#was having a shitty morning feeling sorry for myself and then the universe hit me with this sight when i turned the corner

[cordially-despised]

[xoxo-teddybear]

He’s Lost - Bakugou Katsuki - Part 2

Bakugou x f!reader

Warnings: angst, slightest fluff, cursing, physical harm mentions, lowkey little yandere obsessive hints, smut, 18+, daddy kink, sad boi Bakugou    :(

BAKUGOU’S MASTERLIST

Summary: Bakugou’s been going through hell ever since the breakup. He’s been so lost without you. But he’s willing to do whatever it takes to win back his Teddy bear. Everything and anything for the love of his life.

*Everyone is of age for legal consent (which is 16 in Japan, if you are uncomfortable with it please move along, thx<3)*

A/N: Bakugou is a little OOC but the main thing in the beginning starts with fixing up Katsuki a little bit. So sorry if you don’t really enjoy it all that much<3

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Melancholy music bounces off the walls of the dark room. The river of tears that flow down his once perfect porcelain skin is everlasting. As he lays in the soft bed, staring at the ceiling, he thinks about all he could’ve done better for you. In his hand, the same framed picture of you both that he’s held onto every night ever since the horrible incident. Y/N L/N. Like a song that’s stuck on loop. It’s the only thing that runs through his mind.

The door swiftly opens, and much to his disliking, a massive amount of light now enters the former den of manliness pit of depression.

To show his displeasure, Bakugou rolled himself in the blankets, covering his entire body in them and being the picture inside with him as well. With different circumstances, Y/N would’ve thought it was cute or adorable, but it wasn’t Y/N that opened the door.

“Really Bakubro?” The blonde’s best friend spoke.

Eijirou Kirishima. The best friend of our dearest sad boy. He’s been letting his Bakubro crash in his dorm room because Katsuki refuses to clean his own. It looks exactly the same as it did on Valentine’s Day. Just a little different.

Rose petals were dead and dried up on his floors, candles were nearly melted to the bottom as they lay everywhere in the room, the curry was thankfully thrown out by Kirishima claiming that he could smell the spoiled aroma all the way from his room. But the presents, letter, and new gear stayed in the exact same spots. Bakugou didn’t feel worthy enough to be blessed with all the stuff but he was oh so desperate to be worthy. Worthy of your time, your love, and you in general.

Bakugou let out a grumbled whine of displeasure. He could feel the disappointment and concern radiating off his friend. As Katsuki poked just his face out of the covers, he was met with the expression that represented those two things.

“You can’t keep living like this bro,” Kirishima began, “You can’t keep hallowing in sadness in my room. I wanna help you, but you gotta help yourself too. Ever since you and Y/N split-“ Bakugou quickly interrupted.

“We didn’t split, she left me!” The blonde cried.

“...Right, okay. Well ever since Y/N left you, you’re not the same. You stay in here, playing the same damn sad tunes, covering yourself in my blankets, crying all day, and holding onto that picture! You haven’t even been to class or training! Shit man, you don’t even come out of my room to eat food! I gotta bring your plate here just to make sure that you’re properly fed. You’re a mess Bakugou. And not even the hot kind!” His best friend was right. He was a mess. And not even the hot kind.

“Well what the hell am I supposed to do shitty hair?” Bakugou said while dragging the covers over his face once more. Inside the blanket he held onto the picture as if it were actually you.

The fake red head snatched the covers off of his friend’s body and forced him up.

The said friend didn’t take too kindly to that and growled in displeasure.

“What the fuck Kirishima,” Bakugou said, a little to calm and chilling.

“Dont give me that bull Katsuki. You gotta get her back. I would say move on, but it’s clear you can’t.” Kirishima said while rolling his eyes.

Bakugou mirrored the action and said “yea no shit genius. I can’t and won’t move on.”

“So then go get her man!” Kirishima yelled

“And how the fuck am I supposed to do that? Huh?!” Bakugou was so confused. In what way was it going to be possible to win you back?

“Figure it out! Look Bakugou, I’ll be here to help you along the way, but you gotta figure this shit out on your own. This is your relationship here, if you want it as bad as you claim you do then prove it. You want Y/N back? Then fight for her, idiot!” The blonde’s eyes seemed to go wide.

Two words stuck out to Katsuki during his friend’s little speech. Prove it. Fuck yeah he will! He’ll prove to the whole damn universe how much he wants you back. More importantly, he’ll prove it to you and win you back.

The iconic Bakugou smirk reappeared on Katsuki’s face. Kirishima took it as a good sign. “Alright shitty hair, you want me to prove how badly I want Y/N back. FINE!” The two friends pulled the iconic bro hug to seal the deal.

(You know? That shit that guys do where they high five and pull each other in with that one hand for the quickest hug and pat each other on the back? You know what I’m talking about.)

“Welcome back Katsuki.” Kirishima gladly stated. “Now get the fuck out of my room man, I’m sick of sleeping on the common room couches and you reek. Take a shower. And get your own clothes from your own room.”

As Kirishima pushed him out into the hallway and shut the door, it hit Bakugou like a bus. This would be Katsuki’s first challenge. Going back into the room filled with the torn love.

As Katsuki opened the door holding onto the picture, he felt his heart sink. He saw the damage. Melted candles, dried petals, the gifts and letter. Even the nasty smell of the spoiled curry still remained. As Katsuki gathered the courage to walk in and place the picture on the messy nightstand, it’s like the room was holding onto some sad emotions. Heartache and regret filled Katsuki’s chest. He couldn’t believe how fast it happened. He thought he would at least have a minute or two before he felt the pain again. Man, did it hurt like hell.

Katsuki dashed to his closet grabbing the first things he saw. He grabbed his shower container that held all his soaps and cleaning utensils and ran out the room, shutting the door. Once out, he let out a breath of relief.

“...after I clean myself up, the room’s next.” Katsuki said with determination as he walked towards the boy’s community showers and bath house.

When the hot water hit his skin, he felt a sense of calm. It wasn’t the same as the warmth of Kirishima’s blankets. It was better. The water and hot steam completely engulfed him in relaxation. The water washed away not only the dirt and grime, but also some of the tense feelings. For a moment, he felt at ease.

As Katsuki walked out the bathing area now fully clothed and dried, he made his way back to his room. He stood there, staring at the knob until he felt he was ready. Once he opened the door, the emotions hit him once again. Like a wave of sadness washed over his entire body. Finally, he stepped in.

First things first. Open up these windows. Let out that disgusting air filled with spoiled curry and sad emotions. When Katsuki took a breath a fresh air, he felt so alive. Much better than he has in days.

Now, we gotta move stuff. Katsuki picked up his dirty laundry and put it in his closet to wash later. He moved all his presents up off the floor and onto the bed. He swepted all the dead petals and toss them in his trash can. He threw out all the ruined candles and sprayed the room with air fresheners. He fixed up his bed and placed the picture frame back on his now cleaned nightstand. Next to it, a lit candle that smelled of caramel.

Katsuki took a seat at his desk. He was back to thinking about Y/N and all that he could do to win her back. As he checked his clock, he realized just how late it was. Kirishima came back to him at the end of class and training which was around 6. He spent an hour talking to Katsuki, and then Katsuki spent 4 hours cleaning himself and his room. It was 11:00 now. Way past his usual bed time. He’ll figure things out in the morning.

Katsuki smiled to himself as he layed in his own bed. He was finally on the right track again and one step closer to getting his teddy bear back. He turned to the picture frame, and grabbed onto it, hugging it while he slept. Katsuki was getting better but he wasn’t whole again. He needed Y/N to help him sleep alright, so holding the picture at night will have to do. He couldn’t wait till he woke up in the morning. Tomorrow he had school, he’ll get to see Y/N’s beautiful face for the first time in awhile, but before that, you bet your ass he’s waking up extra early to come up with a plan.

——————————————————————————

The next morning

*BEEP* *BEEP* *BEEP* *BEEP* *click!*

The blonde smacked his alarm button before he rose up and stretched his body. Today was the day. He’s gets to see Y/N again. Bakugou just sits in place staring at nothing. Just taking 2 minutes to regain full consciousness. Once he’s set, he’s up and getting ready. It’s 4 in the morning now, so he begins to strategize.

Katsuki is pulling out easels and white boards. Pulling out notebooks and writing down facts. What Y/N is interested in, her favorite hobbies and foods, where she likes to spend her time, what she could need help with that Bakugou could assist her with. He’s also writing down the highlights of their relationship and what she seemed to enjoy best about him. He’ll be keeping that as a reference for when he needs to reassess on how he should treat her better. He will do better this time. That’s a promise to himself and you.

After half an hour of slightly struggling, he reaches out for help. Now at 4:30 a.m, here was the blonde knocking at his best friend’s door.

Rock music is blasting, sweat is flying everywhere and punches are being thrown at a hero. Not just any hero, Crimson Riot! As Kirishima continues to spar with his idol, he’s interrupted by a banging sound.

*BOOM* *BOOM* *BOOM* *BOOM* *BOOM* *BOOM* *BOOM*

“The hell?” The younger red head says. Soon his idol began to fade away.

“Crimson Riot! Hey are you okay sir?!” But it was too late, the man was gone. Now the whole room was waving around. Did Kirishima accidentally mistake his giant jug of water for vodka or something? Soon he was left in nothing but a black abyss. And then....he fell!

“Shitty hair.....Ei....KIRISHIMA!”

“AH!” The red head screamed as he shot up from the bed, head-butting his best friend right then and there. Great, a perfect dream. Ruined.

“Ah, shit!” Bakugou said in pain as he held his now throbbing forehead. “What the fuck?”

“That’s my line Bakugou,” the red head sighed, “Did you break into my room? Jeez man, what the fuck? What are you doing here at.....4:38 a.m?!?!? DUDE!”

“I know, my bad okay? But..I could use some help.” Bakugou whispered the last part so Kirishima had no idea what this man just said.

“What bro?” Kirishima asked.

“I said....I could use some help.” The blonde repeated.

“C’mon man, you’re gonna have to speak u-“

“I need your help, alright?!” Bakugou finally said. Kirishima sighed. His bro really couldn’t wait until later?

“Bakugou, you know I’m always down to help you out but this is too early man. Can we just-“ the blonde quickly added on to what he was previously saying.

“Please.”

Kirishima’s eyes shot open after he closed them to drift off back to sleep. Did the Katsuki Bakugou just ask for help by saying please? This must be extremely important.

“......alright. You got me, I’m up. But if I’m gonna be up at 4 in the morning, others are gonna be helping us too.” Kirishima bargained.

“But-“ Kirishima cut him off

“But nothing. Besides, I’m drowsy in the morning so I wouldn’t really focus all that well. And we’re just going to the people we can trust.” The red head explained.

“Fine.” The blonde gave in. So there they went, gathering the other members of the Bakusquad (minus Y/N) to help Bakugou win back his girl.

As the 4 sleepy heads sat down on Bakugou’s floor infront of the whiteboard he wrote on, The blonde began to explain some of his plans.

“So I was thinking of treating her real nice all day until she takes me back and we become friends again, eventually leading to our relationship, but then I realized she’d be into a fake me and we all know I can’t pull the nice guy act forever. Then I thought I’d spoil her with all of the things she desires, but money can’t buy you love. So I thought I could-“ Katsuki quickly noticed the long period of silence other than his voice.

There, were his 4 friends sleeping in a dog pile in the middle of his dorm room floor, completely ignoring everything he’s been saying.

Bakugou sighed and grabbed a small “heroes weekly” issue sitting on his desk, rolled it up, and wacked his friends in their heads.

“You idiots...WAKE THE FUCK UP!” Ahh, welcome back Gremlin Bakugou.

As his friends came back from the dead, they all complained.

“Aww c’mon Bakugou. We’ve been at this for an hour already, it’s 5:40.” Sero said while yawning.

“I don’t care. You idiots offered to help so here you are.” Bakugou said while turning to face the board again.

“We didn’t offer shit!” The bakusquad simultaneously replied.

Mina let out a groan while rubbing her eyes open, “Look Bakugou. We really want you and Y/N to be happy together, we really do, but maybe it’s for the best if you guys don-“ Mina was cut off by Denki slapping his hand over her mouth.

As she looked at her electric friend, she saw a nervous expression on his face. She followed his gaze and saw the back of an angry and almost insane looking and shaking Bakugou.

Hearing Mina say that he should let Y/N go triggered something in his brain. But hearing her say they wanted the couple back together enlightened him too. His mind got the two mixed up.

‘Everyone wants us back together. Not just me. So...then we are back together. Yeah. Y/N is still mine’ the now insane blonde thought to himself.

“....Ok well, time to go, get some sleep, see you idiots in the morning!” Bakugou said while pushing the group out of his room. Once they made it over the threshold, he slammed the door.

With an insane plan in mind, Bakugou checked the time and saw he could take at least a good hour long nap before he had to get ready to leave for school. And that’s exactly what he did. So he jumped into the covers, grabbing onto the picture and drifted off into sleep.

——————————————————————————

*BEEP* *BEEP* *BEEP* *BEEP* *click!*

Bakugou’s alarm rang once more, and again, he slammed it shut. He stretched, got up outta bed and changed into his uniform. That power nap really well rested him, but it also must’ve fucked up his brain even more.

‘And now it’s time to go see my beautiful girlfriend,’ he thought to himself.

After Mina’s comments last night, it hit Bakugou with a great realization. Everyone wanted him and Y/N back together. Not just him. So why not give everybody what they want? Sure maybe Y/N might not completely want it but she’ll learn how to love Bakugou again. Everyone’s happy. And so, Bakugou was convinced that him and Y/N were back together.

At breakfast, Bakugou ran down to already see the Squad up and eating.

“Why the hell do you losers look like death?” He asked while grabbing a cup for his orange juice.

“Well we were all trying to sleep, but after what happened this morning, we couldn’t.” Mina explained.

“What happened this morning? There was nothing big except you guys helping me out.” Kirishima really couldn’t believe it. Had his dear friend not even notice his weird ass trigger moment earlier?

“Alright whatever. Anyway, wheres Y/N?” Bakugou asked after he finished his cup.

“Oh, she just left. She had an early breakfast and went for a quick walk.” Mina said.

“You planning on talking to her today Kacchan?” Denki questioned him.

“You damn Spark Plug, of course I’m gonna talk to my girlfriend today. Fucking idiot.” He said as he grabbed his bag and walked out the kitchen.

“.........Huh?” The entire squad was left in confusion.

‘Had they gotten back together this morning? Did she really accept him back that fast? What the fuck is going on?’ They all thought.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?!?” Kaminari cried out as he pulled at and scruffled his hair in confusion.

Ah Denki. Always saying what everyone is thinking but the only one ballsy enough to idiotically say it aloud.

——————————————————————————

As she walked to class, Y/N hummed a little song to herself. She enjoyed her walk as it helped clear her mind from all the recent events. Her breakup with Bakugou really took a toll on her. They were together for almost 2 years (EVER SINCE JUNIOR HIGH) so of course the split hit her hard. He accused her of cheating and burned her. So much for trust, right? Not only that, but the burn left a tiny scar. Usually, due to you having a regeneration ability as part of your quirk, Phoenix, the scar should’ve healed up. Maybe the emotional damage caused it to permanently mark itself in you. Oh well, whats done is done. And now it’s time for class.

When you walked though the door, you were expecting a normal day. Ever since the split, you usually got their a lot earlier before anyone else so you could sit, do a little reading, sketch out a little drawing, or just rest your eyes until the bell rang. Except this time, when you opened the door, someone jumped on you for a hug.

“Babe! There you are you little dumbass. Jeez, I was looking for you everywhere.” Bakugou said as he let go of the hug. “I’ve missed you, haven’t seen you in a few days.”

“Uhm, you said babe??” You spoke with a confused and shocked voice.

“Yeah, I called you babe? So what? We always call each other that. You are my girlfriend after all.” He said so casually as he walked to his seat.

THISMANSAIDWHAATTT

“Uh, Bakugou-“

“Katsuki.” He deadpanned.

“Bakugou, we broke up.” You stated while walking up to him.

“Mm...no we didn’t.” He once again so casually said.

“Wha- I- we- you-....HUH?!” You stuttered out.

“Y/N-“

“L/N!” You corrected.

“Y/N. We didn’t break up you dummy, we only had a little set back and that’s fine. All couples do. But thankfully you forgave me and we’ve moved past it,” he began as he pulled you into his lap, “besides, everyone wants us back together including us so why not make it easier for everyone.”

You began stuttering out none sense right there on his lap. You were in such shock and utter disbelief that he said all that bullshit. Well maybe he was right about one thing. Everyone did want you guys back together, including you both, but that’s besides the point! Y’all broke up! He needs to accept it.

“Baku- no- I- we-“ and before you knew it, his lips were on yours.

And for some reason, you didn’t push him away. Granted you didn’t accept it either, but you slowly melted into it. The kiss was passionate and slow. It wasn’t sloppy, it was very controlled, but it was just a lotta lip and tongue. The whole thing sent butterflies to your heart and stomach. Oh how you missed moments like these with Katsuki.

He readjusted you on his lap so that you were now straddling him. His hands travelled down to your ass as he gave it a nice squeeze, one that made you moan into the kiss. Your arms went straight to his neck to pull him in for more and he took it as an invitation to start. The kiss began to get a little rougher. More tongue and teeth, both of you extremely desperate for the touch from one another. With your cunt pressed onto his crotch, he slowly thrusted up into you as you grinded down slowly on him. You both started breathing heavier and letting out little whimpers of ecstasy. He could probably feel your now soaked panties. One hand left your ass and came around to the front. He pressed on your soaked pussy through your damp underwear and it caused shutters to go through your entire body.

You began pressing down into his hand, desperate for more friction and Bakugou noticed. He moved your panties to the side and slipped in one finger. This was rewarded with a louder moan that caused Katsuki to smile into the kiss. He knew you and your body so well. He was determined to treat you right and get you to fall for him one more time. As his finger felt around your velvet walls, he slipped in another one, receiving an even louder cry of pleasure. You broke off from the kiss to throw your head back. Katsuki saw this as an opportunity to attack your neck. To mark you up and let everyone know you still belonged to him.

“K-Katsuki. Don’t...don’t stop,” you panted.

“I won’t princess, I’ll take care of you.” He smiled.

Without warning, he shoved in 2 more fingers. You were so loud and Bakugou was so proud. You were gonna let everyone know what’s happening and he was excited.

He lifted his head to whisper into your ear as you continued to moan and sigh.

“Well aren’t you just a little slut. You want everyone to know how well daddy takes care of you? You want them to hear you scream in pleasure?” His words went straight to your cunt that was now welcoming in his 5th and final finger. Completely fisting you now, you let out loud cries.

“S-uki, .....ah, AH YES! Mm, s’too much!” You cried out. You couldn’t help it, you loved him. You knew you did. Even though what he did was wrong, your body took over and your mind turned off. You fully succumbed to his wishes.

You let your feet hit the ground to stand yourself up a little bit and fall down onto his fist, meeting the thrust of his hand moving in and out of you. Watching the show, Katsuki couldn’t help but stare in delight. His hard on growing bigger and bigger each second as he bit his lip to hold back his sounds. Watching you bounce on just his fist did something to him and brought out a feral beast. He snapped.

He pulled his fist out of your aching pussy and sat you down on his desk. He stood up infront of you and tore your delicate panties off.

“Katsuki-“ you were silenced with a smack to your ass

“That’s not my name, teddy bear. C’mon now, you know exactly what I wanna hear.” He said while caressing your thighs.

“..Yes daddy.” You bashfully said.

With a kiss to your cheek he praised you.

“Good girl.” As he began to unbuckle his belt, you looked around the classroom.

“D-daddy. Someone’s gonna see!” You cautiously stated.

Katsuki reassured you with a kiss to your lips, “We’ll be fine princess, I promise,” he said while placing his tip at your entrance. You whimpered at the thought of him inside you again, it’s been so long. You were almost nervous. That is until Katsuki place a finger under your chin so you could face him in his eyes.

“I’m gonna take care of you, so don’t worry.” And with that you slowly nodded. And he finally began to press into you.

With just his tip in, you let out a breathy moan. He was bigger than you remembered. He kept pressing and pressing until he was fully inside your warm and tight hole. You both let out a moan at the feeling of each other.

“Daddy, please move.” And he did as he was told. With a steady pace set, he thrusted himself in and out of you. Both of you moaning louder every second. While you were enveloped in the euphoric feeling, Katsuki was struggling to hold back the beast inside of him. That is until you came up to his ear.

“Fuck me like you mean it, daddy. I won’t break, I promise.” You said in his ear and Katsuki swore he could hear your smirk. Gripping your ass and continuing his pace he spoke.

“Don’t be mad when you can’t walk for the next week,” he smirked. With that, he slammed himself deeper, harder, and faster inside of you. His tip hitting your cervix. You let our screams of pure pleasure and he did the same.

“Oh yesss...shit daddy..so big..”

“F-fuck! Oh you like that? Yeah princess? ...oh shit baby your pussy takes me so well. Y-Yeah, your tight little cunt takes this big cock so fucking well,” he moved faster inside, exploring you completely. His hands went straight to your shirt and and ripped it open. You had a few buttons fly everywhere, but you didn’t care. He pushed your bra up and let one of your mounds fall into his hand. He squeezed it tight to release a generous moan from you. He then dove into the valley of breast to mark your chest. You held onto the back of his head and tugged at his hair and he growled at he feeling, enjoying every second of it.

“Oh yess princess just like that. S-shit. Oh fuck yes...oh you’re mine,” he went deeper inside as he spoke.

“Fuck! Daddy yes! Right t-there! Oh my god..yess,” you cried out.

“Can you feel that. Oh fuck, can you feel my dick in your gut?” He moaned out. Katsuki went to grip the edge of his desk as you kept your hold around his neck, causing him to somehow move faster. He went up to taste your lips once more

“I love you....so much princess...you hear me...Mm, your mine,” he said between kisses and ended with a smack to your now red ass.

His words had you squeezing his cock. He knew what was coming.

“Aww, is princess gonna cum? You gonna cum on daddy’s dick?” He teased.

“Mm...p-please daddy. Please let me cum,” you said while throwing your head back. Katsuki only smirked at this.

“Not yet~” he pulled out of you, leaving you a whiny mess.

“N-no! Daddy please! Please let me finish,” you said while holding onto his shoulders, inches away from his face, pressing your chest to his. Your words caused his “little” friend to grow even harder and Katsuki only smirked and looked down at you.

“Dont worry teddy bear, Daddy’s not done with you yet.” He yanked you off the desk and pressed you down onto it, with your chest to the desk. Then he slammed back into you, returning to the fast pace again.

“Fuck yeah..oh god look at this ass. Nice and round, all red for me,” he said while pounding into you.

He gave your ass a good few smacks, countered with a thrust each harder than the last before going to lay his chest on top of you to whisper in your ear.

“You wanna be a good girl for daddy? Huh, teddy bear?” He asked.

“Mmm, yes! Yes I’ll be good, just please!” You cried out. He reached his hand over to rub on your clit. Your body began to shake with pleasure.

“Then cum with me.....NOW,” he said, and that was all it took for you to release the white liquid. As you came you could feel his hot release filling you up to the brim. He cried out in pure pleasure while you did the same.

You both stayed in that position for a bit, and you could feel the mixture of both your release dripping down your inner thighs. Soon, you felt Katsuki lower himself to kiss your neck.

“You did so good princess.” He calmly said to you. It was relieving, and you loved the sound of his voice, but you couldn’t help but feel a little off at this whole ordeal.

Katsuki pulled out of you and watched how his cum covered and filled your entire pussy. He smiled at the sight and went to grabbed some tissue on Aizawa’s desk to clean you and himself up.

He tucked himself back into his pants and you rebuttoned your shirt the best you could and flipped your skirt back down. Since Katsuki tore your panties you’d have to go commando at least until you got back to your room. You watched as Katsuki went to throw away the tissues and your torn underwear into the trash can. When he made his way back to you, he held you in his arms and attempted to kiss you. But you turned away.

“Hey teddy be-“

“No, Katsuki. Please don’t call me that.” You said while looking down. Katsuki felt his heart hurt a little. You’re always gonna be his teddy bear, why would he ever stop calling you that?

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” He asked you.

“Us. This. Katsuki, what happened today should not have happened.” You said

“What?” He was so confused and a little hurt.

As tears start to fill your eyes, you did everything you could to not let them fall. “Suki, we broke up. You accused me of cheating, you burned me! So for us to come in here and just have sex like nothing happened is wrong.”

“Y/N, I’m sorry for what happened. Seriously, after what I did it destroyed me. But please listen, I lov-“ you cut him off again.

“I know!.....I know you do Katsuki.....and I love you too Suki. So much,” this brought a smile to his face. A true, genuine smile that you loved so dearly.

“But I’m scared.” You added on. This made Katsuki’s smile drop, worry and concern fill his eyes.

“Of what exactly?” He asked you while gently holding onto your hand.

“.....You.” This shocked him. His own teddy bear feared him. Heartbreaking.

“I’m scared of the lack of trust that you have for me. And not only that, but your quirk too. Katsuki I know you’re one of the best students here at UA, but I know you’re emotions can get out of hand too. It’s clear that when you’re not in control of your feelings, your quirk can lash out. The evidence is right here,” you turned you arm that he was holding to show him the scar he left on you.

Now this really hurt Katsuki. He loved marking you with his love, not with his anger. The fact that he did that to you sent his mind into a frenzy. Until he felt your touch on his cheek.

Holding onto his cheek with your soft hands, you spoke reassuring words. “Katsuki, you were right about two things. I do want us to be together again and I do forgive you,” and with that, Katsuki leaned into your touch. Holding onto your hand that held his face, he released a single tear he didn’t know he was holding and closed his eyes in relief and satisfaction.

“But I can’t be with you again.” Your words caused him to open his eyes and stare at you in shock and fear. “At least...not yet.”

Whew, his heart rate went back down. Oh the rollar coaster of emotions this poor boy was currently on.

“Yet?” He asked hopefully.

“Suki, I’m still trying to fix myself, and it’s clear that you need to fix yourself too. I really want to be with you, but we both need time to grow for each other. I can’t leave you. I know for sure that in my heart, you’re always gonna be the one I run back to, but I don’t want to run back to someone who could possibly hurt me again. I want to come back to you knowing that when we are together again, our relationship is secured.” You explained.

A silence filled the air. You both stared at each other for what felt like forever. Nobody else in the world. Just you and him. He then pulled you in for a tight hug. As he held onto you, you could feel hot tears hitting your shoulder, and quiet sobs left his voice along with a hitched breath every now and then. Katsuki was crying.

“....I promise you. I’m gonna get better for you. I’m gonna be worthy of you and your love and it’ll stay that way for the rest of our lives. You and me. Together. Im gonna do whatever it takes to get you back and I won’t stop at anything until you’re mine again. I swear I’ll treat you better than I ever did before. As long as I know that you’re coming back to me and me only, I’ll wait for you for as long as it takes teddy bear.” He said into your neck with his arms tightly wrapped around your waist.

“I know you will Suki. And I promise I won’t make you wait too long.” You said while hugging him back.

“You better not.” The blonde said.

“Don’t forget though, I’m always yours. And just yours.” You reassured him.

“......Can we at least make this a little easier for me and say we didn’t split. We’re just on a break. A small break?” He said, now looking directly in your eyes while still holding onto you.

You put his worries at ease with your gentle smile. “The smallest break, Suki.” You softly laughed as you both went back in for another hug.

“........I like it better when you call me daddy,” the damn devil said while smiling.

“Shut up you horny idiot.” You chuckled.

‘I can’t wait to be yours again,’ you both thought

You both stayed there in each other’s embraces until the world faded away. It was just you and him. Together. You were both no longer lost. You weren’t at your destination yet, but you were on the right tracks. One step closer to each other. One step closer to love.

A/N: There’s still a little more I wanna add to the story, so there will be a part 3 to close this little short story. Sorry if there were any spelling mistakes. Thank you guys so much for the love and support. As a new writer I never expected to grow so quickly so I truly love each and every one of you bear cubs! Sorry this was so long, I hope you enjoyed! 💗🧸

[wh6res]

UP IN SMOKES — DOYOUNG

psych student! kdy | tw. college au, violence, a knife, GASLIGHTING, hallucination, psychosis, swearing, just pure manipulation, minor charac death, there's a court scene, this is a repost! | wc. 10k she a beast

life could’ve been simple;

you shouldn't have met kim doyoung.

what does a freshman in college hate the most other than the high-stress levels of moving into a new dorm? a shitty roomie and a smelly, moldy mattress. the girl you call roommate refuses to help move the mattress because it will ruin her new manicure. what a fucking classic. 

"sounds like a 'you' problem. figure it out yourself, plain jane." 

she said before heading out, annoyingly popping her bubblegum as she kicks a few of your scattered boxes by the front door. you roll your eyes; classes haven't even started yet, so why is she already making your life miserable? as much as you'd like to snap at her, you don't, merely glaring daggers at her back as she finally turns the corner of the hallway and disappears. 

"bitch," you mutter under your breath. 

you eye the abomination that is supposed to be your bed, cursing how you shouldn't have made a 15-minute pit stop to starbucks for a drink when you could've just bought one from the instant coffee vending machines in every corner of the hallway of this dorm building because if you didn't, maybe you could've beaten regina george wannabe from taking the better bed. sighing, you suck it up and start getting to work. life's full of shit, anyway; no point sulking.

moving a moldy mattress is easier than you thought, to say the least. you can't ask for help from the other freshmen you bumped into in the hallway because they, too, are under a huge amount of stress from the move and are busy getting their affairs in order. it was a good thing, though, that a committee was formed specifically for this day to help out the freshmen if they were to stumble upon problems or mishaps with moving in. they were all around the campus, and they prove to be way friendlier than your batch mates. since this morning, three people have already offered help in carrying your luggage — which you have politely declined.

"hey, uhm… is this the stall for the welcoming committee? oh, wait. i'm sorry, there's a sign right there —"ugh.

you mentally shut your eyes in humiliation. why do you have to be this bad, this awkward at communicating with strangers? why couldn't you be born like all those socialites who already (probably) got their contacts filled with new numbers on the first day of school or something?

"yeah, this is them — welcoming committee, i mean. how can i help you?" he smiles, sweet, radiating the epitome boy next door aura as he looks up at you from where he's sitting behind the stall. your eyes quickly land onto the name tag stuck on his varsity jacket before meeting his eyes again. 

"i have an issue with my mattress. it has mold, you see..." your voice slowly trails, becoming quieter as you feel small under the weight of his piercing stare. oh, come on. he's just a guy with a beautiful face, woman the fuck up.

"really? let me see..."

he needn't finish rounding the stall when his nose is hit by the pungent smell brought forth by your mattress. frankly, you weren't that picky. you could've covered it with bedsheets and call it a day, but the odor is too strong to ignore. you mentally hope the smell didn't latch onto your clothes, especially not when someone so cute is around — what a bad first impression.

"oh, god!" he exclaims the moment he lays eyes on it, taking a step back. “now, that has to go. and you lugged it from the fourth floor?" 

ah, yes. according to tradition in these dormitories, which you've only found out today, freshmen get the curse of climbing four flights of stairs up while the seniors strut into their rooms on the ground floor like the hallway is a goddamned runway. 

"doyoung! help me carry these!"

someone calls his name as you both turn your head to spot a chestnut-haired girl clad in the same varsity jacket he's wearing. you grimace at the sight of her. for someone so small, she just had to volunteer to carry all those heavy bags. however, he doesn't move in front of you and brushes her off as if she doesn't look like she's carrying rocks over her shoulders. "i'm already helping someone else! go find taeyong or something. i'm sure that shit's loitering around here somewhere!"

"oh, it's okay, you can go help her. i'll just look for someone else —"

"nah, it's fine!" you try hard to school your face into indifference when you notice his gummy smile. "plus… trust me when i say no other person from the committee will help you with this. this shit smells like my roommate's sweaty basketball socks!"

you can't help the smile forming on your face as you help him carry the mattress off to the side of the hallway, the stinky thing leaning vertically against the wall and behind a huge terracotta plant pot. "don't worry, let's report it to student affairs so they'll get you a new one. congrats! you'll have to share beds with your new roommate tonight, freshie. it'd be a great ice breaker."

the universe truly hates you.

your expression must've been a dead give away because he's suddenly patting your shoulder, regarding you with utmost sympathy. "been there, done that. i hated taeyong, too, when i met him last year. still, for some mind fuck of a miracle, we've grown to be friends and developed a talent of not wanting to kill each other every two seconds."

"highly doubt i'd be friends with a regina george-level bitch, but thanks, anyway," you mutter under your breath. suddenly, you whip your head towards him after internalizing what he just said. "you met your roommate last year? you're a sophomore?"

he scoffs, leaning down to your height to lowly mutter against your ear as he eyes the lobby's front desk. "why? do i look like some 4th year who radiates 'don't touch me' energy?" 

you feel the heat on your cheeks with how close he is, only releasing an exhale when he finally gets out of your personal space. "i'm kim doyoung. you've heard it from wendy earlier, but anyway — i'm a 2nd-year psych major."

"no way!" you exclaim, a little too excited. "i'm taking psych, too!"

"oh, you are? well, if you need anything or if you don't understand stuff…" he winks. "feel free to approach me anytime."

hmm… how sweet of him. 

it was only hours later that you found out who kim doyoung is in your department during the acquaintance party. and for god's sake, you found out from your best friend who is a major in english lit and has never even seen the guy. "seriously, you didn't know he's a genius? i hear the professors call him a prodigy, girl! a fucking prodigy. if i were you, i'd ask for his help in every subject."

"you know i prefer keeping to myself. how'd i know stuff like that when i have no one to talk to in the psych dorms?" you look down, making the ice cubes in your drink clink against each other. "i didn't think he was this big shot or whatever. he looks normal, and everyone treats him normally."

"well, what do you expect?" she hisses, hitting your arm. "the other students don't want to make him feel alienated or something just because he's tons smarter than them. but anyway… the real question is…"

you roll your eyes when she pauses for effect, tentatively leaning closer to whisper under her breath. 

"is he cute?"

you didn't want to answer her question, but he's been stuck in your head since he offered walking with you to the student affairs office. doyoung had smiled his cute gummy smile and had even ruffled your hair before leaving you for committee duties — saying he's cute would be an understatement. 

"you have no idea."

for his first act;

he gains your trust.

fast forward to one year, many things have changed, but the only constant remaining is the handsome sophomore — who is now a 3rd-year, by the way — whom you've met on your first day. coursework has been pretty tough this year. instead of the content written in your textbook, your mind is plagued by the horrible twist of fate your best friend had encountered; she didn't have enemies. or so you thought.

she disappeared in the middle of christmas break last year. her beaten up body was found only a month later, in january, floating around the university's lake. happy fucking new year. 

the first time she chose to spend the holidays with you instead of her family back in her hometown, and that happens? some rotten luck you both have. it's why you didn't put it past her family to hate your guts with strong convictions. it's okay. the feeling's mutual. after all, it had been your best friends' own family, the same ones who had been so willing to take you in when you got kicked out, that were so eager to pin you as the murderer of their child. all under the argument that you have been the last person seen with her. 

oh, the things her mom said about you when she had stormed into the police station, red in the face, tears streaming down her cheeks..."i warned my baby not to hang out with that — that bitch. came straight out of a cursed family, that one. abusive dad, a nutjob mom. that bitch is a danger! probably got her dad's nasty temper and beat my baby to death! i want her on the electric chair!"

in those times, you once again realize this world is fucked up and cruel in every bit of its glory as you fought tooth and nail to defend yourself. but even then, they never believed you — the law will only favor the rich . the prosecution had been so sure it was you until a certain witness appeared and presented himself before the jury.

"do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?" 

doyoung raises his right hand, fixing his stare straight at the judge. "i solemnly and sincerely declare that the evidence i shall give will be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth."

"how long have you known the defendant?" the prosecutor asks, arms crossed in front of her chest as she paces in front of the witness stand.

the boy briefly meets your gaze, and it's enough to make his heart sink. doyoung can't bear seeing you in those grey overalls when he knows it himself. you're being accused of a crime you didn't commit. "i've known her for one year."

"how'd you meet?"

and the questions went on and on; your defense attorney isn't all too keen on winning the case and had never once yelled "objection!" in her seat, but what could you expect? all the evidence kept stacking against you, and some of those you knew were even fabricated. you've never felt this hopeless in your whole twenty years of living. 

"what's the point in this, anyway?" doyoung snapped in the witness stand, fiercely glaring at the prosecutor. "how is my history — or lack thereof — with the defendant any relevant to the case? you're not even asking me about evidence nor what my statement is!"

"easy there," the prosecutor retaliates, jaw locked. "i have to first measure what exactly your relationship is with the defendant for us to think twice about your statement. who knows..." the prosecutor makes a grand gesture of turning her head in your direction, affixing you with a condescending stare. "she might've just hired you to say these things."

your attorney doesn't come to your aid.

"perjury isn't my thing." 

the prosecutor seems to have taken offense by the tone of doyoung's voice, but he doesn't let her speak further. "the victim isn't all sunshine and rainbows, you know. she'd been a part of a sorority and one with quite a nasty reputation in the college, too. i have to say she made very poor decisions, ones i'm sure her family didn't even know about. you see, they take their oaths and pledges very seriously. the victim wanted out. they didn't like that."

"and you have evidence to support this claim?"

without a moment to waste, he digs around the front pocket of his jeans before proudly presenting a black usb between his slender fingers. "knock yourself out."

the professor calls your name, snapping you out of your reverie. this isn't the first time your mind had transported you back to that particular day in the courtroom, where doyoung had swooped in and saved you from a lifetime in prison. the whole ordeal had been so scary, so frightening that you remember everything vividly as if it had only happened yesterday.

the classroom is empty. even your social psych professor has long packed up his stuff and is already standing by the classroom door. damn. were you that out of it?

"i'm so sorry." you mutter under your breath monotonously as you walk past him and out the door without another word. this is bad, very bad. no one would help, much less lend their notes to someone charged with murder — especially of their very own best friend. whether you were innocent or not doesn't matter to the student body. you've been ostracized, gossips of your problematic family spreading like wildfire, and the ridiculous part is only a fourth of the gossips are true.

the damage is done. 

at this point, you realize with a heavy heart that you have to face doyoung again sooner or later. you haven't talked to him at all since the start of the new school year, ignoring his lighthearted greetings in the hallways, rejecting his calls, ghosting his texts. you are afraid people would judge him harshly for hanging around you. frankly, you were embarrassed to ask any more favors from him with how much he's done for you already and the fact that he had seen you in such a state of vulnerability.

but you also didn't want to fail your subjects and lose the one thing holding your life together — your scholarship.

that is why you found yourself standing before him, in his favorite spot in the library tucked behind shelves upon shelves of books, next to the windows overlooking the empty football field. he's wearing black-rimmed glasses and is clad in the usual navy blue sweater as his head turns to and fro between a textbook and his notebook. the air had been so silent, you hear the aggressive scratches his pencil makes against the paper.

you feel a little hurt when he makes no move to acknowledge your presence, but you think back to what you have been doing and figured he has a right to act this way. 

"hey, doyoung." your voice is meek, hesitant.

"if you're not here to explain nor give me an acceptable reason why you've been ignoring me for the last few months, then please get out of my sight. i'm busy, as you can tell." he is brutally honest, knocking down the remaining hope you have left of ever reconciling with him.

something within you snaps, the steady streams of tears running down your cheeks as you pinned your stare on doyoung's open pencil case lying on the table. you have nobody left. your family — father, specifically speaking — has disowned you for taking a course your heart wanted, and the one friend you have lies motionless in a white coffin buried six feet under the ground. you didn't want to lose doyoung, too, no matter what role he plays in your life.

"i'm sorry," your voice cracks. "life's been… fucking shitty, and i'm sure you of all people know what i've been through. i've thanked you before for — for what you did, and i'm thanking you again right now but — i'm sorry, i'm really —"

your voice cracks when you feel him pulling you into an embrace. you feel the tension in your body breaking loose as you crumble in his arms. all those months grieving and wallowing in self-pity took such a heavy toll that you can't help but tightly clutch the sides of his hoodie, scared he'll slip through your fingers.

one of his hands comes up to push your face against the crook of his neck, muffling your cries in the silent library. doyoung felt like a jerk for snapping at you the way he did. how inconsiderate can he be? however, he felt elated because you sought him out yourself and wanted his help of all people.

his eyebrow raises in amusement. 

well, not that you have a choice, anyway.

it took you a few good minutes to calm down, cringing when you see the wet patch on doyoung's sweater because of your tears. 

"why don't you tell me everything, hmm? i'll help you as much as i can."

you sheepishly look down, fiddling with your fingers as you sit across him, the open textbook and notebook before him long forgotten. "well, i've been so out of it lately? my mind's just a whole bloody mess and i can't focus on any of my subjects at all and if i can't, then i'll lose the scholarship and it's the only thing i have in my life right now —"

"hey," doyoung cuts you off, placing a warm hand against your forearm to calm you down. "you won't lose that scholarship. trust me, okay? why don't we arrange tutoring sessions and i'll even lend you some of my notes from last year. what do you think?"

"okay... thank you, doyoung."

"for the record, you have me in your life, too. i'll always be here for you."

in the first session, you woke up from your deep slumber with only 15 minutes to spare from the scheduled time, but thankfully, your tutor only lives one floor down with the rest of the 3rd-years. bringing nothing with you but a pen and a pad of paper, your textbooks were destroyed as some students from your batch thought it'd be fun to throw them into the lake to "honor" your friend. 

you offer a small smile when taeyong opens the door, sporting an oversized shirt and track pants, eyes wide in shock when he sees you. "hi? can i help you?"

"hello! i'm here for doyoung. he's tutoring —"

"he doesn't live here anymore. his mom bought him a place outside the campus."

what?

"i'm sorry for disturbing you, then. do you by any chance know where he lives?"

that's weird. doyoung never mentioned he's already moved out. you feel a wee bit irritated that he forgot to tell you; it would've saved you the embarrassment of interacting with the varsity player. you weren't stupid, you can see the hints of repulsion in taeyong's eyes the moment he opened that door and saw you standing before him, no doubt thinking about: oh, look, it's the crazy murderer with a fucked up family standing in front of me.

he had shut the door in your face. you stood awkwardly for a good minute in the hallway until the door reopens, taeyong handing you a small piece of paper with doyoung's new address scribbled hurriedly in black ink. he doesn't give you a chance to thank him for he's already closed the door again without another word. 

you opted walking to his place instead of catching a ride because the money you have on you is enough to buy yourself dinner. to say the least, the apartment building is mediocre, not too grand, nor is it too rundown. double-checking the floor level written on the paper before pushing the elevator's button, you then realize doyoung lives on the very top floor of the building.

the hallways are painted a boring brown. some acrylic number signs plastered on the doors are broken, hanging vertically with one screw left. it says on the paper he resides in room 720. taking the right hallway, you mentally count as you eye the mahogany doors. 718… 719… there it is!

when you raise a fist to start knocking on his door, there is a tinge of hesitation surging through you. perhaps being alone with a boy in his apartment is not the best setting for a girl like you should end up in, but this is doyoung we're talking about. if he had ill intentions for you, it would've manifested a long time ago. you shake your head, feeling bad for thinking of him that way as you slowly knock on his front door. not long after, it swings open, revealing the 3rd-year in a white shirt and boxers as he lazily dries his hair off with a small towel. 

"you're late," is the first thing he says to you before spinning on his heel to disappear further into his humble abode. 

"you didn't exactly inform me you've moved out of the dorms. so, whose fault is it?" you retaliate, inviting yourself in and closing the front door shut.

"whatever. let's get started!" he plops himself on the floor, coffee table filled with loose papers as he struggles to find a specific one amongst the mess. "i've already scanned, exported to pdf, and emailed you my notes. it should be in your inbox by now. anyway, answer this quiz i made so i know what i'll be working on."

"you didn't really have to send your notes, doyoung. i could've just read everything from the textbook," you sit down across from him because otherwise, you'll be too distracted to remember information. 

a thought crosses his mind. with what textbook?

"i just think it's missing some essence. that's why i love reading over other psych books in the library for fun. be grateful, those notes are like my babies and i don't simply give them to anyone," he looks at you pointedly. "they've all been summarized and explained in layman's terms so you wouldn't have to spend grueling hours of reading and trying to make sense of the big words as i did — i know that's not the definition of 'fun' normally, but it is for me, and that's why i do it."

"okay, doyoung. you sound so defensive when there's nothing to be defensive about," you tease, feeling pleased with the hint of red on his cheeks as he averts his gaze from yours, muttering incoherent words under his breath.

you spent the following tuesdays, thursdays, and sundays like that; hours upon hours with no one but your tutor, laptops with tangled chargers, a printed copy of his babies, and a mountain pile of loose papers filled with the specialized quizzes doyoung makes to measure your progress. the location varies from a cafe or his flat. but in what you've gathered from the time you spent with him, doyoung's a homebody. cafe tutor sessions are rare, and he always complained about how "noisy" the atmosphere was — "i can't stand it."

but the conversation hadn't always been about academics. 

sure, for the first few sessions, doyoung kept an image of professionalism and had heavily insisted on it — "it's for your learning experience!" — despite your lighthearted teasing. but as time passed and he eventually grew more comfortable in your presence, you find the strict 15-minute break he had initially imposed between 45 minutes of studying turned into hours of talking about whatever; how he likes his eggs in the morning, your favorite coffee brew, his favorite show, your strongest pet peeve. 

and you wholly welcomed the change, not minding that it's practically dark out whenever you go back to your miserable dorm. you feel butterflies in your stomach whenever doyoung offers to walk you home but never had you taken his offer, still cautious of other people seeing you both together despite his constant reassurances. you've already thoroughly ruined your image. you didn't want to ruin his, too. 

kdy the cute tutor, 2:14 pm —last day of midterms! & its all majors today  —good luck —remember what i taught u —lets get ice cream after u cant say no

you shake your head bemusedly. his texting style is the most doyoung thing he does and it's as if you can hear him say these things to you in real life. too caught up in your own world, you fail to detect another student sitting next to you and had nearly fallen off your chair in shock when they spoke.

"why are your notes like that?"

you fight the urge to glare at the person, especially when you turn your head and see lee jeno looking at you in genuine curiosity. he's the only batchmate that treats you a wee bit nicer among the rest. although he isn't technically your friend, at least he doesn't look at you like you're a piece of bubblegum stuck under his shoe like all the others.

"what do you mean?"

"they're… the definitions are all jumbled up. where did you even get that?" 

what? jumbled up? doyoung himself said these notes are a combination of most of the psychology books he had read last year concerning his subjects. how would it be jumbled up? then again, lee jeno was not tutored by the prodigy himself. maybe things are bound to seem "jumbled up" when information is too great to understand for a feeble mind. 

just as you were about to claim these notes aren't yours, the professor has already waltzed into the classroom with a thick wad of papers — the exams. after one last concerned glance directed your way, jeno averts his gaze with a confused tilt of the head. 

hours later, you walk out of the classroom with the biggest smile on your face. aced it, you thought. your hands feel numb with how much you wrote on the essay portion but it's worth it if it meant you get the full 25 points, which you no doubt will as it was a topic you surely tackled with doyoung. speaking of... he sure is a man of his word.

"what are you doing here?" you hiss, head ducked with hair framing your face as to not draw attention from the rest of the students filing out of the testing hall.

"i texted you that we're getting ice cream. remember?"

"i did. but i didn't remember agreeing."

he shoots you a comforting smile, planting his hands firmly on your shoulder. “i told you, y/n. i don't care if they all see us together, so what? we all know you didn't commit that crime and it wasn't your fault you were born into the family you had. i don't care about the trivial things, baby, so don't shy away from me, okay?"

how the fuck can you say 'no' when he's looking at you the way he is as he brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear? doyoung's just so bewitching that he has you wrapped around his slender fingers. he seems pleased when you stumbled over your words as you come up with a reply, caught off guard by his bold gestures.

"i just — you, uhh — fine..." you gave in, rolling your eyes out of pretense.

he just had to call you 'baby' and erupt the butterflies in your stomach.

it had been doing that for the last few months now and it had only truly manifested today when he took you out for ice cream to celebrate the end of hell week. and since you didn't want to go back to your dorm yet, you asked if you guys can watch some movies in his house but it had simply become background noise to your heart-to-heart talks. and what better accompaniment than the classic, chicken and beer?

you listen to him drone on and on about the little realizations he had on some of his past lectures even when you barely understood anything he's saying. doyoung's so lucky to be extremely good at something he's so passionate about, talks about the human mind and the complexity of a person's behavior will never fail to make his eyes light up in interest.

he calls out your name.

your eyes snap open.

"why don't we get you home? it's past 10 and it's alright, stupid, you don't need to pretend to be interested in my psychological findings." he chuckled light-heartedly, stealing the can of the now room-temperature beer from your hands before you can protest. 

"i wasn't dozing off, i swear."

"i caught you in the act. stop lying."

like all the other times he has you as his guest, doyoung once again offers to walk you home and you decline for the thousandth time. it really isn't that much of a long walk anyway. you don't see the need for him to go out of his way to secure your safety. plus, you were the one who insisted on hanging out in his house anyway. you weren't that thick-skinned to let him take you home, too.

"you're drunk!" he scolds.

“no, i’m not. i can perfectly handle myself."

"but —"

"bye!" 

you feel a little guilty for shutting the door in his face. still, a minute longer of his persistence and you would've taken his offer. unfortunately for doyoung, you are one stubborn girl. only if you don't make brisk movements with your head, then you won't see doubles. you'll be fine, it's just a quick walk and it's not as if you're stupid enough to pass by deserted alleys. 

but you had underestimated the divine prowess of your fucked up fate.

everything happened in a matter of three seconds; one, the blinding headlights illuminate your path from behind; two, you hear the loud honk, and as you turn around — three, the vehicle sends you rolling against the asphalt.

you should have taken the alleyways.

for his second act;

he alters your reality.

when you open your eyes, you thought you were dead and your spirit is wandering elsewhere — because you don't believe in trivial things like heaven and god — until an agitated doyoung comes into view. for a split second, you thought, is he dead, too?

"i'm not dead, you idiot." too dazed, you hardly register his anger. "i can perfectly handle myself, she said. i'm not drunk, she said. this wouldn't have happened if you had simply let me walk you home! you're damn fucking lucky you're alive and breathing right now!"

a person clears their throat.

"i don't think it wise to… nag at the patient the moment she wakes. don't you agree, sir?"

pink splotches on doyoung's cheek as he looks down, embarrassed at getting scolded as he stands closer to your bed. "i'm sorry, doc."

you didn't know when your vision cleared or when you started hearing normally again, but it was enough to find out what exactly had transpired on the very night of your tragic accident. a hit and run. fifty-fifty chance of surviving. doyoung getting a call from the hospital in the middle of the night —"they were trying to contact your dad, but he wasn't answering. i was the last person in your call history." 

six months in a coma. but today, you wake… only to find out your world has crashed and burned.

"what do you mean i lost my scholarship?"

"baby, listen to me —"

"why did they take it away? is it because of my accident? i'm behind by one term only and i swear i can catch up. they need to let me back in the program. there must've been some mistake —"

"your gpa didn't reach the cut-off grade."

that can't be possible.

"but you tutored me!" you claim with conviction, pointing an accusatory finger at him until you groan, bowing in pain as you clutch your head.

doyoung springs into action. the chair's legs screech against the tiles as he jumps to your aid, ushering you gently back against the hospital bed despite your refusal. "you're not well. lay back down, please."

you don't hear a single word he says, not when you had lost something so crucial. "i put in the effort and learned everything you taught me... i aced those fucking mid-terms! i know i did!" you were on the brink of tearing up as doyoung settled himself in front of you.

"i… i actually saw your papers," his lips set in a thin, hard-line. "everything was all wrong, sweetheart. what happened to you? i tried reasoning with the professors, mentioned your state — you know, with your best friend dying — but they didn't relent. i'm sorry y/n. i'm so —"

gone. everything is gone. the money. the dorm. what if they ask you to pay the fees from last year? what if they ask you to pay the tuition fee for this year? you have no money, no family, no relatives. no one to help. who's even going to pay for the hospital fees?

you weren't able to process anything after that. not with the sudden news of your now revoked scholarship. doyoung pulls you in a tight hug. "i was a bad tutor," he says, snapping you out of it. "maybe i shouldn't have pushed you that hard to learn them. why were your answers even mixed up y/n? i thought you knew those topics already…"

he pulls away, observing your confused state as your eyes dart everywhere in the room. "what — how are they mixed up? i know i got them right. there has to be some mistake. you taught me those topics, remember?"

"i did... "he averts his gaze. "but i don't remember teaching them to you mixed up, darling. i think you did that all on your own."

"but… why would i mix up my answers? that's —"

"see, what i mean?" he cuts you off, raising a hand to give your cheek the most delicate caress. "you're not well, baby. you need to be treated, especially with how much you hit your head during the accident. don't worry, i'm here. we'll try asking if you can stay in the dorms at least until you find another place —"

"am i a charity case to you?"

oh, the surprise on the junior's face when you push him away as you pin him with a hard stare. you just don't get it. why is kim doyoung so adamant about helping you? in becoming your hero, even when you never asked him to be? if you let him help you this time around, that'll be the 3rd time he came to save your ass. it's not as if you're ungrateful. simply, you've had enough of his help. you don't know how a person like you, who literally has nothing, can return the favor to someone like doyoung.

"what are you saying —"

"i'm saying…" you fix him a hard stare. "you helping me out doesn't even benefit you in the slightest. so why do you do it?"

he pauses, staring at you with hesitance in his eyes as this seems to be the very first time you've truly seen him speechless. when doyoung opens his mouth, he mumbles, and you hardly make sense of what he said. 

"do you really want to know why?" 

you urge him on with an arched eyebrow, his softened tone creeping into your heart. 

"you're someone special to me y/n. i don't know how or when i admitted it to myself, but you are, and it hurts me to see how shitty your luck is," he cracks a small grin, slowly settling back onto the hospital bed as he grabs your hand. "it's okay to seek help from others. it isn't a sign of vulnerability or weakness. i help you because i want to, and i'm more than willing to take care of you. will you let me?"

you're not blind. you've noticed the way he had slowly started coming closer as he continued to speak, hands held securely in his as he looked straight at your eyes then down at your lips. and so, you act in a way you know that will surely answer his question — with a kiss. 

the man before you immediately reciprocates, overpowering your own eagerness as he curls the tips of his fingers into the roots of your hair. he pulls you close, cradling you against his chest. you can taste his desperation in the way his tongue dances against yours, the kiss transporting you into an alternate reality where your world revolves around doyoung and doyoung alone. 

when he pulls away bleary-eyed, both of you ignore the thin strand of saliva connecting your lips. "how about you come live with me for the time being, my love?"

still high off his kiss and natural scent, you hardly mull over the question he asks you. "okay."

days later, after you've been discharged (he wanted to chip in for your hospital bills but you had given him a firm no), doyoung had been the one to show up at the dorm to collect all your things after leaving you in his apartment. the cutie had refused to simply drop you off and had deliberately accompanied you up the elevator, through the halls, and finally into his apartment. 

"i'll be out for just a minute, sugarcube."

"oh, can you get take out?"

doyoung had smiled, playfully booping the tip of your nose. "no, because i'll be cooking for us tonight as a little celebration for you getting discharged. you'll love it; i'm making your favorite!"

it was funny how the night had been nothing but utter bliss. the foreign feeling of being taken care of sprouting in your chest as you watch him cooking from behind the counter. it felt… nice. but funny enough, as if doing a 360, you both had immediately gotten into an argument the next day. 

"i don't see the need for skipping another day if i feel perfectly fine! i'll figure something out once we get there, doyoung, so can we just —"

"you' re not fine, babylove — hell, you got discharged yesterday! i'm not just about to let you back into the arena with those students. they've only grown more immature since your coma, love. i seriously don't want you near them."

"fine! then i won't talk to them. simple." you throw your hands up. "there. problem solved. now, can we please just go to uni? i need to talk to the dean and the head of student affairs, too —"

"i'm going to uni, not you."

maybe it had been the way he firmly stated his claim, the way his eyes pierced through your soul as if daring you to argue further with him that made you snap.

"i'm not a prisoner in this apartment, doyoung! don't treat me like i have the plague! i'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself — jesus christ, i've been doing it nearly half my fucking life!"

too caught up in your anger, you've failed to notice the tears pouring down his face as he sets his gaze on the floor. 

"you're right," his voice cracks. "i shouldn't be pushy like that. i'm sorry. you just mean so much to me and i'm so scared of losing you again. with your coma — i just — it's like i was fighting a losing battle each day that passed when i saw you in that hospital bed. i've never felt so scared in my whole life and i hated myself for not being able to protect you that night."

his tears run like waterfalls, and when you step forward with your arms wide open, doyoung sobs harder as he pulls you against him. you hardly comprehend what he says as he spoke, shaking against your frail body as you felt his tears stain your blouse. "i'm sorry, i never should've dictated what you felt — i'm so sorry."

"no, it's okay. i was feeling a little lightheaded, anyway. i'll stay here and i can come back to school next semester, right? doyoung? just… please stop crying."

he lifts his head, staring at you with bloodshot eyes before giving your forehead a kiss. you let a relieved sigh escape your lips, melting into his warmth as you prop your chin on his shoulder. if you had only been more attentive, you would've seen the reflection of his wicked grin on the tabletops. too easy.

living with him became a blur after that incident. everything fell into a routine for the next four days as you spent the day watching netflix, eating, reading, sleeping. nothing felt fun anymore. but your peaceful life had ceased during the fifth night — the whispers, they woke you up. you can hear them from behind your door at night, and when you rouse awake, you see doyoung walking around the hallway from the tiny gap at the bottom of the door. you had sighed, falling back into your plush bed as you pray to god, he keeps it down. 

but what he told you the next day rendered you speechless. "me, walking around the hallways? whispers?" he says, confused. "i was already asleep, love. knocked out cold the moment my body fell on the bed."

"but…"

he doesn't spare you a glance as he takes his sweet time skimming through his notes on the dining table, coffee in one hand. "maybe it's just the meds kicking in."

"no, surely it was real! i literally woke up in the middle of the night," you repeat. "it's okay if it was you, doyoung. i'm not mad."

he sets his coffee mug down a little too loud. 

"well, you can't be mad at me, sugar, because like i said — it wasn't me," it doesn't take a genius to notice he's awfully cranky today. you observe him, dark half-moons under his eyes as he relentlessly reads his notes with instant coffee in one hand. 

"you're just imagining things, okay? stop acting crazy."

for some reason, the way he had uttered certain words like 'imagining' and 'crazy' made you curl into your seat in embarrassment. he was right that your doctor did prescribe a generous amount of pills per day, but his tone made it feel off, made you feel like there was something wrong with you even when there wasn't… 

right?

you didn't say a word after that and had hesitantly pecked him on the cheek before he left for school. with the amount of time you're with him, two things stood out to you — his keen sense of observation and his knack for reading people. you highly doubt he didn't notice a shift in your behavior but a part of you thinks it's just the stress talking. he is about to take his finals and had recently started on his research paper. 

every psych student is required to present a paper in accordance with the department's annual theme. it could be anything from proposing a theory (if you dare) to constructing a well-developed psychology model. if you don't turn one in, you don't graduate — the paper's that important, and you've been bugging him for so long about sneaking a peek on what his study is about. but he always refused. 

the next week came rolling around, and both of you had been spending every day together due to the semestral break. the arguments have significantly lessened, but your episodes — eventually, you started calling it that way because that's how doyoung labels it — have only gotten worse. you end up moving out of the guest room and into his. privacy be damned. the whispers stopped momentarily but what came next became your imminent downfall.

the first time you heard it, you thought you were dreaming. but the doorknob kept rattling aggressively even as you sat up. just as you climb off the bed, your half-asleep boyfriend asks where you're going. 

"bathroom," you lied.

you were always the one to snort when it comes to the supernatural, claiming it's all bullshit. yet, as whatever outside continues to fight its way inside the room, the rattling progressing into loud bangs against the door, you're not so sure of your beliefs anymore. you're not crazy. nothing is wrong with you, and you're perfectly fine. this apartment is cursed, and you are going to prove that to doyoung.

grabbing your phone from the bedside table, you turn the flash on, pointing the camera at the door as you take a footage of the mad entity that has been playing games with you. a squeal escapes your lips when a particular bang! reverberates louder in the room than all the others. the phone slips your hand, falling onto the floorboards. you don't bother to retrieve it as you scramble to get yourself back under the blanket and into doyoung's comfortable warmth.

you snuggle yourself plush against his chest, shaking as you wrap your arms around his waist, inhaling his natural scent to anchor you back. 

bang! bang! bang!

you didn't get a wink of sleep last night.

"can't the video wait? there's a new episode of start-up, and i want to watch it already!" he whines, shoving his face further on the throw pillow situated on your lap.

you giggle, shaking your head as you scroll through your gallery to find the video. i'm not imagining things. i'm not hallucinating. i'm not crazy. "here! watch... i'm telling you this apartment is haunted, and the ghost probably likes you, which is why it doesn't bother you —"

your lighthearted rambling cuts off when you notice no sound emitting from your phone. weird. you could've sworn you started recording right when the loud banging has already started. your heart drops upon the wary stare doyoung shoots you before he continues to watch the video. 

no, no, no, no — please!

you quickly scoot over to his side, watching as the video unfolds before your very eyes. the shot was messy as the phone was handheld, not to mention you were panicking at the time. but the video is silent. not a single noise of a rattling doorknob or banging on the door can be heard through your phone's speakers. 

"maybe — maybe you didn't turn the volume up?"

you hardly contain the mortification in your face when you realize the volume's at 100 already. and as if on cue, your squeal is heard in the video and the noise of the phone hitting the floor.

doyoung's silence shakes your whole being. as you kneel before him teary-eyed, your voice breaks. "i swear, i'm not crazy."

but at this point, you don't believe yourself anymore.

for his third and final act;

he triumphs.

his deprivation began in minuscule ripples. 

it didn't take much effort on doyoung's end to convince you to stop studying for a year or two, at least, only until your hallucinations aren't as severe anymore. everyday felt like hell on earth as the fine line between what's real and what isn't has blurred over one too many times. in sheer paranoia of accidentally hurting him in his sleep, you moved out of his bedroom and had started sleeping in the guest room again — much to doyoung's frustration. 

but he's a smart man, one that recognizes an opportunity amidst the hurdles thrown on his path.

"why does my door need a lock outside again?"

he approaches you, who’s sitting cross-legged on the bed, after screwing in the last of the screws that came with the new doorknob. doyoung is familiar with the look written on your face, has observed and studied you enough to navigate his way inside your pretty little head with ease.

he can't have you doubting him, can he?

"you know i'm all about protecting you, right?" he starts. you nodded. "i've been doing it for a year now, and i will continue to do so until you need me to. the world is a bad place, sweetheart, remember? your own best friend's mother tried framing you. your dad disowned you. you've been ostracized in the whole college... do you think i'm just like the rest of them, baby?"

doyoung has already mastered the perfect expression of a kicked-puppy, one that easily pulls at your heartstrings and has you cooing at him.

"no!" you say with conviction, reaching forward to thread your fingers through his. "i know you're different, not like any of them at all. i know you're only doing what's… best for me."

he ignores the underlying hesitance in your tone. that will be corrected, sooner or later.

doyoung tightens his hold as he kisses the back of your hand. such an innocent gesture — but such ill intentions.

"the outside lock helps me in protecting you, love. you don't need to worry about anything. just focus on getting better, alright? i'll keep the bad guys away from you."

it was during his first semester of senior year, a few months back, doyoung and a good few students of his batch had been granted the opportunity to intern for a mental hospital located near the edge of the city. he was supposed to decline the offer but you convinced him to take the spot. it had only been a two-week “job” yet it was enough for doyoung to conclude — he’d rather kill you than subject you to the horrors of what the patients have to go through in the loony bin. 

eventually, the small ripples shift into unforgiving waves, dragging you into the depths as everything comes crashing down before your very own eyes.

it should have been like any other day inside the apartment. doyoung's already gone in the morning to attend classes. though not before setting a tray of your brunch on the nightstand, making sure to lock your door on his way out. he knew your nightmares and anxiety kept you up at night, resulting in longer hours of sleep during the day. 

turns out, you moving out of his bedroom had been a blessing in disguise. coming home to an empty apartment has become his biggest fear yet, and you unconsciously found a solution for him. one that doesn’t have him fidgeting on his seat as he counts down the minutes ‘til he’s back by your side.

doyoung smiles unconsciously as he listens to his professor drone on and on in front of him — his mind at peace, knowing you're safe and sound in your little prison.

until he received a text that made his blood run cold.

ty, 11:34 am —im done.

meanwhile, you rouse awake once more to thunderous poundings against your bedroom door. oh no, you thought. it's happening again. this time, there'll be no doyoung barging into your room, half-asleep and hair messy, as he tries to calm you down. you throw the blankets over you as you sob, hugging your legs against your chest as you try to 'wake yourself up' from the hallucination.

the person outside calls for your name, the desperation in their tone alighting a new-found fear in your heart. you don't know what's real anymore. is this truly happening, or is it another hallucination your fucked up mind has conjured up?

"please! it's taeyong! y/n, can you hear me?"

taeyong?

slowly, your head peaks above the blanket, warily staring at the door. doyoung has warned you about these kinds of things, has practically ingrained in your mind that whoever comes looking for you will take you away from him. not to mention, doyoung slipped one time and said he isn’t friends with taeyong anymore.

the banging on the door progresses.

“are you in there? answer me! i can’t find the key!”

you don’t say anything, merely pushing the covers off your body as you keep your eyes fixed on the beating door. it looks like it’s about to pop out its hinges as taeyong relentlessly fights his way inside your room. what are you going to do? do you open the door? oh. right. you can’t do that on your own accord. the key is with doyoung and he isn’t in the apartment at the moment.

all your thoughts come to a halt when the boy outside sends the door flying open, finally breaking the lock with one powerful kick. you flinch back, his actions pushing you on your feet, wanting to place a maximum amount of distance from the intruder. 

taeyong looks frantic, disheveled as he immediately notices your alarmed state. he approaches you cautiously, hands up to show his empty palms. “hey, hey… it’s just me, y/n. i’m not going to hurt you. i’m not the enemy here.”

“doyoung doesn’t know you’re here, does he?”

the look of surprise on his face is an answer in itself. for someone doyoung had proudly claimed to have “broken” you’re still quite quick to catch up on things, taeyong observed. and he doesn’t know what to feel about it — pity? guilt?

“that’s not important!” he claims, boldly surging forward to grasp your shoulders with a firm grip. taeyong felt his heart dropping when you flinch under his grasp. 

“listen to me. we need to get you out of here. doyoung isn’t — he isn’t everything you thought he is!” he can’t help but raise his voice, panic surging through him because there’s not much time left and you aren’t exactly cooperating. you’ve been trying to shrug off his hold the whole time. 

“do you think he actually loves you?”

“he does! stop saying bullshit!”

“doyoung never loved anyone and you want to know why? because he’s too in love with his research to care for anything else!” taeyong felt bad to have been so direct, especially when he sees the tears now falling freely down your cheeks. “listen to me, y/n! i’m not the enemy! if there’s anyone you should be pushing away, it’s doyoung! he turned you into his lab rat! you are nothing but a variable in his study! don’t you get it?”

taeyong grabs a firm but gentle hold of your head, trying to make you look at him straight in the eye for the gravity of what he’s about to say to you.

“doyoung had his eye on you since sophomore year. i told him this was a bad idea and that he should change the topic of the research and he was. fucking hell, he was about to scrap the whole thing until your bestfriend died and did you know what that psycho told me? that it was a sign for him to continue the research! and i’ve been pestering him so much that he moved out because he claimed i was going to get in the way of his discovery.

tell you what, if you can tell me right here, right now, that he has mentioned anything — anything at all — about his study to you then everything i’m saying is a lie.”

you have asked doyoung for the longest time about that research but the answers have always been the same. “not yet, my love. it’s not time for it to be seen with your eyes. soon, okay?”

with a voice not louder than a whisper, you ask. “what… what’s his research about?”

you fail to see the sorry look on taeyong’s face. “in psychology, they say a person only develops psychosis mainly through genetics or drugs. although you’re technically already a worthy “lab rat” considering your mom and upbringing, he wanted to expand the external factors of what causes the disorder — grief, grades, toxic family relations…”

you hear a ringing in your ear and a sudden urge to throw up. only, you didn’t have anything to hurl because your brunch remains untouched on your bedside. 

“but he hadn’t been successful. and that’s… that’s where i came along. doyoung thought the medications he’s been giving you isn’t doing what he wanted it to and he knew he needed a little push. i was… i gave him that push. remember the whispers, the banging on the door at night? it was all me. he made me do it. you know what that means, right? you’re not crazy. you don’t need to stay here cooped up like some kind of pet, believing all his lies as if it’s written in a fucking bible —”

he stops. and if he hadn’t, you wouldn’t’ve heard the familiar beeps of the front door’s automated lock going off. doyoung’s home. 

in lightning speed, taeyong has you sheltered behind him, throwing his warm coat over you in the process, hoping to give the smallest comfort amidst the chaos that’s about to erupt. there’s no point in pretending or hiding — one look at that lock and his crazy friend would know something’s off. 

taeyong feels you flinching behind him with every heavy footstep against the floorboards as doyoung wastes no time in getting to your room. and when he finally appears, hands braced against the door frame, you’ve never been this scared your whole life. his eyes are drawn into slits, fixated on taeyong alone. “how fucking dare you?”

“it’s over, doyoung. give it up or you wouldn’t have to suffer a longer sentence than you’ll already get.” taeyong tried with his whole being to appear intimidating.

“what’re you saying, yong? i meant, how fucking dare you barge in here and disturb my girlfriend in her sleep? that’s not very nice of you…” doyoung sports a disarming gummy smile as he approaches, hand outstretched and beckoning towards you. “c’mere, baby. i don’t think you’ve eaten lunch yet?”

“drop the fucking act, you psycho!”

“what act?” doyoung tilts his head innocently, gaze shifting from taeyong’s and yours, who keeps peeking from over his ex-friend’s shoulder. luring you out is a piece of cake unless taeyong decides to make things a wee bit more complicated, doyoung thought. “i’m just concerned for my darl —”

“we’re leaving.” taeyong cuts him off, breaking eye contact as he places a firm grip around your wrist. he pulls you towards him, farther away from your supposed lover as he tries walking past doyoung. 

but the said man pushes taeyong back with a humorless smile on his face. “and who told you that you can do that?”

a pregnant silence befalls the room as the two men size each other up. they regard each other with such hostility, you can't help but unconsciously fist the back of taeyong's sweater in nervousness, prompting the man to turn his head over his shoulder for a swift second to check up on you.

but a second is all that doyoung needed to deliver the first kick towards taeyong's legs, throwing him off his balance. if it was one thing doyoung knew, is that he needed to eliminate taeyong's agility all together if he wants to win against him. 

but taeyong isn't one to back down. the moment doyoung straddles him on the floor, with a fist raised to throw a punch, taeyong grunts as he rolls them around. doyoung now receiving taeyong's rain of fists as he yells. "fuck you! you manipulative asshole!"

you sat on the corner, horrified of the scene happening before you. you've never seen doyoung this way. he has always been your sweet, caring bunny, but after everything taeyong said, you aren't so sure you even know the man you've been living with. 

"everything i did, i did it for her!" you flinch at the sound of bones breaking as doyoung kicked taeyong's ribs. "she had nothing to lose! i saved her!"

the door is open, you noticed. wide-open and inviting you to make a run for it. and you would have made a run for it...  but taeyong. you can't leave him behind, not when he lays there bloody and grunting in pain as doyoung lets his anger take over him. so, as stupid as may be, you did it. you had to.

"you didn't save me," you say, schooling your face into indifference as doyoung whips around, forgetting about taeyong in the bat of an eye. "you caged me in here, treated me like there's something wrong with me, gaslighted me into believing everything you said! and... what did you say? 'saved me'? you made me go through hell!"

the whole time, taeyong tries his hardest to stand upright, but his broken ribs don't allow him to. the pain too great that he had no choice but to crawl instead, arms pulling his weight as he drags himself across the floorboards, desperately trying to get doyoung's attention back on him even if it meant getting beaten to death.

meanwhile, he had his eyes trained on you the whole time you spoke, sobbing as you walk backward in fear as doyoung approached you with a dark glint in his eye. he doesn't like what you're saying; that much is very clear. he wanted to yell at you, to scream of your ungratefulness despite his constant care but instead, he says.

"i thought we were making progress, baby. i guess i have to drill everything in your brain again. you're not okay, but you will be after i treat you."

you try to fight the urge to look at taeyong as he finds his strength, silently rising up from the floor to ambush doyoung while he's so busy preaching about you. 

"what i said is true, baby. do you actually think this scum over here is doing this to save you? do you actually believe everything he said? i've been here since day-1, my love. literally. and have i ever let you down? no. everything i'm doing is for us. even this damned research!"

taeyong surges forward to put him in a chokehold, but everything happened so fast, and the next thing you knew —

"did you actually think i'd fall for that?"

you didn't know the sound of a knife cutting through flesh could sound that loud, but nothing could beat the strained gasp that tumbled through taeyong's lips as he shakily held the knife pierced through his heart. you would've been concerned about how doyoung got it so accurate in one go or where the knife even came from. but you were too busy screaming, collapsing against the wall as you let out a broken sob. 

"no," you mutter. "no, no, no..."

you can't bear to avert your eyes from taeyong as he lies dying before you. the look of fear in his eyes would forever be ingrained in your mind, and no amount of brainwashing or gaslighting would ever make you forget.

doyoung killed him. you lost.

the knife clatters loudly on the floor as he slowly turns around as if he himself has yet to register what he did. you didn't know what to expect from doyoung's reaction but certainly not the eerie smile that starts spreading on his face. 

"now... how about that lunch, baby?"

✉ : a repost no one asked but i respectfully dont give a fuck <3

[authoressofdarkness]

I saw that you're taking prompts, from the dialogue list. Can I get number 20? “I’ve never had someone taking care of me before.” for starker obviously. I'm excited, I love reading your works. Thank you in advance!

Hi anon! That means so much to me and I’m v glad to be taking this as my first prompt. Thank you 💙

I kinda want to try some new things with some of these prompts, so I’m gonna go at this with omega Tony and alpha Peter and see where it goes. I hope that’s okay with you anon and that everyone likes it 😘

Same age college AU, omegaverse, alpha Peter Parker, omega Tony Stark, some angst and some fluff at the end.

—

It’s a well known fact that Tony Stark has a shitty family.

Well, at least to anyone who knows him, it is. They know how he’ll do anything to not be at home when his father is around, to get out of the endless pressures of social events and promotional things and questions of mating and management and all of the things that he hated about being born an omega and being attached to the last name Stark to top it all off—

For years, it was just him. Some flings, mainly to piss his father off, but he never had his attention for longer than the time it took to scold him or order him around, and his mother was never much help, either. He had precious few friends growing up, never really made any real ones until college when he met Rhodey and Pepper — an alpha and a beta respectively that helped him manage things there and that were the first people to truly understand the depths of struggles he had going on at home.

And they were great friends, still are, but there was never anything more there between them. They helped him float through the first year of school, and then—

And then came Peter Parker.

Tony doesn’t hate all alphas on principle, although he is often rather tempted to try to, what with how they were shoved in his face most of his life. They were great for a good fling but most of them were meatheads. As horny as Tony was, he couldn’t allow just anyone to be close to him, nothing too get to serious, because he’s got a lot of responsibility coming down to him and he needs the right partner — alpha or otherwise — to be willing to deal with that. Not that he’s particularly interested in mating right now but he also isn’t going to allow someone close enough to potentially mark him knowing the repercussions of that.

He’s the heir to Stark Industries, sure, but he’s still an omega. An alpha will have significant legal power over him once they’re mated. And he wants to be the one to run SI, to take on his legacy, to build, to create, and to run his business, and he’s not going to let anyone stop him, even if that means flings forever.

(Not that that’s legally going to fly because he can’t take over until he’s considered qualified which implies a certain amount of stability that translates into having an alpha that’s more than just a fuck buddy but—)

It doesn’t matter. None of it matters after he meets Peter.

Peter is a year younger than him in school, technically, but biologically they’re the same age. Peter just started a bit later than most — and for good reasons, as Tony comes to find out.

He’s in one of Tony’s engineering classes and his organic chemistry class and the omega would be lying if he said he wasn’t immediately taken with him.

He can’t help it. Peter is cute, with his overgrown curls and slim form and silky skin and shy little smile and—

The other man is all alpha, there’s no doubt about it. He exudes it without even trying, but there’s a shyness to him, too. He’s not a meathead; he’s a sweetheart. From day one he’s respectful of Tony in class, kind when he sees him around campus, and that makes them the perfect lab partners in chemistry, and after knowing that, it’s just the natural choice for them to partner for the project in engineering and then—

Then things spiral, and Tony doesn’t even care.

He’s seeking the alpha’s attention, and Peter, the innocent, shy thing he is, is happy to give, to dote on Tony in ways that he would resist if they were coming from anyone else.

They’re not even fucking, but it’s intimate, so intimate that he can’t even explain it, and he loves it, scarily so. It both soothes and sets all his instincts on edge at the same time.

By mid semester they both have keys to come and go freely from each other’s rooms. It’s more common to see them together than it is to ever spot one of them out alone. The whole school probably thinks they’re a couple, and even though they’ve never made it official — and he’s never allowed himself to even come close to considering it before — Tony can’t bring himself to mind.

As midterms approach, though, Tony locks himself in to focus on his work. He doesn’t mean to, really; it’s just that hours studying slip into full nights and then he hasn’t eaten and he hasn’t left the room, even missing one of his classes because he doesn’t realize the time.

Peter hasn’t come by in days and except for the occasional check in text, Tony hasn’t heard from him, either. But they’re both busy with midterms so he really isn’t surprised. In fact he barely has time to eat, let alone check his phone, so even if he was texting him regularly Tony probably wouldn’t be answering.

Except mid terms or no, of course Peter notices when Tony misses class. And when his texts go unanswered by the absorbed omega, he doesn’t hesitate to show up and let himself in.

Tony doesn’t even realize anyone is there until he feels a hand on his shoulder. He jumps so hard he nearly knocks the chair back, and when he turns around he sees Peter, stepping back and holding his hands up in the universal “I surrender” gesture, clearly not having meant to startle him.

“I’m sorry, I knocked but you didn’t answer so I let myself in. I just— you weren’t in class, and I was worried… are you okay? When was the last time you ate?” It takes all of two seconds for Peter’s sheepishness to melt into concern, and he steps forward again, closing the distance between them to tilt Tony’s chin up, looking at the shadow stretching across his jaw where he hasn’t shaved in a few days. “You’ve lost weight,” he murmurs, thumb brushing over Tony’s cheekbone tenderly — which, yeah, is definitely more prominent than it was at the beginning of the week.

Tony’s eyes flutter and he leans into the touch for a moment before refocusing and shaking it off. “I’m fine. This is normal, Peter. I know what I’m doing.”

“Do you?” Peter raises an eyebrow. “Do you even know what day it is?”

“It’s Saturday—“

“It’s Monday, Tony. 1pm on Monday, at that. You missed engineering this morning and you haven’t answered my texts all weekend.” Surprise flits across Tony’s face at that, because — yeah, last time he checked it was Saturday, and he had no new texts from Peter, so— “When was the last time you ate?” Peter continues to prod, voice gentle but insistent.

Both aspects only serve to spark irritation in him, though. Tony bats Peter’s hand away from his face, frowning. He doesn’t need to be treated with kid gloves. “I ate a little while ago. I’m fine.”

“You don’t even know what day it is—“

“It all kind of blurs together when you’re not doing anything besides working, okay—“

“Two days is a lot of blur, Tony—“

“And just because I need a shave doesn’t mean I haven’t left my desk or that this isn’t totally normal for midterms—“

“You’re the one saying you haven’t left your desk, not me—“

“That’s not what I meant! I’m just saying—“

“I’m just saying you need to take a short break, it’s not that big of a deal—“

“I don’t need a break, I know my limits—“

“Tony, I really don’t think—“

“Jesus fucking— You’re not my alpha, Parker, would you fuck off?”

The words come out before he can stop them, and he flinched himself at the hurt on Peter’s face, the way the alpha physically recoils, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“I’m not— god, I know that, okay? I’m just trying to help you, Tony. Please, this isn’t sustainable. You need to eat. Just— let me find you something, and then I’ll leave, okay?”

Leave? No, he doesn’t want him to leave. But the only thing that comes out is a quiet “whatever,” and he watches Peter escape to the kitchen with a ball of guilt growing in his chest.

Peter is just trying to help. He likes Peter and he doesn’t want him to leave, he just— he panics, and then he snaps.

Because what if Peter wants more? What if he really likes him? And Tony is a fuck up that does shit like this when he feels emotions and has so much baggage attached to being with him and—

And Peter knows that, at least some of it. It’s been a few months of seeing each other nearly every day, now, and his family situation was never a secret.

So why is he still here? Oh god, did Tony just ruin it?

The thought, for reasons that he’s refusing to immediately think about, is almost too much to bear. He stands up, fumbling his way out of the chair and into the kitchen.

The smell hits him almost as soon as he enters, and he sucks in a deep breath. His traitorous stomach growls, loud and demanding.

Soup bubbles on the stove as Peter works at the counter, chopping up some fruits and vegetables. He’s already managed to put a few little storage containers of food together for him, and something in Tony’s gut feels warm at the sight. But it also drops — preparing premade meals most certainly means that Peter isn’t intending to come back.

He looks up when Tony enters, expression wary. “The soup was the quickest thing you had, and since I had to be here for as long as it takes to boil anyway I thought I would just—“

“Peter.” His own voice sounds remarkable calm for how shaky he suddenly feels, lurching towards the alpha at the countertop. “It’s okay. I… thank you, for this. I’m sorry.”

Peter looks taken aback by the apology. “Tony, you don’t have to apologize. You’re right; I’m not your alpha and it’s not my place to give you orders. I just… I care about you, okay? I just want to help. I know you don’t think about me that way, and I’m sorry I overstepped, but—“

“You’re wrong.”

“What?” The words draw Peter up short.

Tony takes a breath, looking down. He focuses on the alpha’s hands, watching him chop instead of looking at his face. It’s easier. “You’re wrong. It’s not that I don’t think of you that way. The problem is… that I do. And I… I’m not used to this. I’ve never had someone take care of me before. Not really, not in any way that mattered. And what I feel for you… it scares me.” He takes a little breath again, looking down at his own hands. “I want you to be my alpha, Peter. But I’m not really a good omega, and I just have so much shit that comes along with being with me. The thought of asking you to do that… what that could do to us… I just don’t think I could handle that.”

He hears the knife ting against the countertop as Peter sets it down, and the pitter patter of footsteps as the alpha crosses the room. He’s suddenly being drawn into a pair of lanky but surprisingly strong arms, surrounded by the musky, relaxing scent of alpha, and he practically melts into it, nestling his nose into the spot between the collar of Peter’s sweatshirt and his throat almost automatically.

Peter’s hand running up and down his back is soothing, relaxing him the rest of the way, and the press of the alpha’s chin against his head is just the perfect weight to be comfortable, reassuring.

“Tony… I’m not an idiot,” he says gently. “I know who you are. What you’ve done, where you came from, what’s expected of you — and yeah, I’m sure there’s more that you haven’t told me and that’s not public, but— I get why this is a struggle for you, and why you feel the need to put so much pressure on yourself. There’s nothing wrong with you for that and it is most definitely not your own fault that you’re not used to being taken care of. And you’ve no idea how badly or how long I’ve wanted to be your alpha.” He pulls back a little to look down at him, fingers scratching Tony’s scalp gently as he works his fingers through his hair. “But that doesn’t mean that this kind of behavior — towards yourself or others — is good or acceptable. It’s okay to let me take care of you — at least in small ways. I know you’re scared of losing your independence, but that’s not what I want for you, either. I just want to help.”

“Help,” Tony echoes, eyes drifting to the pan on the stove and then back to Peter. “I… I think I’d like that.” He bites his lip, looking up at him. They’re about the same size and height, but this close, wrapped in the alpha’s arms and scent, with his steady gaze on him, he can’t help but feel small by comparison. “You really want to be my alpha?”

“Only if you want me to be, but…” Peter looks down at him and cracks his shy little smile. “I’d like to try, if you’d let me.”

“I’d like that,” Tony admits. He shifts to press up against him, putting a hand on his chest. “I’d also really like it if you’d kiss me.”

Peter looks a little surprised, but not unpleasantly. Still, he shakes his head, giving him a little push back. “Tony, you didn’t even know what day it was. God knows when the last time you brushed your teeth is. No offense, but… ew.”

Tony just laughs a little, unable to help himself. “If I brush my teeth…?”

“Maybe. If you eat your food as well.” Peter moves back to the counter, finishing up the container he was working on. “We can’t be doing anything that’s going to burn you extra calories when you don’t have enough to begin with, hm?”

Tony finds himself grinning. “That’s an argument I can get behind. Literally and metaphorically.”

Peter flashes a grin in return, voice back to that gentle but insistent tone that he knows so well when he says, “Go, Tony.”

And for once, Tony is all too happy to obey.

[fizzychocolatemilk]

The Sky is Blue (...and Kacchan Loves Deku) (Bakudeku Tropetember Drabble)

Some of you might remember this preview that I said that I was putting on the back-burner. Well...I realized that I had a free space day for tropetember, so I was like, “Why don’t I finish this fic for that?!” So I finished it. Enjoy! AO3 link  here.

The realization wasn’t a surprise. It was a quick, “oh, I love him,” but it didn’t catch him off guard. It was a universal truth, like the sky is blue or his hearing was going to go if he didn’t wear noise-cancellers with his hero costume. It was a normal day, the sun was shining, the birds were chirping happily, and Katsuki was with Deku. They were training, they usually are, but today the sun hit Deku’s hair just right and gave him a golden halo that made him look like an angel when he smiled and reached to help Katsuki up. “I love him,” he thought as he accepted the hand being offered to him, thinking nothing of the realization. It was obvious. The sky is blue, time stops for no one, and Kacchan loves Deku.

After the realization, he thought about Deku more if that’s possible. He sighed fondly when he saw him laughing with his friends; he borrowed notes from Half-n-Half or Ponytail because he could spend entire class periods admiring Deku’s reflection in the window next to their seats; he was more proud than frustrated when Deku ended up pinning him multiple times in a row during their sparring sessions.

He still encouraged Deku and he was still the best partner he could be for someone with a timeless quirk like One-for-All, but his love now encompassed his every action in a way that he never noticed before.

That’s why he noticed when Deku started pulling away.

.

.

.

It was slow at first. Deku started by making excuses to skip their hangouts every so often. First it was, “Denki-kun asked me for some help with his quirk theory homework.” or “Ei-kun wanted me to show him a new training regimen that I came up with to maximize his quirk.” 

Then the excuses became more elaborate and more often, “Ocha-chan wants Shou-kun, Tenya-kun, and I to go to the mall with her to carry bags,” “...The girls want to give me a makeover...” or “Umm...Hanta-kun just sent me a text saying that he needs my help...because he taped himself...to a tree...by accident!”

While Katsuki was very understanding about these disappearances even though he knew that Deku was lying to him, it hurt his heart that Deku didn’t want to spend time with him enough for him to lie to his face. He wanted to get angry, wanted to rage at Deku for just getting up and abandoning them, abandoning what they were starting to have—but he couldn’t. Deku had every right to choose who he wanted to spend time with; Katsuki had just thought that their friendship was worth more than flimsy excuses and missed hangouts.

.

.

.

Katsuki had been going through the motions for the past week. Deku had eventually stopped giving him excuses and just started skipping their meetings. Shark-face and Raccoon-eyes had invited him to several “squad” sessions, but he told them that he wanted to train or that he had homework. Most of the time, he layed in his bed with his eyes closed—imagining shiny green curls, a smile that rivaled the sun, and constellations of freckles under a clear blue sky until he eventually fell asleep.

He always woke up with tears running down his cheeks.

.

.

.

The next week Katsuki sat next to Deku at lunch.

Usually he sat with his squad, but he wasn’t going to give up Deku without some sort of fight. After a week of living in a grey malaise where nothing really mattered to him, he realized that Deku was his world. He would chase Deku to the ends of the Earth, shoulder every tear to see him smile, and do anything, no matter how humiliating, to see him laugh. Kacchan loved Deku, and he was going to live by him until Deku told him to leave, no excuses.

Deku had been talking and laughing with his friends, but he was blushing when he turned to look at Katsuki. “Kacchan? Are you okay? Do you need something?”

Katsuki’s heart melted at the compassion that Deku was displaying. He’d missed him so much. At that point, he was blushing slightly as he replied, “I’m fine, Deku. I just...wanted to sit by you today. Missed you last week, nerd.”

He swore that steam started coming out of Deku’s ears when he said that. Deku was stuttering incoherently, his hands were flailing without purpose, and his face was so red that it rivaled Shark-face’s shitty hair.

“Nerd?! Are you okay?” Katsuki placed a hand on Deku’s shoulder and the back of the other on Deku’s forehead. “Shit, you feel a little warm. Should I take you to Recovery Hag?”

If it was possible, Deku flushes harder, which only makes Katsuki more worried. But then Half-n-Half interrupts them. “He’s in perfect physical health, Bakugou,” he says with a barely noticeable teasing smile. In the background, Floaty has broken down in laughter on Glasses’s shoulder.

Katsuki furrows his brow but doesn’t get angry. “Then what the fuck is wrong with him?!” This just makes Floaty laugh harder.

The Candy-Cane faced bastard just smiles knowingly, “You should ask him that.”

Deku had apparently gained enough coherency at that point to blurt, “Why don’t we spar tonight, Kacchan! Normal place, normal time!”

Katsuki’s eyes had shot to Deku when he’d started talking, and his heart started doing a victory dance when Deku invited him to spar. After weeks of excuses and another week of nothingness, Deku had finally agreed to spend time with him again! Katsuki didn’t realize he was smiling until he heard a choked gasp from his right.

Deku was once again incoherent, and he was staring at Katsuki like he had killed Deku’s mother. Katsuki caught himself and softened his smile (he couldn’t find it in himself to stop smiling completely...he was so ecstatic) before slightly nodding at Deku in confirmation of their plans. Deku’s flush got redder for some reason. Katsuki flushed too under Deku’s continued attention as he turned back to his food. What was going on in the nerd’s head?

.

.

.

Katsuki arrived in the grassy field of their usual sparring location right after class. Sometimes he and Deku would spar at night or in the morning, but the afternoon was the most convenient. 

Deku hadn’t arrived yet, so Katsuki plopped down onto the vibrant grass and looked up at the sky. It was still breathtakingly blue. It reminded him of Deku. It reminded him of the day he realized his love. He smiled serenely while thinking about his nerd, his gorgeous eyes that Katsuki wouldn’t be able to adequately describe if he was given a thousand words, his smile that radiated sunshine and brightened Katsuki’s day at a mere glimpse, his bountiful kindness and optimism that simultaneously scared Katsuki and made his heart melt. Deku, Deku, Deku.

“Kacchan?” Deku had arrived, “Oh my goodness, you haven’t been waiting too long right?! I’m sorry!”

They were inconsequential words, but every one made Katsuki realize more and more how much he had missed his Deku. “I would wait forever for you,” he blurted. He hadn’t meant to say it aloud, but the words were the truth, a truth that Katsuki was no longer scared to share. “I would chase you to the fucking ends of the Earth, do any-shitty-thing to make you laugh, defeat hundreds of the most depraved villains to see your smile….Deku...Izuku….I love you. I love you so much it hurts, so much that I cannot fucking hold it within myself anymore. You have no obligation to return my feelings or even to be my friend—but I had to tell you that you mean so fucking much to me. My world is you, and without you, I am nothing.”

Green met red for a moment, a moment which conveyed the truth behind Katsuki’s words, before Izuku broke into tears.

Katsuki leaped up and pulled Izuku into a hug, rubbed his back and whispered platitudes to him until he stopped crying. They stood in silence for a moment, just holding each other, before Katsuki broke the silence, “Deku?” They needed to have a conversation.

“...Kacchan….You—How could someone as amazing as you love someone like me? How could I love you right back? I—Kacchan, what about me is there to love?”

Katsuki’s heart ached with the final question, but he asked, “Can I kiss you?”

Izuku nodded against Katsuki’s shoulder, and Katsuki held Izuku’s face in his hands before giving him the sweetest kiss he could muster. It was both of their firsts, so it wasn’t very good, but Katsuki could feel Izuku’s insecurity and he hoped that Izuku could feel Katsuki’s all encompassing love.

Soon enough, their kiss broke as Izuku had broken down in sobs again. Katsuki pulled him in and placed Izuku’s head on his shoulder once again. After another stretch of holding each other and listening to Izuku’s cries, Izuku lifted his head and smiled at Katsuki before saying three simple words.

“I love you”

Izuku reached up to cradle Katsuki’s face in his hand, and Katsuki's heart warmed up as they kissed again. The world has simple truths: the sky is blue, Kacchan loves Deku….and apparently Deku loves Kacchan too.

That’s it! I hope you enjoyed! I’m considering making a part two from Izuku’s perspective...let me know if that’s a good idea. I’ll see y’all later!

[therealvalkyrie]

Through the Mirror: Part 1

my body, my music

Pairing/setting: Detective!Levi Ackerman x Female!Ghost!Reader, modern!AU within the Walls

Summary: When you’re murdered one Tuesday morning, can Levi piece together the true circumstances of your death with your help from beyond the grave?

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: dead body, descriptions of blood, swearing, mentions of violence

AN: Welcome to my new series because I have no self control and can’t finish projects before starting others! Lemme just start off by saying updates may come pretty irregularly because I do have a lot of other WIPs to work on, but! I’m really excited about this idea and have a whole lot planned:) I seriously hope you enjoy. After all, who doesn’t love a good murder mystery? Drop into my DMs/askbox/comments/reblogs to let me know what you think! Be kind to yourselves and others. ~valkyrie

“Ah, shit! Hello!? I’m standing right here!”

The woman completely ignores you, stepping carefully over the puddle of blood and across your tiny living room. You cross your arms and pout. She ignores that, too. 

“‘Scuse me, boys, let the experts take it from here,” she quips, gently pushing past the two detectives and crouching next to your body on the ground. 

It’s ugly, but she’s probably seen worse, you muse from where you’re leaning against the door jamb. It’s only been lying there for a couple of hours, so at least you haven’t bloated to something out of an NCIS episode. Must smell horrid, though, judging by the mask the head detective has pulled over his face.

“So, you said the landlady called at about 7 am?” the ME inquires, cocking her head up to look at the detectives, nylon gloved hands held at the ready.

“7:07 exactly. Said a neighbor made a noise complaint, she came up to check it out, found signs of a forced entry, and called us.” It’s the taller blonde who speaks up, reading from an off-brand pocket notepad in his left hand. The kind you’d find on sale at Staples after Back-to-School season.

Interesting. You lean your head against the wall, eyes trained on the trio. You’d pegged the ill-tempered shorter one as in charge. Maybe he’s just the quiet type. 

“Hmm, alright. Moblit, get off your ass and come take the pictures before we move her,” the woman calls to someone behind you, and you turn just in time to get a face full of Moblit’s chest as he walks towards you. 

You cringe back with a “God, seriously?” to no response.

“Yes, sorry, right away, Hange!” Moblit hurries past- no, through -you, sidestepping the ottoman and the blood. It feels weird, like a strong wind, but not altogether unpleasant to have someone walk through you, you suppose. You look down at your chest to watch your misty body re-settle into itself before looking back at the group in your living room.

Were it not for the gruesome accents of blood flecked up the walls and your body riddled with stab wounds, you’d chuckle at how all four of them struggled to navigate the space. It’s cramped enough when it’s just you, fitting only a couch, a chair, a coffee table, your fern (Boris), and a narrow IKEA bookshelf. With the four of them plus a dead body, it’s like watching a freaking clown car.

“Sorry, excuse me, Captain, oh, was that your toe—?” Moblit’s struggling the most, having to move to capture different angles with his bulky camera. When he steps on the shorter man’s toe, he positively blanches, fumbling over himself to apologize while the ME laughs openly.

“God, alright, just,” the Captain pinches his delicate nose between a thumb and forefinger, then decides it’s better to wait in the kitchen. “C’mon, Gin, let’s chat in there.”

The Captain and the blonde detective both pass through you on the way back to the kitchen, but you only sigh and shake the tingly feeling of being incorporeal out of your fingers before following them.

“So,” the man called Gin takes the initiative, flipping back through his notebook and standing by the fridge. “I got statements from the landlady and two of the neighbors, numbers 303 and 304 down the hall. 301, directly across the hall, didn’t answer, but I got contact info from the landlady.” He pauses to read and scratch at his whiskery beard. “It was 304 who made the noise complaint, said she heard yelling this morning at around 5:45, and that she normally wouldn’t’ve said anything but it was, quote, the fourth goddamn time this week and I work the goddamn night shift, I deserve some fucking rest, unquote.”

You grin. Mrs. Sheffield was never one to mince words, something you appreciated when your ex-boyfriend got too loud and she took it upon herself to give him a piece of her mind. You catch a glimmer of a smile on the ornery Captain’s face above where he’s pulled his mask down before he gestures for Gin to keep going, keeping his thoughtful gaze fixed on the floor and his back against your countertop.

“Then after she called the landlady, she went to bed, only to be woken by us two hours later.”

“You said she called the landlady at 5:45 and that she works the night shift?”

Gin double checks his notes. “That’s right.”

“And she works at the hospital?”

“Yes, as a scrub nurse on the night shift.”

“But the night shift at the hospital ends at 6:30.”

“It was her night off,” you and Gin say at the same time before you catch yourself. They can’t hear you, anyway. This’d be a lot easier if they could.

Gin plows ahead. “But she says she keeps the same sleep schedule so she doesn’t, ah, fuck up her circadian rhythm.”

The Captain practically snorts at this, itching for a second under his silk cravat (can someone say pretentious) before settling back into a listening silence.

“303 says he didn’t hear a thing. College kid, looked exhausted. Said he was asleep the whole night after he got in at,” a page flip, “11 o’clock last night. Wasn’t much help, but looked genuinely upset when we told him about the murder. Wanted to know if there was anything he could do. Oh, but he did, uh, hang on,” more page flips, “He did tell us that he heard her and her boyfriend arguing a lot. Which is consistent with what Mrs. Sheffield told us.”

“Ex-boyfriend,” you correct into thin air. 

“A lover’s spat gone wrong, then,” Mr. Pretentious Captain muses. You huff in annoyance. A lover’s spat. If that’s all that this is written off as you’ll have some serious PD haunting to do. Chris may have been an angry, loud, disruptive manipulator, but he wouldn’t murder you. He didn’t murder you. “Any info on the whereabouts of the boyfriend?”

“Ex-boyf—!”

Blondie cuts you off, “Not currently, but we do have a name: Chris Henderson, works in admin down at the University. Lives across town closer to the Bridge.”

“Send some uniforms to bring him in for questioning. No arrests yet, tell ‘em to keep it friendly.”

“Right, I’ll put Dreyse and Bodt on it.”

“Dreyse, really?” Captain Cravat gives Gin an incredulous look. 

“Hey, she may look like a ditz but she gets the job done. And she might get him to let down his guard,” Gin argues, grinning. 

“Fine. I’ll meet them at the station, you stay here and make sure that mousy-haired dunce doesn’t fuck up my crime scene.”

“Hey, who’re you callin’ mousy-haired, short stack?” Hange actually sticks her whole head through yours this time, to butt into the conversation, and you shriek and jump away to the other side of your tiny kitchen, now sandwiched between Blondie and Shortstack. The latter twitches and swats at the air by his ear, as though to dislodge a fly, narrowly missing yours. You give him a weird look then turn back to listen to the ME. She’s leaning into the kitchen at an alarming angle, one hand on the doorframe and the other on the end of the gurney you assume is carrying your body. You shudder at the thought of being toted around in a dark, musty, humid glorified coat bag. Ugh. 

“—takin’ this baby”-she slaps the gurney twice and you flinch-“back so I can get started on the autopsy, Moblit’s staying to take more pictures and collect forensics. If Eld’s stayin’ here with Mob, does that mean you’re catching a ride with me, Levi?” The question is addressed to Captain Grump on your right, who gives a heavy sigh and pushes off the counter. 

“I guess so. I get to choose music though.”

“Ah, ah, ah,” she’s wagging a finger, grinning. “My body, my music!”

“How about my body, my music?” you suggest, following Levi. “I deserve it after the day I’ve had.”

Again, Levi twitches and swats aggressively by his ear, nearly hitting you full in the face this time. 

“You hear that, Gin? This place got a mosquito problem or something?”

“I do not have a mosquito problem!” and “No, sir, I don’t hear anything.” overlap in the air. 

Captain Levi only grunts, then starts spouting instructions, which Gin notes down. “I want footage from any cameras in the building, and from the shops next door and across the street. I want statements from residents both upstairs and downstairs. I want names, addresses, and numbers of next of kin on my desk by noon, and lastly, I want no one, save for myself, you, shitty glasses, and mousy-hair, in or out of this apartment. Are we clear?”

“Crystal clear, sir.”

“Good. I’m leaving you Braus to help and to show her the ropes of this kind of thing. Even though she’s on the case, she will not set foot in this apartment. I don’t trust her not to leave breadcrumbs in the bloodstains.

“Yes, sir.”

“I expect an in-person report before shift-change this evening. See you then.” Then, he’s sweeping out of the kitchen in pursuit of Hange and the gurney, leaving you to scurry after. As you exit your home, he shoots a young auburn-haired woman in a crisp white blouse and wool slacks a look. “Braus. You’re with Gin. Don’t go in the apartment.”

She straightens up from leaning against the wall with a jolt and brushes croissant crumbs off her front. “Yes, Captain Levi, sir!” It’s slightly muffled by the pastry stuffed into her mouth.

“Tch.”

It’s fascinating watching how Levi and Hange manage to navigate the gurney down the narrow, twisting stairs of your walk-up apartment building. They’re both clearly used to this sort of thing, communicating only in short phrases and grunts when they encounter an obstacle. Occasionally, you offer up a pointer and watch as Levi becomes increasingly irritated. 

“Watch out for Mr. Laslow’s cat, he likes to sneak up on ya!”

“Hange, do you hear— shit!” Levi hops to the side, narrowly avoiding the tabby tail as Tubbins McGee whisks past.

“It’s only a cat, Levi, dunno what’s got you so worked up today,” Hange teases, grin echoing your own as you chortle from the landing above them. 

Eventually, they spill out onto the sidewalk and into the bright mid-day, and Hange groans loudly, stretching with both hands on her back.

“Ugh. Remind me not to die in there, I’d hate to put someone else through that.”

“Boof, tell me about it,” you commiserate. 

“Noted,” Levi snarks. 

Hange removes jingling keys from her pocket and unlocks the ME’s van parked along the sidewalk with a beep, then opens the back doors and steps in. You follow, leaning against the cool metal siding to watch.

When they both load into the front seats and the engine turns over, you lean forward between them to listen in.

“So,” Hange starts, smoothly pulling out into the road behind a silver minivan. “I’ll be able to give you a more solid answer in a couple hours, but my initial estimated time of death would be around 5:45 this morning.”

Levi nods, staring out the passenger window while he answers. “That lines up with the neighbor’s story.”

“Theories so far?”

“Well, there’s the boyfriend,” he muses, lifting a hand to rub his chin.

“Too obvious,” you say dully, not bothering to amend the lack of “ex” yet again. “Next theory.”

He’s quiet for a moment, then mutter, almost too quietly for you to catch: “Too obvious, hmm? Next theory....”

You’re momentarily flabbergasted, hand falling through the faux-leather seat back in your shock. Can he actually hear you? You shake out your hand while it re-materializes, tuning in to the conversation as Hange’s responding. 

“—a little far-fetched, don’t you think? I mean, has there been any of that activity in this area recently?”

“Mm, I’ll have to touch base with Petra. If there has been, I think it’s worth looking into.”

“What is? Wait, go back,” you frantically plead, leaning further into his airspace. But Hange plows on. 

“Oh, it’s Petra, now, hmm? Not Raggedy Anne anymore?” Her tone is teasing, and she glances over to Levi for a reaction. 

He doesn’t give her one, just stares out the window pensively before reaching for the radio dial. The stereo blares up into an Oldies station, and you make a disgusted face along with Levi. 

“You listen to this shit?”

“Hey, my dead body, my music, sweetcheeks. Don’t like it, you can thumb it back to the PD.”

“How about my dead body, my music?” you suggest again, reaching for the dial at the same time as Levi does. Just as his slender fingers touch it, your hand passes through the whole front console and the oldies are replaced with a terrifyingly loud static screeching. 

“Christ, Levi, what’d you do?” Hange shrieks, lunging forward to punch the radio off as you remove your hand. 

“Nothing! It just went berserk!”

They bicker while you stare at your offending palm. “Huh. Didn’t know I could do that.”

If you can actually interact with objects, at least to some degree, and if it turns out Levi can hear you.... This whole thing might be easier than you thought.

[the-fourth-knower]

Diary of a lost doe, part 1

A short fic where my character Annabelle writes in diaries

Fresh off losing her parents, Annabelle Flaches must contend with trying to fend for herself and her baby sister Angelica. And with Angelica talking to a mysterious green orb when she thinks Annabelle isn’t watching, things are only at the tip of the iceberg.

This is for me and Aquillis’s “half and half” AU, our ‘main’ AU. not to be confused with Aqui’s pack universe which is her underground re-write.

Due to the length I'm splitting this into two parts. This is part 1, part 2 is here!

Diary Enry 1, Day I dunno.

Okay here it is. First diary entry I guess. Gotta keep it brief, writing instruements are hard.

Been a few months since that day. We’re doing fine. Angie started another garden. Moved to a new spot.

Got some new things for the house. Old car door and a tire. Not sure what I’ll do with the tire gonna use the door as part of wall.

Finished roof this morning. Good thing 2, might rain.

Angie still sleps bad if not next to me. Writing while she’s curled up. Wasn’t for scars on ear and having to sleep in same clothes she’d look like we’re still home.

Gotta sleep now.

Diary Entry 2

Maybe got a job. Illegal probs but $ is $

Angelica talked more today. Good sign? Maybe she relapses back into not talking but progress.

I never thought i’d miss her annoying stupid “hey lets go explore a cave and not tell anyone bout what we’ll do” self. Never thought about losing mum and pa ei

Shit crying. Bye.

Diary entry 3

Diary didn’t get too wet yesterday.Don’t think bout mom and pa it ends badly.

I can’t afford to break down even if Angie’s sleeping

If I break down then Angie will get upset

I won’t put her through it

I won’t

…

Diary entry 54

Had to leave town but am 600 $ richer

Angie’s quiet again. But she didn’t complain bout us leavin

gonna go for a city maybe. more risk but more money and places to live.

Jadetown’s the city. Dunno too much bout it but mum liked it.

Should get there in maybe a cuple weeks or so

Angie’s sound asleep. No kicking or anything so that’s good

Hope the city’s okay. Angie hates crowds.

Need somewhere with not a lot of crowds to live at

…

Diary Entry 63

Been a hot second. Settling in Jadetown’s pretty hard.

Find a quiet spot in the slums. Pretty shitty now, but the two of us can make it work

Angie still isn’t talking, but she kept close to me while we made our way through the crowds. She seemed fine as long as she held my hand

Lost her a couple times, but not for long. She seemed upset bout it.

Sorry Angie.

I’ll do better. I promise.

...

Diary Entry 169 (it’s the morning but fuck it)

The nightmare happened again.

Angelica having her ear scared by those monsters. mum and pa being taken away in exchange for us being set loose

Only it loops around and around before it’s just cries and blood and knives and screams and crying and they’re all surrounding me judging me for just failing everyone because you’re a fucking failure

Haven’t had it a while. Don’t upset yourself, Angie needs you.

Diary entry 169? Night

Angelica almost killed some street thugs.

we caught some dumbass looking punks bullying some sort of chao. I think it’s a chao

I ran up to one like an idiot and gout in their face to know what they’re doin, and the things went dark. I got knocked out on my ass, apparenlty the big brute that led them butted me in the head. Asshole didn’t even let me get ready

I came to to Angie trying to shake me awake. When I looked around the punks were gone, there were plant vines all over, and the other kids that had gathered were a mix of crapped their pants and mouths on the floor

I asked angie bout it and she just said she took care of them and that the punks had run off

What the hell did she do? Usually I’m the one saving her? But she was having none of it today.

Oh the chao’s fine, weirdass chao though. Never seen chao that just cause flowers to grow around them or in their footsteps.

Made 30 $

Rib’s hurting and headache, Angie fast asleep. Time for bed.

Diary Entry 170

Chao’s bak.

Visited Angie’s garden for a while watchin me watchin it. It waved and left right around Angie gettin up.

Showed up again when we got back home. Angie hasn’t seen it yet. Good thing, she wanted to bring it with us. We can’t afford three mouths.

I don’t like it. We save its ass and now its stalking us.

Made nothin.

Ribs hurt less. Still a bitch.

Diary entry 171

Angie’s found the “chao”

She talked to it all morning when she thought i was napping. Couldn’t sleep, too afraid of bad dreams.

It doesn’t make chao sounds. Or it does but really weird ones.

Then it turned a green light ball for a bit and back into a chao

Angie liked that.

I don’t trust it. Even less.

Need to watch it.

Angie’s relaxed.

Made 5$.

Diary Entry 172 morn

Nightmare again

Diary Entry 172 night

Angie got excited, claimed that she “found Trevor”

he lived near us back in our old home

Had to tell her no, every red mouse we see is not Trevor.

She says that Trevor and his family were gonna move here, pretty inistent too.

Man she gets caught up on the smallest things

Made 20$

Diary Entry 173

Chao returned while i was working. Left Angie on her own

Shes seemed like she was having a fun time being able to talk with someone

She’s not made friends much. Maybe i’m being too hard on the ‘chao’

Still gotta watch it. It could be manipulating her

Haven’t told her I know bout the chao yet.

Should i?

Not now. Angelica is sleeping.

Made 5$

Diary Entry 174

‘Trevor’ spotting 2. Angie wanted to go bug the person. So we went and sure enough as we got closer Angie changed her mind. It was a rat, not a mouse she said.

How can she tell the difference?

No Angie and chao visit. Unless it was while i slept in. but why would she be secretive bout it?

Saw the punk bitch again today. Looked like he crapped his pants when he saw Angie and she glared at him. That’s my sister.

Made 60$

…

Diary Entry 364

Got a new diary. Last entry for this one. Things going well. Got a good thing going for myself.

Angie found a new plant today, and now she’s got it in her garden.

Loved the look on her face when I got it for her.

Made 50$

Angelica’s chatted with the Chao again. Sort of like, is her guardian I think. Or is that its name

Guess good bye diary 1. Really weird to do but it feels right.

Angie’s sleeping well enough on her own. She mumbles but that seems it.

Do I do a good job keeping her safe

Diary 2 Entry 1

Managed to find a new diary. Keeping the old one just cause, and because I have the storage. For a couple of street bum does, we’ve got a decent enough house going. Been able to put it together from bits and bobs lying around, Angie even threw in her hat and added her own touches.

Looks ugly as hell with the plants holding things together and it’s all a mish mash of junk and crap I found, but it’s our mishmash of junk and crap.

Also saved up enough and am making enough to afford more than one pen and even some pencils. So I can write more often. Just felt like writing

Angie’s started to get more vocal again. I think she’s catching onto the fact the way I’ve been making money is less than honest a lot of the time.

I’m not going to sell myself for it though. I’m not degrading myself with that and nayone who fucking tries is going to a hospital.

And if any of those freaks dare go near Angie there won’t be enough left for a morgue to pick up.

Oh, and the chao’s still around. I can feel it. Angelica loves it, I think. I don’t trust it entirely, yet. But, it hasn't been a danger for the past months. So I think it’s actually a good thing.. Angie calls it Guardian. Maybe it's our own Guardian Angel.

Made 65$ today.

Good journal entry me. You got talkative. Writative? Whatever.

...

Diary 2 Entry 23

Got into a fight today, that was fun. The punks from when I helped save Guardian decided to jump me when Angelica was at the house. Guess they figured they could jump me without little sis to back me up. Too bad for them, when I don’t get suckered I’m damn good at defending myself. Sent them packing. Got a bit bruised. Why is it always the ribs with those guys.

Admittedly. I didn’t have to beat the crap out of them. But talk shit get hit, I say. They shouldn’t have been trash talking me when I was walking by.

-

Angelica was upset when I got back. Should’ve expected that, really. Don’t know why I didn’t think she would notice me being hurt, she’s got a sixth sense for that sort of thing. Always has. Kinda weird.

But, she did try and heal me a bit. Somehow, she’s gotten better at it -Ever since she's met Guardian, she’s gotten more control over that healing ability she has. I just need to make sure she doesn’t overdo herself again.

I don’t know anything much bout healing magic or whatever it is, but I don’t think what Angie has is normal. I think she uses herself for it. Whatever healing she tries to do just eats away at her. And whatever it was was enough to frighten Pa to move us in the first place

-

I think part of me might blame ANgie for it. For getting us out of the safety of where we lived near Agateton and moving.

But if we didn’t move would we really have been safe still. And it wasn’t Angie’s fault she did what she did, it was Pa who pushed for it and Mum who went with it.

So do I blame them? I don’t want to. The monsters that took them and hurt Angie are the ones to blame.

But they wouldn’t have found us if we didn’t move near that forest. But Mum and Pa couldn’t have seen it coming.

Ugh. brain hurts. Fuck this mind screw bullshite

Spent 123.54$ today. Groceries and supplies. Tampons are stupid expensive but I want to have a decent supply for when we need them. Also some food.

Made 13$. Gonna need to work more to recoup.

No idea if Angie talked with Guardian. She still thinks I don’t know anythin bout it.

At least, I think she doesn’t. She gets defensive and acts like she doesn’t know what I’m talking about.

I wonder why she does that. Wonder if it’s tied with how I react to her saying she’s found Trevor for the umpteenth time.

Maybe I should press her bout it. But I don’t want to get her worked up over nothin.

Okay that’s enough, my mind’s getting wandering now and I stay up if I do that.

...

Diary 2 Entry 54

Someone showed up with a bunch of robots earlier. Cause quite the commotion, sent people running, the usual.

Apparently he set up shop in the rich quarter and is causing all sorts of troubles. People have been coming to and fro a lot the past few days.

Angie got worried over explosions. Had to calm her down, explain that whatever it was probably wasn’t coming here. She asked me bout the people there and if they needed help - told her that someone would take care of the rich fops. That’s what they do after all. Who gives a shit about two practically orphaned kids.

Not sure if she bought it. Gotta keep an eye on her. Might need to pull an all nighter.

And we don’t have any energy drinks or coffee. I could go grab one, no one is gonna give a shit if I do, not in this current environment.

Gotta stop for now. Gotta focus on Angie not some stupid book.

Entry 55

Angie’s missin

[nanamikeento]

or'trikar

Pairing: The Mandalorian x female!reader

Summary: Your life turns upside down after you and Din give the Child back to his people.

a/n: i blame @goldafterglow for this, she wanted to suffer!!!! anyway, this is part of the redamancy series universe and it’s sad. i’m sorry. enjoy!!

warning: angst, mention of infertility, some fluff cause it’s stronger than me

word count: 2.9k

redamancy | masterlist

The loud noise from the cantina makes you frown. The dizziness starts to get to you, your drunken state taking over your mind. You kinda wish you were alone, but, at the same time, you don't want to be alone. Maybe you shouldn't have snapped and yelled at your spouse, but you really needed a drink. Like, desperately.

Poor Din. All he wanted was to help you. Which is why he brought you to Naboo, the planet that you both spent your honeymoon at. A quarry led you both to the beautiful planet, and he thought you could use a break. You deserved a time just with him, like before.

But, of course, things didn't go as planned. The bounty escaped easily and you snapped at him, telling him you were right and that he should have listened to you. You had stormed out and found the nearest cantina to get shitfaced and forget about your problems. Forget about the sadness that takes over you all the time, every day since the worst day of your life.

Din knows you’re mourning. He knows you need to take your time, process the emotions you’re feeling. And he respects you, he really does. He understands when you snap and yell at him. But, sometimes, he wants to hug you and comfort you in his own way. If only you let him hold you for a moment… 

When he enters the cantina, too many eyes stare at him. The place is full of people, humans, and other species too, as he walks among them, scanning the place and looking for you. It’s the third establishment he enters looking for you tonight. You’re not answering the comlink and he doesn’t want to wait in the Crest, worried sick.

Din gets a glimpse of your hair color as he scans the place through the visor of his helmet and cranes his neck to get a better view of the back of the pub. You're sitting across a yellow-skinned Twi'lek, having a drinking contest. The lazy smile on your face indicates you're winning, but Din's heart clenches at the sight. He knows you're not okay, he can see it a mile away.

The Mandalorian makes a beeline to you, pushing past people and bystanders watching the contest. Whispers and murmurs echo the place as he stops right beside you. Ignoring his presence, you down another shot and slam the glass on the table. The Twi’lek looks between you and Din, a scared look on his face.

“What?” You ask, a lazy smile on your face. “Can’t handle any–”

“Are you done?” Din’s voice is firm, as he interrupts you. 

“No,” You answer, finally looking at him. Noticing his hands closing into fists, you assume he’s mad with you. However, you don’t feel guilty, the alcohol fogging your mind enough for you to ignore your moral compass. “We’re having fun!”

“I think you’ve had enough.” He moves to grab your upper arm and haul you out of your seat.

“Hey!” You protest, but he’s already taking you out of the bar. “I’m just having fun!”

“Yeah, right.”

The hastiness of his movements as he drags you out of the cantina makes your stomach churn. Salivating, you try to swallow but you know what’s coming.

“I’m going to throw up,” You warn him and Din immediately pulls you aside, to the patch of grass behind the place. Your knees hit the wet grass as you let out everything you drank during the night. Din holds your hair, patiently waiting for you to get better. It’s not the first time he sees you like this, but this is different somehow. This comes from a place of hurt and sadness and agony. This is you trying to bury down your feelings, trying to get over them by yourself. It breaks his heart to see you like this. “Fuck.” You try to hold on the tears as your head spins and you swallow hard, tasting the bile and wincing.

“You okay, baby?” His voice is gentle as he asks. Ever the gentle one in the relationship, even though he’s rougher at his job than you. It’s so unfair how patient he is with you, how he easily puts up with you and your slip ups.

The sob that escapes your throat is quiet, but loud enough for him to hear it. Shaking your head, you sniffle and quickly wipe the tears that start falling from your eyes. Din brushes a hand on your hair, tucking it behind your ear; his gloved hand lays gently on the back of your neck as he gives you space to cry.

“Jus- Just take me home,” You whimper, sobbing, unable to meet his eyes with yours. He doesn’t say a word as he helps you stand and walks you back to the Razor Crest.

The inside of the ship is cold as you enter and walk straight to the ladder that leads to the cockpit and your shared quarters. You hear Din closing the hatch and activating ground security protocol as you try to climb the ladder; your foot falters once and, in a second, he’s right below, ready to catch you if you fall. But, even in your altered state, you manage to climb the rest up and head for your quarters, where you try to undress.

“Here, let me help,” Din’s modulated voice startles you a bit as he enters the quarters and approaches you.

"I got it," You mumble, trying to unlace and remove your boots. But your arms are like jelly and moving around is hard when all you want to do is lie down and sleep.

"It's okay, I insist." He gently puts his hands on your shoulders and pushes you to sit down on the bed.

Din removes your boots with no difficulty, moving on to the holsters on your thigh and waist. He helps you take off your shirt and change to a more comfortable one to sleep; pulling out your trousers and socks right after.

"Din?" Your voice is small, just a whisper in the dim light of the quarters.

"Yes?" He's putting a pair of wool socks on your feet as he answers.

"Why are you so patient with me?"

When he looks at you, he sees the tears cutting through your cheeks. He hasn't taken the helmet off yet, but you can feel his eyes staring intensely at you. A low, modulated, laugh leaves his lips and he shrugs a bit.

"Because I love you." Is his answer. Simple.

"Yeah, but why? How do you put up with me?"

He pauses, tilting his helmet.

"I don't put up with you, cyar'ika." He moves to take his gloves off and lays a warm palm on your thigh. "You're my riduur. We are one even in the worst times. You're not a burden to be putting up, you're the love of my life."

A soft sob escapes your throat and Din cups you cheek, wiping the tears off with his thumb.

"I-I miss him, Din." You choke, grabbing his wrist hard, silently begging him to not let go.

"I know you do, sweetheart." His voice is soft, so soft that you can't help but break down.

Din moves from his kneeled position and reaches up to take off the helmet, planting a kiss on your forehead as soon as he can. His lips are warm and soft as he gives you one more salty kiss on your cheek, his hand gently holding your chin up.

"Lie down," He whispers in your ear. "I'll be with you in a second."

You can't help but oblige, your head hitting the soft pillow as you cry in silence. You hear Din removing his armor as you lie on your side, back turned to him. There's nothing you want more than to feel your riduur's arms around you, but you fall asleep before he lies next to you.

…

Din opens his eyes and the first thing he sees is your profile, staring at the ceiling. You're still, your husband's protective hand still laying flat on your stomach. He frowns when he sees you, wondering if it's already morning. “Sweetheart?" He croaks. You hum an answer, without taking your eyes off the ceiling. "Are you okay?"

You slowly roll your head to meet his eyes, where you see concern in them. Beautiful chocolate eyes he has, full of love and devotion. You can't help a microscopic smile tugging the corners of your lips.

"Do you need water, or something?" He asks, knowing you drank a lot last night and would be thirsty and hangover this morning.

Rolling your head back, your eyes are back to the ceiling.

"Can't remember the last time I was okay." Your voice is a whisper, but it doesn't quiver. "Actually, I do."

Din approaches you, hand still on your stomach, until his nose touches your cheeks where he gently nuzzles your skin. When you don't pull back, he buries his face on the crook of your neck, trying to offer some comfort.

“Did we make a terrible mistake, Din?”

You feel him tense on your skin, but relaxes as he sighs and thinks of an answer.

“I ask myself the same thing every night.” He confesses and you roll your head on the pillow to look at him, a sudden realization coming to you. You were so lost in your own feelings that you forgot to consider Din’s own feelings. He’s mourning just like you. He’s suffering just like you. It’s simply not fair for him to suffer in silence while you lash out at him every time you feel overwhelmed. “But you know what keeps me going?” He interrupts your inner self-loathing monologue and you look at him, waiting for the answer. “You.”

Tears water your eyes and a sob leaves your throat. Din cradles the back of your head and pulls you to an embrace as you bury your face on his tunic.

"Shit." You sob. "I'm so sorry, Din. I'm so, so sorry."

"Shh." He coos, his fingertips running through your scalp. "It's okay, my sweet girl."

"It's not," You whimper. "I'm a shitty wife, I didn't even–"

"Hey," He cups your cheeks and makes you look at him. His voice is stern as he speaks. "Don't ever say this again. You are an amazing partner and you know I'd do anything for you."

A wave of fresh tears water your eyes again as you hear his words. "Even after I yelled at you and got drunk and threw up on the grass?"

"Cyar’ika, you know I'll always be there to hold your hair, even if you don't want me to."

A small smile spreads your face, but it fades away too soon. "I'm sorry I didn't realize you were in pain too."

Din pulls you back to that same embrace, tucking your head under his chin.

"Don’t apologize.” He mumbles. “But you have to let me comfort you. You have to let me–” He chokes a sob, his tears falling on your hair. You don’t mention them, but you feel the wetness on your scalp.

“I know,” You whisper, face buried again on his neck. “I’m sorry–"

"Stop–"

"I have to say it, Din." You let out a desperate sigh. "I'm sorry. I was too deep into my own feelings that I didn't even acknowledge yours."

He presses a kiss on your hair, tightening his grip on you. You can feel his heartbeat against yours, your chests pressed together.

A silent pause hangs in the air until you speak again. "Do you think he misses us?"

Din doesn’t answer for a moment, just holds you silently, stroking your hair and tracing circles on your back. When he speaks, you feel his chest rumble with his voice.

“I think he does.” He pauses. “But he’s home now.”

You have to fight the tears that burn your eyes. Swallowing hard, you snake your hands around his torso, holding him gently, feeling the warmth of his skin through his sleep tunic. Then you feel his shoulders shuddering with the sobs he lets out. All you can do is hold him and cry with him.

The pain you both feel is too real and it’s something you thought you’d never feel. Of course, deep down, you’ve always known once you and Din find his people, you’d have to return him to his home. But it still hurt. It still hurts.

“What if–” He sobs. “Cya– Cyar’ika, what if we– we were his home?”

You pull away to look at him. His eyes red, tears running down his cheeks. You’ve never seen him like this, so broken and vulnerable and your heart breaks at the sight. Quickly switching roles, you move to wipe his tears with your thumb, cradling his face and pulling him to a comforting embrace. He buries his face on your neck and you can’t help but notice the parallel between his actions and yours. Din lets all out, not holding back the sobs and whimpers and the tears that wet your tunic. You can’t contain your own tears, crying silently with him. It’s only after he calms down a bit, minutes later, that you speak.

“If we are his home, then he’ll come back to us.” Your voice is a rushed whisper, laced with empathy. “They have our comlink info, if he needs he can contact us, right?”

The breath Din takes is shaky as he sighs deeply, nuzzling his wet face on your neck. He is silent for a moment, but he’s calmer now; you can feel his body relax and melt against yours as you run your fingers on his scalp, your nails running lightly on his skin.

“You were the best mom he could've ever had.” He says, suddenly. You smile at that, closing your eyes and pressing your lips on his hair, above his ear.

“And you were the best dad.”

The room fills with silence as you both close your eyes and fall asleep in each other's arms.

…

When the morning finally comes, you feel a little better waking up. Opening your eyes, you don't feel the headache you thought you'd feel either from the hangover or from crying last night. You feel fine, physically. When you look to Din's side of the bed you realize he's not here. As you sit up and stretch, the door to your quarters hisses open and he enters the room, holding two cups of caf. You smile at him as he sits back on the bed and hands you a cup mirroring your smile.

"Are you feeling okay?" He asks, and you know he's not asking about the hangover.

You nod, backing up to the wall where your bed touches, leaning on the cold surface as you sip the hot drink. He leans on the headboard, staying on a perpendicular position. "You?"

He nods too, placing a hand on your leg that now sits on his lap. Silence hangs in the air as you both drink your hot beverages, deep in your minds. Until Din breaks it.

"I was thinking…"

"You do that?" You tease and hide a smile with the cup as he looks at you surprised. It's the first time you've made a joke ever since you both had to leave that small planet where your son stayed. He thinks about mentioning he missed your smile, but saves it for now. Now, he just wants your opinion, so he just narrows his eyes at you and says,

"Funny." With a flat voice. You suppress a laugh and nod for him to continue. "Meshl'a, I know nothing in the galaxy will replace him… But, I was thinking that maybe–" He hesitates, tracing circles with his thumb on your skin. "Maybe we should–"

"Steal another baby?" You interrupt him and watch as he widens his eyes and hangs his mouth open, surprised. He lets out a laugh, throwing his head back and you smile at the sight. You missed his laugh.

"I wouldn't put it like that." He wipes a tear from the corner of his eyes. "But yeah, maybe we should steal another baby."

"I was thinking the same thing." Your smile fades as you assume a more serious tone in your voice. Hesitating, you look away, cheeks burning with shame. "I didn't want you to think I wanted a substitute for the green bean, that's why I didn't mention it."

"Baby…" He runs his hand up your legs and rests it on your knee.

"Remember when we decided to have another baby?" You speak before him. "When I found out I couldn't, I felt bad for you, because I know how important a family is to your culture–" Din says your name, trying to argue but you don't let him. "Just let me finish." You swallow, cradling your cup on your hands. "I still want that. I have always wanted that. And, yes, there's nothing in this galaxy or in the next one that will replace him, but… I still want to be a mom."

Din eyes water as he sets his cup of caf on the bedside table and approaches you, pressing his lips gently to yours. He takes your caf and places it besides his as he crowds you with his body.

“Is that a yes?” You mumble on his mouth, smiling.

Din pulls away just enough to look at you. His hand cups your cheek and you close your eyes at his touch. “I missed your smile.” He confesses.

You press your lips against his, pulling him closer to you.

“Yes.” He finally says. “Let’s steal another baby.”

You don’t hold back the laugh that leaves your lips. Even if everything goes wrong, you still have him and he still has you.

_

Mando’a translations:

cyar’ika - sweetheart

meshl’a - beautiful

riduur - spouse

or’trikar - grief

_

tags: @adikaofmandalore​ @yespolkadotkitty​ @goldafterglow​

[mandalorianbrainweasel]

Older Boba/That One Cadet?? I like that very much!! How about a first kiss? :3c

Thank you for prompting this because it made me look up his name. Jax! His name is Jax. I love him. I'm sorry for what I put him through in this.

They're like fifteen and this didn't go how I expected, they took over. As you'll see by the word count.

a taste of wasting time

T. Boba/Jax. 1580 words. Inspired by every summer camp I've been to, but the kids have actually been taught weapon etiquette which unfortunately includes the Bullying. Dumb teenagers, mean kids, Boba's potty mouth, survival training but fun, mushrooms, first kiss.

Boba likes the nights on Concord Dawn.

Staying back on Mandalore, in Sundari, is fine. That’s where most of his family is. Para and their riduure, Paz, Kix and Fox, Sati’bu, Ba’tat Arla, the Babas.

He loves his family and he doesn’t really feel a desire to be spending all his time in the Slave I for another couple years straight and he doesn’t really ever feel like spending more than a couple weeks up here with the Mereel side of the family.

And he’s not even here with them, right now. Out of all of the family members he’s stuck with right now, it’s Omega. Sure, a few of the counsellors for the training camp are clones, and more than a few of the other verd’ike are clones, but that doesn’t mean a lot. Most of the other clones that Boba even knew before Para’s quest were Alpha class or Commandos. A few others he’d seen, yeah, but no one is really family-family instead of clan-family.

He’s in a squad with two other clones and three kids from other clans. Omega is off with her squad, well away from Boba, and it’s funny how a training camp that they were both at is the only time in the last two years that he’s gotten space from his sister.

He pokes at the fire in front of him, mostly occupied with staring at the sky while his squadmates are off setting up camp. He got teased for being the spoiled one and how this was probably all he could do.

Omega would probably have tried to take their faces off with her teeth.

He’ll show them, later. This is their first night in the wilds and he’s a damn good shot and Be’baba has been running him through training almost every day since Ursa Wren dragged him to Mandalore. And that didn’t stop after he got his first beskar, like he knows some of the other clans do, leaving training to the Academy clubs and these training camps.

He doesn’t know about what the other clones will have been used to since leaving Kamino, but he knows he’s been shooting and camping long before they ever got to.

“Oh, hey, you got the fire going,” one of the other clones in his squad says, dropping down beside him. It’s the one with the red tint to his hair—Jax—instead of the one who has her dark hair buzzed low—Vril, he thinks.

“What, think I couldn’t even manage this?” he asks, glancing at him derisively.

Jax shifts uncomfortably.

“You didn’t,” he realizes, furious.

“You like in a palace,” Jax points out.

“And you either live in a really nice apartment or on a clan compound,” he points out. “I learned how to start a survival fire when I was four. And I learned how to cook on a fire a couple years later when Buir decided I wasn’t going to fall into a soup pot.”

Jax snorts and covers his mouth before he breaks into giggles.

“Seriously, my squad last year wasn’t nearly as” mean “shitty.”

Jax at least ducks his head, ashamed.

“You do realize I live with my ori’vod, right? The Mand’alor? Do you really think they’d leave me defenceless and unable to take care of myself? We may be a family, but shit happens to everyone.”

“Hey,” Vril shouts, “Stop yelling at Jax.”

Boba and Jax both swivel their heads to her and Boba.

Well, Omega is preferable right now. Even if she might insight a feud over this. And she’s still a last ditch place to go. This area of Concord Dawn is pretty safe for someone wandering on their own.

He tosses the stick into the fire and heads out into the trees, strolling until he’s far enough they won’t hear him break into a run, angry tears prickling at his eyes. He wants the Lieutenants, and Para and Mij and Fordo and Ven’ti, and the Babas. He wants people who don’t want to see the worst in him. He remembers Korkie talking about this kind of thing, when Boba first started going to the Academy. Hell, he remembers stuff like this himself from his first months there.

He makes himself another fire when he comes to another clearing and has made sure none of the animal tracks around it are the kind of things that would bother him or be bothered by him. No tent, but he’s slept without a tent or a sleeping bag plenty of times.

Maybe an hour has passed when he hears more human-like footsteps, and he unholsters the blaster he brought—not one of Buir’s blasters, not for a few more years—and fires a warning shot.

The bolt of plasma sends a tree branch cracking down, and a clone yelps.

He doubts it’s Vril.

He sighs and reholsters the blaster. “I’m this way,” he calls, making another skewer of friendly-familiar mushrooms he’d found around here and setting it at the edge of the fire while he grabbed his own from where it had been roasting.

Jax steps through, rubbing his head. There’s a little scratch on his cheek that looks like it might bruise. “Hey. You...really got far out here. I don’t think I’d have gone this far.”

He shrugs. “I’ve always had to be kind of alone.” He peeks a mushroom off of the top of the skewer and pops it in his mouth.

Jax stares.

“There’s more,” he points out, motioning to the pile he’s made and the roasting skewer. “Wait for it to get brown, though.”

“Oh, uh. Okay.”

Again, Jax sits next to him.

“Sorry about, uh. All of that. I set her to rights about what we’d been talking about. The others, you know, they didn’t believe you?” Jax laughs hollowly. “They told me to come get you back because they’d get in trouble if you died out here, and Vril was too stubborn to come apologize.”

“I’m not going back until in the morning, then,” Boba decides, smiling as he eats another mushroom. “Let them sweat. I have my comm and I was going to ping our counsellor soon. Probably my ori’vod, too. Need to tell some member of the family, but if I tell my sister she’s liable to commit homicide. If not get her squad to join her.”

Jax laughs and finally it sounds like something that he’s letting himself be fully amused by.

Boba averts his eyes and goes back to munching, but he picks the skewer he set for Jax up as soon as it’s hitting the perfect shade and passes it to him.

Eventually, Jax eggs him into an actual conversation, and they chat about education modules—though Boba doesn’t mention his are for university classes. They give a report to the counsellor who agrees with Boba’s decision to let them get anxious with a kind of vicious smile that makes Boba wonder what happened last year. When the counsellor commends Jax for avoiding getting drawn in by bad influences, he really wonders.

But he doesn’t ask, not when Jax looks so beat up about it.

The next morning, after a night where they’d doze until an alarm warned them to check the fire, then doze some more again, they head back to their squad’s initial camp, after bagging up the rest of the mushrooms that they don’t eat for firstmeal.

When they get to the camp, they watch from the woods as the counsellors are scolding the rest of the squad about losing two members and how they’re going to have to send out a search party! Now why would those two have run off, hmm? Did this have anything in common with last year, hmm?

Jax finally has enough and Boba shrugs and starts whistling as they head into camp, the bag of mushrooms over his shoulder.

“Hey, Ordo, I got some of those mushrooms you like,” he tells the counsellor who had been in charge of his squad last year.

She grins, pushing the other young teens out of the way and going for them. “I don’t get how you always find these, Fett’ika! Seriously. I should never have told you they were my favorite, now you have bribery available.”

He sticks his tongue out at her.

“Anyways,” she adds, “We’re adding you two to Squad Beta. It’ll be fine.”

Boba raises an eyebrow. That squad is one from the above year. “If you say so.”

“Saxon’s in charge of them,” Ordo adds with a roll of her eyes.

“Oh, yes, then it will be fine,” he agrees.

Jax looks between the two of them. “Really?”

“Yeah, Aden’tra likes me best,” Boba says.

The rest of the camp goes fine, though Boba doesn’t find out what happened to the rest of his first squad of the year. They’re all packing up to leave when Jax takes him aside, then knocks him back into a tree and kisses him.

“I, uh, sorry. I hadn’t really said that. About the first night,” Jax says, looking down as Boba stares, shocked at him. “I, uh. Really like you. I’m sorry, if that was, uh!”

Boba kisses him this time, then grabs his comm and types in his code. “That’s me. You can ping me whenever.”

“Boba!” Aden’tra hollers. “Come on, Korkie promised to make the fritters if we get back before nightfall!”

He snorts. “I gotta go. Send me a message, okay?”

“Yeah,” Jax says, “Okay.”

[kamilah-the-bloodqueen]

Remember Me (3/??)

So it’s been quite some time since I looked at this series, and I apologize for such a long hiatus but it’s back (Someone reached out to me asking when part 3 would be out so I moved it forward in my WIP queue! Basically Amy starts out with Adrian, and it’s perfect but one day Amy gets into a car accident and doesn’t come out the same. Her memories from the past 5 years of her life - and that includes all the events from BB1 (just roll with it). Just a FYI I will NOT be rewriting the first 2 parts, you’ll just have to deal with the shitty writing for the whole series. Honeymoon is the current WIP I’m working on, followed by a f!Blaine x MC angst one-shot, the cafe part 2 and then the first chapter of my university AU. Please be patient with me, I am under a lot of academic stress but I promise these will be finished. 

Pairing: Adrian x MC x Kamilah (It’s not romantic - just a description...for now)

Warnings: This series does include a serious injury, amnesia

Word Count: 2753 

Tags: (Since it’s been so long if you’d like to be removed just lmk - that being said if you’d like to be added to the tag please let me know) @a-raines @bloodboundstuff f @kamilahtopme

Part One    Part Two 

Amy’s eyes fluttered open, Adrian slouched in the chair beside her, sound asleep she sighed softly, her side sore and tighter than usual as she watched Adrian shift in his gentle slumber. Amy squinted as she tried to recall her memories, frowning as she attempted to make herself more comfortable in the bed. Adrian slowly moved, rubbing his eyes and smiling at Amy as he stood to make two cups of coffee.

“Good Morning Amy…” He spoke softly, lovingly. It almost felt familiar to Amy, something about the way he said it resonated with her. She flashed a smile at him, her eyes lighting up as he brought her a cup of coffee, perfectly made the way she always liked it. 

Adrian is very sweet, I could see how I would have fallen for him. His heart is made of gold, and he is the cinnamon roll that Lily said he was and...and I’m breaking his heart...me...Amy, just a regular girl...I’m breaking his heart because I don’t remember anything...oh...

Amy felt her heart break just a little - she couldn’t force herself to love Adrian and he certainly didn’t deserve this pain, but the spark between them was extinguished in that accident. Amy drew a deep breath, catching the scent of the cooled coffee cup in her hands, she shakily held it to her lips, spilling a small amount on her lap as Adrian rushed to grab napkins. He gently placed them down, patting the sheet dry as Amy felt her heart skip a beat. She let out a breath as Adrian sat down, slowly drinking his own coffee. 

“Thank you Adrian, you’re a good friend.” Amy spoke softly, barely a whisper as Adrian grinned, his eyes sparkling in the dimly lit room. He paused before sipping his coffee, his heart dropping as he replayed Amy’s words silently. 

Good friend. Good friend. Over and over again. Good friend. She doesn’t love me anymore, is there any chance she’ll come back to me? 

“Adrian? Are you alright?” Amy tapped him on the shoulder, a concerned look written on her face as Adrian nodded slowly. 

“Yes, my apologies, I just...need a moment. I’ll be right back.” Adrian stood quickly, nearly sprinting out the door as Amy tilted her head in confusion. Adrian shut the door, leaning his whole body against it as he let a tear fall from his eyes. He pulled his phone out, immediately opening his camera roll as he replayed forgotten memories- memories Amy had promised to never forget. He slid down the door, his legs losing strength as he dove deeper into the past she had forgotten. He pulled out a small package of tissues, quickly replacing them with his sleeves as tears flooded his face and the floor. He choked as he stumbled upon a picture of them together in the moonlight, Amy smiling on his back as he had carried her through Central Park that night. He watched videos of Amy dancing, singing and saying ‘I love you’ to him, all recent. He rested his head against the door, looking into the lights as he clenched his jaw, reaching into his pocket to pull out the engagement ring that had lost all of its purpose. 

“Amy...goddammit Amy...I should have been with you that night...I should have driven you myself.” He stood back up, adjusting his suit and tie and wiping his face clear, re-entering the room as Amy sat quietly, gazing out the window. 

“Is something wrong Adrian?” Amy turned to him with that always curious look in her eyes, he took a quiet seat next to her before smiling. 

“No, but I have something to tell you.” Amy pursed her lips as Adrian pulled the velvet box from his pocket, gently handing it to her and letting her open it. She gasped and closed the box before handing it back to Adrian as he smiled, a tear slowly flowing down his face. “I was going to propose to you that night…before the accident happened...” 

“Adrian…I...I’m sorry…” Amy interrupted, Adrian holding the box tightly as he forced a smile. 

“It’s okay Amy. It’s not your fault…” His voice was calming but Amy could sense the broken in him, she could see the heartbreak in his posture and his face. 

“I...I just don’t...I don’t feel that way anymore...I’m sorry…I...those memories...I don’t...” Amy cried softly, Adrian placing a gentle hand over hers as he closed the box, placing it back in his jacket. 

“Don’t worry about it, our relationship is probably one of the last of your worries. I just thought you should know. I am sorry if I crossed a line Amy...I...I love-” Adrian clenched his jaw, Amy brows furrowing as she averted his broken gaze, “I have to go to my office, but...I’ll be back to visit you either tonight or tomorrow. Get some rest Amy.” He stood, his shoulders slumping in defeat as he found the strength to compose himself before he walked out of the hospital room. 

Amy stared out the window, her eyes welling with tears as she tried to comprehend the situation, to be empathic to Adrian and to herself. Amy got so lost in the web of thoughts and worries that she didn’t even notice Lily open the door.

“Hey Ames.” Lily slowly shut the door, a cheeky smile on her face as she laid a collection of electronics in front of Amy. Amy’s eyes fell on the nintendo switch as Lily beamed with excitement, Lily setting up her laptop so Amy could see the screen.

“I thought you could use some fun today, I bought movies and some video games.” Amy’s eyes crinkled at Lily, before using her one hand to pick up one of the switch controls. Lily took the other control in her hands as she started mario kart, adjusting the controls so it would be a fair game. 

“Thank you Lily...now I’m going to blow smoke up your ass.” The beeping to start the race went off as Amy gassed her bike, Lily gasping as she took off too. Amy laughed, throwing a red shell and taking first place as Lily slowly made her way up from 12th to 2nd. 

“I’m right on your ass now Amy.” Lily hit the buttons more aggressively as Amy laughed, leaving a banana and screwing Lily’s position up.

“Fuck!” Lily set the remote down as Amy crossed the finish line, taking first place. “I see you haven’t lost your touch.” Lily laughed as she set up the next race.

“No. Never. Luckily I still reign champion when it comes to Mario Kart.” Amy nodded her head in pride before they played another race, and another. They lost track of time, Lily’s alarm pulling them from their entertainment as Lily looked at Amy, feeling as if she had her best friend back once more. Amy caught Lily’s gaze, both of them happier today than they had both been in the past few days. A soft knock on the door pulled them both out of their moment, Jax’s soothing voice ringing from the other side as he slid the door open slowly. 

“Jax!” Amy’s voice squeaked as Jax put a hand over his heart.

“You guys are racing without me….I’m wounded...having a stroke…” The room filled with laughter as Jax took a switch remote and sat next to Amy on the other side. “Now I’ll have to whoop both of you for leaving me out!” Jax smirked as Lily adjusted her glasses. 

“Oh it’s on!” Lily cracked her knuckles as Amy laughed, raising a brow at both of them as the countdown began. 

“I’m injured, my memory is missing and yet I’m still going to wreck both of you!” Amy tapped her fingers against the controller as the race started, all three of them battling for first place with red shells and bananas. 

“I’ve got it! Oh! ....Fuck!” Amy screamed as a NPC threw a red shell and took first place. All three of them gasping and laughing at their loss to a NPC, Lily exiting to the home screen as Jax and Amy handed her the remotes.

“Geeze. Don’t let Kamilah know I got smoked this badly...” Jax rubbed the back of his neck as Lily took the remotes, put them in her bag and plugged the switch in for a charge. Jax fiddled with his hands as Lily sat back down, asking Amy if she needed anything. 

“I can’t believe we lost to an NPC...this is the end of my career.” Jax chuckled under his breath as Amy rolled her eyes before laughing too. Jax relaxed back into his chair as Amy shut her eyes gently, Lily brewing the group some tea after all of the excitement. 

“Hey Jax...Lily can I ask?” Amy mumbled softly, Lily turning to face her as Jax lifted his head up.

“Of course.” Jax placed a gentle hand on Amy’s shoulder, his soft eyes fixated on hers as she smiled. 

“What’s Kamilah like?” 

Silence. Jax and Lily gave each other looks before Jax cleared his throat. 

“She can be cold if she wants to be, she’s...quite mysterious but she opened up a lot with us, although I don’t know the details of your personal relationship with her. I...I’m not entirely sure how to describe her to you but she wouldn’t refuse your questions Amy, especially given the current circumstances. Why do you ask us?” Jax furrowed his brows as Amy felt a blush creep onto her face, Lily catching the pink cheeks in the corner of her eye. 

“Nothing, just curious to know what my friends were like…” Amy stared down at the blanket as Jax’s phone buzzed in his pants. 

Friends. Friends. Friends. Of course Lily and Jax were Amy’s friends, but Adrian? Kamilah? She felt something towards both of them. She didn’t carry the same feelings Adrian had for her - and they were far from the intensity he felt for her. He made her feel so safe and secure - and his nurturing nature would make any girl fall in love and Amy could sense something there, even if it was small. And Kamilah? There was something radiant about her to Amy, something about her presence that brings Amy a sense of tranquility that she doesn’t feel with Adrian. She didn’t know her but Amy felt herself infatuated with wanting to know Kamilah, wanting to spend time with her and just talk to her. Jax’s panicked voice brought Amy out of her head as Lily placed a calming hand on her shoulder - having watched Amy go through the whole thought process. 

“Nikhil-” His face changed from content to concerned as a muffled voice rang through, “I’m-I’m on my way.” Jax rushed over to Lily, whispering as Lily’s face grew concerned. They exchanged silent whispers as Amy tilted her head, wondering what it could be about. 

“Amy...I have to go...it’s a uh...work emergency..., will you be alright?” Jax squeezed her hand before hastily rushing out the door. 

“Amy...do you...do you have feelings for Kamilah?” Amy’s heart jumped at Lily’s voice, her face turning pink as Lily slowly took a seat beside her, her face full of curiosity.

“I...I don’t know! I-” Amy reached her hand up to cover her face as Lily gently pulled her hand away, giving Amy a reassuring look. Another knock on the door startled both of them as Lily rushed to open it, Kamilah stepping through the threshold. Amy felt her heart speed up, her palms growing sweaty as Kamilah came closer and closer to her. Her maroon suit perfectly fitted, her hair practically shining as her eye softened upon meeting Amy’s. 

“How are you feeling Amy?” Kamilah's voice was like music to Amy’s ears, it was smooth and silky yet firm and commanding, Amy’s heart pounding so loudly she thought Kamilah would hear it. She swallowed the lump in her throat as Kamilah gave a more concerned look to Amy. Amy thought she’d faint as Kamilah placed her palm against her forehead, her fingers rubbing small circles as she asked Lily to get some water. 

“Thank you for visiting Kamilah...I really appreciate it…” Amy whispered softly, Kamilah smiled, her usual exterior melting for a moment before Lily returned with the water. Lily paused before setting the water down on the table next to Amy, her eyes scanning between Kamilah and Amy and the odd sexual tension that lingered throughout the room. 

“I uh...gotta blast!” Lily squealed and dashed out the door, unsure of how to deal with the situation. Kamilah blinked twice, shocked as Amy furrowed her brows before returning to Kamilah. 

“I wonder what that was all about…” Kamilah pursed her lips as Amy shakily reached for the glass, her heart nearly beating out of her chest. She gripped the cup and brought it to her lips, Kamilah watching subtly as Amy spilled some on herself by accident. 

“Amy, here...let me help you…” Kamilah rushed to grab a few napkins from the counter as Amy’s face flushed red, when Kamilah placed her delicate hands on her lap where the water was spilled Amy thought she was going to have a heart attack. Kamilah lifted her hand, gesturing towards the water as Amy shook her head. Kamilah picked the glass up and gently placed it against Amy’s lips, tilting it back so she could drink. Kamilah tried not to stare but she couldn’t help herself but to watch Amy’s lips against the rim of the glass.

“Had enough?” Kamilah brought the nearly empty glass back down, perching herself on the chair next to Amy as Amy wiped her mouth. 

“Yes...thank you…” Amy mumbled, she shifted her eyes to the floor to avoid Kamilah’s eyes, a gaze that would make Amy question her feelings more than she already was. 

Kamilah cleared her throat, her hands slipping into her pockets before she sat forward, placing her hand over Amy’s. 

“Amy, everything will be alright. You have all of us at your side and we will get you whatever you need.” Amy smiled at her gesture, Kamilahs stoic expression that Lily had spoken of was nowhere to be found. Amy nodded in silence, enjoying the comforting touch of the older woman. She must’ve dozed off because she awoke later in an empty room, a small letter placed beside her as she rubbed her eyes. 

Amy,

Many apologies for running out so soon. An urgent matter needed to be handled and I could not address it from the seat beside you. I’ll return to visit you as soon as this matter is taken care of. Feel free to text or call if you need anything. My number is already saved in your phone. 

~Kamilah Sayeed

Amy smiled at the heartwarming note, maybe Kamilah wasn’t as cold and stoic as Lily had previously told her. She took in a deep breath as the doctor opened the door, clipboard in hand as he ran through the tedious checklists to ensure Amy was properly recovering. 

---------------------- Adrian’s Office ------------------------------

Kamilah, how late are you working tonight? 

Not much longer Adrian, just a few things to finish up here. Do you need something?

I could use some of your advice, and company. 

Of course brother. I’m sure the current situation has been exhausting among other things for you. 

Thank you Kamilah, I’ll see you shortly?

Yes.

Adrian leaned back in his leather chair as it gently squeaked, his suit wrinkling as he removed his tie from his neck and tossed it to the side. He turned his gaze towards the ceiling, his shoulders falling - a single tear falling from his face. He took a tissue from his desk and uselessly wiped away as his face became flooded with them, the teardrops staining documents and leaving marks on his jacket. He ripped the jacket off, not caring about how much it had cost him as she rested his head in his hands - his composure falling apart in seconds. His white blouse became disheveled as his breathing grew fast and desperate - his heart racing and beating so hard it hurt. He tried to stand, his legs completely failing him as he leaned against the bookshelf, hiding his face in his knees as he let his bottled emotions out. He stayed there for what felt like hours, until the door slowly creaked open...

[hankwritten]

By the Roots

Scout & Soldier, 2k

Part of the DontNeedADiscord Pride Week, Day 2: Family

Of all the people, all the people on the damn planet, it really shouldn’t have been Soldier that figured it.

“You there! I saw that, pipsqueak!” he demanded not two days after the team was first assembled, storming at me across the training yard like I’d already done something wrong. “Regulation warm-up is fifty pushups, not ten and then exclaiming very loudly ‘FIFTY’ as you do that last one! Do not think because you are a woman I will go easy on you. In fact! I will be riding your ass twice as hard so you will be encouraged to measure up to your clearly more dedicated male counterparts!”

There were a lot of things I could object to in that, a lot of things I was planning to object to, but one thing in particular surprised me so much it practically hit me upside the head. “Whoa, hey dude! I ain’t a chick!”

Soldier lifted his helmet with a thumb and peered down at me. “You are not?”

“No a’course I’m not!” I said, flabbergasted. “Would a chick have sick muscles like this? Or like this?” I should off each of my amazing and impressive biceps in turn, a little shocked that he wasn’t falling over in awe due to their sheer awesomeness. “I am peak dude, pally. Why would you even think that?”

“Your small stature, your chicken legs, your feminine jaw, your general weakness, the unending gab from your motor mouth-” Soldier ticked them off on his fingers.

I swatted down his hands. “Dude, jeez, I get it.”

He considered me again. “…You are sure you are not a very petite yet tomboyish girl?”

“Uh, yeah pally,” I scoffed. “I think I’d know.”

Twenty-two months later, my hard earned ponytail fitting snugly through my hat, I wondered if Soldier knew, somehow. That was stupid obviously—Soldier was completely bonkers even by the team’s standards, and if every weirdly nonsensical thing he’d ever said was true then I’d also be a spy from ten different countries and partially made of ranch dressing. But. I guess some small part of me liked the idea that it was apparent to someone. That there was some hard truth out there, and somehow Soldier was in tune with the weird songs of the universe enough to prophesize me even before I’d divined myself.

I was pretty far from the team’s campfire, the rush of the last hour still coursing through my system. It’d gone as well as I could have hoped, with everyone kind of knowing or at least suspecting by this point anyway, but I’d still been nice to get it all out in the open. A little family meeting of sorts. I smiled, watching them laugh and carry on with their drinking.

“Is something the matter, Scout?”

Spy’s voice startled me, but I totally didn’t jump or nothing, just turned my head as the creepy bastard slinked out of the dark.

“Nah,” I told him. “Was just a lot of adrenaline doing all that. Needed a moment to cool off. Not like I’m nervous or nothin’! Could’a talked about shit all day if those knuckleheads didn’t get it through their bozo craniums, but it’s just like after a run you take a breather to make sure you don’t get heat stroke or something-”

Spy held up a hand. “I understand. No need to elaborate.”

“Great. Cool. Just so you know that I’m not freakin’ out.”

He took a spot next to me, the rocks cool where the desert night came on fast and hit hard. We stayed like that for a while, him smoking, me staring with my chin in my arms.

“You come out here to say you’re surprised or something?” I asked, after the moon had ticked a little lower.

He blew a strand of smoke. “It wasn’t my primary goal, no.” He paused. “Though I was, to be sure.”

“Hah! Yeah you were! You should’ve seen your face.” I grinned, kicking a rock. “I can’t believe you were the last person to find out.”

“…I certainly couldn’t have been the last person to-” Spy stopped when he saw the shit-eating grin I was giving him. “Hm. Fine, I suppose I will take this as a loss to my professional pride.”

“Heh. Nice,” I snorted. “So if that isn’t what you wanted to talk about, what was?”

He hesitated a moment. “Scout if I have ever said something, to you or merely in passing that was…greatly insensitive, then I am sorry. I cannot hide the fact that this is not something I have experience with, and if my past ignorance has ever caused you distress then I apologize fully.”

I blinked. Was he serious? “Eh, don’t worry ‘bout it.”

“Ah, so I have made some faux pas. Again I’m sorry-”

“No,” I interrupted him. “I mean seriously, don’t worry about it. ‘Cause I don’t.”

Spy looked genuinely confused, already the second time that night when I’d barely seen him make that face in two years of working together. “Pardon?”

“I don’t really care about what you say,” I shrugged. “When it comes to things that bother me, crap my Ma’s shitty boyfriend says about how I look barely makes the list. After however many years of the way you’ve treated me, I’ve just kinda tuned you out.” I shrugged again. “How it is.”

“…Ah.”

I kinda missed when he was surprised, since that was at least easy to read. Now I didn’t know what to make of the mix of emotions crossing Spy’s face, only that I was sorta bored of the conversation.

“If that’s all you wanted to talk about, I’m heading back to the fire,” I said, smacking my legs as I stood. “Cold out here.”

I left Spy, not checking to see if he was still doing that thing with his face.

I honestly was planning on heading over to the fire, but I saw Soldier sitting on the bed of Engie’s truck, not doing anything but staring into space as he sipped his beer. It wasn’t even conscious really, I just suddenly found my feet moving in his direction, abandoning warmth for the lunatic with the bazooka. The weird things we do on instinct sometimes.

“Yo, Major General,” I greeted. “Feel like the smartest guy in the room yet?”

“I have never claimed to be!” Soldier said. “I settle for being the most tactically sound.”

“I meant about me, dumbass,” I rolled my eyes, then hopped on the bed next to him. I scooped up a beer while I was at it.

“You?” He might have been blinking at me under the helmet.

“One of the first times we ever met, you asked me if I was a chick.”

Soldier rubbed his chin, trying to recall. “…You said you weren’t.”

“Well I didn’t know at the time, dumbass.” I cracked my beer. “But now we all know, so congrats to you, pally.” I toasted in his general direction and drank.

“…How is it?”

“The beer or the chick thing?”

“Being a girl.”

“It’s alright,” I admitted, playing it cool. “The ponytail’s great though. Look! I can do this now.” I bobbled my head, showing that my hat stayed on no matter how hard I shook it. I kept bobbling until I almost fell off the truck, Soldier steadying me at the last moment.

“Careful, missy. You’re going to need to cut that soon if you don’t want it smacking you in the middle of battle,” Soldier pointed out. “That or braid it.”

My hand clamped defensively over the back of my head. “Nah, no way man.” Hearing how whiny that sounded, I tried to pass off my sudden movement as a stretch. “It’s fine. Plus I don’t even know how to braid.”

“…I could do it for you.”

Of all the batshit things Soldier had said to me over the years, this took the cake. “You? Know how to braid?”

I wanted to ask if he was pulling my leg right now, but his expression was just as dead serious as ever. He pointed downward and made a circular motion.

Hesitantly, I turned around, and felt him lift off my cap. The ponytail threaded out of it, and he tugged at the elastic until my hair fell free around my shoulders. I’d seen myself with it down in the mirror every morning before pulling it up, but it still felt odd to have it hanging free here in the same place we killed BLUs and got our guts blasted full of lead. Soldiers fingers carded through the loose strands, dividing them into chunks, but despite that it wasn’t nearly as weird as I thought it would be. It was actually…nice almost.

He wasn’t gentle—this was still Soldier after all—but the tugging at my roots was more pull than yank, a careful suggestion to go one way or the other. Nudging me towards something.

“How’d you learn to do this, anyway?” I asked.

“Used to do my sister’s,” he said gruffly. “Little sisters can’t do anything by themselves. They always try to follow you around, and then they get in trouble or fall in a creek or something.”

His fingers brushed against my neck every now and again. “As a professional little sister, that sounds about right.”

“You are not a professional little sister. You are a professional Scout. What sister-ing you do, you do on your own time missy.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Soldier slipped the elastic around the braid’s end. I swung it around a few times, trying to see if Soldier had messed it up somehow, but only managed to almost fall off the truck bed again. Maybe that beer was really hitting me.

“…Thanks Solly,” I said, gently touching the braid’s end.

“Any time, private. If you need me to teach you, I will happily train you in the art of braids,” he declared. “And knot tying! But only if you meet my standards on the braid portion of the exam.”

I grinned at him. I’d done a lot of weeding, taking out the people and things I didn’t want in my life, but it was nice to know there were things I wouldn’t have to get rid of entirely. “Sure Soldier. I’ll think about it.”

[chroniclesoferoda]

Summer Love

(This one shot is dedicated to Italian Harry.. I had thoughts 🥵🥵 please don’t hate it 😂)

It had been a pleasant day. The air was warm and the general vibe had been something Y/N longed for. Y/N had taken a break from university in the UK and came to Italy for a short break before her next term began.

She’d been planning a solo trip for the longest time and finally decided it was time to materialise this plan and make it come true. Y/N couldn’t be any happier. She didn’t feel the burden of waiting for her friend(s) or have the need to go wherever they did. She could execute her own plan and could feel like a free bird. Y/N had been sipping on a cool lemon ice tea sitting at a small table in a chic yet cozy cafe. She’d been noticing passerby’s and small kids playing with each other with the added background music of a local artist. It was a little past 7 and the sky had a strong tint of pink, gold, yellow and orange making the mood and atmosphere beautiful and straight out of a picture.

It wasn’t like Y/N was any less perfect. Dressed in a Medi white dress, she surely stood out in this cafe filled with strangers dressed average. Y/N truly missed no opportunity. Her eyes scanning the crowd and enjoying the live music playing, fell on a young man who’d seem to be well built, dressed in a black shirt and white trousers. She’d seen the back of this man but as he turned she realised this was none other than Harry Styles. She’d been a huge fan but could never keep up with his music since she got busy with university.

Y/N did not shift her gaze an inch. He’d looked far more handsome, taller and muscular in person. For some odd reason, she knew that he was famous, but always had this feeling that there was a completely different vibe to him. She felt it even more so, after spotting him in public.

She noticed that Harry had his gaze on her too. From afar. However the young man and woman gazed at each other with no words spoken, but just out of curiosity and amaze of how the two looked. Harry of course could not stay any longer out, and had to quickly leave the area trying to avoid the crowd. Glancing at Y/N one last time, and hitting her with a small smirk he disappeared into a lane.

Y/N couldn’t really understand what just happened. Much to her shock she never expected Harry to look back at her. She felt her stomach flip multiple times with Harry’s intimidating gaze on her but felt a strange power at the same time. After watching him disappear, Y/N too paid for her drink and left.

It had been a restless night for Y/N. She couldn’t get that look out of her mind and barely slept. The next morning she decided to divert her mind and decided to go out for a run. Before she began her run she was bumped into, rather in full force, by a masculine body which knocked her hard into the stone pavement.

Y/N couldn’t comprehend what had just happened and the young man had fallen on top of her too. She gathered her senses and looked at who it was and found that it was Harry. Harry had already been staring at her and smirked. He quickly brushed himself off her and offered his hand to help her up. While holding his hand she realised how soft and plump they were yet firm and steady at once. She noticed how his muscles and his chest flexed when he lifted her up. Harry had secretly stole a gaze of her chiseled abs that peaked from her crop top.

She’d realised that he’d actually aged well and had developed a fantastic physique.

“I’m sorry, love. I shouldn’t have been this careless.” Harry started the conversation as he looked at her with the same gaze he did the previous evening. Y/N had a smaller frame but definitely defined and curvy. “I’m alright. Not sure how lucky my cards are today to be bumped by Mr. Styles himself.” Y/N said as she realised that she’d been too blunt in her flirting which she usually isn’t. “I’m sorry, that came out so wrong. I should go.” Y/N said as she began heading the opposite direction. Harry had a much larger frame. He moved to block her prompt exit and said “Hold on. Give me an opportunity to apologise to you properly. At least tell me your name.” “I’m Y/N..” she said as she felt that same strange power while looking at him.

Y/N.

Harry had been struck by how stunning she was. That feeling was mutual. He apologised properly and the two parted ways. Harry walked backwards gazing at Y/N and Y/N had turned around looking at him and smiling one sides for the first time driving Harry crazy. Harry never believed this would happen to him. He was instantly attracted to this young woman he’d seen only twice in his life. He knew she was something else. And had a feeling she was definitely a “no-bullshit” person. And that attracted him more.

It had been Y/N’s last day in Italy and she had decided to go for a movie. (yes much like the chance of this one shot coming to life, there is no coronavirus!!!) She had quickly bought her snacks and rushed into the theatre. She didn’t realise who she sat next to. Harry.

Harry quickly glanced to the woman who sat next to only to double take and realise who actually sat next to him. Y/N.

The two of them gazed at each other smiling softly, but feelings mushy and excited inside that they had met each other again. “So we meet again.” Harry said and he took a kernel and popped it into his mouth without breaking the eye contact. “So we do.” Y/N said as she bit into her watermelon slice and made herself comfortable next to Harry.

“So Y/N what do you do?” Harry asked her and much to her surprise she couldn’t believe that he remembered her name! “I’m getting my masters in criminal law and criminology in the UK. I thought I should go on a solo trip sometime in my life, so hear I am!” Y/N tell him as he nods his head and thinks to himself the courage and bravery she had unlike the women he’s met in his life who wouldn’t take a trip alone to a foreign land. “How has the experience been for you?” “It’s been rather amusing and definitely the experience I needed. Would’ve been a lot better had I bumped into a stranger everyday though.” Y/N says as she winks at Harry unable to believe where all this confidence was coming from. “Oh is it? I second that myself. This trip has been quite something else for me too. Many thanks to a charming young woman who couldn’t get her eyes away from me.” Harry said as he stole another popcorn kernel from her.

Another person who was watching the movie in the theatre disturbed by the two of them talking hushed them. “Sorry! Will keep it down” said Harry as he came closer to Y/N’s ear where his warm breath which had smelled like the popcorn he’d been secretly stealing from her bucket hit her ear immediately making the hair at the back of her neck stand “You are beautiful Y/N. I apologise if I seemed creepy earlier, but you’re difficult to look away from.” He said as he nudged her cheek with his stubble covered cheek which made her feel a 1000 different ways. Harry’s scent had been strong, though not overpowering. It had a powerful effect on her and she couldn’t breathe for a second unable to accept that all this had been happening with her. “You’re far more beautiful than you look Harry” Y/N said as she placed a tiny kiss on Harry’s ear.

She did not have any idea of the effect she had on Harry. With another short glance, Harry, while rubbing his stubbly cheek on hers gently placed his lips on hers where his moustache slightly tickled Y/N in the most pleasing manner. Softly kissing each other, Harry played with the ends of her hair and slightly tugged on it and curling it with his fingers while Y/N drew random patterns on Harry’s arm and played with the hem of sleeve slowly putting her hand inside it and massaging his arms gently.

The movie had seemed to come to its end but Harry and Y/N couldn’t pull away from each other. When they did, they knew this was something that couldn’t go forward. It was just a summer love. And the two softly smiled and sat there in each other’s company until they had to leave...

I AM SORRY IF THIS WAS SHITTY!! Ugh but these are my thoughts of Italy!Harry 😫😫😫

[sohotthateveryonedied]

Always By Your Side

Read here on AO3!

Summary: 

The kid looks horrible, full offense. Tim is wearing one of Dick’s old Hudson University sweatshirts which just about swallows him, hanging a full inch over where his fingertips end. His hair is tied up in the messiest bun Jason has ever seen, and there’s a purple welt on his chin big enough that a helicopter could use it for a landing pad. His lip is swollen, blood still crusted over where Tim’s teeth must have torn it open on impact. Big yikes.

“If you’re here to raid my fridge, then you already know it’s bad pickings. I haven’t been shopping in weeks.”

“That’s not why I’m here, actually.” Not the only reason, at least. Multitasking is key when you’re a semi-contract killer who needs Sundays free for tea time with Alfred.

(Disclaimer: THIS IS THE ONLY BAD PARENT!BRUCE FIC I WILL EVER WRITE OKAY I SWEAR I ALWAYS AVOID THOSE KINDS OF FICS BUT I’M SALTY THAT THEY NEVER ADDRESSED BRUCE PUNCHING TIM IN COMICS SO I HAD TO DO IT MYSELF.)

It doesn’t take long to break into Tim’s apartment. Record time, actually. In less than ten minutes Jason is sliding up the window to Tim’s kitchen and climbing over the sill, easy peasy. He should really talk to the replacement about his lack of security against fellow batkids. “Timbo?” he calls, closing the window and re-locking it. “You here?” He’d better have the right place. It’s so hard keeping track of everyone’s safehouses these days, and Jason is not eager for a repeat of what happened the last time he got it wrong. That old lady looked scared to death when Jason crawled in through the air duct, covered in blood that was only thirty percent his own. (The lady was super understanding when he explained the situation. She even fixed up his stab wound with her sewing kit and made him some freshly squeezed lemonade. Jason drops by every couple of weeks to check in on her and her cats.) But Tim is the priority now. “Come out, come out, you little shit.” Jason crosses the kitchen toward the living room, then stops and backtracks. He opens the fridge for a beer, momentarily forgetting that the kid is a hopeless health nut. Jason resigns himself to a package of deli ham only two days past the expiration date. It smells fine, so it must be safe to eat, right? Of all Tim’s apartments, this one is by and far the nicest, barring the expired deli meats and un-Jason-proof security system. The living room is pristine with white sofas and a glass coffee table, making the whole setup vibe more like a hotel suite than an actual home. Definitely not Jason-proof. He sits right in the middle of the fancy sofa, kicking off his boots. “If you get mud on my carpet, you’re cleaning it up.”

Jason looks up at Tim in the doorway and grins. “Don’t I always?” The kid looks horrible, full offense. Tim is wearing one of Dick’s old Hudson University sweatshirts which just about swallows him, hanging a full inch over where his fingertips end. His hair is tied up in the messiest bun Jason has ever seen, and there’s a purple welt on his chin big enough that a helicopter could use it for a landing pad. His lip is swollen, blood still crusted over where Tim’s teeth must have torn it open on impact. Big yikes. “If you’re here to raid my fridge, then you already know it’s bad pickings. I haven’t been shopping in weeks.” “That’s not why I’m here, actually.” Not the only reason, at least. Multitasking is key when you’re a contract killer who needs Sundays free for tea time with Alfred. “Just leave whatever data you have here and I’ll look it over in the morning.” “Again, not why I’m here.” “Then can you just tell me whatever it is so I can go back to bed?” It’s five in the afternoon. “Well, jeez, kid. You don’t have to rush me out the door.” Tim’s eyes flit to the ground and stay there, giving the impression of a puppy put in his place. “Sorry.” Jason eyes Tim carefully. He takes in the timid stance, the way Tim wrings and twists the sleeve of his sweatshirt until it’s stretched beyond saving. He clearly hasn’t showered or even bothered tending to his face, like keeping the wound fresh is his way of punishing himself. “You doing okay?” “Fine, why?” “Because you look like shit, that’s why.” “It’s been a hectic few days. I’ve been meaning to crash for hours.” “How about that bruise you got there? Looks nasty.” Tim touches the bruise as if he forgot it was there, biting back a wince. “It’s fine. I got it on patrol and haven’t gotten around to icing it yet.” “Must have been a big guy to do that kind of damage.” Tim’s eyes narrow. Jason eats his ham, a picture of innocence. “If you’re trying to get me to circle around and ask you about your problems, then I’m sorry, but I’m really not in the mood to play therapist tonight. You can stay here as long as you want, but I’m going to bed.” He turns and starts toward his bedroom. “You’re really not going to tell me who gave you that bruise?” Tim stops, a shudder running down his spine. He doesn’t turn, not yet. “Did Barbara tell you?” “I can’t believe you didn’t. What, did you think this would all go away if you just kept quiet about it?” “There’s nothing to talk about. Nothing happened.” “My ass nothing happened. Bruce hit you last night. He hit you over nothing.” Tim whirls around, fists clenched. “So? I get hit all the time. Am I supposed to have a breakdown every time someone punches me?” “Getting hit by a criminal and getting hit by your dad are not the same thing, and you know it.” “I’m a big boy, Jason. I can handle it.” Jason leans forward, forgetting all about his rancid ham. “You realize how fucked up this is, right?” “Oh, give me a break—” “Hey. The adult is talking now. Our father nearly shattered your jaw a few hours ago and here you are, hiding from him like it was your fault.” Not that Jason blames him for not wanting to be near the manor after what happened; he wouldn’t either if he were in Tim’s place. Hell, he was in Tim’s place. “You weren’t there, Jay. You have no idea what happened.” “Oh, yeah? Enlighten me, then. What gives that asshole the right to put his hands on you?” “The fact that I shouldn’t have gotten involved in the first place! Bruce was dealing with enough as it was without me making it worse.” “Only if you call trying to help someone ‘making things worse.’ From what Babs told me, you didn’t do Jack shit to deserve what he did.” “I don’t care what Barbara told you. I was there, I know what I did wrong, and I’ve accepted that.” “Except you did nothing wrong.” “You have no idea what you’re talking about.” Tim’s voice is raised, his eyes narrowed. “You didn’t see how upset Bruce was. He wasn’t himself. I should have seen that and backed off, but I didn’t. He was hurting and angry, and...I provoked him. It was my own fault.” “Do you have any idea how insane you sound? You tried to help him, and he punched you in the face for it. I know you’ve dealt with this exact situation a million times, you know the protocol.” Tim rolls his eyes. “This is completely different.” “Why? Because you’re not a minor? Because Bruce isn’t your father? Or maybe because you threw the first punch? Oh, wait. None of those are fucking true.” “What do you want from me? Do you want me to start crying, call up child services and tell them that my adoptive father gave me a little bruise because I was being insubordinate while we were all dressed as vigilantes? Will that magically ease your conscience?” “I want you to stop fucking covering for him,” Jason says. “You know that there’s no excuse for a parent hurting their child.” “I’m not a child!” “Sorry to break it to you, pal, but you fucking are! And Bruce? He’s your father. It doesn’t matter if you’re twelve or seventeen or thirty—his job is to be a fucking parent to you. And instead he punched you so hard Babs said you were unconscious for a good thirty seconds.” Tim crosses his arms and leans on the wall. He doesn’t try to come closer or sit on any of the furniture, keeping his distance from Jason. “You’re blowing this way out of proportion. Maybe those rules apply to normal people, but we’re different. Violence and anger, that’s how this family communicates. Hell, Bruce and I spar all the time and you’ve never lectured me about it being abuse until now.” Jason runs a hand over his face, thoroughly done with this shit. “I can’t believe you’re still trying to rationalize this.” “Because it’s a rational thing!” “Is it?” “Yes.” “Would you ever hit him?” “It wouldn’t be the first time.” “No, I’m not talking sparring or some stupid teenage angst-fueled outburst. I’m asking if you, Tim Drake, would ever intentionally hurt Bruce in a way that would do damage. Even if he did something shitty to deserve it. Would you hurt him?” Tim hesitates. He bites his swollen lip. “I might. If I were really angry.” “We both know that’s bullshit. The guy’s got a hundred pounds on you and your hand would probably shatter if you tried to sock him in the face, but you still wouldn’t hurt him.” “So?” “So, he knows you’re a twig and he beat the shit out of you anyway. That’s not fucking okay.” “It wasn’t on purpose,” Tim says, but he’s losing momentum by the second. He looks years too tired for this conversation as it is. “It was...instinct. A spur-of-the-moment reaction. It’s not—I mean, he’s Bruce. He would never hurt us intentionally.” “He already did.” “And I’m perfectly fine. It’s not like he punched Damian or Cass, just me. He knew I could take it, and he was right. I’m fine. This bruise will heal up in a couple days, and then we can all forget it ever happened.” “I won’t.” “Why not? Why are you being so goddamn uptight about this? It has nothing to do with you, anyway.” Jason can feel his eyes smolder Lazarus green as he surges forward and hisses, “It has everything to do with me.” Tim flinches. It’s not major, barely even counts as a real flinch, but it happens. Tim flinches away from Jason, and the anger dissipates as quickly as it came. Jesus, what did Bruce do to this kid? Jason sits back, takes a breath, tries to make his voice gentler. “Bruce hurt me too, okay?” Tim’s expression doesn’t change but for a twinge of his eyebrows. “It was a misunderstanding, but...he hurt me. Badly. I was out of commission for two fucking months. Probably would have died if it hadn’t been for Roy.” That gets a reaction. Tim’s mouth drops open and he flounders for a moment, like he can’t put the two things together. Bruce attacking Jason? No results. Does not compute. “What—why would he do that?” “It doesn’t matter. What does matter is that, as irritating as you are, you don’t deserve to be treated like that.” Like he has any right to be saying this. Tim still has the scar on his neck from when Jason’s brains were made of gruel. “Not by a parent. Not by someone you’re supposed to trust. So this is me looking out for you, alright?” Jason reaches into the inner pocket of his jacket and pulls out a crumpled paper. “I know you’ve got your own setup for when you need time away from the manor, but these are all of my addresses and phone numbers. If something like this happens again, I want you to call me.” Tim takes the paper but protests, “It’s okay, really. I don’t need—” “Yeah, yeah, you don’t need to be coddled. I get it. But keep it anyway. And if you start feeling unsafe at the manor, you call me and I’ll take care of it. I already gave Damian, Cass, and Duke copies too. Just...look out for yourself, alright? All of you. Look out for each other.” Tim folds up the paper and slips it into his back pocket. “What about you?” “The old man and I are…” That’s a whole other can of worms Jason really isn’t in the mood to unpack right now. “It’s still rocky between us. I’m keeping my distance. But for you guys, I don’t care. If one of you needs help, I’ll be there. Got it?” Tim blinks, and lucky for him, Jason is courteous enough not to make fun of the tears he is clearly holding back. “Thanks, Jay.”

[thiswasinevitableid]

Hi!!!!!!!!!! I just saw your playlist for the indruck rockstar au so naturally I had to go and reread the whole entire thing in one go this morning and I just wanted to say how much I Love it and the way you write that whole scenario, especially with the way you incorporated the music lyrics??? (Especially since you wrote a bunch of those????) chefs kiss. I was wondering if you had ever written or planned out any of the sternclay that happened before this story took place because the way you described what we got of how they got together sounded so amazing and I would Die to hear their point of view. Hope you have a wonderful weekend!!!!!!!!!

Thank you so much! I’m really proud of that fic, and it seems to have been one a lot of folks really enjoyed. And well, when you asked this, it got me thinking. So here’s a brief history of how Stern and Barclay got together in this universe. Heads up: it is NSFW

That didn’t go as planned. 

Joseph only meant to alert The Cryptids to the fact their manager was clearly skimming off the top and downplaying offers for further connections in the business before turning every ounce of charm he could muster on Barclay. He came to fuck bigfoot, not change careers. 

Now he’s packing up the second of his two suitcases, conversation with his parents still ringing in his ears. They’re not taking the fact that he’s dropping out of college to manage an up and coming, horror rock, very gay band particularly well and have tried twice to talk him out of it. Which is why he’s glad he went through all the bureaucratic steps before calling them. 

He’s never been more terrified or excited in his life. He’s sure he can do this, he’s already booked them four more gigs in a logical tour path, found a better system for making their merch, and is tracking down a promising P.R lead. It’s the close quarters that scare him the most; he’s certain he could charm Barclay for an evening, could get the others to like him enough to hang around back stage once or twice. But for months on end? What if they think he’s prissy, or too perfectionistic, or too normal?

What if Barclay hates him?

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

“I must admit, I’d have thought you would have made a move on Joseph by now.” Indrid says before pulling a sweater on over his head. It gets caught on his glasses, and he flails until Barclay helps it the rest of the way down. They’re somewhere south of Madison, the van cutting a lonely path down the dark road; it’s so late, and they’re on one of those vast, distinctly midwestern stretches where there’s nothing but night sky and fields. Jake drives, tapping the wheel in time with the radio while Joseph sleeps in the passenger seat and Vincent sprawls on the far back one.

“Kinda weird to hit on your manager, right?” Barclay peers warily around the passenger seat to be double sure the manager in question isn’t listening. He isn’t, lips parted slightly and dark hair falling in his face as his sleeping body is tilted this way and that by the motion of the car. 

“Not when the manager looks like that and has already broadcasted his eagerness to fuck you.”

Barclay can’t really argue that first point; Joseph walked into that sorry excuse for a dressing room looking like centerfold come to life. There’s a certain kind of fan of theirs who spends their daily life buttoned up and following the rules, and Joseph struck him as exactly that kind of self-repressing, well groomed gym bunny. They’re always the most fun fans to fuck, in his experience. Couple that with the fact Joseph was (is) hot and willing, Barclay would have happily called dibs on the van for an hour to fuck him senseless that first night. But now…

“I dunno, he hasn’t really flirted with me since we met. And even then he didn’t flirt much.”

“The lecture on Haye’s deficits did start about two seconds after he entered the room.”

“Yeah” Barclay sighs fondly at the memory, “maybe he’s just not interested now that he’s seen me offstage.”

“Or maybe you’re both acting from the same vein of professionalism. Which is not terribly punk rock.”

“I’m being myself” Barclay grumbles “that’s-”

“The most punk rock thing you can be.” Indrid finishes, nodding sagely. Then he smirks, “but that doesn’t change the fact Joseph wants to get into those leather pants of yours. Why do you think he keeps recommending the stage outfits that involve them?”

“Hey, I like that look too. It’s my idea as much as it’s his.”

“Mmmmhmm.” Indrid yawns, rests his head on Barclay’s shoulder.  Then he sings in his ear “Baby you got the clothes, baby he’s got the romance, you’ve got the moves so while you’ve got the chance, you wanna get in his pants, you wanna get in his pants, you wanna-”

Barclay elbows him sideways onto the seat, making them both giggle like they’re ten and wrestling on the trampoline in his backyard. 

“Enough with the prophecies, Mothman.”

“That was hardly a prophecy.” Indrid sticks his legs into Barclays laugh, “but very well. I will leave you to pine for as long as you please.”

Barclay spares another glance towards the front of the car.

“I’m not pining. I just want him to like me.”

A snore in reply, Indrid out with his arms sprawled in different directions. Barclay chuckles softly, roots around for one of their two pillows, and settles his head against the window. He doesn’t shut his eyes right away; instead he watches the lights of distant houses and stars race past, melding into the reflection of Joseph’s sleeping face.

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

“I bought us ten more minutes, I cannot believe they didn’t warn us this was a double appearance. I’ll-” Joseph finishes shutting the van door and promptly grips it so hard it leaves an indent in his palm. 

The band is in various states of rapid undress, trying to get back into their first set of outfits, and smack in the center of the tableau is Barclay, naked from the waist down.

“-I’ll be more thorough going, um, going forward. See you all backstage.” 

He can’t scramble out of the vehicle fast enough, finds one of the two functioning bathrooms in the place and locks himself in without a second thought. Leans against the graffiti coated door and shoves his hand down pants, a little embarrassed at how turned on he is just from one peek at Barclay’s dick. That doesn’t stop him from picturing it as he shoves two fingers into himself and jacks off like it’s the last chance he’ll ever get. The smell of two kinds of smoke, the half dead bulb, the din of the crowd gathering in the building all make him harder; he’s so desperately horny for his bassist he’ll make himself cum in a shitty dive bathroom. The thought has him moaning, and he covers his mouth with his free hand as he cums. 

With a much clearer head, he washes his hands and leaves to round up his band. It’s better this way, better for him to get off alone than put Barclay in a weird position by his manager coming onto him. That’d be weird for everyone; this way is much easier.

Ten minutes later, standing in the shadowy steps and watching The Cryptids perform, Barclay growling and sweat-soaked, giving Indrid a messy, open-mouthed kiss when the singer initiates it, he knows it won’t be easy at all.

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

They’ve done it; Joseph helped the others successfully sign with Amnesty Records, securing them a re-release of their first album at higher quality and with wider distribution, a massive U.S tour, and more money up front than any of them have ever seen. Amnesty sees promise in them, and Barclay knows they can deliver. They celebrated for two nights solid, and now reality sets in; Indrid is locked in a hotel room, writing like he’s possessed by the ghost of several rockstars at once, Vincent and Jake are trying to find places to live now that they’re based in Atlanta, and Barclay…

Barclay is standing in a half-furnished apartment that doesn’t belong to him. It belongs to Joseph, currently hopping on and off the phone while Barclay waits for dinner to arrive. In a perfect world he would have just cooked, but given how Joseph’s been the last few weeks, he’s worried that gesture of intimacy might freak him out. The manager was in meetings all day and is still in his suit, a forty dollar one they bought in a strip mall at the edge of town. On him it looks like it cost a thousand dollars just for the slacks. The slacks Barclay is failing very hard at not staring at. Joseph isn’t even twenty-one, but he’s been working deals like a pro, and it is the hottest fucking thing Barclay has ever seen. 

He tries distracting himself from his unhelpful gay thoughts via distressing images. All he comes up with is having to steal Indrid’s phone from him after the singer called his family for the first time in almost three years. Whether that was to deliver a final fuck you or toss a hail Mary of reconciliation their way, Barclay isn’t sure. All he knows is he watched Indrid’s face take a turn, old hurts smothering the spark in his eyes, and he took the phone away while someone yelled on the other end of it. 

“How are your parents taking it?” Joseph looks up from the laptop on the kitchen table where he’s entering dates into a calendar. 

Barclay smiles, “Good. Pretty sure they’ve told everyone in the family the good news. Alice can get a chain email out like nobody’s business. They say they love me and are proud of me and that I have to promise to still come home for Christmas every now and then.”

Joseph smiles back, open for a moment before a guard slips back up. Barclay tucks his hands in his pockets, psyching himself up. He has to do this. He has to know.

“Have I, like, made you angry or something? You’ve just been standoffish lately.” 

“Working out everything for the contract has been so stressful I’m not sure anyone but the execs have seen much of me.” The answer is well-rehearsed. 

“Oh.” Barclay nods, hands still in his pockets and shoulders slouched. 

“And, um, and they haven’t gone away. My feelings for you.” This answer is far quieter, the other man looking up from the screen with fearful eyes. 

“That’s a...bad thing? But I, uh, I, like you too. I like so fucking much.”

A little puff of laughter, “I can tell. Believe me, I can. It’s just that being your manager is different than being a random fan looking for a hook-up; I might  want something you’re not ready to give, or vice versa, and if we rush into things it could fuck up everything you guys worked for. Everything we worked for.”

Barclay cautiously steps forward, “What if we took things slow? Like, really slow.”

Hope sneaks into the corners of Joseph’s eyes, “What would that look like?”

“Like we go step by step, with first dates and like, hand holding and shit. We can take as long as we want; I mean, unless you’re planning on ditching the next big thing in the music world, think we’re gonna have plenty of time to spend together.”

“I like the sound of that.” 

Barclay circles the table as Joseph stands. He cups his cheek, running his thumb up his cheekbone.

“Hey.”

“Hi” Joseph’s eyes have taken on a distinctly Bambi-ish shape. 

“You wanna go get dinner tomorrow?”

The other man loops his arms around his shoulders, “Absolutely.”

Their first kiss comes less than twenty four hours; they may be taking it slow, but there’s only so much two men who’ve been pining in the confines of a van for months can take. It’s soft and popcorn scented and Joseph holds his hand the entire time. 

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

Joseph waits in the dressing room, ears ringing from the sound system and the screaming crowd. It’s the first time The Cryptids have played any sort of true arena, and they sold out the show a week in advance. 

Barclay clomps into the room in his combat boots, grinning as soon as he sees him. He’s dripping with sweat, his eyeliner is a little smudged, and even though he isn’t the lead vocalist, he has enough backing vocals that his voice is a touch raw when he speaks. 

“Fuck that was fun.”

“You all did so well. I, this is going to sound corny, but I’m so proud of you.”

“Should be proud of yourself too, babe. Without you, we’d probably still be playing no-name bars in Des Moines or Fresno.”

“Managing is easy when the talent’s this good.” He runs his hands up Barclays’ fishnet-clad chest. 

“Take the compliment, blue eyes.”

High on pride and the knowledge that at least a third of the crowd would commit a felony to take his place, Joseph pinches Barclay’s left nipple, “No.”

Barclay growls, grabbing his lapels and yanking him into a salty, toothy kiss. He moans in reply, drops his hands down to undo Barclay’s fly so he can grind against him, feel him getting hard through his dress pants. 

“You really wanna do that here, babe? Don’t wanna make our first time all soft sheets and candlelight?” Barclay rubs the top button of Joseph’s shirt between his thumb and finger. 

“Yes, I want you and I want you now” 

Barclay lunges, shoving him back until his ass hits the dressing room table.

“Fine” he grunts, getting his cock out while Joseph kicks one leg free of his pants, “can’t take a compliment, gonna take something else.”

“OHmylord, fuck, fucking finally.” He thunks his head back against the mirror as Barclay sets a ferocious tempo. 

“Shit, you feel even better than I thought you would, and I’ve been, fuck, thinking about it for a long fucking time. Ever since you walked into that shitty dressing room in those tight shorts and shirt with my name on it.”

“Nnhng” He spreads his legs wider at the memory.

“Oh you fucking like that, don’t you babe? That why you wanted to do this here? So I could treat you like the horny fucking fanboy you really are?”

“Yes, ohmylord, yes, yes.” He can’t feel anything but the points where they connect, can’t hear anything beyond Barclay’s growls in his ear and the slap of skin on skin.

“Fuck” Barclay pulls his hair with one hand, shoves his knee further up with the other, “shoulda known, even with that fancy suit all you wanna be is my fucking toy.” It’s a snarl, the hottest sound he’s ever heard and he drags Barclay into another kiss, amazed that he feels close to cumming already. 

Knockknock.

Barclay turns his head towards the door, Joseph muffling his panting breath in his shoulder. 

“Uh, who is it?”

“Mothman. The winners of that drawing are back here to meet us.”

“Shit” Joseph hisses, starting to sit up only for strong hands to trap him in place. 

“Cool. Uh, gimme like” Barclay looks down to where his cock is buried into Joseph, “three minutes?”

The smile in Indrid’s voice is unmistakable, “Of course. I still need to find Vincent. See you soon.”

“Three minutes seems optimisticAH, ohgod” He holds on for dear life as Barclay fucks him with sharp, deep thrusts. A calloused hand finds his dick and Joseph bites down on a broad shoulder to keep from alerting everyone in the vicinity to his impending orgasm. 

“That’s it babe, cum for me, cum on my cock in a backroom like the horny, needy thing you are.” Barclay stills his hips, hand working with slick, messy movements until Joseph cums. He doesn’t wait for him to finish all the way before slamming into him for ten of the best seconds of Stern’s life and cumming with a deep moan. 

“Fucking-A that was good.”

“Good is an understatement.”

“I love you so fucking much.”

“I love you too.”

A kiss on the head as Barclay helps him onto the ground, a flurry of putting their clothes into a rough approximation of order. Then Barclay kisses him again as Joseph strokes his hair. 

“Offer of soft sheets and candlelight still stands.” 

Joseph holds him tighter, smiling against his neck, “I guess we know what we’re doing tomorrow night.”

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

It’s the last day of recording the tracks for “Blood on the Mirror” and the mood is bittersweet. After this, there’s one more tour and then The Cryptids go their separate ways. It was time, everyone but Indrid and Jake ready to move on to other projects, and Joseph is already on board to manage Indrid’s solo career (“I’d trust it to no one else, Joseph. I mean it”). All the same, when the final track is deemed done, everyone applauds and embraces like they’re going off to war. 

He heads down to his office to finish reading over venue contracts while the band packs up, but he only gets through one before Barclay appears. 

“Hey, blue eyes.”

“Hi, Bigfoot.” Joseph stands and comes to the door to kiss him, “are you already set to go home.”

“More or less” Barclay rubs his arm, his most consistent anxiety tell, “uh, there’s just one thing I gotta ask before we leave.”

Hushed voices down the hall, but no one there when Joseph looks behind him to check. When he turns back, his hands fly up to cover his mouth. Barclay is down on one knee.

“I, uh, I know this might not be the most, uh, traditional spot to do this but it feels right. I’ve just been thinking about how a huge chapter of my life is coming to a close and there’s this whole new, exciting, terrifying blank page where I have to write the next one. And I, I realized that I want you to be in that chapter with me, and the next one, and the one after that. So, uh, what I want to know is: Joseph Stern, will you marry me?”

He nods, not trusting his voice to come out with intelligible words. 

“Oh thank god.” Barclay springs up, cupping his face and spinning him in a kiss. Joseph laughs as whooping cheers echo towards them. Indrid, Jake, and Vincent, are peering around the nearest corner, beaming.

“Indrid is for sure going to say I told you so the second he gets me alone” Barclay chuckles, “I was so afraid you’d say no because things will be kind of up in the air for the next few years.”

Joseph turns his face back towards him, “You’re right, they will. But I can’t think of anyone I’d rather spend them with.”

[weeklyfangirl]

Frat Boy Pt. 21

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7 (1), part 7 (2), part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13 , part 14, part 15, part 16, part 17, part 18, part 19 , part 20

HI LOVIES. Please enjoy a Friday update on the Frat Boy universe. This one is a bit of a breather after the TUMULTUOUS ANGST of the last chappie. Shorter than my usual, but it’s all the chapter needed. Tons more y/n and Harry interaction on the way in the next! Have a safe and happy day loves xx

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

Things I want:

Live a life that helps others

Financial freedom

Experience a great love

Visit the the Pincio Gardens in Italy

To have more dreams and fewer nightmares

Doodle more

Acquire a first edition book, either because an old  friendly man who owns an antique bookshop decides to give it to me in a bonding moment, or because I have accomplished #2 and I am celebrating being a Boss Bitch

To be happy

Please note: not necessarily in that order

 It was taped above my desk, waiting for me to bring it in to the next session. I hesitated to write number 6. It was a dream I hardly entertained after committing my scholarly life to pursue medicine. I used to love to doodle. All the time. Since elementary school. I doodled so much my mom dedicated a wall in the house to my illustrations. She hung a sign above it that affectionately said “Y/N’s Doodles.” Seriously, you couldn’t get me to stop. Even if it was gross sappy sketches of my crush Billy who I would NEVER show on the playground at recess.   

 My doodling stopped how these things normally do. Because life grew busier than anything else, and the sketchpad and easel my dad had bought for me at a garage sale became ignored, collecting dust in the corner of my room. At some point, it’d become a year since I’d drawn anything, and then it was two, and three, and by this point I’d realized I was the one who’d need to create her own stability in life and medicine was the more logical fit. It wasn’t that I didn’t see the value in drawing anymore, I just had other things take up my time. It became a comfort just knowing I used to draw. Paul had paved his way, and now I was on my way to do the same. At least with medicine, my soul felt fed. It was almost comfort enough. 

  “oH WE GOT A ROGUE ONE.” 

 A flying toenail hit my eye. 

 “WHAT THE-” I flailed my arms, as though there were a thousand more coming. Renny’s mouth opened in shock, her guilty body hunched over her bent leg. Clippers in hand.  

 “Sorry!!” Renny burst up laughing.

 “oH MY GOSH CAN YOU DO THAT OVER A TRASH CAN OR SOMETHING?!” 

 “IT HAD A MIND OF ITS OWN!!” she screamed back. 

 I blinked rapidly, my left eye watering up and spilling painless tears. “Well I’m going to have conjunctivitis at the studio later. Or I’ll be stumbling in blind.” I wiped it away.

 I heard another clip and she put up her hands with another giggle. 

 “All done. And you won’t stumble, I’m going to be there.” Renny extended her leg, her perfectly trimmed foot nearly touching the ceiling.

 “You’re just going to solicit Zayn to be his next subject.” 

 “Maybe,” her grin grew devious. “But also because I want to see if he captured the angelic beauty and complex nymph nuances of my best friend.” 

 I put a hand to my chest, still aching from uncertainty. “Honored.” 

 “Want to watch another episode until it’s time to go?” 

 This whole lazy morning had been an OC Housewives bingefest. She’d seen it on my homepage and had a complete spazz, twitching whilst proclaiming but i’ve been trying to get you to watch this show for YEARS!! When she saw the old season I was on, though, she didn’t have to question why her pestering had miraculously worked. She didn’t mention him aloud besides giving me a pointed look. And so, we watched it, even though I wasn’t really in the mood to see anything about Harry right now. It’d hurt more than I thought to walk away from him last night, and to see how sad he looked when I did. 

 After last night, he hadn’t posted anything to social media. He’d called, twice, but I knew he was drunk, or worse, and I was tired, and whatever he would say he could tell me in the morning. Even though I knew he wouldn’t. 

 And he didn’t. 

 And therein lay the problem. 

 It hurt to see his family on my little box of a computer screen, weird to see his life and get glimpses of his childhood. I felt like a hacker spying on home videos. But then I reminded myself that thousands of people had already done the same. At this point, it was just… morbid curiosity.

 “Nah, I don’t know if I can handle any more of that right now. Dr. Rhinecuff is going to yell at me if I don’t return these scanned copies to him by Monday.” 

 “Ew, he smells like meat.” 

 “RENNY!!” 

 “I’m just saying. That one time I went with you it smelled like pastrami in his office. He has a PhD, but isn’t with-it enough to buy air freshener.”

 “He likes pastrami sandwiches, let him live.” 

 She scrolled on her phone, not bothering to respond, and my gaze turned to the window. 

 “Hey Renny?” 

 “Hm.” 

 A bird flew close to the glass, halting just before it hit it, then zooming off in the opposite direction. “What’d you do when your parents were fighting?” 

 “Ummm…” I knew the question registered in her mind when she stopped scrolling, suddenly concerned. “Are your parents okay?”

 “Yeah. I mean, kind of.” I glossed over it, not caring to get into the bitter details. “I was just curious.” 

 “Uhh..” She plucked at the soft cotton of her cotton candy pajamas that were fraying at the knees. “I lost my virginity to Zach,” she half-laughed.   

 “Zach? Neighbor boy Zach?” 

 Renny nodded. She always sounded a little sad when she talked about him. Zach was the hot college boy who shared a backyard fence with Renny, the girl who may or may not have used her kitchen stool to peak over and see him workout on the grass every summer he came home. I’d known they’d slept together. I just didn’t think he was her first. 

 “I just tried to be out of the house as much as I could,” she said. “Found my true love Mary J.” 

 “Oh.” 

 “It was shitty, but I’m glad I got it over with.”

 “The divorce or your virginity.” 

 “Both,” she chortled. “Why what’s up? Are you sad or something? I have a j in my drawer.” 

 “No, no, I’m fine.” Mostly I was just wondering what it must be like to feel so sexually liberated. In my house sex wasn’t talked about. At all. The inevitable sex scene in every other movie would result in my dad blaring out “WHAT KIND OF MOVIE IS THIS!” in an attempt to make it less awwkard, but having it backfire and only make it horrendously more awkward. I wasn’t saving my virginity for anyone in particular, but after all those romance novels, I wanted it to be… something. I wanted to feel something towards the person where it would justify something I’ve kept to myself for so long. I wanted it to be intense. I wanted it to be like the books. Like a Frank Sinatra song that swept up your heart and transported you back to a time of gentlemen and cigars and women in long evening gowns with fur coats and martinis. 

 “I wish I could just get it over with,” I confessed. One half of me screamed YOU’RE IN YOUR TWENTIES HAVE ALL THE SEX while the other half said YOU’VE WAITED THIS LONG DAMN IT HOLD OUT A LITTLE LONGER. I didn’t know which part of me was compromising more. 

 Renny leaned in, quick. “Would you do it with Harry?” 

 Like the flip of a switch, I remembered the sensuous heat of his body against mine, wrapping me up and pressing me against him where we just fit. And I couldn’t imagine how much better it’d feel to be even more connected to him. 

 “Maybeeee…?” 

 But then there was last night. 

 I cringed. No matter how with me he’d seemed… he couldn’t have been present after mixing whatever the hell he took and a handle of alcohol. Did I really want someone like that? Someone who could only give a shell of themselves? 

 “No, I wouldn’t. Or- ugh, I don’t know. I don’t know if it could ever mean as much to him.” 

 Renny nodded. “I mean, don’t let him pressure you, obviously. If he does, I’ll kick his baby maker smack into his prostate. Prostate. See, anatomy. You taught me that.” 

 “Haha, no, he’s not like that.” My brows stitched. I was confused why he wasn’t more like that, actually. We’d known each other for several months now and he hadn’t even put a finger in me. When I thought about it, it actually frustrated me. Don’t pressure me to do anything, but I wanted to be pushed to do something. I was never the bold one in areas like this. 

 Not that I should be so willing to do anything with him anymore anyways. Something shifted in me when I’d seen him last night. It wasn’t a shift I could easily describe, but it’d set me a foot apart from my heart. A bit of me was shocked that it had happened so suddenly. 

 But this shift was new, and my heart still wanted what it wanted. I knew that if I watched any more OC Housewives with Harry’s toddler curls and surfer tan, I’d be sucked right back into speculating about what our future kids could look like. And if I saw him? 

 You were right, Harry. You are fucked. 

 I cringed again. That was harsh. That was very very harsh. 

 I didn’t know if I’d have the courage to apologize. What if my pheromones went berserk and magnetized me to his side??

 Renny was right.

 I needed therapy. 

 The clippers were tossed back on my desk.

 “Thanks,” she said. “Have you started on your DG Double P yet?” 

 DG Double P = Renny Speak for DG Pretty Please. 

 I groaned. “No. I don’t know how I’m going to do it, honestly. I have to-”

 “NO!!! Don’t tell me. We’re not supposed to tell each other.” Her hand extended in panic.

 “Fine. I can keep a secret.” 

 I was getting a little too good at that lately.

 She moved onto her belly, splaying her arms out in a dramatic fashion, face squished against the comforter. “Isn’t it just killing you inside.” She was dead serious. 

 “Yeah, more than you know.” 

 And I was serious, too. 

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

 I wasn’t expecting people to dress up as much as they did. Donned in my only pair of yoga pants and a chunky white sweater, I walked arm-in-arm with Renny past girls in cocktail dresses and guys in button-downs. 

 Something that sounded like a baby’s cry filled my ears, but it was gone as soon as we walked through the doors to the on-campus gallery.  . 

 “Woah did you hear that?” 

 Renny nodded, tossing her head back. “There’s a baby somewhere.” 

 It reminded me of the bodiless screams in my nightmare. In my chunky sweater, I shivered undetectably.

 The on-campus gallery rotated exhibits throughout the year, but this time, student sculptures were on pedestals, nightmarish portraits hung on the walls, and red and orange tapestries swooped down and across the ceiling in a cirque-du-soleil moment as if to secure us beneath fire. Some students had separate booths, but other pieces of work trailed seamlessly into the next. 

 A tree made from photographs and newspaper took up the center of the space. Zayn had been so adamant about his muse having life, I wondered if that was the focus of this exhibit - to capture natural life. But I suppose all art did. 

 “It’s the circle of life exhibit,” Renny stated, as if reading my thoughts. 

 “How’d you know that?” 

 She held up a pamphlet she must’ve grabbed from the entrance. 

 I quickly scanned the room, hoping to find Zayn quickly so I could skip out just as quick. 

 Several of my professors were here, including Dr. Rhinecuff. When he saw me, I raised my hand, but he raised his cup of red wine awkwardly and looked away. 

 My hand wavered. 

 Odd. 

 Zayn was standing by the tree, speaking with an older woman. Her skin was a rich brown, short hair hidden beneath a chic scarf. The man beside her looked around the same age with graying facial hair, a pocket hanky, and beaded bracelets. Art professors. 

 I caught his gaze, and he gestured me over. 

 “Y/N, these are my instructors. David and Ebony.”   

 Their eyes lit up in recognition. “He did you a great justice,” David said, gray moustache twitching with the words.

 Ebony beamed. “Oh yes, a piece was already sold. He’s going to be the next big wig before he graduates,” she gushed. “Zayn, I’m sure you’ll be splitting the profits with the heart of the piece.”

 She gestured to me and his smile widened, but my stomach sank faster. 

 “I didn’t know these pieces were going to be sold.”

 Ebony sensed my concern. The wine in her glass swirled. “We thought allowing the pieces to be shown and auctioned was a good way to replicate what many of them should be doing once they graduate. The whole department gets involved, and these kids put in a lot of work, and the reputation of starving artists isn’t something we want to buy into here.”

 I nodded. “I mean, that’s great. That’s… really amazing.” 

 Zayn couldn’t meet my eyes. He knew. He could sense my hesitance, too. 

 “Now he can finally afford a nice dinner to take you out!” David proclaimed. 

 We were all quiet for a minute. “You know, for a thank you dinner,” David covered up. Zayn’s brows scrunched and he shook his head a bit, not knowing where David’s comment came from. 

 “Do you do this regularly?” Ebony asked, steering the conversation away from an awkward moment. 

 My ears pricked up when I realized she was looking at me. “Excuse me?” 

 “Well I was just thinking…” a light laugh lifted as if her idea would be outrageous. “Would you mind sitting in for one of my classes on Monday? Our model had a sudden death-” 

 “My God,” David proclaimed. 

 Ebony waved her hand. “-in his family. I haven’t called to replace him yet.”

 It quieted as they looked at me, waiting for a response. “Oh, I don’t… I don’t usually do this. At all. It was a chance thing.” 

 “Luck be the artist.” David raised his glass. 

 Ebony followed suit, looking at my empty hand. “You just going to let her stand there without a drink?”

 “Yeah, Zayn. What kind of treatment is this?” I teased. 

 He did a slight bow. “Apologies. We’ll walk to drinks, immediately.” He pulled us away, leading us further into the showroom as his head dipped low to my ear. “Renny just passed us to meet Felix and them. They’re through here.” 

 We stepped under an archway that led into a darker-lit room, but his hand stopped me beneath the nook. “Did yeh notice anything?”

 Yeah. I was noticing how close we were in this archway. He saw my eyes start to squint in thought and he turned me around to face the room we’d just left. 

 “Look closer.” 

 My eyes roamed the crowd, trying to find some sort of person, or pattern he could be referring to. With a brief seize of my heart, I expected to see somebody from the gang. 

 “Look at the artwork, Y/N.” His breath warmed my skin. 

 The paintings all seemed to be bright, though sticking to red, orange, blacks, and grays. Wait, forget a pallette pattern. The next painting had blue and purple, too. One sculpture looked like a writhing ghost, twisting and reaching for something above. Or maybe it was an unearthed tree root. Despite all the bold colors, there was something off-putting about how bright they all were. It wasn’t a soothing brightness. It was almost violent. The orange and red writhing tapestries warped the ceiling into something hot. 

 “Is it hell?” I chortled, but quickly quieted. I expected him to take offense, but his hand went lightly around my waist with a small smile.

 “Could be. See-” his arm extended out to scan the perimeter “-all this art is supposed to represent death, but challenge the notion of it through color.” 

 “How so?” 

 “Yeh know it’s usually your blacks, and your grays, s’depressing shit. But we’re born from death. Before life, there was nothing, but something. It’s bold and necessary and there, and no one really knows whatever comes before. Or after.” He looked at the room, taking a sip of wine. I watched as he swallowed, and I imagined the wine running down. “What is death but an uncertain existence.” He said the thought almost happily, looking at me with a slight smirk. “Could be anythin’.” 

 He took a deep breath, letting his hand touch the top of the archway. It was then that I noticed it wasn’t just plain drywall. A collage of photographs ran all along the inside. 

 He wasn’t as tall as Harry, but his hand still reached the top, scuffing across a picture of an African landscape taped over a toddler eating fruity pebbles. 

 “They’re pictures. Everyone donated one,” he said. 

 A strand of words were painted over the collage, running from one end of the archway to the other, and I tilted my head back to read it. “Things... that…. make... m..e …...feel alive.” 

 “Everyone was able to design their space in order to control, to some extent, how their art was perceived. Everyone was a part of the transition space.” 

 “Very nice,” I noted, slightly put-off. I hadn’t been expecting this art show to be so… professional. “Zayn, this is amazing. Like, really, truly, professional-grade stuff is happening. The presentation, the pieces, everything.”

 His smile grew wider, putting cool hands over my eyes. I flinched, but let him. 

 I felt him come closer. 

“Listen now,” he urged. 

 I listened, but I wasn’t sure for what. There was the familiar busy rumble of people mingling, parents visiting their kids, and professors droning on about the talent of their students. But it was chatter. I couldn’t make out one conversation over another. I shrugged up against his other hand that was atop my shoulder. 

 “Sometimes you need to change where you’re planted to understand.” 

 I hoped he could see my cross expression because I couldn’t tell if he was bullshitting me right now. It’d been a day. It’d been a night. And I wasn’t in the mood for more philosophical ramblings - especially about death. “I don’t know what you mean,” I sighed. 

 “Meaning I have to move you closer to the speakers.” He let out a breathy laugh. “Jus’ keep your eyes closed, okay?” 

 I nodded. His hand moved, tilting my head to its side. Eyes still closed, I became self-conscious imagining people trying to move past me, and here I was, planted, eyes closed in the middle of the archway. My cheeks heated. It was unnerving knowing people could see me when I couldn’t see them. And anyway, I must’ve looked ridiculous. 

 “What do you hear?” he urged. 

 “I hear a lot of people talking,” I griped. 

But right when I was about to open my eyes-  

 I heard a familiar chirping through the chatter. 

 “Birds?” I opened my eyes. 

 “Observance can be taught, sometimes.” Zayn leant back, looking mighty proud of himself. 

 “Why are there birds?” 

 “We’re entering life,” he smiled, backing into the space. I tipped my wine back, several long gulps lightening my step as I followed him. Immediately, I noticed much more natural, earthier tones. For being a room of life, it was surprisingly darker than the prior room.

 Renny, Felix, and Andre were huddled in the center where a makeshift wall-on-wheels covered in vines divided the room in half. 

 My eyes widened, trying to adjust to the dimness. “It’s a lot darker in here.” 

 “All intentional. They decided to play with light in here. People usually think of life being bright ‘n that, but it’s also when we experience varying degrees of darkness. There’s a balance to things and the trouble is finding it.” Understanding laced his voice as his dark eyes bore into mine, almost completely black. One look from Zayn and I was reminded of all the weight I’d been carrying. I fidgeted, uncomfortable seeing myself in his eyes. 

 “Y/N, get over here!” Renny called. My shoulders visibly relaxed. My saving grace. “You didn’t tell me you did this,” she said lowly as soon as I got close enough, shocked excitement barely contained. Her giddy smile gave it away though. “Miss sexy secret keeper over here.” 

 “What do you mean?” 

 She playfully poked my sides, but Andre and Felix avoided my gaze. Something wasn’t right. And it stirred my stomach, my body already knowing, somehow. 

 I turned in slow motion, the charcoal drawings in my peripherals stopping me in place. Framed amidst the vines, my face was etched onto paper, scrunching and twisting in various expressions. But my body was attached and twisting, too. And it was bare, bent over, spread out, laying down… My eyes scanned over them a dozen times in a second. 

 I was naked. 

 In all of them. 

 One was titled “21st Century Love.” In this one, I faced the viewer, but looked past them, sorrowful eyes, brows furrowed, breasts I’d never shown on full display. A hickey or two on my neck. A painful sting gripped my chest. I looked sad. I looked so sad.  

 Tunnel vision, a blurred Renny rushed down to the floor, and a distant part of me registered something wet splatter on my feet. 

 The wine had dropped.

 I’d dropped it. 

 I was trapped in a shell. My body was numb. 

 “Babes, you okay?” Renny asked, her voice somewhere far away. Somewhere outside the shell, her voice drowned in the busy rumbling, with the birds, with the watchers. People were watching me now. I was being watched. “Felix, grab some towels!” she barked. 

 I looked horrified, towards Zayn, but changed my mind just as fast. I couldn’t look at him. I couldn’t even breathe. 

 He didn’t know me at all. He could stare at me for a thousand sessions and paint every crevice, sunspot, blemish, and mole and still not see me. How was an artist this blind? How could he not know that this was the last thing I could ever want? How could he picture me so… intimately?

 The paintings seemed to swirl into one before bouncing back out into their separate exposees. 

 Because that’s what it was. 

 An exposure. 

 A stranger could pay to have me in their home. 

 The floor spun, vision spotting. 

 My lungs tightened, tearing me away from Renny, from Felix, from Andre. From Zayn, the artist who painted a confused girl so unashamed. So honestly. Savagely and Unabashedly. 

 “I didn’t want this.” 

 And it was when I was halfway out the door that I realized the voice had come from me, a mantra pushing my shell all the way home. 

part 22

[writersplight]

sometimes life’s a bitch and then you keep living.

Connie remembered everything about that night.  It was raining, and it was late. About two in the morning. The car was stuffy, but he didn’t want to be anywhere else. His girlfriend and childhood friend, Sasha, was silent. It was weird, because she usually picked him up blasting music and having something to say. But tonight—that night—she had nothing to say to them. Usually the cliffside view was beautiful for a sunset, and they’d hold hands and laugh until they decided they were tired enough to go home. It would be hours at a time. Sometimes, they’d buy McDonald’s and rant about the world, sitting on the car hood with just each other. 

“School starts up again next week,” she started, quietly, her eyes on the wheel.  “Yeah. Spring break was not long enough—”  “It never is for you,” she snorts, and he rolls his eyes. She was right. No matter how long the break, Connie always complained about school. It’s not totally his fault that he feels stupid in every class he has; even the one he gets B’s in. Sasha wasn’t like that in all her classes, she excelled in science and math, and even though her mind was dead by the time she got to English, she still did well. Intellectually, she was superior. He didn’t mind—he was too preoccupied celebrating her academic achievements to compare himself to her.  “Yeah. I’m not a fan of—”  “It’s still raining. . .” It’s weird that he never got to finish his sentence. Maybe she was afraid he’d say something to make her stay. Not that he would have. “Nothing good ever happens when it rains.”  She started the car again, and Connie, who was trying to figure out why his heart was starting to sink, kept quiet. He was never quiet. He always had something to fill the silence with. He wanted to tell her about his parent’s divorce, but he couldn’t he couldn’t find the words. It wasn’t the time.  As they pulled up to his lawn, the rain started to come down harder, and everything finalized in his mind.  “Who is it?” he asked, quietly, finally getting his one sentence in. Sasha grips the steering wheel tightly, but she was glad he got the memo—they were breaking up. She already soft-blocked him from all her social media, but he wouldn’t know that until morning. “Niccolo,” she finally says, and he nods. He knows of him. Blonde VoTech student, succeeding in the culinary field. Of course that would win over the brunette—the way to her heart is through her stomach.  He swallowed dryly.  “See you at school?” he wouldn’t meet her eyes, hand on the car door.  “Oh, Connie. . .” her face got dark. She wouldn’t look at him. He was standing in front of her on his lawn. He doesn’t remember moving. “No.”  She drove off.  Connie spent the rest of freshman year, and all of sophomore year avoiding Sasha and her boyfriend. He’s never seen her happier, and he didn’t want to interrupt that. Despite, you know, wanting to be the cause of her happiness. He heard them laughing a lot. It was torturous.  He was always dizzy, and kept his hood up to prevent the bright lights from reaching his eyes. He was starting to find comfort in the darkness that once scared him. The unknown of it all really put him at ease. It did keep him up, though. Pros and cons.  “Connie!” Sasha finally caught up to him, midst of junior year, grabbing his arm so he wouldn’t run. The cars were starting to pull away around them, so she pulled him to her car. He kept his eyes on the asphalt ground.  “What’s going on, man? You’ve been avoiding me for so long! Marco, Jean, and I were trying to—”  The world turned red, and spun. Distantly, he questioned, “What?”  “Why have you been avoiding me?”  “Why?” he repeated, dumbfounded.  “Yeah,” she cocked her head to the side like he was confusing her. Shoving his hands in his pockets, his eyebrows furrow.  “Sasha. . . You broke up with me. What do you mean?”  “Yeah, but—”  “You blocked me on Instagram and Snap,” he pointed out, getting angrier. His hands were starting to shake. “You started avoiding me first!”  “Yeah, but. . .”  “Am I an asshole for returning the favor?”  “No, but I miss you.” she pouted, twiddling her fingers. That’s the last straw.  “Sasha, we’re not in middle school anymore! That pout won’t work. I’m sorry you missed me, but I’m not willing to let myself hang around and wait until it’s convenient for you to feel up to being my friend again. That’s not fair to me.” She was starting to get upset, he could see that. But he’s been upset for months upon months. It’s almost been two years.  “You’re so happy with Niccolo, then make friends with his friends. No need to involve me.”  “But. . . You’re my best friend, Connie,” she reaches for his hand, but he yanks his arm away.  “I was, wasn’t I?” he steps

back. “Well, everything must come to an end.”  “Wait!” she cried out, and he found himself waiting. It angered him that he was still willing to listen to her. He turned back to her, eyebrows raised. “How. . . How did you move on?”  “Move on?” he thought about, removing a hand from his pockets to fix his falling hood. “I didn’t. I probably won’t ever ‘move on’, but. . . I just take one step at a time. It’s all I can do.”  “I miss your company.”  Connie went silent, eyes on his beat up converse. The wind picked up. He didn’t have anything else to say. Sure, he missed his best friend, too, but it’s not like she unblocked him or truly made an effort. He shrugged, turning on his heel. There wasn’t much else he could do. He was so close to being roped back into her friend loop. He couldn’t do that to himself. He tried, at first, to make amends, but she always turned him down. Connie couldn’t keep waiting.  Connie spent a lot of his high school life working. He wanted to save up for something fun to do with friends. Marco and Jean offered not many ideas, but it hit the buzzcut teen when he was trying to sleep one night—a camp out. In the woods not too far behind his house. There’s this clearing he used to use that’s perfect.  He sent out a massive group text. That included: Jean, Marco, Annie, Bert, Reiner, Mikasa, Armin, Eren. . . His thumb hovered over Sasha’s contact. He frowned. He skipped over her, and sent the text. Despite it being one in the morning, everyone seemed on board. They spent the next hour finding a date. They decided upon July 12th, where they all had time to call out and arrange accordingly.  That date. . . In fifth grade, that’s when Connie asked Sasha out. They dated until freshman year. It was wild how the universe works. He agreed upon the date and marked it in his calendar.  After graduation, he continued working. He still had a few months before he was going away to college, and he still had the whole camp out to put together. He found himself hanging around Annie and Mikasa a lot. He didn’t expect them to be so hands on with the project, or into it at all—considering how they tended to not be huge talkers—but they were. It didn’t make sense to him, but he had fun organizing it with them.  It all came to him at the end of the night, after grilling hot dogs and hamburgers for dinner. He was sitting in a lawn chair, staring at the stars by himself, with this big dopey smile on his face. His hand was around his soda bottle. Annie and Mikasa pulled chairs up to sit with him.  “You seem happier than you’ve been in years,” Annie points out, handing him a bottle of root beer. He opens it for her, nodding along to what she said.  “Yeah. I am.”  “Does this mean you’re over Sasha?” Mikasa sends a glare to the blonde, and Connie finds himself laughing. It was funny how people still treated it like a sore subject.  “No. Yes? I’m able to talk about it, but it still hurts. It’s everything and nothing at all.” He adjusts himself in his chair. He bought a tent big enough for them all to lay in, and he managed to be assigned to the very girls sitting next to him. However, he was focused on the stars.  “I’m glad you’re feeling better,” Mikasa settles on, not being too good with words. That’s something Annie and her shared—their difference was Mikasa had a heavy filter, where Annie’s filter was non-existent. She thought about her words heavily.  “Me too. It’s good to be hanging out with my friends again. I’m sorry for, you know, being shitty. I didn’t mean it.”  “It was a tough breakup. Don’t worry about those it doesn’t concern.” Annie advised, taking a swig of her soda.  “It does concern you guys, because you’re my friends and I wasn’t there for you. That’s how I see it, and I’m sorry. But, yes, it was tough. I tried to ignore it but. . . Well, there are some things you can’t avoid in life. I had to deal with it.” Connie explained, looking into his soda bottle. He’s glad he found his way out. He just got so tired being sad that he had a breakthrough. Some aren’t as lucky, but he was never the

forever-brooding type. He was much more comfortable as the clown of the group.  “And you’re better now for it,” Mikasa says softly, turning to him. She placed a hand over his, and Annie took his other hand. His face grew hot, but they all looked at the stars. There was comfortable silence between them. Slowly, Connie intertwined their hands together. In the distance, Jean and Eren could be heard bickering about trees. Weird topic for them, but it was normal.  “We both like you, Connie,” Annie finally said, “and we’d like to figure out what that means.”  His smile grew, finally tearing his eyes away from the stars. He looked between them, and found that they weren’t joking with him. He’d never think he’d go from dating, to sadly single, to being fine with being single, to possibly having two girlfriends. Life was crazy in that way.  “Okay,” he said, turning his direction to the stars. It got quiet again, but the conversation started back up when Connie mentioned he didn’t know how to piece together constellations—or something along those lines—but Annie did. She spent the hour before bed teaching them about how to find north, and some constellations that she could find. Mikasa, on the other hand, had a handful of knowledge about astrology, and told her lovers all about it as they turned in for the night. Connie was set in the middle, with his arms around both of them.  When college came around, it turns out that Annie was going up north. Mikasa and Connie were also going up north, but for a different college. They decided to buy a two bedroom apartment together and to just commute. It was weird to live with two girls prone to bickering, but Connie was always able to compromise. On top of that, they all were pretty good at communication between each other.  When Mikasa was feeling left out, she sent a text explaining herself the best she could, and her two lovers always figured out a way to make it up to her. Same with Annie. The blonde and black haired girls were always able to communication to Connie how they were feeling, and they genuinely listened to Connie when he spoke—especially if he cracked some stupid joke; they love his shitty humor. They loved him. He, of course, loved his two strong girlfriends, and never felt emasculated—he enjoyed watching them outlift in the gym, and was very encouraging.  He’s grateful for them, and couldn’t ask for better girlfriends.