’ll probably write a part 2 but in the end, I’ll also see how this ends up. I genuinely hope you guys will enjoy this. Enough! Shall we begin?

Special thanks to:

@suitboxers (Cos’ this only started because I saw this beautiful fanart of Hanahaki!Keith)

@flaming-potato-arson (For encouraging me and giving advice that did help)

@mrscarocat​ (For being there while I whined like an anxious kid and for reading this so many times to help me improve and calm my ass down)

Summary: Keith thought he had smothered those feelings for a certain blue paladin. But they had taken roots where they shouldn’t and began smothering him instead. That was how flowers bloomed within his chest.

(Or: the Hanahaki!Klance AU where Keith suffers)

The first sign was the difficulty breathing.

While practising in the training deck, Keith’s breathing grew laboured far too quickly but he ignored the weight in his chest. He would never allow himself to be defeated by a level 5 fight simulator just because he was feeling a little unwell. However, the longer he pressed on, the tighter his chest grew. Each breath sent a sharp pain through his lungs and every strike became harder and harder to deflect. He found himself reacting too slowly, too slowly.

Keith huffed, squinting in effort. The Gladiator bot’s movements merged into a distorted blur, its sword a confusing flurry of movements. When it pulled its arm back, he brought his shield to his left, blocking it.

Under the attacks rained down in rapid succession, Keith was left wheezing loudly, exhausted and dizzy. With a grunt, he swung his bayard. The bot parried it effortlessly and sent him reeling back.

The world spun into a kaleidoscope of colours. The paladin shook his head to clear it. His sight refocused and he saw the Gladiator bot bringing its sword down on him. He barely managed to step aside in time. In the process, he tripped over his own foot and stumbled. Before he could regain his balance, the bot made a stab at him. Keith dodged again but the sword had nicked his right arm and he was hissing in pain.

He needed to keep up. He has to keep up. He cannot-

Everything went black.

Keith was jolted back to his senses when his side slammed onto the floor with a resounding bang. His vision was swimming and he couldn’t even tell up from down. The bot charged towards him. Keith opened his mouth to speak but all that came out was a pathetic wheeze.

“End simulation! End simulation!” A voice pierced through the dark fog in his head. Relief washed over him upon hearing the sound of the bot deactivating. Then, he heard someone run towards him. “Holy crow! Are you okay?”

Shakily, Keith looked up and he saw patches of brown and blue. After blinking several times, he found himself gazing into a familiar pair of blue orbs, which were brimmed with worry. He avoided staring into those too-beautiful eyes and croaked an automatic response, “Yeah.”

His chest actually still felt tight. Or maybe it felt even tighter. His left shoulder was throbbing in dull pain and his mind was fuzzy and thick. Keith pressed a hand to the side of his head and groaned as he got up. A sharp pain impaled his chest and he fell back. He expected his head to slam onto the floor but Lance had caught him quickly enough.

Lance winced. “Nope. You’re not. We’re going to the sick bay.”

Grunting in extreme effort, Keith tried to sit up again and Lance supported him. Then, he was helped onto his feet. His legs were weak and wobbled like a newborn fawn’s and the world tilted this way and that, but firm yet gentle hands guided him as he swayed and pushed forward stubbornly.

An invisible yet impossibly soft pillow smothered the already suffocating boy when Lance sighed with a worried smile, his eyebrows quirking in a half-frown-half-smirk that only he could pull off. “Slow down, mullet man.”

***

Then, Keith knew he was screwed.

Blue petals sat wetly in his pale palm and he stared at them blankly before glaring at them. Hanahaki disease. The disease that leeched off unrequited love and made flowers bloom in your lungs, slowly, slowly clogging up your chest and suffocating you, leading you to your eventual, beautiful, tragic death. The world just loved finding ways to rub salt into Keith’s wounds and put him through torture. And the thing that pissed Keith off wasn’t that he’s going to die. He didn’t have anyone waiting for him back on Earth anyway. Instead, it’s the fact that just when he thought that he had, at long last, incinerated his useless feelings for Lance, shoved them into a hole, and buried them under sixty feet of dirt, they come back to haunt him in the form of flowers. Fucking flowers.

And of course they’d be blue. They could never be anything else but the colour of the sea. His ocean eyes were dark and deep, inviting you to sink into the cool embrace of their waters. Inviting even Keith. Keith, whose first experience with the sea was of nearly drowning in it. Keith, who did not know then that the sea was not his territory and was never for him to touch. Keith, who had been impulsive as usual and rushed right into the waters, not seeing past its surface, and plunging straight into the deep unknown.

But he wouldn’t allow himself to do that. Not again.

Crushing the petals in his hands, he threw them in the bin. Even as he trudged out of his room and made his way down the hallway to join the others for breakfast, the beautiful dark blue stayed like a stubborn stain in his mind. There was no way he would let others know about this because they would definitely keep him away from his paladin duties. Voltron needed its paladin and there was an entire universe for him to defend. He couldn’t let some flower disease stop him.

“Ah, Keith!” Coran said as he sauntered over, breaking Keith’s train of thoughts. “I was about to get you. It is rather unusual that you are late today.” After a second or two, his cheery smile turned to one of concern. “Is anything the matter?”

“What? No! Nothing at all!” Why was he so bad at lying? “Everything’s great,” Keith mumbled.

Coran looked at him and the boy deflated under his stare, squirming. At last, Coran shrugged. “I will not press you any further, Keith. However,” his eyes smiled, not unlike those of a concerned grandfather, “if you do need someone to talk to, you can always come to me.” He pat Keith’s shoulder and turned back around while Keith followed after. “We better hurry. Lance was incredibly determined to finish Hunk’s cooking before you arrived. Shiro may not be able to hold him off much longer.”

Keith stiffened. His chest tightened just at the mention of Lance and he didn’t quite know if it was just the flowers anymore. All he knew was that he was going to pretend that everything was fine and that he wasn’t dying from some flower-growing, unrequited-love illness. It would drag the team down and the fact that he had a crush on Lance in the first place will be the team joke for the rest of his short miserable life. And he wouldn’t be able to handle Lance’s cocky teasing. He would never let anyone know.

This stupid pining disease will have to kill him first.

***

Lance sang as he danced in joy. “Keith cannot swim! Keith cannot swim!”

From the opposite side of the lounge, Pidge yelled at him to shut up but Lance didn’t hear her over his triumph so she just groaned and put on her headphones, casting Keith a pitying glance.

In disbelief, Lance shook his head. “Why did you even go to the pool that time? You can’t even swim!”

Keith’s face was burning. In a useless attempt to hide his embarrassment, he crossed his arms and scowled. “So what if I can’t?”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Lance said, flicking his head. “Except I’m a thousand times better than you because I can swim and you can’t. Just wait till we have a beach episode! I’ll be showing off my awesome moves while you hang onto your lame float.”

Keith couldn’t help but imagine floating idly in the sea with an inner tube while watching Lance in his swimming trunks, basking in the sea with a thrilled grin, his eyes bright with pure exuberance as sunlight glistens off his wet brown skin. Keith’s stomach fluttered and his lips quirked up. He caught himself and huffed loudly. “Why will there be a beach episode?”

“You know,” Lance said, his hands waving as he waggled his eyebrows. “The classic beach episode.” When Keith didn’t seem to get it, Lance sighed dramatically. “How can anyone be this uncultured! You can just bob around in the sea or whatever, I will be capturing the hearts of all my fans.” He made a finger gun and winked at an imaginary alien, clicking his tongue.

A crushing wave of bitterness crashed over Keith, overwhelming him. “You’re being an idiot. No one likes someone just because they can swim,” he said acidly, glaring, “Lance.”

Lance’s eyes widened for a second before they narrowed. “Oh, really? You’re just jealous because no one likes you and your stupid mullet.”

Keith opened his mouth to yell at him. But he couldn’t make a sound. He couldn’t breathe. His hands flew to his neck. Leaning forward, Keith’s face turned red with effort. He gagged and choked, unable to cough.

“K-Keith?!”

His chest was too tight, never relenting to allow his lungs expand. A hand grasping his neck and the other clenched in a tight fist, Keith keeled over. His body was quivering like a leaf and everything seemed to tumble. He had to breathe but no air was entering his lungs. Hunching over the floor, he lurched forward and felt hands catch him.

From the corner of his eyes, Keith saw Pidge rush over. “Keith! What’s happening?” Her voice was high-pitched and scared as she knelt beside Keith, shaking him violently.

“He’s choking!”

“On what?”

“I don’t know!” Lance shouted. Then, he was kneeling and hitting Keith’s back. “Cough it out! Cough it out!”

Desperately, he tried to gasp but the oxygen never reached his lungs. Face turning blue, he convulsed, his eyes wide with fear and alarm.

Pidge darted out of the room and screamed, “I’ll go get help!”

Lance continued to hammer Keith’s back. In his agony, Keith twisted and turned his body. Then, he managed a slight cough and tasted metal. Breathing should be easier but no matter how hard Keith tried, every breath was cut short by gagging. A violent barking cough tore through his throat.

A spasm of coughs rocked his body. At last, he could just breathe, even if just a little. But a single word Lance muttered was enough to rob the life that he was barely clinging to with his cold shaking hands. “Roses?”

Flowers had bloomed from his lips, blue petals now speckled with red, and had fallen to the floor. His stomach sank.

“Blood! Is this… Hanahaki? Keith?”

Mortified, Keith tried to push him away. But he was weak and his hands could only grasp Lance’s shoulder. He pressed his forehead against his own arm and squeezed his eyes closed. Lance massaged his palms and said, “You’re gonna be okay. Hang in there. You’ll be okay. You’ll be okay.”

Thin arms went under his body and he was raised slightly before being set back down clumsily when Keith began to writhe in agony. “Shoot,” Lance hissed through clenched teeth. As he whispered reassurances into his ears, he cradled Keith and rubbed his back in circles as the quivering boy gasped in short shuddering breaths.

Keith must have lost consciousness at some point because the next thing he knew, a cool metal hand against his cheek and someone slapping him awake. Like a man breaking through the surface of a stormy sea, he abruptly sucked in a large gulp of air.

“He’s breathing again!” Shiro shouted.

Pidge yelled heart-wrenchingly, “Keith!”

“Thank god!” Lance said from beside him. “You’re breathing! Hey, buddy. Breathe, okay? Take deep breaths. You’re gonna be fine.”

Although Keith tried to breathe deeply, his lungs could only take in shallow rasping breaths. Someone stroke his arm soothingly and he focused on the feeling of the warm hand against his cold clammy skin.

Breathing was a little easier now. His eyes fluttered open with effort. Tears blurred his vision (had he been crying?) and puddles of blue and red were scattered across the floor. He coughed feebly. A single blue petal floated down, tainted crimson. Then, his ribs wouldn’t move again.

Shiro’s arms wrapped around Keith and he was lifted. Air wouldn’t fill his lungs and there was no relief. The flowers and feelings clogged up his airway, and his chest tightened further.

Shiro was the first to notice this and shook him in alarm. “He’s not breathing again!”

Instantly, Pidge let out a scared whine and Lance’s panicked voice filled his head. “Quiznak!” A pair of ocean blue eyes looked into him and the lovesick boy found himself drowning in them again. Warm hands held his shivering ones and rubbed his knuckles and he gripped back. In spite of his apprehension, Lance forced himself to sound calm and assuring, “You’ll be okay. Breathe, breathe. Breathe for me—”

Finally, Keith managed to get a few breaths. “I-I can’t,” he whispered between coughs. “I can’t.” Sobs and hacks racked his drained, moribund body. His chest squeezed out a terrified whimper. “Lance…”

Darkness engulfed him once more.

[earlgreytea68]

Iceland, Day 4, Saturday, August 15, 2015

Off bright and early again the next morning, and our first stop was this incredible waterfall that you could walk behind. Although I did not think anything about this looked the least bit safe. We were expected to clamber up and down these tumbled piles of rocks, and everything was soaking wet and the ground was such sucking mud that my sneaker got stuck in it and came off my foot and I uttered this pathetic little cry and flailed at S. S helped me balance and I perched my foot on a rock and waved ineffectually at my shoe in the mud until L stopped laughing and taking photographs long enough to come and help. “This is a dangerous place,” I sniffed huffily. “You’re not on the path,” he pointed out. Which was apparently true but whatever, that path was very poorly marked.

When we were done taking pictures behind the waterfall, we were basically soaked. We walked along the path admiring all the other waterfalls on the same cliff and trying not to get too freaked out by how spongy the ground was. And we passed some people making a huge fuss over a simple garden hose. No idea what that was about.

Eventually, we reached this waterfall grotto thing that you could enter by stepping carefully on stones in the brook. I had no interest in doing that after the already-exciting foot day I’d had—and I did watch someone slip, their whole foot planting in the crystal-clear water—but L and S went in. I tried to get pictures of them but they’re all fuzzy because of the fine mist perpetually on my lens there. We stopped to go to the bathroom there. There were two individual, self-contained toilets divided by gender, so we waited in a long line for the ladies’ room while the men’s room was empty. Why? Patriarchy! Driving further along the road, we saw another huge waterfall, so we stopped to see it. It had something crazy like 500 steps leading up to the top, which of course L ran right up. S and I stayed on the ground like normal people. When he came back he said it was disappointing because nothing could ever exceed the waterfall grotto. We got back on the road, and L proposed a side journey to see the site of an old plane crash. He had run the idea by me the night before and said I’d have to drive on a black sand beach. In my head, this was going to be like Top Gear. It was not. In fact, this was truly my Fury Road. There were other people viewing the wreckage and I found it amusing that we were literally miles from any road, in the middle of a vast, deserted beach, and all of the cars still parked right next to each other like there was a parking lot. I got out and did a Furiosa moment on my knees in the black pebbles, and since I’d already been on my knees, I sprawled out on my stomach to get the proper angle for a forced perspective picture N wanted to take with the airplane wreckage.

The airplane was apparently the remains of some U.S. Navy plane that had crashed in the 80s and was just left there like the shipwrecks off the road the first day. It’s been stripped bare, basically, but you can still climb up and around it. I found it creepy. Airplane wreckage viewed, I Mad-Max’d my way back to the main road and we made our way to Vik. Vik reminded me of those little towns you suddenly come across in the French Alps, nestled in a valley. It’s small, really, and there isn’t much around it. It struck me as the last bastion of civilization, like the town where you’d buy provisions if you were playing Oregon Trail. For this reason, it was busily crowded and everyone seemed super-stressed by it. N asked at the Information Desk for some restaurant recommendations and the woman replied that she couldn’t afford to eat there, which wasn’t terribly helpful. After a lunch of grilled ham and cheese that we tried to make quick, we stopped at the grocery store, which was so crowded there were no parking spaces, so I sat with the car and watched people invent crazy parking spaces all around me. They arrived back with the news that the cashier had been super-rude and probably he and the Information Desk lady had just broken up and that was why they were so unhappy. After Vik, our next stop was the glacial lagoon. Which was so. Far. Away. The good news was the landscape was ever-changing. I can’t even describe it. Iceland is just a completely otherworldly place where you feel like you’ve visited multiple planets in the span of a few hours. We stopped at one point to test the springiness of the moss fuzzing its way over the lava rock. Moss is super-soft, everyone. Suddenly all sorts of medieval AUs make perfect sense! You really can use moss as a pillow.

Eventually we reached the point where we could see glaciers leaking out of mountains toward the land. I’d never seen a glacier before. That hard, crystallized blanket of white is quite something. You couldn’t make reservations at the glacial lagoon, and when we got there the boat to you out to the icebergs was fully booked so we almost had to go home without setting foot on the glacial lagoon. But then we totally lucked out: They had a cancellation for the 5 pm boat, so we were on a boat ten minutes after we reached the lagoon, without having to wait hours like other people did. The boat ride was amazing. We drifted right through the icebergs, even got to touch and taste one, it didn’t rain on us, and even the RELENTLESS ICELANDIC WIND TM gave us a break. And then when we got off the boat we saw seals in the water! So it was basically a perfect situation.

We started to head back toward Vik, the alien landscapes going in reverse now. I was by this time a pro at the one-lane bridges Iceland has everywhere. But I was also getting hungry, and there was basically nowhere to eat. Also, it was getting late, although it didn’t look that way.

We decided to stop and look at one last black beach—this one more genuinely sandy than the plane crash one had been—and I’m glad we did, because this one had puffins! They were so adorable. We stood for a while watching them catapult off the cliff they were living on, wings fluttering wildly, to do a circuit out over the water and then come back.

Feeling lucky, we eventually trudged up to the restaurant on the beach. Except their kitchen had closed, so I ended up with a chocolate croissant for dinner. At least we got to use the bathroom. The bathroom had a very careful sign explaining you couldn’t dry your shoes with the hand dryer. Not men’s business shoes or high heels. In case your plan is to wear high heels on the black sand beach, dash into the waves with them on, and then dry them in the restaurant bathroom. With that, darkness fell and we started our drive back home. At one point, we caught a fireworks display off in the distance, and that was a pleasant diversion for a little while. The rest of the time I just watched my headlights in the reflectors on the side of the road to make sure I didn’t veer off into the wrong part of the darkness.

And then it started to rain. Driving an empty road you don’t know in stormy darkness isn’t very fun. The only thing worse might be when the car that passes you to get in front of you turns out to have no back lights and then an ambulance comes roaring up behind you and the road has no shoulder. We made it home, I untensed, and then I tumbled into bed with my alarm set for two hours later so I could drive us to the airport.