#welcome to my mind right now this fic is shredding me apart

[areyoudoingthis]

"why hasn't stede told ed about his trauma yet" does he even know there's any trauma to tell him about at all should be the question.

that man's been so repressed and tightly wound his whole life that he wouldn't even know where to begin opening up. he knows ed loves him and he still runs off to hide alone in his room after he's killed a horrible man who poked at his insecurities and triggered his deepest trauma right after insulting the man he loves.

he doesn't turn to ed for comfort when he's upset, he doesn't even process that he's upset, he just sits in his room flashing back to his childhood and panicking. he gets comforted anyway because ed loves him, but where ed's offering conversation stede takes physical relief instead, makes himself feel better without processing anything he just went through.

he's aware that ed loves him, and he's getting better at loving ed because he's a good observer and a very fast learner, but does he even know what being loved looks like. does he even have an idea of the immensity of what ed is offering.

he says "i know" and he means it, but he still fishes desperately for compliments five minutes later because he's still that insecure, still worried that if he doesn't measure up (to the kind of pirate blackbeard and zheng are in this case), he's gonna get left behind.

i honestly don't know what it would take to convince him that he can share his past with ed, that he can tell him about his fears and his self doubt and ed won't leave him for it, won't think weak and soft and not good enough the way everyone else in his life has before.

[shoutogepi]

Spring Pollen

Takami Keigo

word count : 5.0k

[ ✘ (nsfw 18+) ]  

genre : edging, gagging (glove use), sex pollen, public sex

bio: You and your coworker Hawks are caught off guard by a villain’s naughty quirk while on the middle of patrol.

author’s note : this is for bnha bookclub’s bingo event, for which i can now cross off the “sex pollen” slot ;) also pls go soft on me if this is rough as it’s my first hawks fic <3 TT

tags : @hawks-senseis​ @queensynderella​ @knifeewifee​ @prismaroyal​

also available on AO3 here

   ─── ・°* ��✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

Working beside the number two hero had its ups and downs. For one, you were insanely attracted to him, and you absolutely refused to admit it— to him, yourself, really anyone who asked. Not that it came up in conversation often, of course. You made sure of that.

The blonde was known for his go-with-the-flow, playful attitude, and you were not discluded from such a privilege, despite your many complaints. Deep down, you didn’t really mind his flirtatious behavior. Being a hero, even if you were only a sidekick at the moment, was tiring work. You did not have much time for yourself, let alone time to find men who you could flirt with or even go on dates with. Or even find a fuck buddy. 

God, it had been so long since you last received affection from a man. Work was your entire life now, and while you found comfort in knowing you were changing the world for the better— cleaning away the stain of evil on your city— you found yourself feeling lonely when you would return to your empty apartment each night.

So perhaps Hawks’ borderline suggestive comments were nice, welcome even. Not that you would ever tell him that. You would rather die than live with knowing he was privy to your thoughts; the mortification would simply be too much for you.

Little did you know, there was much desire and intention behind his seemingly meaningless flirting— for he, too, found you more than attractive. A walking, talking, gorgeous and independent woman who apparently wanted nothing to do with him— you were more than enough to catch his eye. But alas, you were years younger than the already-youthful hero himself, and you made it very clear to him that you did not want to do anything that could jeopardize your career at the agency the two of you were slaves to.

So the attraction went unspoken between the pair of you. Hawks would make a comment just a little too cheeky and you would roll your eyes or swat at him, and that would be the end of it. It would go on and on like this for months, and before you knew it, it had been almost a year of supporting the ever-popular winged hero. And everything was fine and good…

Until the red string on fate had to show its ugly face. And everything as you knew it was turned upside down on the head— the tall, prison-like walls you’d constructed to keep your feelings locked away all came tumbling down, right before your very eyes.

It had been a rather uneventful day of hero work, if you could recall correctly. Hawks had commented on your winged eyeliner that morning, saying how it made your eyes sparkle and give you an “avian edge”, which he found highly commendable. You had brushed him off, as usual, and the two of you had taken off to start your patrol, much like any other morning.

The sun was high in the sky, hanging cheerfully over the skyscrapers of the bustling city. The spring heat had not yet scorched the asphalt of the winding roads, a cool breeze tickling your skin as you walked beside the blonde hero. His large, scarlet wings were relaxed behind his shoulder blades, the very tips of his feathers brushing against your waist as you were pressed close to him on the busy sidewalk. It was all rather ordinary, looking back at it— you had just thrown away the wrappings from your on-the-go breakfast, feeling strengthened enough to take on whatever the day could possibly throw at you, when she appeared from what seemed like nowhere.

Hawks sprang into action immediately, recognizing the wicked glint in her eye much sooner than you. You were on a dull sideroad, almost an alleyway to be honest— a small street tucked away in the midst of the hasty city, sandwiched behind a few large buildings and the backs of restaurants. It was really the perfect place for a crime to occur, for there were few passerbys and no security cameras.

In just an instant, the number two hero was on his ass, nearly hacking up a lung as the offender sprayed a noxious cloud of pink spores directly into his face. The woman sported a vicious grin as she turned to you, and though Hawks tried his best to warn you of her attack, he found he could not speak— instead crumpling over to hold his stomach as his body seized with violent coughs. Just like that, you had fallen victim to her as well, your knees folding beneath you as your mind clouded over in a haze. You didn’t even register Hawks throwing her into the brick wall behind you, your brian too foggy to recognize anything before you. He was struggling to cuff the woman when he first began to sweat, his body beginning to tremble first in his chest, then spreading to his limbs and rushing into his veins, like the venom from a deadly serpent.

Your body felt hot— god, so hot— it was like liquid fire had been poured into your bloodstream, every cell of your body igniting into an all-consuming inferno. Sweat began to bead along your temple, the valley between your breasts, and the backs of your knees. You slumped onto the concrete beneath you, clammy palms scraping the rough pavement as you gasped for breath. But with each intake the symptoms only seemed to worsen, limbs growing weak and an intense pressure forming in your stomach, like an intruder attempting to burst through a barricaded door.

Hawks was busy fighting his own internal battle— the same feelings bubbling up inside of him as he clicked the quirk-canceling cuffs onto the assailant’s wrists, perhaps a notch or two too tight. He could feel himself coming to life underneath his trousers, fanning the growing fire in the pit of his stomach. “What did you do to us?” he bellowed, a mix between a groan and a growl. The tip of a ruby feather pointed itself at the base of her throat, a slight tremor shaking through the quill as his knees began to tremble.

The woman only laughed, amused by his blatant discomfort. Her eyes traveled over to your figure, curled into a tight ball on the ground. Hawks followed her gaze, distress panging through him as he realized the pained expression twisting your face.

“Reverse it,” he snarled, fists seizing the front of her shirt and pulling her body to sit upright.

But the villain only smirked, her busted lip not seeming to bother her as her eyes twinkled with malice. “Sorry, can’t do that,” she chuckled, though it came out sounding more like a wheeze, “no takesies-backsies.”

Hawks bared his teeth at her, his ferality getting the better of him as he slammed her against the brick wall another time. Her eyes fell closed and her body went limp, signalling she was out of commission for at least the time being.

“Damn it,” he groaned as her clothes slipped from his fingers, the digits opting to push into his wild tawny locks instead. Whatever quirk this woman had used on him was working too fast, and its effects were too strong. His cock was rock hard, straining against the confining material of his pants, and his body was becoming much too strung out from restraining his amplifying desire.

Chills rolled down his spine as you called out to him, your voice breathy and rough. His gloved hands clamped into fists as he shut his eyes, praying to whatever god there was to lend him the strength necessary to keep himself from tackling you and ripping off your clothes. He had never felt so desperate for you before— never had he needed to touch and taste every inch of you like he did right now. Whatever longing he had harbored for you before this morning was nothing in comparison to the emotions clobbering his sense of self-control at the moment— god, if you even called out for him one more time, he wasn’t sure he could stop himself from taking you, right here and now.

Little did he know, that was the one thing you wanted— needed, even— more than anything.

Your arms were crossed atop your chest, your knees tucking in to bend in front of them as you literally held yourself together. You could feel yourself leaking from between your legs, pussy twitching and itchy for any kind of attention you could get. “P-Please, Keigo,” you whimpered, your hands slowly trailing down your biceps, a palm clutching your own breast, thumb rubbing over the stiff nipple that stood out from beneath your hero suit.

Hawks couldn’t stand still for another second— the sound of his name from your lips too arousing, too intimate— he was on his knees before you in a flash. Both of you moaned as his lips slotted over yours, not a moment to spare as your body unfurled and wrapped around his frame, pulling him flush against yourself. His tongue pushed into your mouth, the tip twirling with yours and gliding against the back of your teeth.

Lost in the pleasure of his mouth on yours, your hands wandered over his shoulders, his chest, one taking root in his silky, fine hair. You could smell his aftershave wafting off his cheeks, the stubble on his chin tickling you as he began to kiss and nip at your jaw. He was insatiable, and so were you— your hands groping and wandering all over each other. Neither of you could get enough. 

You couldn’t believe that this was really happening, in the middle of this secluded, public alleyway, during your patrol as heroes— figures that the citizens of your city looked up to, no less. Yet you couldn’t find a shit to give, and Hawks had abandoned all sense of rationality the moment you dared to cry out for him. He didn’t seem to mind the public setting, for he didn’t harbor a shred of hesitance as he swatted your hand away from your chest. His own palm squeezed your breast as he suckled on your throat, making his first of many marks that would grace your skin.

It wasn’t long before he had you against the brick wall, your body snug between his firm torso and the roughness of the bricks at your back. His face trailed further south, his absence at your neck leaving your saliva-covered skin to prickle with cold. But you weren’t left pining for more long— his teeth gripping onto your nipple through your shirt, kissing and sucking at your covered chest as his hands careened down your waist, cupping your ass and lifting you off your feet just enough for your toes to drag across the pavement.

Your heart leapt into your throat as Hawks sunk to his knees, folding your legs over his shoulders and pressing his face into the apex between your thighs. His strong arms flexed as he held you up against the wall, your legs twitching as he pressed a line of kisses into your skin. Somehow you managed to wriggle out of your bottoms, your soaked panties now on full display for the winged hero, who only groaned at the sight before his tongue began to lather at the front of the material, right over your aching slit.

You felt itchy, itchier than you’d ever been before, your cunt pulsing and squeezing around nothing as you tried to wiggle your hips closer to his mouth. “H-Hawks,” you gasped as his teeth pinched the cloth, pulling it back and letting go, just to watch it snap against your drooling center.

“No, no, little bird,” he murmured sinisterly, taking a second to rub his nose along your slit, smirking at the clearly visible line of wetness that had soaked through the material. The teasing was torture, your body screaming for him to touch you again, for even more this time.

You cut him off, too impatient for his games. “Please touch me,” you begged, breath ragged in your chest.

Golden eyes turned to slits as he grit his teeth, fighting himself not to just whip out his cock and thrust into you right then and there. “If you’re gonna beg, do it properly. I wanna hear my name, dove.”

You couldn’t handle another second of agony; everything felt like it was on fire, every inch of you ready to be used, destroyed at his disposal. “Please fuck me— I— please Keigo, I need you so bad, I can’t stand it anymore!”

Hawks grinned as he ripped your panties off your body, the splitting of the seams shocking you into looking down at him. If anything, the ferocious action only turned you on even more than before, and you screamed out as his tongue immediately wove into your tight little hole. Your entire body shook as his hot muscle slithered in and out of you, alternating between tracing your entrance and rubbing against your slick, gummy walls.

There was nothing you could do but bask in the euphoria he was giving you, your jaw falling open as his tongue retracted and he wrapped his lips around your clit instead. Your eyes slammed shut, moans escaping you as your fingers delved into those bronze locks, fisting them as you ground against his face. His chin rubbed against your weeping entrance, and Hawks found himself wishing he had two tongues, so he could lap up the delicious slick that poured out of your gushing hole.

But it stopped all too soon, a sob choking out of you when he stopped satiating you with his mouth. His hand guided one of your thighs off his shoulder, placing your foot on the pavement and giving your shaking limb an encouraging squeeze before he took his hand away. His slanted eyes locked with yours as he brought his hand to his mouth, teeth securing the edge of his glove and ripping the accessory off, revealing his long, slender fingers to your lustful gaze. The hero then crumpled the leather into a tight ball, extending his arm up to your face and pressing it against your lips.

“Can’t have my dove making too much noise now, can I?” he mumbled, a feathered brow quirking up to give him a classic, mischievous look. “Too noisy and we’ll have to cut our fun short.”

At that you shyly opened your mouth, allowing him to press the glove past your lips. Once it was secure, his thumb brushed over your cheek as he grinned, his fingers then sliding down to pinch at your nipples. You moaned at the sensation, the leather glove in your mouth muffling the noise almost completely.

Hawks’ smile only broadened at that, leaning forward to take your clit into his mouth again. Your hips bucked against him, the thigh over his shoulder curling tighter and pressing him closer to you. It felt good— so incredibly good to have his tongue entertaining your pearl of nerves, lathering and swirling it, even using his teeth to graze against it. Your head fell back onto the wall behind you, eyelids fluttering shut as his fingers around your leg dug into your flesh, his other hand squishing at your chest before trailing down your waist, then down your thigh.

Suddenly his fingers were toying with your entrance, your slick stringing as he spread his fingers, golden gaze eagerly drinking up the sight of your arousal. Oh, how he’d longed for the day he could finally do this to his sweet little sidekick— to be able to lick and kiss and nip at your most sensitive parts, only to hear you moan and whine his name, gasping for more. It was even better that his glove was shoved into your mouth, muting your saccharine voice just enough so that no one else could hear you— your noises of pleasure were his and only his to hear, to soak up, and indulge in.

You cried out as two digits slipped inside of you, your wetness never having been so overt in your life. The extra slick dripped down the tops of your thighs, your pussy shamelessly slobbering for the man currently knelt between your legs. Your velvet walls sucked his fingers deeper inside, milking them as your cunt clenched uncontrollably, his tongue relentlessly lashing against your swollen clit. Hawks’ fingers pumped into you steadily, sheathing and pulling out just the first two knuckles into your waiting hole time and time again. The movements initially were slow, as if testing the waters. But after a few exploratory thrusts, he pushed the digits inside of you as far as he could, curling them toward himself and prodding your spongy walls.

He wouldn’t stop, he couldn’t stop— you tasted too damn delicious, and his cock was leaking into his briefs at the premise of being inside you, your stifled sounds only adding fuel to the fire in his stomach. Your body was beginning to show signs of near-orgasm, and it only made him more excited to see you so reactive for him. Your eyes were shut tight, fingers pulling on his golden tresses so tightly he could feel his mind practically spinning. And your legs were trembling, almost so badly that he wondered if you were going to collapse on top of him at any moment.

You whimpered as his hand switched angles, the very tips of his fingers rubbing right against the most sensitive spot inside of you. Hawks noticed your body twitch, even though you tried your best to keep your reaction a secret to him, ashamed to already be so close to cumming. But the winged hero was feeling anything but shame— pressing his fingers into that spot again and again, savoring how your cries became louder underneath his glove in your mouth, your limbs quivering against his skin. You tried to warn him, your thigh squeezing tight around his shoulder, your fingers lacing even tighter into his hair, spine stiffening.

Hawks seemed to know what was coming, for his fingers began flicking back and forth inside of you, stimulating that soft, spongy spot that made stars blur at the corners of your vision. Your toes curled tight inside your boots, tears pooling between your eyelashes, your body feeling as though it was trapped inside an elevator surging toward the thousandth floor of a skyscraper. The tension was building, building, oh it was so close— you could practically see the heavenly, orgasmic light shining just before you, and then—

He pulled back.

Had his glove not been occupying your mouth, your whine of anguish would have echoed off the stone walls of the alleyway, your body slumping into his arms in complete dejection. Your brows were furrowed in torment, wondering how in the world Hawks had the strength to pull away from you when you were in such a state— you were practically imploring for his attention, body so hot and willing that you’d let him do anything he could possibly want to you.

You were too lost mourning the lost orgasm to notice Hawks haphazardly shoving his pants down, pulling his black, tight shirt halfway up his abs. His cock sprang up from its confines, his eyes just slits as he focused his gaze on your dripping cunt, still twitching in misery from his teasing torture. You only realized you were being maneuvered once it was too late— he had dropped the leg that had previously rested on his shoulder, instead taking the other and pushing it to press up against the wall, his fingers digging into your thigh. He was upright now, teeth taking the tip of your ear hostage as he rutted his heavy cock against your saturated slit.

Fresh waves of lust rippled through your body, your bones turning cold with white-hot anticipation. You could feel everything— his member sliding against your entrance, gliding against you from head to base, even the veins decorating his shaft as they brushed against your aching core.

Hawks’ breath was heavy in your ear, but that only made you want him more. It was the only physical sign that he was just as affected as you; the soft groan falling from his lips as you bucked against him was proof enough of that. Yet somehow he staved off from thrusting into you, despite your pussy coating his whole length in your slippery love syrup.

You tried to complain, but the glove between your lips jumbled any words into a muted mess.

He seemed to be amused by your efforts, his honey gaze seizing yours. “If I take that out for you, do you promise you’ll be a good little dove for me? Can’t have you singing too loud, alright?” His words were music to your ears, and you quickly nodded your head, eager to prove yourself to him. But he didn’t move a muscle; only his tongue wandered out to swipe across his bottom lip, which then disappeared between his teeth. His eyes darted south, and before yours could follow suit, he pushed inside you to the hilt.

You screamed as he forced your elastic walls to stretch around him, the thickness of his cock taking you by surprise. Intense pleasure burst into your body as he pulled out halfway, sheathing himself back inside almost immediately. Hawks’ eyes were shut tight, savoring the way your cunt hugged him so perfectly. Already you were milking him, and he knew there was no way he could last.

It didn’t matter, really, because the instant his hand slid down your pelvis and his fingers began to toy with your clit, you were gone. Instantly that intense pressure built just like it had before, for a split second it was all you could feel. And then you were crashing through your orgasm, his name the only thing on your brain. You called it out again and again, ecstasy zipping through your veins and toward the intense heat that the villain’s quirk had produced. The sensations clashed in a fiery explosion, your entire body straining as you did your best to handle the pleasure, your pussy wringing tight around Hawks’ cock.

Hawks gasped, his head falling to your shoulder at the intensity— at the snugness of your cunt like a vice around him, at the sound of your muffled cries for him, at the way your body trembled in his hands. He didn’t wait long, though, for after the initial shock of your orgasm arriving, his hips began to ruthlessly smack against yours. His grip was now tight on your body, fingernails digging little crescents into the skin of your thigh and your asscheek, which he pulled back to slide himself even deeper inside of you.

Your head smacked against the brick as it fell backwards, the pleasure flowing endlessly through your entire body. It was only then that Hawks bothered to take his glove from between your lips, and you immediately gasped for the sweet rush of air that filled your mouth. Small noises of content slithered out of you with every crash of his hips against you, impossible for you to silence the constant “hah” and “yes”’es. Not that Hawks seemed to really mind— in fact, he was eating up every sweet noise that left your throat, cherishing the cute, dazed look on your face as he pummeled your tight little cunt with his fat cock.

It was wrong to be this attracted to his sidekick, he knew. But maybe that was why it felt so fucking good, too— the forbidden, unspoken attraction that hung between the pair of you like a heavy shadow whenever you were together. The line had been crossed, and god, was the grass greener on the other side. If this was what being with you felt like, he didn’t want to go back. He couldn’t— he’d tasted your sweet ambrosia and he could never push you away again. You were pouring life into him as you took his cock so perfectly, and he could feel nothing but euphoria as he slammed your cunt onto himself again and again.

His release was building, but goddamn it, he was gonna hold out for as long as he could. He was gonna make you feel as good as he possibly could, and hopefully it was something that could mirror the intense bliss that you were giving him. From the way your irises rolled back in your skull, your nails gripping into his muscles tightly as your jaw hung ajar, his name slipping through your lips every other thrust— he guessed he was doing a pretty good job.

Meanwhile your brain was nearly liquefying in your skull, the aftershocks of your orgasm still stinging your bones with pleasure. Hawks never let you come down from your high, and he was doing a damn good job at keeping you on cloud nine— his hand holding up your thigh so he had a better angle to continue drilling into that sweet, springy spot inside of you. His wings began to flutter and stretch behind him, flapping gently with each swing of his hips. It felt so good that you could barely keep yourself from screaming for him, from letting the entire city know that it was him who was fucking you so good.

“K-Keigo,” you choked, a tear sliding down your cheek. Hawks moaned at the sound of his name on your voice, leaning forward to lick up the saline bead before he pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth, a shocking contrast to how hard he was pounding into you just a short distance south. “Feels so— agh! fuck— good, oh my goddd.”

Hawks nipped at your throat, burying his face in your neck as his thrusts became more shallow, his pace beginning to falter. “You like my cock, dove?” he growled, chest heaving as that intense pressure started to build in his stomach. “Your pussy is so fuckin’ wet for me— T-Tight! Hah, shit— s’too fuckin’ good baby.”

You could only moan at his words, cunt clenching down on him on its own accord. Hawks gasped at the feeling, teeth sinking into your throat as the heat of the quirk clashed with the heightened tension in his abdomen. The collision of the two sensations proved to be too much for the winged hero to handle, a groan rumbling his throat as he painted your insides white with ribbons of cum, his wings unfurling and each individual feather quivering in sheer ecstasy. His body shook, muscles taut as he emptied himself into your dripping cunt, arms wrapping tight around your waist as he gasped for breath.

The heat from your bodies began to dwindle, the villain’s quirk exiting your systems and rendering the two of you boneless, breathless, and satisfied like never before. It suddenly dawned on you that you were in the middle of an alleyway, the cool spring breeze touseling Hawks’ blonde hair before your eyes. He was still wrapped around you, trying to catch his breath as his cock continued to throb against your silken walls. The pair of you stood still against the brick wall, the fact that you’d just crossed such a serious line with your closest coworker setting in. There was a sense of dread that began to bloom in your chest, your suppressed feelings for the hero unleashed and thriving, now more than ever.

Before you could overthink for another second, Hawks pulled back, warm golden eyes peering into yours. “I gotta say, dove,” he murmured, a hand coming to cup your jaw and stroke his thumb across your skin, “that was definitely the best quirk I’ve ever been hit with on the job.”

You chuckled at that, the weight of the situation instantly lightening up as you gave him a slow nod of agreement. Your heart began to beat quickly as you gathered the courage to take it a step further than his confession. “I’m glad it was with you,” you replied quietly, meekly averting your gaze to the side.

Hawks hummed, thumbing over your cheek again as a smile rose to his lips. He pressed his mouth to yours again, fingers creeping into your hair as he pulled your face close to his. This kiss was unlike any you shared before, conveying only a sweetness, fondness even— a comforting reciprocation. You smiled against his lips, too, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him back, your fear dissipating as fast as it had come.

“I’m glad, too,” Hawks mumbled between your kisses, pulling away to quirk a brow at you playfully. “Can you imagine if I was with Endeavor instead?” he made the both of you laugh before leaning in to press his lips against yours again, the image of the serious, number one hero and your coworker in such a situation too hilarious not to laugh. But just as you started to deepen the kiss, he couldn’t resist throwing in the punchline he’d set up.

“I’d be a damn rotisserie chicken by now.”

   ─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

.

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sdfghj i never know how to end these and also why do i use this many dashes i am sORRY  if you enjoyed pls make sure to lemme know~~ 💕

➥ masterlist

➥ BINGO masterlist

[gryffindors-weasley]

Always

Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader

Summary: When Draco finds himself on thin ice with his father, he still can’t seem to keep from you.

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: angst, secret relationship, poor parental relationship, stress/anxiety about the future, fluff, kissing

A/N: Flash back is in italics. This is an alternate version of my fic here !

The divination classroom. It has always been amongst your favorites. It was far more contrasting to the others, consisting simply of stone walls and arched ceilings, wooden desks and frosted windows. The room of divination was full of mismatched tapestries draping in ruffles from the walls in bursting colors, equally so in the various sizes cushions and chairs with rugs to match. A handful of intricately patterned ceiling fixtures hung down, tassels dangling from them. It was warm and it was welcoming in comparison to the cold and darker rooms.

“Why is it that we’re coming here?” Draco asks with a sigh, trailing behind you as you ascend the last few steps of the winding spiral staircase.

You turn to him with a grin and a raised brow, a look he soon returned as he grasped your hand in his own. “I think we could do with a change of scenery after all. I’m growing rather tired of the astronomy tower, love.”

“What’s wrong with the astronomy tower?” He scoffs in faux offense, his brows furrowing as you tugged him along with you into the vacant room as he looks over his shoulder once more.

“It’s far too cold and cloudy to go up there tonight. Besides, this is one of my favorite rooms in the whole castle if you must know. You will survive just this once, Draco,” you jest lightheartedly, releasing his hand to skip ahead of him as he groaned at your sudden absence and he had no choice but to follow you. Though he felt he’d follow you anywhere, really.

“And if I don’t?” He calls after you just to be difficult, pinching a piece of red velvet fabric between his fingers before his eyes roam back to you.

You turn on your heel and purse your lips at him, narrowing your gaze as you fight your smile. You shake your head as he holds your stare just the same, his head tilting and eyes squinting as he challenged you and you readily gave up on suppressing your grin for a moment longer.

“You didn’t have to join me if this is not to your taste, you know,” you say, and he rolls his eyes as he tugs you close to him by a gentle grip on your hand. “You’re more than welcome to leave, but I have a feeling you’d miss me too much if you did.”

He silenced your very logical words with a kiss, your laughter dwindling as you relaxed against him. His kiss was soft and tender as he hummed against your lips, his hand coming to brush your hair behind your ear as his lips moved from your own to sweep across your cheek. They linger just under your jaw before pressing chastely under your ear, his nose brushing over your skin.

“Must you always pick on me, darling?” He murmurs, his breath tickling against the shell of your ear.

Your soft laughter starts up again at his words, pulling his attention back to your gaze as he pulls back to look at you. You rest your hands on his chest, your fingers splaying across the black fabric of his button up and smoothing over his matching tie. “Yes, I think I must.”

With that, you turned away from him and left his loose embrace much to his dismay, twirling once in the center of the room with open arms. He watched as you smiled contently, your eyes falling closed as you tip your head back and bask in the peace that came with nightfall. In the enchantment of the room. For it was the time where you could love one another as freely as you’d like, for as many hours as the moon remained in the deep navy sky. He wanted desperately to love you in the light of day, without fear of prying eyes and listening ears. But you knew why things were the way they were.

He watched the way the moonlight danced across your skin, glowing against your effortless beauty as it shines in your hair. It left him wondering how someone so perfect could love someone so flawed. He found himself to be an anchor tied to you at times, his mistakes and current standing in the wizarding world something he felt kept you from thriving the way he knew you would, the way you deserved. You already were, far more than he could say for himself.

You radiate warmth and kindness, something he so desperately craved and found he could not keep himself from. To him, you were the embodiment of sunshine and he felt he was quite the opposite, rather bringing storms and rain. Yet still, you chose to love him in spite of it. He felt guilty, really. For having a father who made you feel like your relationship was in jeopardy without ever having the displeasure of meeting the man. For not being able to love you as fully and openly as he so desired.

“Are you going to join me or are you going to stare all night?” You quip, breaking him from his pestering thoughts.

His gaze flickered from the vacant spot you once stood in to where you sat on purple velvet cushioned stool. You smiled as the crystal sphere flowed before you and a grin of his own tugged at the corner of his mouth. He took a seat on the small crimson stool right next to you, finding himself a bit too tall for such a small seating arrangement but he decided against complaining.

The sphere before you contained a fog-like haze that swirled around much like the clouds just beyond the windows.

“Just what are we doing?” He asks, an amused smirk on his lips as he raised a brow.

“You’ve claimed yourself to be the best at telling the future what was it, four years ago? Surely you must be an expert on such a thing now, Dray,” you say, laughing at his scrunched nose and the way he gripped your stool and tugged you closer with one swift pull. “Tell me, what will our future be in five years’ time?”

He chuckles, shaking his head fondly as he looked from the crystal to you. “That’s quite simple, I don’t need some silly crystal to tell me that.”

You raise your brow in amused curiosity. “Tell you what?”

He looks at you attentively, his smirk softening to an adoring smile. “That I’ll love you as long as you’ll have me, and even more.”

You nearly rolled your eyes at his sappy words, but you found them too sentimental and the look on his face far too endearing to do so. That and you couldn’t ignore the heat in your cheeks from such a declaration. But you also didn’t have it in you to miss an opportunity to tease him.

“I love you, very much I do. But I have a sneaking suspicion you don’t know how to use that thing, Love,” You jest, and he rolls his eyes as he fights his smile.

“I’m convinced you love to torment me,” he frowns, unable to sustain it with the way you’re giggling at him.

Despite the lighthearted moment, he finds he can’t enjoy it fully with the worry weighing heavy on his mind. Your question was merely playful, but it had been one that frequented his thoughts far more than he cared to ever admit, more than he ever will admit. In a perfect world, he would have felt confident with the idea of loving you for the rest of his life. Would have felt rather excited for your future together because he loved you entirely too much for his own good. But it was hard to indulge in thinking of such dreams when there were things in particular pressing down on his shoulders.

That one night in particular, to be specific, he would never forget that.

Draco stood at the end of the vacant corridor, palms pressed flat to the cold surface of the window sill as he peered through the latticed glass. The commotion from the ball had been more than enough with just the thirty minutes he’d spent in the large ballroom housed at the opposite end of the long hallway. Even with the distance from the boisterous event it was still just as nauseating—his ears ringing with the clinking of glass and goblets, with the shrill laughter seeping into the space he wished would alleviate his tension. But alas, it did not.

The dusty air in the Manor had not done him any bit of good, not even a shred. His mind was far busier than any overly lavish event his parents could throw, racing from one thought to the next in an endless loop. He grew rather tired of pretending to be interested in any of the meaningless conversations he was subjected to, tired of standing along the same gray wall in the shadows in hopes they’d leave him alone. He could do that perfectly well now that the only company was himself.

The moonlight had trickled in through the windows in broken beams, illuminating every fleck of dust that had been floating around him, casting him in a small pool of light. He knew staying in there a moment longer simply wouldn’t be feasible, he’d go mad. Besides, he was far too distracted with more important matters, so much so he hadn’t wanted it to draw attention to himself. He had been far too distracted by you.

As he looked out over the garden it was inevitable that that had been where his mind would shift to. To each and every night you spent hand in hand within it, or the more than numerous kisses you shared tucked away behind decades old oak trees and crumbling statues. It reminds him of the way your hair glimmers in that very moonlight and just how your eyes sparkle. It reminds him how just how much he wanted to be with you in that very moment; he always found he’d rather be with you.

Fancy ballroom events had never held his interest very much, and the more they occurred the less that interest remained. Especially with the way thing seemed to be spiraling as his seventh year continues to break apart. The attendees only ever wanted to talk to him because he was the Malfoy heir, not because they cared to converse with him and how he was doing, but because they wanted to talk about he who he refuses to give the satisfaction of naming. He didn’t want to talk about things most undesirable, there was more to him than slytherin title, than to be a Malfoy. There was more to him than what he could use his social standing for. He knew that, you knew that.

He wanted so desperately to leave the bleak and endless maze of that manor. To part from that grand window and to be somewhere else, anywhere, with you. He wanted to—

“Draco,” a voice sounded behind him. A voice he’d rather not hear. His father. He squeezed his eyes shut in preparation for conversation. “Have you grown bored?”

The tone he held was not one of curiosity, he genuinely did not care less about whether or not he had been bored. He did not care about very much when it came to his son, his only child. For no reasons other than selfish ones, anyway.

Draco laughed bitterly to himself, his back still turned to his father. “Yeah, you could say that.”

It was quiet, save for the lingering notes of the piano and endless chatter that filtered out into the corridor. The silence from his father was near painful, and he’d be lying if he said his heart hadn’t begun to pound more vigorously against his chest. The absence in conversation was starting to make him nervous with each passing second, and he was beginning to think he’d left altogether. No, it would not be that easy.

“You seem rather distracted, Draco,” he states after a few agonizing moments, and his heart squeezes in his chest at the familiar sense of knowing woven around each word. He swallows thickly as he fixes his stare down on the windowsill. “Is something on your mind? Or someone, perhaps.”

He wants desperately to take a deep breath as panic settles thickly within him, but that would be far too obvious an indication that his assumptions were, in fact, correct. His mind races a mile a minute, however, and he finds himself scrambling to think of an answer.

“No, there is not, father. I’m just not in the mood for discussing luxuries with any of your friends,” he responds, tone sharp and defensive.

He hears a humorless chuckle sound closer behind him, a sound accompanied by the click of his walking stick. Lucius had his suspicions of you, ever since he’d noticed his son’s newfound distraction, newfound stubbornness to follow his rules. It had only further been confirmed by the smile his son seemed to be caught wearing when he thinks no one is watching. He knew it and he hated it.

Draco felt paralyzed in his spot, unable to form an excuse to leave this very situation. He was tense and increasingly bothered by the threatening presence behind him. He was unsure if there would be repercussions of his displeased counter at his question, hadn’t known just what to expect. Hadn’t known until he felt the hand of his father grab firmly to the back of his neck, cold and calloused fingers pressing to his skin just inches from his shoulders. He flinched at the sudden and startling action, breath hitching in his throat as he brows furrow in a wince.

“Listen closely, my dear son,” he muttered venomously in his ear. “I don’t know what it is you’re up to, but that girl of yours, the one distracting you from your orders—I will not tolerate it.”

He gulped at his father’s words, and he was quite sure he could hear the rhythmic and incessant pounding of his heart in the close proximity. His hands had begun to shake as they gripped tighter on the ledge of the windowsill. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The grip on his neck tightens a fraction. “You reek of her perfume, do not tell me you do not know what I’m talking about,” he says through gritted teeth. “You have me mistaken for a fool, Draco. Deal with it, or I will.”

His threatening words are accompanied by a brief shake to emphasize them, jolting him slightly before his harsh grip is released and his footsteps diminish. He was left to stand there alone once more, angry and afraid as his nostrils flare with his sharp inhale and his jaw tensed, eyes lining with tears. His lip quivered under the pressure to suppress it, knuckles turning white under his tightening fists. He knew of you.

“Draco?” The mere softness of your tone pulls him from his distracted trance, that and the way your hand settled on his cheek. “Are you alright?”

His hand comes to rest over your own as he looks at you and leans into your touch without second thought, his blue gaze flickering between your own. He simply nods, his thumb brushing gingerly over your skin as he smiles softly, assuringly. “I’m fine, darling.”

Your returning smile makes his heart flutter within his chest, though he knows that you knew him far better to believe that. But you don’t push it.

When you start speaking he doesn’t entirely know what you were saying in that very moment, for he was much more focused on the way your lips moved with every word, every syllable. On the way your lashes splay against the tops of your flushed cheeks each and every time you look down at that wondrous crystal ball. Or the way your hand pulled from his cheek to rest over his own, playing absentmindedly with the silver slytherin ring worn on his finger. He didn’t particularly like that piece of jewelry, but he only wore it for that habit of yours.

You were so enamoring in everything you had done and he’s sure that will remain true, so utterly spellbinding he feels as though he never stood a chance. You were far more enchanting than the very magic the two of you had known your whole lives, and he knew that to be factual.

“Remember when you—”

His lips had pressed on yours before you could finish your sentence, his hand slipping from under yours to rest warmly upon your cheek. The soft bout of laughter puffed against his lips was enough to let loose a flurry of butterflies within him, a feeling only you have ever caused even with just a mere glance in his direction. The tension in his body dissipated the more he kissed you, the worry dissolving from his mind in that very moment.

When he parted from you he’d thought better of it as he kissed you once, twice, three more times. His lips were pink and kiss swollen, chunks of messy platinum dipping down in his eyes as he gazed at you adoringly. You kissed him again, fleeting and sweet, and it left him smiling softly as his fingertips brushed over his lips. The action made your cheeks stain a deeper scarlet as you looked away momentarily, but you couldn’t help but to return your gaze to him.

“What was that all about?” You ask in playful amusement, still breathless and blissfully awestruck from the burst of affection.

He laughs at that, because you too were delightful and dizzying, and he can’t seem to hide that fact. He dips down and does so again, this time a mere featherlight kiss, his eyes fluttering closed as he relishes in the soft intimacy passing him by. One he does not want to end.

“Just because,” he whispers.

You reach up and smooth the worry creasing between dark brows, your fingers brushing under the hair falling over his forehead and tracing down his cheek. You smiled at the seemingly silverness of his hair in the moonlit glow, the pale blue of his eyes something else entirely.

You rest your forehead on his, noses bumping and laughter mingling before fading into soft smiles. “I love you, always.”

His smile widens a fraction at your words, sincere and true. It makes his heart pound in his chest and his cheeks stain the softest shade of pink as his lips ghost over yours, brushing together with every word. “I love you, always.”

He might not have paid too much mind to that crystal ball for fear of the outcome he felt couldn’t possibly be what he’d dreamt of. He might not have allowed himself to ponder too long on what awaits him for the future for himself, for himself with you. For if he had, he just might’ve seen that life hadn’t intended to be quite as cruel to him as he’d been thinking. Maybe if he gave it a chance he’d see his fate hadn’t been so terrible in the end. But for now, for right now he was content with setting those thoughts aside in favor of kissing you in the moonlight behind vibrant and mismatched curtains. He was content with disregarding his father’s absurd wishes, they did not matter.

He loved you now and he loved you always.

—

Tags: @amourtentiaa @hahee154hq @dracosathenaeum @snitches-at-dawn @harrysweasleys @awritingtree @anchoeritic @writeroutoftime @lunalovecroft

[akaashisupremacy]

Sunset Drives

Summary: Having broken off your engagement for an arranged marriage with Gojo, your relationship is in shreds. As you and Gojo try to pick up the pieces, what does healing look like for the two of you? 

Gojo Satoru  x reader

Multi-fandom Masterlist || HQ Masterlist || Ao3 version

Genre: ANGST AND PINING, exes to friends to ??, commitment issues lol, some fluff if you wink (wc: 1k)   

“Let’s go for a walk down the beach.” Gojo Satoru insists out of the blue.

After a long day of work regarding the security updates for Jujutsu Tech, you agree. Gojo has always been spontaneous. He’s not one to make extensive plans.

The sky is quickly turning orange and purple as the car parks near the sand. You welcome the sea breeze when the door opens and the golden light coats both of you.

“We haven’t had a walk like this in a long time, just the two of us. At least one outside of the school.” you comment.

“Hardly a surprise. We were barely on speaking terms,” he retorts.

“And now we’re fixing things.” you smile with a skip of hope in your tone.

Gojo pauses before replying in a murmur, “We are.”

Ten years after your teenage break-up of your arranged marriage engagement, you’re both finally starting to find peace. Earlier this year you were both screaming and crying and hurting as you aired out your bottled up feelings and hurt. Things are finally settling down at last.

“This is nice,” he adds as if reading your thoughts.

You’re both in thick windbreaker jackets. Despite your weatherproof clothes, Gojo’s polo shirt collar peaks through his jacket. He’s dressed up today: leather shoes, slacks and his sunglasses instead of his eye covers. He looks good, handsome even.

You both take a moment to look into the ocean. He puts an arm around your shoulder and draws you in. His grip is gentle and firm.

“When I said I wanted to go to the beach, I meant during summer, you know?” you turn to him.

“We can come back during the summer. It’s near enough to drive.” he assures.

“Really?” you quirk a brow.

“Really.” he nods with a grin.

You both continue walking, kicking up a bit of sand here and there.

“I thought I would hate you the rest of my life because I wasn’t sure I could separate my feelings for you from my familial duties.” he exhales.

It’s your turn to pause.

“It’s ok, Gojo, you can say it.”  you murmur, “We’re really happy right now. Whatever this is.”

He lets out a low chuckle

“I like having you in my life again,” he says.

. Your eyes are peaceful and a small smile forms at the edge of your lips.

He turns to you, about to lean in for a kiss when you hear voices coming from the back.

“Gojo-sensei, is that you?” wonders Itadori out loud.

Gojo winces and quickly plants a peck on the tip of your ear before turning to his students. A group of first and second year students are walking together led by one of the Zenin girls. She must be Maki.

“Yes.” he says, “Who else?”

“And you ex…wife?” Itadori tries to recall.

“Fiancée .” you correct, amused, “We never made it to the altar.”

You steal a glance at Gojo’s unreadable expression.

“You’re too beautiful for sensei. Is that why you broke up?” asks a spunky girl with short brown hair. This must be Kugisaki Nobara.

“Nobara, you shouldn’t say that in front of Gojo-sensei.” nudged Itadori.

You and Gojo look at each other as if exchanging an inside joke.

“Something like that.” you grin.

“I would argue that was really the least of our problems.” Gojo snorts crossing his arms.

“Excuse the two of them.” Fushiguro bows.

Maki reigns the rest of the group in order to return your privacy with their teacher. Gojo keeps his hands off you the rest of the walk. You feel slightly disappointed.

When you return to the car, you empathize with his reactions to his students. Sometimes they forget he has a life outside of them.

“Thanks for today.” you nod, strapping in your seatbelt

“You can save that for later. It’s not time for goodbyes just yet.” he waves lightly, “If you like the beach so much, you should come visit me more often. I’ll drive you down here.”

“I don’t want to take up more of your time.” you demure, “Besides you’re not one to be good at promises.”

“I will always make time for you.” he glances at you, eyes fully certain, “and I’ve been better at promises now that I’m older. You’ll see. You’re not the only one that’s changed.”

Before he gets the engine going, he leans into you for a kiss. You place a hand at his chest to steady yourself. He presses a little harder. His hand finds itself on the side of your cheek. Your hands gently brush away the sides of his hair. The kiss long and tender, neither of you in a hurry to be apart.

When you finally pull away, you ask.

“Is this the part where we drive off into the sunset?”

“Yes.” he says, slowly backing the car out of its slot.

“Maybe you had a different person in your mind but I guess, you get me today.” you joke.

“You don't know that.” he replies without skipping a beat.

Gojo Satoru is the man who has everything. Whether you’ll be by each other's side temporarily or forever, he doesn’t know. With you by his side, there is nothing else he could ask for.

“I am happy.” he nods to you. You’re surprised he brings it up again.

“Whatever this is,” he adds.

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

I wrote this as a follow up for another Gojo x reader fic who used to be engaged. This was supposed to be the last chapter but I have some extra material (fluff to help heal all the hurt I put us thru lol). 

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6 || Part 7 || Part 8

Comment or message to be added to the taglist! :D

Series Taglist: @tokyo-love-hotel @samkysnks @herownescape @cherrianne192 @shamelessdonutsludgebanana @kageyamakock@shirostrbl @luvang3l @cloudsinthecosmos @httpjungoo @saturnki  @itstheee-ha-chan @gucci-froggy @soy1melk @dora-the-grownup @cherryonigiri If you’d like to continue being part of my taglist (JJK or Haikyuu), please let me know! I also write oneshots for both fandoms and soon I’ll be doing BSD too!

[shadowworks]

Resolutions

Pairing: Hawks X Reader

Warnings: Fluffy, hurt/comfort, mentions of alcohol (consumed at a party!) mentions of height difference, Feels. There’s feels.

Word Count: 1.4k

Song suggestion: New Years Day by Taylor Swift

A/N: A group of us decided to do Secret Santa, and my pick was sweet, @redflannel! I really hope you like it, and you’ll be excited for the new year! 🥺

Thank you @some-kindofgnome for helping brainstorm ideas and reading over everything! Honestly, you’ve been through it all. 🤍 Also, thank you @hisoknen, @present-mel & @pleasantanathema for reading it over towards the end. 🤍

Red, this one’s for you!

New Years Eve.

There’s glitter on the floor when you walk through the party. You hear the muted cheers of laughter from the rooftop, all colleagues from Hawks’ agency watching fireworks bloom across a dark sky. A couple girls walk by, holding pretty shoes by their straps and both lost in their conversation. Your interests are elsewhere. On someone, actually.

The hall trails to a corner office on the right, the door's closed but that doesn’t make you turn around. A soft knock, and a turn of the knob follows right before you step inside. The room is mostly dark, save for a dim desk lamp turned on near the city windows.

“Hawks?” You call out in the dark. Tousled locks of gold tip in your direction, and you’re met with honey eyes staring wide from the high rise window. It’s a surprise, though it looks like you’re welcomed.

“Hey,” he offers gently. His low voice isn't as strong as usual. It’s quiet and solemn...not like him at all.

“Hey,” you greet back, closing the door behind you, “What are you doing in here, babe?”

Hawks made his appearance earlier in the night. He poured himself a glass of champagne, and he wandered between conversations through the crowds like a smooth talker. And yet, when it came to the clock reaching nearly midnight, you noticed his vibrant presence wasn’t among the hazy and drunk crowds.

In truth he likes to go off on his own. You've come to find this out through your months working together, but still. This is different.

“Ah well, gotta catch up on paperwork, you know how it is.” He manages, glimpsing back to the glass. You did. But you know he submitted his paperwork days prior...To prove this, the desk’s clean without a single shred of paper on top, and his computer screen is blank, idle, a dull light painting the keyboard.

You take your time approaching the desk, capturing him in the soft light. He’s in a three piece suit, holes cut in the back for his plush crimson wings. Lovely posture, and he holds a half empty glass of champagne in hand, the other tucked in the pocket of his trousers, and so...effortlessly beautiful. It’s hard not to stare.

“Did I submit the reports wrong the first time?” You ask.

“What?—No! That’s not—” you catch him off guard. It’s not something that happens often, but maybe because it’s you he’s affected more as he stares back startled. But his words bubble in his throat, and he turns shamefully to shield his face, with shoulders hitched slightly.

You tilt your head, attempting a peek at his flustered features and you quietly circle around the lengthy wooden desk. “You sure this isn’t for something else?”

That’s not enough. He still doesn’t answer, instead he holds his stare to the flutter of fallen snow pouring down onto the city.

“Hey, look at me,” you tell him. This time you draw close to his form, extending an arm and taking his champagne glass. He lets it slip from his fingers as you set it down for him on the desk. You glance up, hands finding his cheeks lightly dusted in a blush. You cup them softly, guiding his head to face yours, “What’s going on with you?”

His handsomely marked eyes fall lidded. They search your own, intensely looking for something...The heat between your fingers is soothing, and you feel his calloused hands reach upward to lay across your fingers, stroking your knuckles in a gentle manner with his thumb.

“Shoulda taken it easy on the champagne.”

“We both know that was your first glass.”

You feel Hawks slide your hands from his cheeks, his stubble grazing your skin, only to cradle you around the waist and pull you into his chest at once. You instinctively find your arms wrapping around him. He buries his head into your shoulder, breathing deep, holding you tightly in his arms.

Something you’ve noticed about Hawks is he doesn’t always give you the answer right away. Sometimes it takes patience, and the way he is right now? This is something that’ll have to wait until the morning, when the new year has finally begun. And that’s okay.

“Hawks,” you say, craning your head toward his thickly swept hairs. When he doesn’t move from the embrace, you pause for a moment, just before your voice falls to a whisper.

“Keigo.”

His head slowly lifts, looking back at you longing, with all the love in the gleam of his eyes. He gave you his name some time ago, but the conditions are to keep it a secret. You couldn’t say it in the workplace, or around mixed company. But this is an exception.

The world is looking toward the sparks in the sky, while you’re looking at the sparks in his eyes. The sound of muted shouts come from above again; the countdown ringing from drunken voices.

Ten

Nine

Eight

“How about I take you home?” You gently soothe. You watch his features soften.

Seven

Six

Five

“Only if you stay with me,” Keigo breathes back, amber cologne brushing your nose as he flutters his lips against yours.

Four

Three

Two

“I always will.”

One

Your lips press together and fireworks burst from beyond the glass window, shading you two in a blend of blues, greens, and reds. Your eyes are closed, lost in a tender touch.

Happy New Year!

When you both pull apart, it’s slow and you two are lingering. Peeling your eyes open, you glance at each other through the long, boisterous cheers of celebration.

It’s Hawks who moves first, collecting your hand in his as he leads you out the door of his office. He knows how to leave a party in private, he’s good with fast departures, after all. Only a couple people catch the two of you collecting your winter coats, and he flashes a coy smile with a charming flare.

A little too quickly you feel the crisp air bite your skin as you depart into the harsh cold. You’re grateful Keigo draws you toward him, letting the soft plush of his wings veil you from the oncoming wind. The city is alive with continuous noise poppers, and cheering sounds in the distance. But it’s Keigo’s voice which catches your attention.

“You know,” he starts, his tone smoother than before. But there’s a hint of nerves you can detect, just a little as he goes on, “I’ve been thinking a lot about next year.”

“What do you mean?” you ask.

“Guess we could call it a New Years Resolution or something, heh, been leading up to it, but…”

“Babe.”

Finally turning towards you face to face, he leans into you, holding you in another tight embrace and dipping his lips down by your nipped ear, “I’m not just asking you to stay the night...I want you to stay with me in the long run. Stay and live with me.”

Your nerves ignite in a tingling shock. It’s not as though the thought hasn’t crossed your mind before. You’ve been together long enough. A few mentions here and there. Still. Still...Your sight begins to blur. You can’t stop the hot streaks of tears wetting your cheeks, and a smile pulls to the corners of your mouth.

“Hawks are you,” you can’t form the words, not at first, straining for a moment to keep your voice steady, “Are you serious?”

“I’m as serious as can be,” his coughing laugh breaks in between, “I know that’s hard to believe, but I can have my moments….So, what do you say?”

You nod your head, hiding your face in the warmth of his pro-hero coat, trimmed in fluffs of white.

Another soft laugh vibrates from his chest, gloved hands gently running up and down your shoulder. “Can’t hear you under there, little dove, you’ll have to speak louder.”

With another nod you manage to lift your head, smiling wider, “I’d like that.”

“We’ll work out the details later. Right now…” Keigo smiles back. Lovingly, softly, “Let’s go home.”

It ended up being the fastest resolution made.

***

I was listening to New Years Day on repeat, and yes it did inspire a few ideas for the fic. Thanks for reading! Happy New Years 💙🎊

[solarwonux]

Minghao x f!reader drabble

w.c: 2.8k

warnings: angst, slight mention of not eating, minghao be an asshole sometimes

note: I’ve had this one collecting dust in the docs so I decided to upload it today, it was meant to be part of a bigger fic but I decided to not continue though who knows it might be referenced later on in a different fic. Enjoy and let me know your thoughts.xx

Also I’m changing my schedule around a little. So instead of me posting Mon, Weds, Fri, I will be posting Mon, Thurs, Fri. You can find more info on Navi

drabble game || masterlist

There were sides of Minghao  that unfortunately weren’t reserved for you, except for one. The one you hated the most and the one you wished you could stray as far away from. The side that received you with a frown and a bitter cold glare. The side that spoke to you in short sentences, a sour tone that would weave its way through his voice like vines whenever he spoke to you. It sent shivers down your spine and not the good kind. It was the side that you couldn’t break through to get to the side that was reserved for the people he loved and cared about most in the world. And you weren’t one of those people.

Maybe this was the way the universe decided to punish you. A punishment you wholeheartedly thought you didn’t deserve because you were tied at your feet with no way out. When you had been matched with Minghao  by the System it was either you marry or die. And of course, selfishly you choose to live. You knew he resented you for it, but in the year and a half that you two were officially married, you had secretly seen the warmth that oozed out of his pores. You saw the wide smile that would light up the room whenever darkness poured in. His laugh sounded like a sweet melody that you would never get tired of listening and just his presence made you feel like home.

Minghao was a gift, the purest form of art, a being so powerful you swore he would restore the peace in the world. He could resent you, hate you all he wanted, look at you with an overwhelming amount of venom in his eyes. And you’d let him, you could never let yourself regret your final decision because he deserved to live.

Sighing deeply, you pushed yourself off the elevator walls watching as the hallway to your apartment came into view. This was the part you hated most about your day. It wasn’t the part where you woke up alone, it wasn’t the part where you had to go to work and it wasn’t the hour and a half walk home. It was the short walk from the elevator to your apartment. It never failed to stretch out miles as your heart caught itself in your throat because behind that closed door you weren’t sure what you’d encounter.

Sometimes it would be a quiet Minghao , sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table with his headphones on. His studio set up scattered all over, a notebook and his unlocked phone next to him. Sometimes it was him quietly sitting at the coffee table eating take out, sometimes it was him on his phone arguing with his mother as he shot piercing glares at you, probably wishing you weren’t alive. And other times it was a dark and cold apartment, nothing out of place. The silence creeping underneath the floorboards, reigning, occupying its throne in between the walls as it desperately tried to push the two of you out.

For some reason that was the apartment you always found yourself hoping for whenever you stopped in front of your door. Your hand gripping the doorknob tightly every night that it had started getting loose.

This was a routine by now. You’d put the key in the key lock, turn it until you heard it unlock. Then you’d close your eyes, slowly count ten Mississippi’s, proceed to give yourself a pep talk and then finally biting the bullet and opening the door. Anxiety rushed through you quickly when you saw what was waiting for you behind the door, Minghao  on the couch typing quickly on his phone, while the TV beamed with life in front of him. Lighting up the dark living room with undertones of blue.

“I’m home.” You spoke, a shake in your voice making you wish you were stronger. The door clicked behind you, signaling there would be no way out until tomorrow morning so you might as well bite your tongue and deal with anything you’d encounter tonight.

“Welcome, I ordered food but wasn’t sure if you wanted any.” He shrugged, locking his phone and setting it by his side. He crossed his arms in front of him and turned his attention to the TV.

“It’s fine I’m not hungry anyway.” You took off your shoes by Minghao’s worn out ones. The hunger swirled inside of you, but you pushed it aside, telling yourself that you’d find something to eat once he was asleep in the guest bedroom that by now had become his room. “Mhm, you are eating right?” He said a hint of concern in the back of his throat, but that could’ve been your mind playing games on you. Though the question had caught you off guard and you weren’t sure how to answer without lying because in truth for a while now your appetite had severely gone down.

“I am, had a big lunch with one of my coworkers.” Minghao  nodded at your answer, finally turning to face you, furrowing his eyebrows. You tried to ignore his gaze, relax your body as much as you could and placed your bag down on one of the highchairs in front of the kitchen island. “My family’s coming over tomorrow, my mom wants to cook dinner…you don’t have to be here if you don’t want to.” He blurted out the last part, hollowing out the part of your heart that was reserved for him. You loved Minghao ’s family as much as you loved him, but unlike him they had been very welcoming of you. Embraced you with open arms and you found comfort knowing that at least a part of him loved you.

“I’ll be there.” You whispered, shrugging off your coat and placing it on the back of the chair. “I have a day off tomorrow so I can clean up around here before they come over…I mean if that’s fine with you and all, I don’t want to make things uncomfortable.”

“Do whatever you want.” He spat out leaning back on the couch. His tone returning to the one you were used to hearing and you knew you had overstayed your welcome in the living room. “Right, I’m going to bed then.” You nodded walking past him and straight to your room, closing the door behind you quickly and resting your back against it. You breathed out a sad sigh of relief feeling the tears build up behind your eyelids, the hunger gnawing its way through your stomach ripping it to shreds. As well as your need for some sort of comfort, as you came to your first realization of the night. Just like it washed over you every single night and for once you wished you didn’t feel so alone, when the person that was supposed to love you stood on the other side not caring.

Oddly there was a side of you that loved Minghao  and maybe it was the side that kept holding onto the hope you first felt when you were given the news. Or maybe it was the image of him that you created in your head from all the fragments of light he let out whenever he thought you weren’t looking. But you loved him, that was something you were confident in because you saw him for who he was, flaws and all when the two of you weren’t alone.

“Fuck.” You pushed yourself off your door throwing yourself on your unmade made and grabbing the turtle stuffed animal you slept with every night. It brought you a small sense of comfort and any comfort you could get you would grab and indulge in it blissfully. It was small and useless in the long run.

You buried your head into the head of the stuffed animal, finally letting the dam loose and the sobs came in full throttle. Thankfully the TV in the living room was loud enough to muffle your sounds. It wouldn’t matter if he could hear you anyway because you knew he wouldn’t be running into your room like a knight in shining armor and save you from yourself. He just didn’t care and that was the second realization you would have every night. Each time you did, it sent a jab through your body, cracking the little wall that kept the small sliver of light you held onto dearly. Each night though you felt it flicker slowly losing its innocent glow. Sometimes you’d wonder when the light would finally die out, when the numbness would finally overtake your body and you could go on with life without feeling like you were worthless. Without feeling anything.

“Can I come in?” You sat up on your bed at lightning speed. Minghao ’s soft voice sounding from the other side of your door. A knock following in between syllables. Your breathing sped up and you brought your hands up to your cheeks slapping your tears away, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of him seeing you in this state. “U-Um yeah.” You spoke moving to rest against the headboard of your bed, grabbing your laptop on your bedside table and opening it to make it seem like you were doing something other than crying.

“I brought you chicken as I couldn’t finish it all.” He walked in, a styrofoam container in his left hand. His aura took over the air in your room and you felt as if you were suffocating. You watched as he slowly took in your room and your face heating up as you remembered the untidy state of your room. His eyes lingering on the wall of polaroid’s behind your even messier desk.

The girl in those pictures, the one whose smile reached her eyes and laughed still lingered in the small cracks on the walls of your room was someone that was unknown to you now. On days when you couldn’t bring yourself to get out of bed you looked at her as a sign of motivation. Telling yourself that that person was still within you and that she would come back you just had to fight through whatever you were going through. At the end of the day she always came back.

“Oh, I’m not hungry.” You closed your laptop and set it aside, the forgotten google tab opened waiting to be used. “I can have it for lunch tomorrow though.” You brought your knees up to your chest and wrapped your arms around them. To avoid his curious gaze, you looked out the window, the moonlight shining down at the skyline. You wondered if they were at peace unlike you.

“Why do you cry every night?” Minghao  blurted out. He had placed the container on your desk and sat down on the foot of your bed. His back turned to you. The question had caught you off guard as you searched through the files in your brain in order to come up with an excuse. Yet, you came out unsuccessful and decided to just finally confess to him. You had nothing left to lose. “I wasn’t supposed to fall in love with you?” You choked out biting your lip to keep the sob that threatened to spill locked away in the back of your throat.

“You can’t love…you barely know me.” He turned to face you and for the first time in a long time you couldn’t read the emotion that was playing against his features.

“Maybe I don’t love the person I’m faced with everyday, but I do love the person I see whenever you let your guard down around your friends and family.”

“But aren’t you tired of all of this? He raised an eyebrow, lifting his palm up and signaling all around the room as if the extra gesture would help prove his point.

“Exhausted.” You breathed out your shoulders falling as you felt yourself fall apart little by little in front of him. “Then why not hate me?” Minghao  brought his legs up to your bed and crossed them underneath him. This was the longest the two of you had spoken or been in each other’s presence and although it was suffocating there was a small ring of light that lingered between the two of you.

“Because as much as I want to sometimes, I can’t bring myself to hate someone that’s hurting inside as well.”

The deafening silence that the two of you had grown accustomed to entangling itself in the warmth that was lingering above the two of you now. Somehow bringing the two of you a sense of comfort in the midst of this confusing situation you found yourselves in. Although you could feel like you could breathe again, the question that still kept you up at night stayed put in the back of your throat waiting to finally be let out into the world. For months you had pushed it back, deciding you already knew the answer to it. But as you sat in front of Minghao , his soft eyes dancing between your puffy ones you weren’t sure anymore. So, you put your preconceived notions aside as well as your pride and opened your mouth, letting the question run out to freedom. Your heart raced as you anticipated his answer.

“Why do you hate me so much?”

“I don’t hate you, truthfully I don’t think I could ever hate you.”

“Then why can’t you love me back?” You whispered, shutting your eyes. Your hold on your legs getting tighter.

“Because I can’t bring myself to do so no matter how hard I want to sometimes, especially when I listen to you cry every night. I wish…I want to set everything aside and hold you. I want to make you feel less alone…but I can’t.” Minghao  let out a frustrated sign running his hands through his hair and tugging at his roots in desperation. The sight made your heart wrench. You wanted to reach over and hug him, give him the comfort you craved.

“W-Why?”

“I feel guilty.” He nodded resting his forearms against his knees, finally breaking his eye contact with you. Searching your room rapidly for another point of focus and finally settling on the humidifier on your bedside table. “I feel guilty because before I met you, I had chosen to live, not knowing that I would be the reason why your light would start to fade as the days went by.”

Without a second thought you let go of your legs, maneuvering yourself around your bed and wrapped your arms around him tightly. Finally breaking the barrier that silently lingered between the two of you.

You buried your face into his neck letting your tears run freely for the second time that night. Though this time instead of feeling the loneliness you had felt earlier, you felt a sense of relief wash over you.

Minghao  felt himself hesitate for a moment feeling overwhelmed as he felt your touch for the first time, not knowing he missed it. A thought he couldn’t explain because how was he missing something he had never had the pleasure of feeling. But he pushed it aside and hugged you back, letting the tears he had kept in for far too long out in the open. He wasn’t happy but he felt like he could be happy if this was what it felt like to finally have you in his arms. He held you tightly, gripping onto you and burying his nose in your hair taking in your scent, one he decided right then and there he would never grow tired of. The two of you basking in each other’s arms, your hearts racing against one another and it overwhelmed the two of you greatly.

“I know we have a lot of things to get through but I’m willing to start over if you are.” You whispered, removing your arms from his body and sitting back on your knees. You wiped your tears with the back of your hand, letting out a small laugh and shook your head in disbelief before holding your hand out for him to shake.

Minghao  smiled widely, chuckling before taking your hand in his. The feeling was enough to send shivers up his spine. The good kind.

For the first time that night he had a realization. A secret that he would carry out to his grave, unless you prodded it out of him and with how things were going, he was sure that you would succeed at it too. But for now, he would keep it to himself and enjoy the way your touch felt against his skin and the way your smile was enough to have his heart beating out of time.

“I’m Minghao, your husband.”

[arhvste]

KUROO TETSURŌ - PERMANENT PLAN

➵ summary : ‘love’ a word with multiple meanings, given and taken in different forms and an untouched territory you’d always been frightened of. everyone’s temporary, so you didn’t need to know what love is anyway, but kuroo insists that he’s anything but momentary to you.

➵ genre : x reader - angst , fluff

➵ an : this was just a drabble that eventually became a fic, it’s something i’ve been playing around with in my drafts for a while but this was my personal perception of the world before someone showed me that the worlds a lot nicer when you see the glass half full rather than half empty and there are people who want you to be part of their permanent plan

➵ inspo : sincerity is scary - the 1975 - american money - BØRNS

Love.

The word the world seemed to revolve around. Such a trivial thing to you.

How could one rely on a single emotion so much? How could people find motivation to seek out a feeling that’s just meant to find you naturally and in it’s own time.

In a world with countless people, how could you be so sure you’d found ‘the one’? Surely there was always going to be someone who’d be a better match for you somewhere else.

How bothersome.

You’d watched friends insist they’d found their ‘one’ only for that to have been a lie a handful of months later when you’d get calls from them sobbing on the other end of the line.

Love seemed like an indescribable feeling to you. You were certain you’d never experienced it past family bonds and somewhat platonic bonds, but that was as far as your knowledge on the subject reached.

You were frightened of the feeling in all honesty. Untouched territory you’d refused and continually refuse to enter.

From the outside, love seemed like a good look to wear. People you knew insisted it was the best feeling in the world to become fond of a special someone, to experience all the clichè scenarios one could only read about in books. You had to admit, some of your friends wore it well. You saw a brighter side to them while they embraced the thrill of what they claimed was love. The world seemed a little more pleasant in their eyes during the time period they were going through the phases of these unexplored but seemingly exciting emotions.

That all came crashing down in a matter of time though. You’d seen it over and over again. The once praised and celebrated feeling suddenly unbelieved in and torn apart to shreds. The world dimmed a little darker than it was before and tears clouded visions.

The feeling of love then became distasteful to you. Not wanting to ever go through the shattering heart break you’d seen so many go through, you swore off long-term connections with the same people. Everyone had a time limit and in your head that was the safest option.

The plan you’d kept in action over the years was simple. Keep people at arms reach for a while and gradually let them slip off by themselves. Everyone was replaceable and everyone was temporary. The world moved on and so could you.

Over the years, your mindset slowly set in and people would come and go. Some would linger a little longer than other who’d sometimes disappear as quickly as they apperead. You didn’t mind though. That was what you wanted anyway. It was for the best.

Of course, the world will always throw a spanner in your personal works and this particular spanner the world had tossed your way came in the form of Kuroo Tetsurō, your neighbour and close enough friend of 3 years now.

Kuroo was someone who had been around longer than you seemed to keep others. He never questioned it, noticing signals that you weren’t the type to touch on emotions and feelings out loud, he let you get on with your life and was content with being kept just at arms reach to you.

For now he was anyway.

You didn’t go out of your way to talk to many people and people who you had previously called friends that now scrambled for meaningless small talk with you if you were unfortunate enough to run into them. The feeling of awkwardness wasn’t a personal favourite of yours, you often opted to stay close to Kuroo to avoid having to deal with forced conversations elsewhere.

You weren’t quite sure what it was about Kuroo that kept him in your life for a longer limit than others. Maybe he was a little more persistent than others. Or maybe he felt the need to stay on good terms with you since the two of you were neighbours and you’d already been introduced to his grandparents and father. There were various reasons you assumed were the conclusion as to why Kuroo hadn’t let you slip from his grip just yet, but you were always prepared for it to happen eventually after all, everyone is temporary and Kuroo Tetsurō was no exception.

Fridays were the days most people you knew would go out and let go of the stress pent up over the week just gone. To you, Fridays were a routine. You’d go to Kuroo’s house for dinner with his family and then yourself and Kuroo would head out to a field closeby and lay down a chequered blue and red blanket behind the hill that blocked out the city lights from the view over the farmland and talk for hours on end under the stars.

The scenario itself could be seen as romantic perhaps, but to you, it was nothing more than de-stressing with a friend. You had a right to let out all the built up frustration the same way everyone else did, you just did it in a different way.

Today was a Friday and you were glad. Glad you’d have two days off from cramming pieces of information you were almost certain you’d forget and never need to use again after exams. Glad you didn’t have to watch one of your friends whine about her ex boyfriend's new girlfriend. Glad you were going to be able to voice out these silenced thoughts that had formed and bothered you all week and receive no judgement for it.

“Ready?”

Kuroo was leaning against your locker like he would everyday when you’d walk home together.

“Yeah.” You hummed as he took his place beside you as the two of you strolled back to your neighbourhood.

Conversations on the walk back home always consisted of Kuroo telling you about training. Various stories about members on his team were retold to you and he’d always make sure to tell you every detail. You’d always listen and give input when he asked or given clear signs of implication he wanted it. That was something you liked about Kuroo.

You were transparent enough with each other.

Both of you were able to read the others behaviour well and knew what the other wanted. Kuroo was able to read you emotionally well and you hadn’t even realised it until this year. He always respected your feelings and situations regarding other people. He never once questioned your morals or ties with others and left you to your own devices. Sometimes, he’d test the waters a little and try to see if he could perhaps get something out of you.

Any sign that you would open up to him a little more, let him in a little more, anything he could get a grasp of. He’d always stop when he knew he had gotten as close as he could get to you. He never tried to pry the doors of your life open but instead waited patiently outside the door and would wait for it to slowly creak open every so often but still never taking it upon himself to increase the gap in the door when a crack was opened and letting himself in.

You appreciated that about him.

A part of you wished you could open the door a little more for him, but Kuroo Tetsurō was not an exception to your life and you’ve had to remind yourself of that a little more often in the recent days.

By the time you’d reached the Kuroo residence, he’d told you an amusing story regarding his best friend Kenma and teammate Lev who you knew was a first year. According to Kuroo, Kenma had been given the task to help Lev out a little more in training much to his demise. You found the story ironic given that Kenma had been unenthusiastic about the sport until recently he seemed to be a little more willingly involved.

You had assumed this was because the National Spring Tournament was approaching fast and this would be Kuroo’s last chance as a highschooler to attend and go far in the competition. To you it looked like Kenma was preparing to move on ready to acknowledge that Kuroo wouldn’t be competing alongside him next year. He wanted to make Kuroo’s last year worth it and even though Kenma hadn’t admitted it out loud, you knew enough about both his and Kuroo’s friendship to know that it ran deep and unspoken promises were constantly fulfilled in their tight bond. They had the type of bond you had previously wished to contain with someone a few years back but that desire was nowhere near as present these days.

Still, that didn’t mean the burning yearn had completely been extinguished yet. A small flickering flame was still alive deep inside of you, you just refused to ignite it further.

“Yeah, Kenma wasn’t thrilled with the new responsibility he’s been given but he’s still doing it and I know he’ll actually try to help Lev in his own way.”

“I’m sure he will Tetsurō.”

At this point, Kuroo was unlocking his front door as he concluded his story. A few more seconds of his messing with his keys and the door opened. He pulled the silver key out and stepped out the way to let you in first, bowing slightly as he did so.

“God you’re so pretentious.” You hummed as he snickered behind you and closed the door once the two of you had stopped inside and been welcomed by the smell of cooking food.

“Tetsu, Y/N! Is that you two?” a shrill but somewhat soft voice rung from the kitchen.

“No, it’s some thieves who are about to ransack your house!” Kuroo teasingly called back as his grandmother scoffed at him emerging from the kitchen doorway.

“Well, aren’t you just the stand up comedian today.”

You laughed and smiled at his grandmother whose face brightened as she caught sight of your face.

“Ah, Y/N! How was your day my dear? I’ve made you your favourite tonight so I hope you’re hungry.”

The older woman approached you as you nodded and smiled.

“I’m always hungry when it comes to your cooking.”

“Flattery will get you anywhere Y/N.”

“It’s not flattery, it's genuine.” you shot back at the older woman who only chuckled and wandered back to the kitchen.

“Didn’t know you knew what the word ‘genuine’ meant.” Kuroo casually said as if he hadn’t just exposed something so raw about you.

“What’s that meant to mean?” you quickly replied, irritation filling your senses.

Kuroo saw this and immediately surrendered. He’d already gotten too close to the line and you hadn’t even sat down for dinner yet.

“Nothing, nothing, just ignore me.” His tone stitched with the thinnest threads of guilt.

You frowned at him slightly but let it go. There was no point in getting so easily worked up especially when you knew the boy meant no malicious harm.

“Come on, let’s go up to my room for a bit, dinner won’t be ready for another 15 minutes I’m going to assume.”

You nodded and grabbed your bag to bring up to Kuroo’s room.

You liked Kuroo’s room, it was very; him.

It was clean but a small clutter of papers and books were piled and scattered along his desk. It amused you that his work area seemed to be the only chaotic section in his room. He was academically organised but his desk would tell you another story. That was just his work process you supposed, so you never brought it up to him. A bed with plain white sheets dominated the most space in his room and a stuffed dog sat at the centre of two pillows.

When you had entered Kuroo’s room for the first time a few years back, he immediately insisted that the stuffed toy was a childhood gift he’d grown attached to and he simply couldn’t throw it away. You smiled thinking about the sentimental side Kuroo carried and didn’t seem to mind expressing. He was very family orientated and liked things with meaning behind them. His stuffed dog ‘Chow’ (Kuroo had told you the toy’s name was a reference to his favourite childhood film ‘Cars’ as he would often repeat the iconic phrase “Kachow” when he was younger although the cogs in his brain were a little smaller back then, only being able to pick out the “chow” part of the catchphrase.), lived in the exact same spot at the top of the bed and between two pillows and Kuroo never failed to leave him there after making his bed every morning.

It was the little details like this that made Kuroo a little more interesting to you. Perhaps that was one of the reasons you didn’t mind him enduring his time with you a little longer than you usually allowed others to. He didn’t mind sharing little facts with you and was always open for you to read. He never went out of his way to hide things from you and always made sure the two of you were on the same page.

You placed your bag down on the floor, left side of his bedroom door as you always did and sat down on the bed. The mattress dipped as Kuroo’s weight followed after yours. He leaned over and grabbed his TV remote from his bedside table and switched it on to scroll through the various saved programmes the two of you would watch together. It was an unspoken rule that Kuroo wasn’t allowed to watch certain series or documentaries without you and he followed this rule obediently even though neither of you had voiced it out.

Instinctively, Kuroo selected the series the two of you were currently watching together. ‘Your Lie in April’ seemed like a good choice at first but Kuroo soon found that it was a lot more emotional than you had first anticipated. You usually kept your emotions in check and hardly let them show past brief happiness. Kuroo would observe that you always just seemed content. Not particularly happy but not sad either. You just seemed to ease your way through life and take each day as it comes. ‘Your Lie in April’ seemed to bring out a soft twinkle in your eye as particular scenes triggered something within you. A few days ago, you had told Kuroo the series was boring and you wanted to watch something else, he wouldn’t allow that though. He told you that you had started it so now you had to finish it regardless whether it was good or not. He liked to finish something properly and you had no choice but to understand that. His real intention was to see that unusual twinkle in your eyes a little more often. He hadn’t figured out quite what it was or what it meant yet but something seemed to be trying to break out, you just wouldn’t let it. He knew you had inner emotions, but when he’d been deprived from seeing them by you, he was desperate to witness any emotion that wasn’t your usually appeased aura.

“Tetsu, I told you this is boring!” you whined as the two of you sit back and let the intro play.

“And I told you we have to finish it! I want to know if Kosei and Kaori ever perform together!”

“You’re such a sap ew.”

Kuroo laughed and poked your side as the episode finally began to play. The two of you sat in silence as you focused on the screen. Kuroo would have to admit his attention was a little more on you than the TV but he couldn’t help it. The flicker in your eyes was back and Kuroo noticed that it would reappear in the more emotional scenes with the main protagonist. Maybe you related to the main character. He seemed pretty content with just getting on with his own life. He didn’t seem particularly happy or sad either until the girl, Kaori came into his life.

Kuroo liked to think he was your Kaori; without the dying part of course. He could only hope that he brought a little more light into your life even though you seemed to prefer the dim brightness. It didn’t matter to him though, he was just grateful you’d kept him around for as long as you had. He wasn’t stupid, he knew you had a tendacy to let people drift in and out of your life, not letting them stay long enough to make an impact. He was certain he had some sort of impact on you though. After all, you had been coming over to his house every Friday for 2 years now and you never once cancelled or complained.

He was sure that this tradition had been engraved into your life and he had made some sort of change to your routine. He didn’t need affirmation from you, he knew he had you somewhat hooked onto him the same way he had hooked onto you. Neither of you spoke about it though. The unspoken and lingering feeling of relying on each other was definitely present but neither you or Kuroo seemed to approach it head on and confront it.

That was okay though. As long as he knew that you could rely on him to at least keep you at the surface rather than letting you fall and drown into an empty pit you seemed to have been digging for yourself, he was okay with that.

After around 20 minutes, the two of you were called down to dinner. Kuroo paused the episode and switched the TV off before waiting for you to shuffle off the bed. The two of you headed downstairs to the dining room, elbows bumping into each other, Kuroo had a soft smile on his face as you playfully nudged each other down the stairs.

Kuroo’s grandparents were already sitting down and Kuroo’s father was just walking in at the same time. You smiled at his father and thanked him for having you, to which he only laughed.

“You don’t need to keep thanking me Y/N, you’re practically family now!”

Family huh?

While Kuroo’s father probably didn’t mean to stir inner conflict in you, he did. The statement sent waves through your system as you tried not to overthink it. Did they really see you as family? How were they going to feel when you’d eventually disintegrate from their daily lives? Would they be mad at you or would they not care?

It didn’t matter anyway. The same way everyone was replaceable to you, you were replaceable to them. You were certain Kuroo would eventually forget about you too, maybe even find someone better to spend his time with and give his undivided attention to. The feeling of rejection stung ever so slightly but it confused you at the same time. The whole reason you kept people at a distance from you was because you never wanted to feel the effects of rejection. So why was it starting to hurt now? You weren’t romantically involved with Kuroo and nor had you snuck out of his life just yet. He hadn’t replaced you and hadn’t given you any implications on doing so ever. So why was the feared feeling beginning to surface?

You did your best to shove down your growing concern throughout your meal. Talking and laughing with Kuroo and his family whilst you ate. Everything seemed okay and you thought you were doing a good job of compressing the unwanted affects your thoughts were giving you. Things went smoothly and you seemed normal on the exterior but Kuroo was a perceptive person and could tell throughout the whole meal that you were in battle with yourself. He kept quiet for the time being though and let you keep up your act a little longer. He’d confront you about it later when there were no other distractions or ears other than his for your voice to reach.

You thanked Kuroo’s grandmother for the meal and helped clean up the table and kitchen as you usually would. Kuroo’s grandmother would wash the dishes while you and Kuroo would dry them and put them away. He’d reach the shelves your smaller form couldn’t reach. “Teamwork makes the dreamwork!” He’d declare every week resulting in your eyes to roll and a sigh to leave your lips. “This is hardly teamwork, I can do it myself.”

Kuroo smirked and shook his head. “With the assistance of a chair perhaps but why go to those lengths when you’ve got a perfectly strong, tall and capable man here to do it for you instead?”

Kuroo’s grandmother would snort and make a witty comment back to Kuroo teasing him for his perception of himself and Kuroo would find himself with no reply as he had got his own wit from his grandmother and there was no answering back when it came to her.

20 minutes of cleaning would always go by fast and the kitchen would be back to it’s homely but immaculate state as the three of you worked efficiently.

“The blankets under the stairs in the cabinet, I washed it a few days ago so it should be clean.”

You thanked the older woman and Kuroo pressed a soft kiss to her cheek in appreciation. You snickered and teased Kuroo for being a Grandma’s boy but he’d only shrug and ask if you could blame him. You couldn’t in all honesty. His grandmother had been close to him and she always gave Kuroo the support and tenderness his actual mother couldn’t. She was a perfect substitute and Kuroo would probably claim that he was raised in the best way possible even if his family wasn’t exactly the typical cookie cutter family dynamic that others had.

You’d have to agree with him as you saw no faults in their family. His family figures had in fact done a good job of raising Kuroo right and they had every right to be proud of him and the way he’d turned out. You even felt a sense of pride when you thought about him. You’d never voice it though, never admitting to growing somewhat attached to the boy you’d never allow yourself to acknowledge it. You were not to keep anyone closer than arms length to you and Kuroo Tetsurō was no exception.

You and Kuroo padded up the stairs to his room where he tossed an oversized jumper in your direction. Your blazer wouldn’t suffice as protection from the cold and it was a pain to carry a coat to school as the days were warm, it was only in the evenings the temperature decreased.

He shrugged one of his own jumpers on as you followed suit. The slightly frayed ends reached past your fingertips as you brought them close to your face. It was clear this time, Kuroo had lent you a jumper he had shown a little extra love to. He must’ve worn this one more than the others and the strong natural and comforting smell of him lingering in the threads of the fabric only proved your hypothesis further.

Kuroo made his way over to you and took your sleeves into his hands and he rolled them up a little. Just enough for your fingers to peak out so you could use your hands without excessive material getting in the way. The small gesture was another thing Kuroo never failed to complete every week either. He’d always make sure your fingers peaked out his hoodies at least a little to prevent you from losing grip onto anything. He also liked the way your warm fingers would brush up against his as the two of you would walk next to each other. It was almost like your hands were teasing him to hold them. He’d thought about taking your hands and intertwining your fingers together as you’d walk over behind his house and into the field where you’d always sit in the same spot and just talk about anything and everything that came to mind. He had restraint himself from doing so however. He wasn’t sure if you would be comfortable with that and the last thing Kuroo wanted to do was drive you away or worse yet, have you cast him out further than you already kept him. For now, he’d just have to put up with you unintentionally testing his patience.

You had been walking, soft hums of passing vehicles in the background as the city lived on through the night. The sounds became more distant as the two of you trekked further away from the urban area and deeper into the more rural territory.

The hill the two of you would always sit behind came clearer to your vision as you approached it and walked around it rather than over it. You had previously told Kuroo you were not going to make the effort to hike over it and Kuroo just laughed and deemed you lazy despite the fact he had no intention of ever making the journey over the mound of land himself.

After striding through the grassy land, the two of you had made it to your spot. A green patch of grass that hid the lights of Tokyo behind you and gave you a clear vision of the stars littered above your heads. Kuroo laid the blanket down as you both took your seats on the ground as you let out a sigh.

Conversation would naturally flow between you during these hours, whatever came to mind was spoken and neither one of you would hand judgment for what was said between you. Kuroo watched as you still handled the inner conflict that had struck up inside of you earlier. While you assumed you were doing a good job of concealing your slight stress, Kuroo noticed you seemed a little less focused and more immersed in the world of your own. You hadn’t even noticed that he was staring and observing you and you mindlessly tried to witter on about something that had happened in class. You sighed and looked up the stars, a peaceful silence blanketing over the two of you. Kuroo was yet to bring up his observations of your behaviour but decided that now wasn’t the right time as he anticipated your next words.

You both tilted your heads up to the sky as the stars glittered contrasting the dark night sky.

“Do you ever consider that we’re like the stars Tetsu?” You softly spoke as neither of you tore your eyes away from the view above.

“In what sense?” he murmured back, not daring to look at you.

“In the sense of they're just scattered. They’re aimlessly placed and compete with each other to shine the brightest. People are just like that too.”

Kuroo hummed and angled his head to catch sight of your soft eyes momentarily. “Explain.”

You exhaled and closed your eyes briefly.

“No obvious place in life, just thrown into things and have to make their own way from there. Regarding the competition as to which star can shine the brightest, people compete in the world of hierarchy and often strive to be the best in their industry and shine the brightest for others to admire.”

Kuroo sat up properly and turned his gaze in your direction. You noticed this and looked back into his eyes that seemed to be figuring something out. A moment of silence was left between the two of you as Kuroo thought about your perception.

“But,” he began, eyes never once losing focus on yours. “Have you ever considered that a lot of these stars are contributes to constellations?” He contrasted against your point as you raised an eyebrow.

“Each star in a constellation is connected to another building a small community of stars together, some may not be as bright as others but they’re always there no matter how dim they can be. ‘Draco’ wouldn’t be ‘Draco’ if there was a star missing would it? Each star holds a purpose even if it doesn't shine the brightest.”

You didn’t miss the way Kuroo’s eyes desperately searched yours. He was looking for any signs of misunderstandment or confusion as he continued his point.

“So, I think yes you’re right about people being like stars, just in a different way to what you think. Everyone has connections and is part of some sort of community like the stars are and even if they don’t shine the brightest, people are always there to support and connect with you even if it may not seem obvious.”

Kuroo’s point seemed more like a personal examination and answer for you. He had figured you out and you hadn’t even realised till now. Did he know this whole time you had people so casually passing through your life? Was he aware that you were expecting the same thing to happen to him? You had no idea and you didn’t know if you wanted to know either. Perhaps he’d be mad at you for not making your intentions as clear as you thought you should’ve or maybe he wouldn’t care at all and he’d obliged and let you be part of his temporary plan as you had been on everyone else's.

“I know Y/N. You’re not exactly good at being deceptive, well; when it comes to me anyway.”

You desperately tried to think of an excuse.

Why wasn’t he laughing or mocking you for being so detached? Surely he must’ve thought you were a waste of time now so why wasn’t he showing signs of annoyance or anger.

“K-Kuroo -I”

“-Kuroo? I thought I was Tetsu. You can’t just back out now that I’ve figured you out!”

His voice had a tone of hurt and if you weren't so focused on him and his actions right now, you may have missed it. But you didn’t.

“No! No, it’s not like that it’s just- You, no-” You couldn’t think of anything to say to him. What could you even say to someone who had read you like an open book and done their thorough research on it. There was nothing you could say other than the truth now and you both knew this.

“Take your time, I’m not going anywhere.” His hand inched closer to yours as a calming expression met your own.

You inhaled and exhaled and cleared your head slightly.

“I’m only temporary, why do you care so much?”

There it was.

Your true feelings towards the situation and the people around you. But Kuroo wasn’t like the people around you so why was it hard to tell him? Then again, he was to be treated like everyone else in your life had been, as Kuroo Tetsurō was no exception.

“Who says you’re temporary?” Kuroo’s eyes widened as worry and regret washed over you. He had a sympathetic look to him and had a sense of sadness of his own. Did you really just think you were temporary to him? Did you think that way towards everyone?

He was prepared to confront you, expected you to tell him that you just fell out with people easily. He had no idea of the weight of the burden you carried and he certainly didn’t like you felt this way and let yourself be weighed down by it.

“Thats just the way it is.” your voice barely above as whisper as Kuroo looked at you with disbelief. He shook his head. His hand begging him to let it interlock with yours. He held off just a little longer. You were vulnerable and he refused to take advantage of that no matter how small the gesture seemed.

“Why? Why are things that way? Who told you they have to be that way?” his voice calm and collected with small pitches of sadness as he practically begged you to give him an answer. Maybe he hadn’t made as big an impact on you than he initially thought. Maybe he was wrong this whole time about what he was and was hoping to be to you. God, this hurt him just as much.

You shuddered and shook your head at the boy.

“I don’t want to know what love is. I don’t want to risk the aftermath of rejection. I’m scared Tetsurō. I’m so so scared.” A vulnerable look replaced the usual bored look in your eyes. Kuroo watched the way your fingertips gripped the edges of his jumper and the way you cast your gaze down. He didn’t like it one bit. Why did you feel like that? Had you been hurt before unbeknownst to his knowledge? He thought he knew you inside and out.

“Love...it’s scary yes but it’s exciting too. It’s unexplainable Y/N, I couldn’t possibly give you an answer as to what it’s like. I do know,” he gestured for you to look up at him. “that you will experience it in some form at some point in your life. It’s inevitable. You shouldn’t feel frightened though. That’s what other people are for. They’ll be there to pick you back up and dust you off if things do go wrong. The same way the stars connect together, people are connected and you’ll always have people to rely on.”

Nothing but genuine emotion went into his words and you knew this. So why were you still trying to fight it?

Kuroo picked up on this and sighed. He didn’t know this was the reason you had avoided letting people in. The reason seemed somewhat confusing but he also saw your point at the same time. You lacked trust in yourself and that was something Kuroo wanted to give you if you weren’t going to give it to yourself.

“I-I’m sorry! This is stupid I should’ve just kept quiet. I bet you think I’m a waste of time oh god, I’m so sorry Tetsu, this is why I don’t let people get involved with me.” tears threatened to spill but you’d refuse to let them. You’d done so well up until now. Nobody suspected anything when you’d gradually drift away but life is never that generous to let things go your way all the time. Kuroo Tetsurō was an obstacle you couldn’t beat and sometimes in life you have to admit to defeat.

“God Y/N, you’re not temporary to anyone especially not me! I’m not mad at you I just wish you’d rely on me a little more. I want to be part of your constellation I just don’t know if you want me to be.”

Tears brimmed your vision a little more and you could barely speak but managed the next few words out.

“I’m only part of your temporary plan, we all move on eventually and you will too.”

“You’ve always been a part of my permanent plan. Always have been, always will be. I don’t care in what way, but I’ll always want you to be a part of my life. I never intended on letting you go no matter how much you wanted me to.”

Without even realising it, your hand had edged closer and closer to Kuroo’s and you could feel the warmth of his hand close to yours. Your breath hitched as you took a deep breath before Kuroo continued.

“I can’t promise you a life of no disruption, I mean you’ve seen how loud my laugh is and you’re the only one who puts up with my irritating provoking for so long.” You laughed at this. “But what I can promise you is lessons in love. Let me not only teach you but let you learn with me. I have little to no experience but I have some idea of how it’s meant to feel and I’m pretty sure it’s how I feel when I’m with you.”

You sighed. “What am I going to do with you?” you murmered closing your eyes. A soft smile gracing your lips. The first genuine smile you’d given him since leaving the house.

“Take me up on my offer and let me take care of you. We’ll take it slow but I want you to know it’s okay to trust others and let them in a little.”

You looked down and noticed Kuroo’s hand had enveloped over yours. You liked the feeling of his larger calloused hand over yours. It felt right. This felt right.

You were unexperienced and anxious for now. Territory untouched now so close to your feet, but Kuroo wanted to step into that territory not in front of you, but alongside hand-in-hand with you.

“Take good care of me from here on out then.”

Kuroo smiled and gave your hand a light squeeze and you leant in a little closer to him as the two of you sat under the seemingly aimless but connected stars.

You hadn’t let a lot of people into your life. Everyone stayed a few metres away from the door and they’d eventually leave after they never seemed to open. Kuroo had decided to wait and in the end it seemed worth it. The doors had opened for the first time and that’s what told you Kuroo Tetsurō was in fact an exception.

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[duke-remus]

I’ll Forgive You

First fic I’ve actually finished in this fandom. Ignore any glaring mistakes, it’s 1:30am and I’m tired.

Ship: Anxceit

Genre: Hurt/Comfort? Angst? Honestly no idea

Warnings: alcohol, one sentence referring to self harm.

Prompt: “Kiss me and I’ll forgive you.” (x)

-----

It was no secret that the two had a painful history.

For a long time, just the thought of Janus would trigger Virgil’s freeze-flight-fight response. When Virgil first left the dark sides to stay with the lights, he had hoped that some time apart would give them both room to breathe and recharge, that all they’d needed was a place to escape from each other when things were rough. He hadn’t expected the door to lock behind him. He hadn’t expected to feel as though his heart was being squeezed and prodded and torn apart. The pain never went away; he learned to keep his emotions to himself, to push away anyone who threatened to break the glass box he kept inside.

Until he had somehow been welcomed into the light sides’ family. It was a while yet before he allowed himself to be comfortable with his new friends. In each of them, Virgil saw something he missed from his life before. Morality had so much love inside of him, always pushing for Thomas to follow his feelings and do what was right. Logic was analytical and serious, more objective than Janus but still minding Thomas’ health and stress levels when making decisions. Roman was much louder and more flamboyant than Janus, and preferred Disney and Broadway over the slow, seductive sounds of jazz and swing, but still Virgil was reminded of the times he had heard the low hums and soft singing from Janus’ room.

It scared him to think he was using his friends as replacements for the one he’d lost when he shut the door. At times he would close out the light sides just like he’d been closed out by the dark ones. His room would go black and his soul would seep out of his pores, grieving the death of what was a relationship full of passion and trust that he had broken in anger and fear. If only he had held his tongue. If only he hadn’t walked away. If only he had recognized that the racing of his heart was his body’s way of telling him just how important the man was to him, how he felt the need to hold, protect, nurture like Janus had always done for him. The harsh words of their last conversation were a recurring nightmare, a lesson that was carved into every inch of his being. If only he had fought for love instead of against it.

Then came Janus’ big reveal to Thomas. Janus was right there in front of him, close enough to grasp and hold onto forever. Close enough for him to watch the light shine in his eyes, to observe the arch of his brow when he smirked… Close enough to see just how little attention Janus was paying him, how little he seemed to care. So, he chose to fight. He threw at him the wrath of every night spent missing him, every tear shed over him, every bruise and burn and scratch that resulted from his attempts to externalize the way his insides were being torn to shreds.

Janus kept coming back. He invaded the space that Virgil had learned to call home, tainting it with his deceitful essence with every step he took. Eventually, they learned to coexist. They avoided the other’s presence and pretended not to stare in longing when they were being watched. An icy layer of apathy settled over them, and Virgil almost wished to go back to feeling abandoned over feeling like nothing more than a shadow.

It was four a.m. on a Tuesday in December when the ice broke. Virgil had been tossing and turning in his bed for an hour, worrying about everything from Thomas’ plans for the next day to the sleep paralysis demons that were surely coming from his closet. He pushed himself out of bed, put on his hoodie, and headed for the common room as quietly as possible. He left his door open just a crack – it had become a habit.

He was trying to choose between making chamomile tea and going back to bed and making coffee and just starting his day off early. He wasn’t expecting there to be a figure on the sofa, a glass of wine on the end table, and a vinyl playing at a low volume. He stood rooted in place, watching as the figure wiped his eyes and sniffed before finishing his wine. He was wearing yellow gloves.

Virgil’s feet moved without his permission toward the sofa. He sat on the cushion next to the man but made no attempt to speak. A yellow hand conjured a second glass on the table. Virgil poured himself some wine and refilled the other glass.

They sat in silence until the sun began to climb above the horizon. By then, Janus had himself leaned against Virgil’s side, his head resting on the other’s shoulder. Slowly, their hands wandered until they could lace their fingers together. It was only once the wine had been emptied that Janus spoke.

“I’m sorry I locked you out,” he said, voice thick. He lifted his right hand to wipe away a fresh tear, his left hand still grasping Virgil’s.

Virgil took in a deep breath and let it out. “I’m sorry I ran away.”

“You had every right to want some space. It’s my fault for not letting you come back.”

It was pointless to argue. Virgil laid his head on Janus’, his thumb gliding back and forth across the fabric of his gloved knuckles.

The vinyl continued to spin.

“My anger is not your burden to bear. I was too selfish to admit that I was wrong, and I hurt you in the process.” He removed himself from Virgil’s shoulder and replaced his hat upon his head. He looked at the non-existent watch on his wrist as he stood. “We need to get some sleep tonight. I’m sure Thomas will be overjoyed at how poorly we function if we don’t.”

Virgil’s grip on Janus’ hand tightened slightly. “No running away this time. You know as much as I do that if we don’t sort this out now then we never will.”

Janus sighed but stayed in place. Virgil moved to stand in front of him and placed his free hand on Janus’ shoulder. “You hurt me when you kicked me out. I’m not going to pretend you didn’t. I was a wreck. I loved you more than I thought it was possible to love someone, and then I lost you.” He couldn’t hold the tears back any longer. He let go of Janus’ hand and pulled him into a tight hug. “I can’t keep acting like I hate you. All it does is make things worse. But don’t you dare push me away again.”

Janus ran his fingers through Virgil’s hair and nodded slowly. “So…” he wrapped his other arm around Virgil’s waist, pulling him closer. “Do you forgive me?”

Three final measures played from the gramophone before Virgil responded, “kiss me.” He pulled his head away from Janus’ shoulder and looked him in the eyes. “We can try again. I’ve missed you so fucking much, Janus. If you’re okay with it, if you want to try this whole thing again, then kiss me and I’ll forgive you.”

There was no hesitance when Janus kissed Virgil. Their lips brushed lightly, and Janus could feel heat spread from where they met. They kissed like their lives depended on it. Maybe it was the wine talking but in Janus’ mind their lives did depend on it. When they pulled back, the circles under Virgil’s eyes were shimmering violet. Janus peppered more kisses along Virgil’s cheekbones.

When they were woken for breakfast three hours later, they were wrapped in each other’s arms under Virgil’s blanket. They skipped breakfast, preferring to keep each other warm.

[taetaespeaches]

“I think you need to tell me the truth about how you feel towards me.”

taehyung x reader (or oc) genre: angst; fluff word count: 2.5K

a/n: ok, so of course, I made this way more complicated to follow than it needs to be. But basically, it takes place during and after my Yoon fic “I love you more than coffee” and before my Tae fic, “We’ve already taken it slow for six years.” So this is basically the biggest fight our lil Tae/Peaches get in, but obviously, we get fluffy again. Ok, so, I hope you all enjoy and can follow along ok. Thanks for reading :))

WAKING up, Taehyung felt sick, but it wasn’t from the large amount of alcohol he consumed the night before. Instead, it was the immediate realization upon entering consciousness that he had sent you a bunch of drunken texts that all but confessed his feelings for you. His best friend. And of course, you had answered them because you never ignored anything, and you especially never avoided tough conversations when they came up.

And a tough conversation was coming.

He reluctantly checked his phone, not really wanting to see if you had texted him again, which he was sure you had. And yup… two messages from ‘Peaches’.

Unlocking the screen, he immediately opened the messages. The first message read, “Jimin texted. We’re going to pick up some coffees (and juice) and come get you.”

And the second message said, “Don’t panic, but we do need to talk.”

Taehyung’s heart immediately began to race and he felt like he was going to vomit. Looking back over the conversation he had with you the previous night, he groaned, mentally kicking himself.

Tae: “Peaches I love you” Peaches: “Hi Dearest, I love you too. Hope you’re having fun tonight.” Peaches: “INVITE ME NEXT TIME” Tae: “You always have an invitation” Tae: “I’m glad you dumped that idiot” Peaches: “Ahaha I hardly dumped them, there was nothing really there” Tae: “Well I’m happy you’re not seeing them anymore. Don’t see anyone else please” Peaches: “And why shouldn’t I, Dearest?” Tae: “I already told you” Peaches: “??” Tae: “I love you” Peaches: “I know. I love you too” Tae: “In” Peaches: “What?” Tae: “You make me so happy but so sad” Peaches: “I do?” Tae: “Yeah” Peaches: “I’m sorry” Peaches: “Let’s talk more tomorrow ok? You need to rest” Tae: “I won’t want to talk tomorrow” Peaches: “Well I’m not having this conversation when you’re drunk. I love you. We’ll talk tomorrow” Tae: “Yeah ok” Peaches: “Goodnight”

Taehyung quickly typed out a simple, “I’m sorry”, and sent it to you before locking his phone. Taking a deep breath, he walked from the couch to the kitchen, plopping down next to Jimin on one of the stools that sat next to the counter.

Everything around Taehyung felt like a blur. When Yoongi’s girlfriend entered the kitchen, he barely took notice, much preferring to stare into space and internally freak out over seeing you in a matter of minutes.

When Yoongi came in, he again barely acknowledged it. His eyes followed the bodies around the room, but their words went through one ear and out the other. It wasn’t until Yoongi told his girlfriend he loves her more than coffee that Taehyung made a noise, in the form of an involuntary gasp. Where the fuck did that come from? Tae thought to himself.

“Sorry,” Taehyung spoke, his eyes looking from Yoongi’s girlfriend to Yoongi to Jimin. “Just surprised me.”

“Why would that sur- are you even alive right now?” Yoongi asked Taehyung, and before Taehyung could even decide whether to respond or not, a knock sounded on the door, resulting in his chest nearly bursting from the drum of his heart.

You were stood behind Jimin’s girlfriend, one of your closest friends, when Jimin opened the door, greeting his girlfriend cheerfully accompanied by a kiss to her cheek. She stepped into the apartment and you took a deep breath, slowly trailing behind.

It’s just Tae, you thought. Just Tae… what a joke. Tae was everything to you. He had been your best friend for about six years, but more and more recently, you realized your feelings had changed somewhere along the way. Just Tae had the ability to break your heart if he wanted to. You were his.

When you entered the kitchen, holding a drink carrier of coffees and a bottle of strawberry juice for Tae in the other, your eyes locked on Tae’s. Meeting his worried expression, you felt the need to assure him. You set the coffees down, telling Yoongi and his girlfriend which ones were theirs before taking yours out and making your way around the counter to your best friend.

You gave Tae a small smile, trying to silently assure him it was all going to be ok, and it seemed to relax him just the slightest bit. Standing next to him, you were surprised to see his boxy smile form on his face, a low chuckle sounding when Yoongi told his girlfriend, “I do love you more than coffee, Kid, but right now I think I love her the most,” referring to you.

You smiled at the ridiculous comment as you handed Tae his juice, running your fingers through his tousled hair in an attempt to comfort him. Taehyung instinctively leaned into your touch as you combed through his strands. Yoongi and his girlfriend kept talking, but neither you or Tae were paying much attention.

You removed your hand from him and crossed your arms over your ribcage as you stared at him, Tae carefully removing the cap of his juice and taking a sip. “Thank you,” he whispered to you, nodding to the bottle.

“You’re welcome,” you gave him a small smile.

“Fuck that’s good,” Yoongi’s girlfriend suddenly said, you and Taeyung looking at her. “Never mind, I’m in love with you too,” she said to you, both you and Tae giggling at the comment.

“Hey,” Yoongi said in offense to his girlfriend, all on eyes on him as he spoke. “She’s mine,” he teased with a small grin, very obviously fucking with his girl.

Looking back to Taehyung and seeing him smiling had you thinking that maybe clearing the air with him would be easier than you initially thought…

“Jeez, you might want to cancel your date tonight, you have suitors right here,” Jimin’s girlfriend, your good pal, said to you jokingly.

“What?” Tae asked pointedly to you, your eyes widening.

“Tae,” you said in a hushed tone.

“Your date?” he questioned, everyone’s eyes glancing to you and Tae before they awkwardly averted their gazes, trying to act normal.

Jimin reached for her his girlfriend’s hand to warn her to not say anything further.

As you and Taehyung stared at each other, studying one another, Jimin stood up, placing his hand at the back of his girlfriend’s back as she sported a guilty look. “I think we’re going to head out, but thank you for your hospitality,” Jimin said, trying to lighten the mood as him and his girlfriend walked out of the kitchen.

“Yeah, no problem,” Yoongi’s girlfriend called out, Yoongi nodding as they exited.

“What the fuck?” Taehyung whispered to you, as if that would keep the other two from hearing him.

“Can we go talk,” you whispered back. Taehyung took a deep breath, letting it out in a quick exhale before nodding.

“Thanks for everything,” he told Yoongi and his girlfriend sincerely, using the last shred of his composure to be polite.

“Of course, Tae,” she said, giving you a small smile as you waved goodbye to them.

“Yeah, see you later, Taehyungie,” Yoongi said gently, more aware of the situation than you even realized. “Get home safe, both of you.”

Stepping out into the hallway, Taehyung kept a fast pace as you followed behind him, trying to keep up. “Tae,” you called after him, only for him to keep walking. “Tae, will you stop and talk to me.”

His movements halted but he didn’t turn around. “A date?”

“It was just a stupid thing, I’m not even going,” you explained calmly.

“No, no, don’t cancel your plans on my account,” he said as he turned around. “Enjoy it.”

You huffed, annoyance building up. “She’s just some girl, it’s nothing,” you told him, only for him to shake his head, pissing you off further. “I’m not canceling anything on your account, by the way, why would I?” You knew you shouldn’t have said that, but frustration over his lack of openness with you had been building up.

“Good question,” he responded coldly.

“You need to be honest,” you told him harshly.

“Honest? With who?” His face was scrunched up in confusion.

“With me, with yourself,” you said, the volume of your voice louder. “I think you need to tell me the truth about how you feel towards me,” you said more quietly, staring into his intense gaze.

“I have been honest,” he insisted. “I love you, you know that.”

“What does that even mean, Tae?”

“It means I-” he took a quick pause, “just, do whatever you want,” he said dismissively, preparing to turn his back on you.

“What do you want from me?” You cried out, tears pricking your eyes.

He scoffed, shaking his head. “I want you to go on your date and leave me alone,” he told you. The tears threatened to fall, causing you to blink your eyes quickly as you turned your face from him. He watched you for a moment, and you were sure he was debating what to do next. He had never made you cry before. At least not that he was aware of.

He made his decision quickly, turning away and walking further down the hall. “Tae,” you quickly called out in your broken voice.

“This hurts,” he admitted, turning back toward you. “My heart hurts.” He spoke the words as tears formed along his water line. You opened your mouth to speak but he cut you off. “My heart hurts more when I look at you,” he added, his voice shaky. “And that’s the truth about how I feel about you. Why do you think I don’t date anyone?” He asked you rhetorically.

“What does that mean?” You questioned. You knew he shared similar feelings to what you had for him, but he never admitted anything until this moment, and you were scared to assume.

“Don’t be dense, y/n, it’s not a good look for you,” he said coldly.

“And being a fucking asshole isn’t a good look for you,” you countered.

“I’m done with this conversation,” he told you, his expression defeated.

“Don’t walk away, spell it out for me. What do you mean?” You said, an edge of panic in your voice. Were you losing him?

He looked at you for a moment before shaking his head. “It’s nothing. Please just, get home safe.” And with that he walked into the elevator and disappeared behind the closing doors.

You didn’t cry. Maybe it was refusal to believe that your and Tae’s relationship may be over. Or maybe it was because you and Tae were meant to be, and you were holding onto that. Maybe it was just shock.

When the elevator doors reopened, revealing the empty carriage, you stepped inside just as your phone buzzed. Checking the device, the message on the screen was from the girl you cancelled your date with. The text read, “Sorry I didn’t respond last night, I went to bed early. Don’t apologize, I was looking forward to getting to know you but I totally understand. Good luck with your friend.” With a sigh, you locked the phone.

Taehyung always called you stubborn. Affectionately. “It’s one of my favorite things about you,” he’d said before. “No matter how annoying it is sometimes.” He always wore that charming boy-like boxy smile when he put you in your place, and you adored it.  

He was right, you were stubborn. Maybe that trait was to blame for you knocking on the front door of the Bangtan dorm, telling yourself you wouldn’t leave until the fight with Tae was resolved. You had a key but that probably wasn’t appropriate considering how you and Tae left things.

A few moments later, the door opened to reveal a tired looking Taehyung, his hair cleaner than that morning, but just as disheveled. If you hadn’t had six years of learning about the depths of Kim Taehyung, you probably wouldn’t have noticed the expression of relief that flashed across his face for a very brief second before it was replaced with an empty expression.

“Please spell it out to me,” you pleaded softly, your eyes glistening which caused Tae to sigh sympathetically. He looked behind him into the dorm, scanning the area quickly. “Who else is home?”

“Just Hope-hyung,” he told you before placing a hand to your waist gently. “Here, let’s just close the door real quick.”

When the door latched shut, you both stood there awkwardly, both wanting to say a thousand things to one another but neither sure where to start.

You bit back a grin as you pathetically joked, “We’ve gotta stop meeting this way,” as you looked around the hallway. When his expression didn’t change, you timidly started explaining the joke before giving up. “You know, in hallways, we don’t seem to have the best luck and yeah, never mind.”

His lips curved up just the slightest bit as a tiny chuckle vibrated from his throat. “I’m really sorry, Peaches,” he apologized.  

“Tae, don’t, don’t,” you brought a hand up to wave him off, trying to shush him.

“No, I’m really fucking sorry,” he continued. “I shouldn’t have lost my temper like that, you don’t owe me anything and I don’t get to be upset over your dating life.”

“Don’t you though?” You countered, Tae’s mouth opening to respond but nothing coming out. “Look, Tae, I know how I feel about you and sometimes it seems like you feel the same way, but I can’t put my life on hold because I think you may reciprocate.”

“I know,” he told you softly. “I know, Peaches.” His hands reached for your face, gently holding your cheeks. “You know how I feel though. I don’t know exactly when the feelings changed, or if they were always like this and I was just slow to realizing, but-” he trailed off, gathering his words. You waited patiently, though your heart was beating so loud you were sure he could hear it. “You’re my best friend,” he nodded, “but you’re more than that.”

You let out a sigh of relief, staring at the sincerity in his face, knowing you both were on the same page, finally. “I don’t know where to go with this though,” he admitted with a small smile, you letting out a breathy laugh in response.

“Me either,” you admitted.

“I can’t lose you,” he told you seriously. “There was a moment today where I wondered if we’d be able to get past this and the thought of you not being in my life was the worst pain I’ve ever felt.” You nodded in agreement, tears gathering once again.

“We can’t be rash,” you told him.

“I agree,” he nodded.

“But we can’t hide these feelings again. We can’t go back,” you told him, Tae nodding in understanding.

“Maybe we can start with you coming inside and just hanging out with me. Like normal?”

“Like normal,” you nodded.

“Yeah, only this time, there’s no hidden feelings. We’re just taking our time, letting it progress naturally,” he added with a soft smile.

“Ok,” you accepted, returning the smile. “To the couch?”

“To the couch,” he giggled, taking your hand in his and leading you back inside the dorm.

And just like that, it was so easy. Taehyung was the both the easiest and most complicated relationship you’d ever had, and you wouldn’t change it for anything. You wouldn’t change him for anything or anyone.

[the-writing-moon]

My first writing challenge for the blog is from @flashfictionfridayofficial! The prompt is "Stronger Together." Here's a little sci-fi fic for that.

Title: Control

Word Count: 752

It is too resistant— It's much too willful, disobedient. Its garish, horrific limbs writhe in the air, whipping all over the place. Its phalanges— fingers? — fly to the space behind its head, trying to rip me to shreds with its thick, padded skin. I tighten my hold around its neck, clinging to the back of its body with desperation. I'm afraid I will lose control.

It roars. The sound reverberates in this craggy, rocky cavern, echoing against the uneven walls and damp floor. I feel my skin prickle with the feeling, and the creature itself shivers with the sound. It's as if the scream fed on its energy, and the creature withers away as it shrieks. I take note of that. It may prove useful.

It tries to buck me off, jerking its head left and right.

Where are my sisters? It is too wily for me to handle on my own. In the distance, I hear more of that harrowing sound. Roaring, shrill and high. The sound of pounding and loud bangs punctuate the screams. Panic floods my mind: my sisters! Where are they?

While my thoughts are distracted, the creature launches itself against the tunnel's slick walls, shouldering me against the rocks. I am thrown off! My grip loosens and I am flat against the wall, the large, barbaric thing beating me with its back again and again and again. The cool, rough rock wall bites into my skin painfully and I am blinded by shocks of white with every slam of its body. I would've screamed if I could.

And then— Someone reaches out, touches my arm. I look above and almost cry with joy. My sisters! Two of them, beautiful and radiant but more so now that I can see them. I know they feel my relief. Their presence calms me, peace infecting my panic. They each grab a hand. The next time the beast slams into me, they fly over its shoulders and I launch myself against the back of its neck. We never let each other go. We hold each other tightly, our bond a bond that will never be broken.

We savagely sink our teeth into the beast's salty, smooth neck. It screams, trying to pull my sisters off. Glee. That is the feeling I feel as I stab my teeth through the back of the creature's neck and yank down, parting the skin into a welcoming slit of red. With my lithe, flexible limbs, I yank the opening apart. The creature keels forward as I wriggle into the warmth. It is like a cocoon. Warm and safe and cozy. My sisters slip in after me and— we are one.

When we open our eyes, we see through the creature's eyes. We pull air into our lungs. We're surprised at the cold, filling feeling it brings us. We look down at the muddy dirt floor. Did we use to crawl there? It's almost unthinkable now. As we stare, we see shapes sweeping through the dirt towards us. They are pale, white stars. The bodies are small, but their five limbs were graceful, ribbon-like tendrils that swept the dirt aside to move. They don’t deserve this. Swimming in the dirt like common vermin did not befit them. They throw their sinuous limbs around our own tightly.

We try to rise up and a limb— foot? No, knee— bends forward weakly and we fall. It's always hard the first time. Carefully, we try to stand again. We bring the... hands to our face. The skin wasn't skin. It was something called rubber. It was a rubber glove. It was meant to protect the creature we now call us. We stretch our lips. Ah. An emotive impulse? Yes, a "smile." We found this funny. Our sisters were wrapped around the hands, the wrists. Graceful, beautiful. Ethereal compared to the creature we are now. It almost disgusts us. But survival can't be helped.

There's a sound behind us. Words, we realize. We look over our shoulder. There is another one of those creatures behind us. Its eyes look wild, panicked, and afraid. Its white hazard suit is ripped and muddy, and the face shield is gone.

“Doctor?" it's saying. "We need to get out of here. I can't find the others."

Ah. Our sisters haven't found this one yet. Oh, well. We might as well help them. Together, these funny savage creatures can do little about us. We smile, friendly, and move forward. We don't fall this time.

[seancekitsch]

Forgetting: Klaus Hargreeves x Reader Kinktober fic, Part of the Prize Buck series

warnings: deepthroating, kinda toxic no one has good coping skills, toys, overstimulation, talking about drugs and relapsing but not actually doing it

When Klaus gets home, he finds you on the bed with tears in your eyes, surrounded by papers you shouldn't be reading. Vanya had given him the heads up, that your research team (including your ex-fiance) had published. Not just anything, but your research. With your name carefully left out of the list of authors and contributors. This is what Klaus was rushing home for, to prevent and protect you from ever seeing this, or at the very least to be there and comfort you when you first discovered it. He knows this has to hurt. It's your entire career’s worth of work changing the field you love without bringing you along with it. Bringing the people that abandoned you along for the ride. It's everyone that shunned you flying on the wings of your work. And of course he knows your ex-fiance had a hand in it. The way the guy stared you down at the bar the one time Klaus saw him in person was enough for him to tell what kind of person he could be. That had to be another twist of the knife for you. 

He wants to protect you from it. To be some kind of hero, not like when he was a kid, but a real hero. To save you from the hurt and the pain, though he knows sometimes his protection is futile. He only hopes you know he would shield you from all of this and take the brunt of it if he could.You don't look at him, don't acknowledge his arrival until he begins collecting the nest of papers littered around you. Your eyes are brimmed red with tears and makeup cakes the bags under your eyes, but they're sober eyes. You haven't touched the bottle or the hash in the cabinet, Klaus notices, a decidedly good sign.

“How many years did I work on that?” Holy shit. Your voice is barely over a whisper, sounding not unlike a ghost, and he would know. 

“Don't go there,” he urges, trying to sound as firm as he can while still being gentle with you. Klaus shuffles the papers after they are all collected, straightens them like they are to be organized, then unceremoniously drops them on the floor. They bear nothing on your value and only have harm to contribute, so they don't even deserve the place on the table.

 “How long?” you repeat, looking more through Klaus than at him.

“Jesus, love. Snap out of it!” more emphatically, grabbing your shoulders this time. 

“No,” defiant and destructive, “This is the last thing I had.”

Klaus knows that. The last shreds of who you were before the clinic were gone now. You like your life. The one you have now. You have a little home and a partner that wants what's actually best for you, you have a job that doesn't drive you into the arms of an addiction, you have his family to supplement the one that no longer speaks to you. But the finality of it is like a sword on your neck. Your eyes leave his briefly, darting to the cabinet and back. Anything in there will only make you worse tonight. But instead of moving to get up, you rise to your knees and wrap your hands around his biceps, curling until nails bite crescent moons into his skin.

"Fuck me into the mattress, please I need it,” you beg, and he knows this look. This itch you can't scratch, this fix you can't fix yourself. The look you had when you first met. He knows you need him, and fuck, if you or he have any better options. He concedes, more than willing and happy to be that for you. If he cannot protect you from the things that hurt you, he’ll be the medicine and the treatment that heal you. Another small please dies on your lips as he claims it, swallowing it whole in a kiss. He kisses you further, using the momentum to push your pliant form down onto your back, crawling over you as you go. You're going to let him do whatever he wants to you, you concede. 

You trust him, that's love, you trust him to use you and be the stand in for any drug that could take the hurt and emptiness away from you. A true symbiotic relationship, like those sharks with the fish attached, but maybe you're both the shark and you're both the little fish attached. He suckles at your bottom lip, sure to leave it puffy and sore from kissing, leaning and laying his whole weight upon you in something less than a hug but more than an embrace. You want him to peel you apart, layer by layer, fuck you into nothingness and back again. You want him to use you, your body as an idle plaything for his appetite. A means to an end. Klaus leans himself into you, wanting you to feel yourself pressed into the bed, into him. If he covers you in him, you can't cover yourself in all the metaphysical shit you want to cover yourself in. But he has other plans for you tonight. Something to make your mind wander and put the sadness out of your mind. He strips you bare, piece by piece, hands and tongue racing to cover the newly bare skin. But then he stands up, and you openly and unabashedly whine at the loss of contact. 

But he shoots you a smile, to smooth away the pout, and reaches into one of the drawers. Of course he would go there tonight. Sneaky fucker always has something kinky up his sleeves. He unceremoniously sheds his clothes before returning to your bed, a bright purple, thick vibrator in his hands. The terminator, as you called it. When he returns to the bed he clasps your hands while transferring the terminator to them, placing a kiss on one of your knuckles before withdrawing and circling around to the other side of the bed where your head was. This was different.

“Fuck yourself with it, stuff it against your clit, do it,” he urges, leaning down your body and grabbing your left ankle, then your right. Lifting them into the air, his arms straight out in front of him to keep them parted and away from your body.  You obey, pressing the vibrator to your clit, rubbing it idly on the lowest setting, enough to moan through closed lips and to earn a smile from Klaus above you. 

“That's right, now push it in deep.” you obey again. Pushing the vibrator in as far as it will go, and turning it up to the highest setting. 

Immediately heat floods your body, a shiver wracking your body outright. Its powerful, you find yourself thinking there might be new batteries in the thing, or maybe your nerves are fried from emotional exhaustion. He holds your legs, though you struggle in vain against his hold, your climax rushing already from the sharp vibrations wracking your cunt unmercifully. He stares down at you not unlike a predator stalking its prey, that dark glint in his eye something dangerous and beautiful. He watches as you come undone, shaking and shivering and clenching around the vibrator, almost fascinated by the scene and the way you quietly thank him before sliding the toy out of you.

“Done so soon? I thought you wanted me to make you feel good,” his tone is playful but the intent is anything but. This is less a game, you know he means war. Tonight won’t end until you physically can’t move, and Klaus will make sure of it, you realize. The vibrator slides back into place, and even though you haven’t caught your breath from coming, your moaning and gently rocking your hips as you keep the toy in place.

“Open up for me, lover?” and you turn your head to be met with his hard cock, already leaking for you. Your lips part, welcoming him in as he starts to move, slow shallow thrusts against your lips and ready tongue. Your tongue lavishes his length gently savoring the feel of his soft skin against you as it travels the length within your mouth. Surely, Klaus moans in approval, little hums spurring you on as his thrusts get a little deeper, but staying on the conservative side of your molars. You love to get him off like this. It stirs your second orgasm up, pushing you to the brink with each little moan and thrust he gives as he shows his appreciation for you. When it hits you, the orgasm, the shuddering of your entire body, a moan rips itself from your throat and you moan around him, causing his hips to sputter, head of his cock bouncing against your throat. You turn the vibrator down with shaky hands, feeling the effects start to wear on your body. 

“Shiiiiiit shit oh my god,” he slips his cock from your mouth entirely, and your lips chase after it. “Did I hurt you?”

“Do it again,” your breathy voice, the open waiting mouth, Klaus has no choice to obey, pushing back in and not caring about the gentleness of a shallow thrust. He pushes until you gag a little, letting up only to let you breath, but keeping himself in your mouth as far as possible. 

“No, no sweet thing turn it back up, I wanna feel you moan all the way from the back of your throat,” commanding prophet voice, you recognize, and once again the vibrating onslaught begins. He holds you there, laboring to breathe as the toy wrecks your body, shaking and contorting from the overstimulation. He moans and praises you as his hips thrust, fully fucking your mouth until the tip of his cock bumps at your throat, relishing in the feeling of your warm soft lips wrapped around him and the whimpering, pleading moans from your throat. 

“One more, can you do that?” he checks in, “Can I finish in your mouth tonight?”

The hand not holding the toy in your soaked and aching pussy gives him a thumbs up, and he begins to thrust a little faster, earnestly trying to finish before you do. You almost can't tell where the normal overstimulation ends and your third orgasm begins, but a particularly hard spasm in your leg jerks Klaus’ arm forward, and you think that's probably it. He lets your legs go after that, letting you ease your back and drop the toy on the bed. When he looks down at you, all is lost. 

You look fucking beautiful. A goddess with smeared make up and a cock in your mouth. He’s never kidding when he says he would get people to worship you. If only everyone could see how beautiful you look, but honestly he would never fucking let them. Not after the tent situation. He watches your eyes as he finishes, silent promises and praise as he smiles and watches your throat bob, swallowing every last drop.

 There's an audible pop as he pulls himself from your mouth, your lips chasing to press a last little kiss to the tip before he’s too far away. He runs a hand through your hair, squeezes a breast, and then rounds the other side of the bed to grab the vibrator and put it away so you don’t accidentally lose it in the bed. That’s happened before.

“Remember,” Klaus starts, comforting partner voice, “in every dark cloud there's a purple vibrator.”

“No, that's not the phrase,” you dismiss, but you take his well meaning to heart. He crawls up on the bed, first covering your body with his, then rolling off to the side to snuggle up against you.

“Feeling a little better?” he asks, arms coming around you to squish your form into his bare chest warm and comforting.“How could I not be?” you whisper, kissing his skin and adding a little thank you that he might not even hear.

“Still want me to fuck you into the mattress, you wild thing?” he can feel you shaking from the collective aftershocks, muscles spasming and jolting under his firm hug.

“Save it til the morning, I’ll fall asleep if we try to fuck.”

“That’s not exactly flattering to my sexual prowess, but I’ll make you atone for that in the morning since you’re so tired.”And he kisses your head and you both drift off to sleep, on top of the covers and clinging to one another like life depends on it.

[pencilofawesomeness]

Fics I Absolutely Adore and Would Recommend to Anyone

I’ve been meaning to do this for a long, long time, because I love reading fanworks and they deserve a lot of love and I love sharing things that I love. 

Obviously this isn’t everything, and if it’s not on this list that doesn’t mean I don’t love it, it just means I forgot at this moment. I will be adding to the list and I remember things or come across it again. (Trying to sort through my bookmarks and subscriptions is like trying to catch a fish bare-handed.) I’m also gonna shy away from the one-shots, even though I adore fun one-shots, just for the sake of organization. The list would be super long otherwise, and those are best sorted by fandom. Here... Here are just some brilliant works I want to rant about. 

Disclaimer: I say “recommend” because I would recommend these works, any time any place, but do keep in mind the story’s rating and tags and stuff. Not everything is kid-friendly.

There is absolutely no hierarchy to the list below. They are added as I add.

Fairy Dance of Death

by Catsy ( @fairydanceofdeath​ )

Fandom: Sword Art Online Word Count: 660,282 Status: ongoing

「AU reboot of the entire SAO storyline, beginning from the premise that Kayaba Akihiko was obsessed with magic and Norse Mythology rather than swords and pure melee. As a result, he created the Death Game of Alfheim Online rather than the floating castle of Aincrad—a world in which player-killing is not a crime, and the nine player races are in competition with each other to reach the top of the World Tree. Multi-POV epic following the stories of multiple canon characters throughout the game.」

If Catsy wrote the SAO light novels and anime, SAO would be among the legendary series. Fairy Dance of Death has this amazingly simple premise of making Alfheim Online, the video game from the original series’ less-than-stellar second part, the game that the main cast becomes trapped in. However, it’s so much more. They took the characters and made them characters, and everyone gets ample spotlight—even background characters that normally wouldn’t receive a second thought. It’s masterful work, and to boot, there is a lovely frame of in-game mystery and player conflict. The organization is phenomenal and I aspire to world-build the way they did. Not to mention that stakes are so much higher and this series has ripped my heart to shreds more than once. 

It has also brought me great joy, and even when I was in the dumps and didn’t want to read anything, a FDOD update made me pick up my phone and read when I otherwise wouldn’t have. It has a really special place in my heart. It updates once in a blue moon, but that’s okay. 

Even if you have never seen a single piece of Sword Art Online, Fairy Dance of Death is still a great read. In fact, it’s the Better Version of SAO, if we’re all being honest, so I would especially recommend it if you hadn’t seen the original. Or if you have. The characters are given so much love and detail, to the point where Fairy Dance of Death’s characterizations are More Canon to me than Kawahara Reki’s work. It is just a beautiful piece of fiction, and it makes you question the depravity of man on levels that SAO shied away from. 

Poisoned Dreams

by StrangeDiamond

Fandom: Genshin Impact Word Count: 82,852 Status: Complete, with a complete sequel and more to come

「 Every night now, Diluc dreams of death. Usually Kaeya's. In between these nightmares his life is falling apart. It doesn't take Kaeya long to realize that this is something much more insidious than simple bad dreams. His brother's life and sanity are on the line and there is nothing Kaeya won't do to save him. Bonus chapter added.」

In a growing fandom from a new game, StrangeDiamond swooped in and characterized these bad boys so well I think it’s canon. It really breathes life into the video game lore, and it’s an A+ depiction of awkward sibling re-bonding post-Terrible-Happenings. Poisoned Dreams can be read alone with a basic understanding of Genshin storybuilding, but StrangeDiamond has an entire group of fics and oneshots set in the same headcanon, and they integrate them really well and subtly together. Not to mention that the narrative style is really clever with making you question what is real and what is dream (a big point in this story) and the inner voices of the point-of-view characters are very compelling. 

One Word to Change the World

by AgentMalkere 

Fandom: Fairy Tail Collective Word Count: 43,988 (30 parts) Status: probably never coming back

「 In just one universe, Ultear called out to her mother instead of turning away and the fate of Fairy Tail and the world was irrevocably altered. These are glimpses of a world where a single word made all the difference.

In other words, welcome to the Butterfly Effect - Fairy Tail style. 」

It’s a really cute canon-divergent, and while the series makes no attempt to re-write Fairy Tail, it addresses the major events and just snippets in between. It does a good job at giving the vast cast ample spotlight, but it’s also an easy read. It’s special to me because it was the series that made me really pay attention to Bickslow in particular, and I respect that.

Vigilantis Pretium Libertatis

by aradian_nights 

Fandom: Attack on Titan Word Count: 399,226 Status: Complete

「 Five years ago, an accident freed Eren Jaeger, Mikasa Ackerman, and Armin Arlelt from an experiment that forced the most extraordinary powers onto them. After five years of separation, of being raised apart to be heroes by a set of three very different adults, they meet again. As they uncover the truth behind their captivity they realize being free and being heroes are sadly nothing but an illusion. 」

This wrecked me.

I still remember when I read it. It was the beginning of 2018, and I had the flu and a lot of time on my hands, so I binge-read this. It was simultaneously the best and the worst thing I have ever done, because I resonated with it so deeply there were times I was just staring up at the ceiling wondering what was real. I empathized with the characters to a level I rarely achieve, and I empathize easily. I laughed. I cried. It was amazing.

I refer to this story in conversation to this day. It handled themes published authors have only dreamed of achieving. Heck, if Dani (the author) took out the names of the AoT cast and replaced it with new ones, it could be its own stand alone novel. It is worldbuilding from the ground up, and any fandom knowledge you take in with you is used against you like a knife leveraged against your throat. Yet, no one is out of character. It’s phenomenal. I would say more, but this is something I daren’t spoil for anybody, because you must be as wrecked as I was. Vigilantis Pretium Libertatis is a level of writing I achieve to gain as a writer myself. It is a masterpiece in every sense of the word.

Life in Glass Houses

by blueskyscribe ( @blueskyscribe​ )

Fandom: Transformers (Transformers Prime, Transformers: Shattered Glass) Word Count: 119,900 Status: Ongoing (maybe, I hope)

「 No one would have thought Bumblebee and Knock Out were capable of getting along, but when they're stuck in a strange new world and their only hope of survival is cooperation . . . Yeah, they're probably doomed. 」

I could be biased because Knock Out and Bumblebee are two of my favorite characters, but it really is brilliant. Two enemies, stuck together—but not in an overly cliché way. It’s the right amount of cliché, with heaps moral conflict and inner conflict and sometimes just beating each other with a broom when no one is looking. It’s also a fascinating look into what makes a character the way they are in relation to the morals they possess, and how stalwart those morals can be. I can’t help but think of this story whenever I see or write a “role reverse” or mirror-verse AU. It does an excellent job at making all of the characters engaging and their own character, despite being in a mirror-verse.

Yesterday Upon the Stair

by PitViperOfDoom ( @pitviperofdoom​ )

Fandom: My Hero Academia Word Count: 424,070 Status: Complete

「 Midoriya Izuku has always been written off as weird. As if it's not bad enough to be the quirkless weakling, he has to be the weird quirkless weakling on top of it.

But truthfully, the "weird" part is the only part that's accurate. He's determined not to be a weakling, and in spite of what it says on paper, he's not actually quirkless. Even before meeting All-Might and taking on the power of One For All, Izuku isn't quirkless.

Not that anyone would believe it if he told them. 」

As a person who normally doesn’t read these kind of minor canon divergences, especially at the time of reading, I frickin’ love this fic. In fact, I think YUTS gave me a deep appreciation for canon divergence fics. It’s MHA in all of its glory but it’s so much more, and even the parts that rehash canon give new light to the characters and their points of view. 

I had read Viper’s work before and saw Yesterday Upon the Stair filling my inbox, and then I finally watched My Hero Academia. It was one of the first MHA fics I read and it still has a very special place in my heart. I recommend this series to people who don’t even watch MHA; in fact, there are some who might prefer the darker tones and themes of heroism vs apathy to the main series. Not to mention the writing style is phenomenal, and I aspire to be that good. It made me laugh. It made me cry. Yes, tears streaming down my face crying. It is the best ghost story I have ever read.

the Vantage Point Universe

by Aggie2011 ( @aggie2011whoop​ )

Fandom: The Avengers (MCU) Collective Word Count: 1,032,651 (35 parts) Status: Ongoing (just slowed down)

「 Six months after the Loki incident, Clint isn't adjusting well. When an enemy from his days in the Army comes back to haunt him, he'll be forced to face a part of his past - and to move past Loki, if he has a hope of finding his place with the Avengers. (First of a universe created to center around Clint Barton) 」

// description taken from first installment

Have you enjoyed the MCU, especially the first-era Avengers phase, but like me, were disappointed in the fact that Hawkeye was barely there? The VP universe is for you. 

I honestly have a hard time remembering what was canon and what was VP. And if it’s not canon, it should be. The VP universe gave so much life to Clint and to Natasha and to all of SHIELD and even the rest of the Avengers. It’s just...so good. It’s completely immersive. It focuses a lot on Hawkeye and Black Widow from before the Avengers team-up, as well as after, and it all flows together so beautifully. Not to mention that I can be reading a mission that happened pre-series, so I know that they are going to live with all of their limbs, and I still sit there on the edge of my seat the whole time.

The OCs, minor as they are, that are created for this are also wonderfully done. I can’t believe Dan and Phil don’t exist in canon. Every character, canon or no, is engaging and dynamic, it is a pleasure to follow each point of view. The emotional turmoil is also handled very well, and the VP universe carries the MCU trend of humanizing its heroes and takes it so much further. 

Ghosts of the Future

by Evan Stanley ( @evanstanleyportfolio​ )

Fandom: Sonic the Hedgehog Word Count: comic (18 issues) Status: ongoing

「 About 200 years in the future, Silver the Hedgehog is an average kid living in San Francisco... except for his strange and terrible dreams of a dying Blue Hedgehog, a Black Hedgehog, and mysterious gems called "Chaos Emeralds". What will he do, when these "figments of his imagination" appear before him in his real life? 」

// description taken from first installment

Okay so this is the only one that isn’t an Ao3 story, but rather a comic on DeviantArt. However, it is still one of my favorite stories. Even though it takes the commonalities of Sonic canon and turns them on its head, GotF really treats the characters well. There are enough familiar world elements to create intrigue, but it is set in a completely different take of the future, so there is ample opportunity for world building and being able to engage with a completely new thing. I wish SEGA put as much love in the series (namely the games, because the comics are *chef’s kiss*) and all of its possibilities as creators like Evan Stanley do.

The friendship and family relationships in GotF are so diverse and all so fantastic to witness. It’s a keynote example of the new hero and the old veterans, and both parties are active and trying their best.

Do not be alarmed by the starting art style. Sure, it’s rough around the edges at first, but then it gets better, and then it gets gorgeous, and then you’re left there so stunned that it looks like just life canon art. And then you could be like me, blinking slowly as my small brain finally connected that this Evan Stanley is in fact the Evan Stanley. GotF is an amazing fanwork, but she also draws and writes for the Official Canon comics (the IDW ones now) and that work is also phenomenal and should be supported. 

Whirlwind

by Lynse ( @ladylynse​ )

Fandom: Danny Phantom, American Dragon: Jake Long, Miraculous Ladybug, Randy Cunningham: 9th Grade Ninja Word Count: 75,556 Status: Complete

「 Jake should be used to ominous predictions by now. Randy should know better than to blindly follow McFist. Adrien should think twice before sneaking away. And Danny really should've expected something like this when he got that phone call from Jake. (Secret Quartet fic) 」

I have to start by saying that I adore all of Lynse’s fics, and I chose this one simply because it is one of my favorites. But it’s all fantastic, one hundred percent. I also love Mirrored, the sort-of prequel to this fic, but Whirlwind just has the chaotic pure bean energy that each of the shows bring and it foils against each other so perfectly. This is the epitome of the Secret Quartet crossover, truly.

All fandoms and all characters get ample love, and the way the reader gets to see just how badly the characters’ assumptions are going is positively wonderful. It’s so easy to fall into the “I know what’s happening and so do the characters” trap, but Lynse leaps over it gracefully and lands in greatness. The fic had me smiling like a maniac one minute, and feeling sorry for my babies the next. Wonderful. Simply fantastic!

[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

Time - Good Omens Fic

Goal was to write three fics for this weeks @bingokisses prompts. Well, I got two! The first is “Time” a Night At Crowley’s Flat/Pre-Body-Swap/Wing Grooming fic. It’s for the prompt “Wrist kisses” which I had twice on my card, the first paired with “Wing Grooming.” I’m going to do edits before I move this to AO3, so let me know if anything sounds off!

“So that’s it.” Crowley lounged against the wall, arms crossed. Not looking at Aziraphale. Not looking at anything.

“Yes. I pretend to be you, you pretend to be me. Hellfire. Holy water. We survive.”

It wasn’t easy, keeping his voice steady. Aziraphale mostly managed it by not looking at Crowley, not thinking to hard about it, acting as though the entire problem were simply some clever logic problem. Most certainly by not imagining what would happen if they failed.

“Don’t like it.”

“Come now,” he tried to smile. “Let’s not start over again. We’ve considered every angle. The plan works, and it’s our – our best chance.”

Crowley grunted as if regretting his promise already. “Not going to argue. Just. Don’t like it.” He’d been belligerent since the moment Aziraphale had suggested the swap, inspired by his own recent experience with discorporation. He’d expected Crowley to dislike the idea, but the demon had fought against it, tooth and nail, every step of the planning process.

Not that Aziraphale didn’t have his own doubts. He’d struggled to keep them at bay since stepping off the bus. Now he pressed his hands together, ordering them not to tremble, as the fear started to grow in his gut, building, pushing out into his limbs and his heart.

Choose your faces wisely – that was clear enough. But playing with Fyre could mean many things, only one of which Crowley was immune to. What if he’d missed something? What if there was more to it?

What if the prophecy wasn’t intended to save both of them?

He imagined Michael’s sword, blade aflame, swinging towards Crowley while he was bound to a chair—

It wasn’t a noise, just a sharp intake of breath as he pulled himself back to reality, but it was as loud as a scream in the silent room. Crowley’s head snapped around, eyes pinning the angel through his dark glasses. “What’s wrong?” he demanded.

“Nothing.” Oh, his voice didn’t sound certain at all, his eyes still burned in the imagined light of Heavenly swords. Aziraphale cleared his throat and tried again, but no words at all came out this time, just a strained squeak.

Heaven would see this coming, surely. They would suspect as soon as Crowley stepped into the flames. He needed to outsmart them, needed to think of the next step, and the next, a hundred moves ahead, but he didn’t have time…

“Angel.” Crowley’s voice was sharp, a whip crack cutting through the silent room, and Aziraphale cringed, huddling into himself instinctively. “Bless it, Aziraphale, if you’re having doubts too, we need to rethink this. There’s still time, we can – can take off, be out past the Oort Cloud before either side notices. I know plenty of stars they’d never think to look.”

“Crowley, no. We’ve been over this already.” His voice didn’t sound calm but at least it wasn’t breaking anymore. “We can’t hide forever, they’ll – they’ll find us eventually.”

“I’d rather they chase us across the galaxy than – than stand around waiting for them to grab us. At least we’d have a chance. At least we’d have time.”

Aziraphale wanted that. Time. More than anything, he wanted time to think, to plan, to prepare. To stand beside Crowley and not be afraid.

But that was the problem, wasn’t it? There was no future if they ran, no earth, no them, just this one terrifying moment, stretched on and on for eternity, poised forever at the last moment before the attack. Always waiting. Always afraid. He couldn’t take a life of this, he couldn’t even take one night of this.

He was so lost in his own thoughts – torn between wanting time and wanting it to be over – that he didn’t even notice Crowley’s approach until the hand landed on his shoulder. It wasn’t rough – it was the gentlest touch, barely felt through his jacket – but the suddenness of it startled Aziraphale, making him stumble away.

“Crowley! There’s no need – I’m – please—”

“You aren’t fine, don’t try to tell me you’re fine,” he spat. Then, in a lower voice, “Talk to me.”

It was too much. Already he’d nearly given in to the fear, but this – this moment of concern – it tugged at him, threatening to break his last thread of dignity, of control, and that was the only thing keeping him going right now.

“There’s nothing more to discuss.” He tugged at his waistcoat, trying to school his expression. “And if – if you’re just going to argue, I’d rather you left me in peace.”

“Aziraphale…” A warning.

“I mean it, Crowley.” He interrupted, fighting to keep his mind from shattering. “That’s enough. Go!”

Crowley spun away, with a noise halfway between a snort and a snarl, and stalked through the enormous revolving door, disappearing into the next room.

Leaving Aziraphale alone with his thoughts.

--

Crowley glared at his trembling plants, burying his fingers in leaves, tugging at them for any sign of weakness, of spots or yellowing, any imperfections. But he didn’t really see them.

His mind kept shifting, jumping between a bookshop in flames, a voice in a bar, and the sudden appearance of Aziraphale at the airbase. A hurricane of worry and relief and fear and longing with nothing remotely like calm at its center.

He wanted to run to Aziraphale. Override all his objections, drag him away. Haul him off this world, to the stars, to Andromeda, to the farthest corner of the universe, far from the beings that wanted to hurt them, had hurt them again and again for thousands of years.

It wasn’t the first time. He’d wanted to at the airbase, run up, grab Aziraphale by the lapels. Make sure he was unharmed, shout at him to stop taking foolish risks. The same at the church in 1941, the Bastille in 1793, again and again, across centuries of companionship –

Wanted to reach out, pull him close, promise that everything would work out.

But he didn’t. Couldn’t. Never could. Maybe never would.

He’d always blamed it on their sides, needing to stay apart to stay safe. But he didn’t have that excuse anymore, did he? And that’s all it was. An excuse.

It was Crowley’s nature to be cold and distant. Aloof. Project coolness and confidence so that no one could see what lay underneath, the shattered worthless wreck of demon. Keep them all at arm’s length, even the being he least wanted to push away, and where did that leave him?

Alone in his solarium, shredding the weakest leaves off a fig tree, on what could be the last night of his personal eternity.

Had he always been this way?

Crowley didn’t think so. There had been a time when he’d been open, inquisitive, carefree. Long ago, before the Fall, before six thousand years in Hell and on Earth, before he learned…everything.

He could never go back to that. You couldn’t unlearn the truth of the world, once you’d learned it.

One glance over his shoulder, back at the door. He could go back. Apologize. Open himself up to the one being he knew would never hurt him. Say the words that had sat on his tongue for countless centuries.

He could, but he wouldn’t. Not tonight. He needed time. Time to get his head on straight, to learn to be honest with himself, to know what it was he even wanted.

And time was the one thing he didn’t have.

--

Aziraphale rested his hand on the door frame, wishing he had the courage to step through.

It was his own fault, of course. He’d pushed Crowley away. As he always did. It was easier.

He didn’t belong here, among humans, beside a demon. Simple fact: he was an angel, and he belonged in Heaven. There was no place else an angel could exist and feel whole and happy.

That, he’d always told himself, was why he had this aching emptiness inside – because he was far from his home, corrupted by earthly influences. A degraded angel.

Heaven talked a great deal about love. Angels love Creation, they love the humans, they love God most of all; they love each other, and they love him. In spite of all his flaws, he was constantly reminded, they loved him.

And he believed it. For a long time, he believed, because not believing was dangerous, and painful, and terrifyingly. And because, well…because that’s what he believed love was. How was he supposed to think otherwise? It was the only thing he ever knew.

But six thousand years on Earth slowly eroded his ignorance. He saw humans develop friendships, saw them fall in love, saw them care for their children, their parents. Saw some become cruel, or manipulative, or negligent; saw others be loyal, and warm, and welcoming even to strangers.

He learned all the ways that love could be expressed. All the things that masqueraded as it. What it could look like. What it should look like.

And even then, he could keep pretending that he found that in the cold, distant praise of Heaven, but only so long as he could pretend he didn’t find it anywhere else. That he didn’t have a being in his life who always supported him, always stood by him, never made him feel flawed or broken, never abandoned him.

Even now, when it might mean destruction for both of them, still at his side.

In the face of that, how could he ever believe that Heaven loved him?

He pushed the thought away, back into the dark recesses of his mind, where he’d carefully hidden it from himself for longer than the lifetime of civilizations. It was still a dangerous thought, a dangerous word. A distraction.

It wasn’t the time for such things.

He had to put their survival before everything else. It meant staying here and facing their former sides head-on, not running away and waiting to be caught. It meant deceiving Heaven and Hell, not angering them from some foolish desire to fight or take revenge. And it meant facing the challenge with cool logical minds not clouded by any newly acknowledged emotions. It made sense.

The best thing he could do for himself, for Crowley, was to keep his distance tonight.

--

I need a new plant mister.

For ten minutes, Crowley had managed to keep himself focused on pruning the trees, silently clearing out some leaves or stems to make room for new growth. The emotions raged somewhere deep inside, but the surface was as calm as ever. But then he noticed the echeveria was a little dry, went to give it a bit of water, and realized the bottle was gone.

Hastur had destroyed his plant mister, and he needed a new one.

He could simply manifest one, he supposed, as easily as he’d created the pruning shears. But the ones at the corner shop were so cheap, it was easier to just grab one on the way to Aziraphale’s bookshop, and take a few moments to see what new sprouts had arrived, then stop over at the bakery for some coffee and one of those crispy pastries.

Except.

Except there wasn’t a bookshop anymore, was there?

Which meant he wouldn’t be heading over tomorrow, or the next day, or ever again.

No more surprise breakfasts before the first customers of the day. No more late nights sharing a dozen bottles of wine and arguing about philosophy. No more perusing the poetry section when Aziraphale wasn’t looking, or thumbing through the latest illustrated guides to botany or astronomy that always found their way onto the shelf beside his sofa.

No more secretive walks in the park to share secrets and feed ducks. No more shoddy pretenses for a weekend drive. No more weaving the Bentley through four lanes of traffic.

The world had ended, but only for him and Aziraphale.

It wasn’t fair.

After everything they’d done, everything they’d suffered to save the world, they still lost everything and it wasn’t fair!

The knot of emotions he’d been holding back broke free in a flash, flooding him faster than he could control it. With a shout he hurled the little plant at the wall, cracking the pot, spilling soil everywhere. Then he grabbed the aloe vera, the orchids, the antherium. One after the other, thrown against the wall, the floor, the window.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He screamed, pulling over the umbrella tree, shredding all its leaves. “All of you! You worthless pieces of shit!” He kicked over a dragon tree. “You had your fucking chance! No more excuses, no more second chances.” A glass bowl full of air plants; he snatched it up and smashed it hard against the table, shards spinning off in every direction. “Make your fucking peace with the soil, because every one of you is—”

“Crowley!”

He spun around to find Aziraphale watching, wide-eyed, from the doorway.

Fuck.

Well. That’s the end of that, he supposed. After that sort of display, Aziraphale wouldn’t want anything to do with him ever again.

He clenched his fist, turning away, but that sent a sharp pain through his hand. Hissing, Crowley looked down to find a shard of glass, stuck in the side of his hand. Of course. Exactly what this day needed.

“Are you hurt?”

He shot a glare at the angel, suddenly beside him.

“Just a scratch. Leave me alone.”

Aziraphale’s hand landed lightly on his wrist, pulling the hand over for closer inspection. “You need to be more careful, Crowley.” He ran his thumb lightly up the side of Crowley’s palm and the little triangle of glass fell free.

“I’m not going to – to die from a little cut, Aziraphale.”

He’d meant it as a joke, of a sort, but Aziraphale’s hand tightened around his. “Don’t.” The angel’s thumb brushed across the cut, making it disappear in a small burst of healing. “You need to be more careful.”

“It’s a bit late for careful.”  He tried to pull his hand away, but Aziraphale ignored it, bending over as if to inspect his palm for damage. “Look, Angel…”

“What a mess!” Aziraphale tutted. “An absolute disgrace.” But he hadn’t so much as glanced at the graveyard of ruined plants all over the floor. Instead, he was inspecting Crowley’s nails. “And you expect me to go out wearing these tomorrow?”

“You’re one to talk. I saw the state of your wings earlier. Have you groomed them this millennium?”

“Even if I hadn’t, it still wouldn’t compare to this – this—” He held up Crowley’s hand, nails caked with dirt, cracked, uneven. “I thought you took pride in your appearance.”

“I’ve been a bit busy.” Crowley snatched his hand back and tried to walk away.

“I don’t want an argument tonight.”

“Then stop trying to start one!” He took a deep breath. “If it bothers you that much, I’ll go take a shower. You wait in the kitchen, or wherever you want.” He glanced around at the mess he’d made. “Don’t bother cleaning. No point, is there?”

“Crowley, stop!”

“It was ‘go’ before, now you want me to stop? Make up your blasted mind.” But Crowley stood still, glaring at him. “What is it? What do you want?”

“I want to take care of those nails.”

“You what?” But Aziraphale’s face was dead serious, set in his most stubborn frown. “Look, you fussy bastard, this isn’t – we don’t have time for this!”

“You have somewhere else to be tonight?” But when his hands reached for Aziraphale’s again, the touch was strangely gentle. “Let me take care of these. Please.”

The demon groaned, but what was he supposed to do? Not say yes? “Fine. If you insist.”

--

Crowley stared at Aziraphale, sitting cross-legged on his bed. Between them was a bowl of warm water, an array of tiny torture implements, and a towel, which Aziraphalehad used to briskly brush the dirt from Crowley’s fingers. Now he held the demon’s right hand, turning it this way and that to inspect each nail in the light of his halo.

“That’s a little better,” Aziraphale murmured, picking up the clippers and starting to trim.

“You know, I can do this myself.”

“Can you? Really?” It was strange, having his hand held this way. Entirely in Aziraphale’s power, unable to move, yet it was only the lightest pressure, really. Firm, but gentle. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you chewed them.”

“Only when they break.”

“That isn’t funny. Look at this.” He lowered Crowley’s right hand and picked up the left, pinching the thumb between his fingers. “Just look!”

“Looks like a thumb.”

Another tsk, and Aziraphale set to clipping again, not trimming each nail as low as he could (as Crowley usually did), but instead quickly removing the sharp edges or cracked portions, leaving a few millimeters on each. When he was satisfied, he picked up an emery board. Crowley expected him to start scrubbing roughly, sandpapering his nails smooth. Instead, with a few quick delicate motions, he reshaped each nail into a perfect oval. Now and then, he paused to scrape underneath with the point of a nail file.

“What is this, anyway?” He held up the tip of the file, covered in hard flakes of black residue. “I thought it was soil, but it isn’t the right consistency.”

Crowley gulped. He remembered charging into a burning shop. Driving for almost an hour in a flaming car. Falling to the ground at the airbase more than once—

“Dunno,” he said weakly. “Could be – lots of things…”

Aziraphale’s hands hesitated over Crowley’s smallest finger, and he could see how the emery board trembled. Yeah, you’re cleaning the last of your bookshop out of my nails. How does that feel? Crowley wished he had something comforting to say, but he just felt hollow. The day had left him without anything to offer.

With a deep breath, Aziraphale steadied his grip and got back to work.

“Why?” Cowley found himself saying, as the angel moved back to his right hand. “Why are you wasting your time on this?” On me?

“Don’t be foolish. Time spent with you is never wasted.” Blue eyes flickered up again to catch his gaze before focusing on the nails once more. “Although I do wish you’d put a little effort into basic maintenance without my needing to nag you.”

“But—” He bit his words off, not knowing what to say. “Why?”

“Why? Why? You spend an hour every day on that ridiculous hair, not to mention weeks spent putting together your – your ‘new look’ every few years. I would think you’d agree that personal grooming is its own reward.”

“No, I…” He watched the long, thin board move back and forth. His fingers were curved slightly in Aziraphale’s grip, pinned in place by his thumb. “I just thought you’d want to be alone.”

Silence for the length of two fingers. “Why on Earth would you think that?”

His stomach was hard as a rock, twisting with emotions he couldn’t name. “I…I’ve been awful,” Crowley confessed. “All night long, since we got back, I argued, I snapped at you. Threw a tantrum. The other day, I shoved you against a wall. And…and this morning I called you stupid…I’d think you’d want to be as far from me as possible.”

“As I recall, you were the one who wanted to abandon me for the stars.”

“No…” But he had said that, hadn’t he? “I didn’t…I wouldn’t really…”

“Oh, hush.” Aziraphale frowned and moved to the last nail. “I’ve known you for six thousand years, Crowley, I’m well aware you have a temper. I have never held against you the things you said, or did, when you were angry.”

I have plenty of other people to ‘fraternize’ with. I don’t need you.

“Never?”

“Never.” Aziraphale put down the file and pressed Crowley’s hands between both of his. “I’m sorry I didn’t make that clear.”

He lowered Crowley’s hands into the bowl of warm water. Aziraphale had added some sort of soap, and it clung thickly to his fingers in a pleasant way.

“Still…I don’t like you to…to see me like that…”

“You’ve seen me at my worst,” Aziraphale reminded him. “Do you think less of me?”

His worst? Crowley couldn’t even imagine what that would mean. The embarrassing smile as he showed off his latest magic act or shouted encouragement at the actors in a play? The possessive gleam when he saw a priceless first edition, whether one of his own or one he was about to acquire? His incorruptible desire to see the good in absolutely everyone, even Gabriel, even Crowley?

“No,” he whispered as his heart surged anew. “No, I never have.”

Aziraphale nodded, watching Crowley’s hands as they soaked in the water. “It’s good, you know, to-to have a simple ritual in a time of stress. Something you can walk through, step by step. Unhindered by, ah, by emotions. Very calming.”

“I do feel a little better,” Crowley admitted.

“I expect you do. But…I meant for myself.” He lifted Crowley’s hands free of the water and gently patted them with the towel. “I’m…I’m…well, I’m rather convinced I’m going to let you down tomorrow. Not play my part well, or…or lose my nerve…or overlook some vital clue…”

Crowley felt the tremors in Aziraphale’s hands before he suddenly pulled away, fingers twisting in the towel, pressing it against his mouth. But he couldn’t hide the wave of emotion that overtook him before Crowley’s eyes.

“Angel!” Crowley grabbed his shoulders, newly manicured fingers feeling more sensitive against the fabric of his shirt. “Aziraphale look at me.” Slowly, the blue eyes came back into focus. “We don’t have to do this.”

“We do. Crowley, it’s the only way.” The towel crumpled further as he crushed it in his grip. “I – I – I won’t – I’ll find a way, I just need to – to buck up…”

“Are you scared?”

“What? No, I – I—”

“Because I am.” Crowley let go with one hand to pull his glasses free, toss them aside, then reached up to brush the back of Aziraphale’s hand. “Have been for…longer than I can remember, but then I lost you. Last night, and this morning, and then…the fire…” He swallowed. “And you know what? Each time it felt more real and more painful than before, and I don’t…I can’t…”

His gut heaved. The hollowness he’d felt after the fire opened again, threatening to devour him, permanently this time. “Aziraphale. I am more terrified right now than I’ve ever been in my life, and I don’t know how to stop it. So. If you’re scared…that’s fine.”

The towel fell, and Aziraphale took Crowley’s hand in both of his again, but this time clinging to it, clutching it, pressing Crowley’s fingers against his lips where the towel had been a moment before. Crowley reached with his free hand and…what? Touch his face? His hair? What was he supposed to do?

Before he could decide, Aziraphale seemed to blink his eyes clear and look again at Crowley’s nails. “Just a few hangnails to trim, and then we’re done.”

“Nh. Yeah.” He settled more comfortably. “Whatever you want.”

--

Aziraphale held Crowley’s hand, carefully massaging moisturizer across his palm, between his fingers, and into his nail beds. Memorizing the shape of them, the knobby knuckles, the veins on the back of his hands.

He’d wanted to do this once before, when the thoughts that needed to be hidden, even from himself, had threatened to overwhelm him. 1941. He’d longed to sit Crowley down and wash his feet, check them for burns and injury after his walk across hallowed ground. Let the activity distract his mind from the thoughts and emotions he couldn’t afford to acknowledge, and just be there, in the moment, caring for Crowley. Appreciating him. Holding him.

It was just as well he hadn’t attempted it back then; evidence tonight suggested it didn’t work.

He ran his thumbs across Crowley’s palm one last time, smoothing in the moisturizer, feeling the skin plump up, taking note of the calluses here and there just below the fingers. He didn’t want to let go.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley said, when his fingers had lingered perhaps a bit too long. He looked up to meet the demon’s golden eyes. They were soft tonight, and vulnerable, and filled with pain that tugged at his heart. But that pain seemed to be fading, replaced by…by one of the things Aziraphale was not supposed to be naming. What with the thunderous pounding of his heart in his chest and the blood in his ears, Aziraphale almost missed Crowley’s next words: “Thank you.”

Very suddenly, his heart went absolutely still.

“You…you’ve never…said thank you.”

“Grave oversight.” Crowley turned his hands over, running his thumb across his newly manicured nails. “This is…yeah, this is nice.”

“Ah. Well.” Aziraphale waved a hand, neatly teleporting his supplies into a different room. It was his usual method of cleaning up – eventually, things would wind up where they were supposed to be – but he realized alarmingly late that this now meant he and Crowley were simply sitting on a bed together. “I…I suppose I should thank you. For, ah, for indulging me—”

“Should I…return the favor?”

“Ah!” He snatched his hands against his chest, as if afraid Crowley would steal them entirely. Well. That wasn’t quite what he was afraid of. “Return? How – how would you – Crowley, my nails are – are already in tip-top shape, and you wouldn’t—”

“Your wings. Like I said,” Crowley went on, familiar sharp edge slipping into his tone, “absolute mess. You’re one to talk about grooming, carrying around two disasters like that.”

“Crowley!” Aziraphale was about to snap something else, but his eyes accidentally met the demon’s, and there was nothing mocking about them at all. Anxious, shy, almost waiting to be hurt. Did he always hide that expression behind his glasses?

“I, ah…I’ve never…how do we do this?”

Crowley’s eyes went wide. “Ngk. Unh. I mean. Sit there or…or maybe…lay down? On your stomach?”

“Ah, yes, I wouldn’t want to – to get tired, holding them up.” Aziraphale stretched out across the top of the duvet, resting his cheek on one of the pitch-black pillows, and extended his wings.

He could have sworn he heard a heavy breath – maybe a gasp, maybe a sigh. “Just as I thought. Look at this utter disgrace. When was the last time you preened?”

“Well, as I never walk around with them out—” Aziraphale was cut off by an impossibly gentle touch, two fingers brushing lightly across the leading edge of his wing. It felt…good, an electric shiver that ran down his wing and up his spine.

“Oh! S-sorry.” Crowley sounded embarrassed, which was something Aziraphale had never heard before. “I shouldn’t have…is this alright?”

“Yes. It’s…it’s very much alright.” He wrapped his arms around the pillow, feeling the need to brace himself, and stretched his left wing slightly. “Please, continue.”

The touch of Crowley’s palms against his wings was electrifying, yes, but also gentle, soothing. He carefully explored down the length of them, not stirring any feathers yet, just learning the ways they lay against each other, where they grew thick, where the flight feathers emerged. Aziraphale could feel the feathers that were out of place now – they snagged and tugged against Crowley’s hands, bunching in the wrong spots. Uncomfortable, the way sitting in a chair too long could be uncomfortable without even noticing.

“You’re lucky you didn’t need to fly,” Crowley remarked, scolding, as if it was an everyday risk, instead of something that hadn’t come up in five thousand years. His fingers now flicked around the shortest patch of Aziraphale’s coverts, just shy of the leading edge, finding one of the culprits. Manicured fingertips burrowed deep into white feathers, hot against the skin and muscle beneath, and with a few quick but gentle scratches twitched it back into position. “Does this hurt?”

“No…That feels…” Crowley traced the feather from base to tip, pushing the barbs back into the correct alignment. A few more strokes ensured it lay, flat and neat, alongside the rest.

“One down, dozens more to go. And that’s just this side. Hope you’re comfortable.”

He was, though. Aziraphale closed his eyes, sinking into the gentle rhythm as Crowley moved – feather by feather – across his wing, setting each to rights. He felt as though a burden were being lifted, the worry in his stomach slowly unknotting, bit by imperceptible bit, as if the world were fading away, leaving nothing but that touch.

By the time Crowley reached Aziraphale’s alula feathers, the pain in his gut was gone. As he worked his way back across the primary coverts towards the scapulars, Aziraphale began to forget what he’d been worried about. Then the warm fingers ran down the first of his flight feathers, and time stopped entirely.

--

Crowley had never imagined Aziraphale’s feathers could feel so different from his own, but they did, so soft and delicate he would have believed they were pieces of clouds if not for the warmth that emanated through them.

Was it because angel feathers were somehow more pure? Or was it simply a matter of familiarity – that his fingers had stopped even noticing the texture of his own wings?

He was nearly finished. Really, he was done already, but his hands still glided across coverts and primaries, feeling for anything out of place, any excuse to delay longer.

“Right there, please.” Aziraphale suddenly interrupted. “Just…just a little itch. Could you…?”

“Got it.” Crowley let his fingers sink in again, scratching gently at the base of a feather. “Here?”

Aziraphale just murmured in relief, a little sigh. Crowley had knelt beside him to better reach the wing, but now Aziraphale shifted, pressing their hips together. “This feels simply marvelous.”

“Y-yeah,” Crowley said, clearing his throat. “S’why you’re supposed to do it regularly.”

“I should have asked you to, years ago.”

Crowley smoothed the feathers back into place. He was finished. It was time. Time to switch and part ways, possibly forever.

He didn’t lift his fingers from the edge of Aziraphale’s wing.

“Would you have?” Crowley wondered, surprising himself to hear the words out loud. “Would you have let me, if I’d asked?”

Stirring, Aziraphale tucked his wings away, all that glorious heat vanishing to another plane. He rolled over and considered Crowley, but didn’t sit up yet. “I’m not sure. I…I would have wanted to. But…well…”

“And if I’d – I’d asked for other things?”

“I don’t know. Would you have asked? If I’d indicated my interest?”

Somewhere, the sun was rising. Somewhere, the day was starting. Time, never any time.

“I don’t know,” Crowley confessed, the words ripped from his soul. And then, not letting himself think, he fell forward, onto the pillows.

Aziraphale caught him, pulled him into an embrace. “I want to find out, Crowley. What we are. What we can be. I wish…I wish…”

Long fingers reached up to cradle Aziraphale’s cheek. “I know, Angel. I know. We’ll get our chance.”

Aziraphale nodded, though the tears in his eyes said he didn’t believe it. A brush of fingers on the back of Crowley’s hand, and Aziraphale turned to kiss his palm, his wrist. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I wasted our time. And now…”

“No, you didn’t waste anything.” He pulled Aziraphale roughly against his chest. “You hear me? Nothing. I’m…I’m glad for every moment we had.”

The angel didn’t respond, just sobbed, once, face pressed into Crowley’s shirt.

“Shhh. We’ll survive this. I swear it. And then we’ll have eternity to figure this out. Alright? You and me. And…and things will be different this time. I’ll be different.”

“Don’t you dare,” Aziraphale said, his arms locking behind Crowley, strong enough to break his spine. “Don’t you change a thing, Crowley. I don’t want anything to be different.”

“Really? You’re happy with how things were?”

“Oh, yes.” Aziraphale pushed back, just enough to meet Crowley’s gaze, eyes wide and wet and earnest. “So…so very happy, when we were together.”

“Well, then.” Crowley bent forward, resting his lips on the top of Aziraphale’s head. “That’s what we’ll do, yeah? Be together. Forever.”

[goldenchan-fx2thepeacock]

Don’t Go Running Off Into Danger, Even If I Do

Randon idea for a DP (Danny Phantom) GF (Gravity Falls) crossover. I’ve been browsing Tumblr tags for way too long and whatever. This, unlike the neighbourhood phantom fic from earlier, will have multiple chapters. Also, Danny is sixteen and Dipper and Mabel are fouteen.

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Chapter One

The fight with Skulker was a long one. Maybe that was an understatement. Sam and Tucker were both out of town and he was stuck with Wes and the ghosts alone. Well, Wes wasn’t exactly an issue, but if he somehow got proof, Danny would be in a pickle. He set down in the alleyway and stared at the tattered remains of his jumpsuit. Whatever. Street clothes Phantom would have to do for now. Danny sighed and the glaringly visible binder. At least Skulker hadn’t seen. With a twirl of his fingers, the tattered jumpsuit becam a pullover hoodie with the Phantom logo and ripped jeans. Once the clothing change was done and it didn’t seem like anyone was watching, he transformed. As his luck would have it, he heard a gasp. Luckily, it wasn’t someone he knew. 

~~~~~~~~~

Mabel and Dipper had just moved to Amity Park to live with their Aunt Molly. Dipper was excited because he’d heard that there was a lot of paranormal activity here. Mostly ghosts but still. What he wasn’t expecting was to see a boy with white hair wearing a black sweatshirt turn into one with black hair and a red tee. Both he and Mabel gasped. The boy cursed under his breath and turned around. “Oh thank god. At least you aren’t anyone who knows me. Welcome to Amity Park!” The boy seemed stressed.  “What was that! That’s so cool!” Dipper said excitedly. “Listen, I’ll tell you, but you gotta promise to keep it a secret. What do you know about Amity so far?”  “Just that it’s a hotspot for paranormal activity, nothing like Gravity Falls, but alot happens here,” Dipper said and pulled out the journal to write info down. “I don’t really know what Gravity Falls is, but Amity is a hotspot for ghosts. Mostly cause my parent made a portal in the basement of my house. So, you know nothing about Danny Phantom?” “I think I might’ve heard rumours on the street?” Mabel says. She was staring at the boy. Great, a new crush.  “Well, Danny Phantom, who just so happens to be my alter ego, goes around dealing with the ghost threats and making sure Amity doesn’t get completely destroyed. My name’s Danny Fenton by the way,” “Don’t you think that’s kinda obvious?” Dipper scribbled a picture of Danny into the journal. “Nah. Even my own parents don’t know, and they’re the ‘leading experts’ in the field of ectobiology and ghost hunting,”  “The what now?” Mabel said. “Study of ghosts. Heck, the portal wouldn’t even be open if I hadn’t half died when turing it on,” Danny laughed. “You died?” Mabel stared at him. “Yes and no. Nobody knows Danny Phantom is only half ghost except fucking Vlad and the rest of the ghosts,” “Who’s Vlad?” Dipper was curious. “Ah, Vlad Masters. Mayor of Amity Park. Pretentious billionare. Creep trying to get into my mom’s pants. Oh, and Plasmious on the side. Could you believe that my parents created two half ghosts?” “We let a dream demon into our world a couple summers ago,” Mabel said. “Mabel, that violates the Never Mind All That Act,”  “He’s been through weird stuff too!” “I mean, I fought an all powerful ghost king that sucked Amity into the Ghost Zone,” “Fair enough,” Dipper conceded. Danny looked down at his watch.  “Listen, I’d love to stay and chat, but I’m gonna miss curfew. And Skulker needs to go home before he figures out a way out of the Fenton Thermos,” “Wait! Where can we find you?” “Look for the big glowing FentonWorks sign. It’s impossible to miss. And don’t mention the Phantom thing to my parents. They want to rip me apart molecule by molecule as is!” “Are you sure that’s enough direction?” Dipper was skeptical. “You couldn’t miss FentonWorks if you wanted to,” He laughed and ran off. Dipper had half a thought to follow him, but they had to get to Aunt Molly’s. 

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

Danny ran to FentonWorks. He probably would’ve flown if he’s though of it or if he wasn’t concerned about getting caught. The kids weren’t from Amity at least. He managed to get in just as his curfew alarm went off. “Daniel, you almost missed curfew!” his Mom said. “Yeah, but I didn’t!” Danny said triumphantly. “No, I suppose you didn’t,” She sighed and went back to whatever blueprints she was drawing up. If it mattered, he’d find out. Once he was certain she was distracted, he went down to the lab and stuck the thermos in the attachment.  “Dann-o! You catch a ghost?” Fuck. Danny turned to his dad. “Nah. But I left my thermos out accidentally. I put it in just in case someone caught one with it,” He was getting way too good at lying.  “Oh well. It’s good to see you got back in time,” Dad pulled Danny into a bone crushing hug. “Dad! I gotta get my binder off before you can break my ribs!” Dannt squeaked out. “Oh right. Sorry Dann-o. Go get changed,” Dad put Danny down and gave him a slap on the back. Ow. Danny rushed upstairs. He wrangled the binder off and flopped back on the bed once he put his shirt back on. Jazz poked her head in. “Hi Danny!” She said cheerily.  “Sup, Jazz Spazz,” He sat up. He had a burn on his thigh from the fight. “Keep in mind only you can call me that. Finally catch ‘Ghost X’?” She said. Danny snorted.  “I’m going to kill you if you call Skulker that seriously ever again. Yeah, I caught him. A couple of newbies saw me transform though. Now I have to explain stuff to them so they keep my secret,” “Well, at least they won’t tell!” “Jazz, always looking on the bright side,” Danny pretend narrated. They both giggled.  “Well, Mom and Dad are gonna be out giving protection to the people tonight,” “Planning sesh! Yes. I can fix the jumpsuit,” “Oh geez, what happened to it?” “Just got shredded. Skulker didn’t see anything, but still,” “Oh. I’ll get the sewing supplies,” She walked into her room.

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

Dipper and Mabel walked into Aunt Molly’s house.  “Hey kids! Glad to see you got here in one piece!” She rushed over to them and kissed their heads. “Yup. We’re here. Hey, Aunt Molly, do you know where FentonWorks is? We met someone who said they lived there today,” Mabel said. “Oh, that eyesore. Nothing against Jack and Maddie, but they could really use some decorating help. Who did you talk to? Jazz or Danny?” “Does everyone in town know them or something?” Dipper was shocked. “Well of course. Fenton tech is the best protection from ghosts other than Phantom,” “Well, it was a guy, so Danny I’m guessing,” Mabel said. Of course it was Danny. “Ah, Daniel. Poor kid. Dash Baxter needs to leave him alone. Runs at the sight of a ghost. If you ever need to get to his place, I can give you a ride,” Molly sighed. Dipper would’ve thought more in depth about it if there wasn’t a loud knock on the door.  “That must be the Fentons. I forgot it was safety tech day,” She opened the door. A man in an orange jumpsuit came in. He was massive. But the black hair and blue eyes were recognizable. A woman came in behind him. She was in a teal jumpsuit.  “Jack, Maddie! Come in. These are my neice and nephew, Mason and Mabel,” “Can you call me Dipper?” He turned to Molly. “I thought you would at least introduce yourself formally,” Molly sighed.  “Ah, new kids. Remember kids, if you see the menice of that ghost boy, you stay clear. Town might make him out to be a hero, but he’s not!” Jack said. Dipper and Mabel exchanged a look. Poor Danny.  “Alright, that’s not why we’re here. Do you want a ghost shield to keep the kids safe Molly?” Maddie pulled out a strange contraption.  “You know, that doesn’t sound like a horrible plan. I don’t know why you bother with yours when you have a portal in your basement,” “We close the portal most times,” Maddie seemed offended.  “Oh well. I’ll take a few lipstick lazer and wrist blasters with that,” Molly placed the contraption on the shelf and Maddie pulled some lipsticks and weird blaster thingies out of her bag. The Fentons left. “Don’t listen to them about Phantom. They have prejudices against him for no reason. He’s saved our town too many times to count. The least they can do is stop threatening to dissect him!” Molly scoffed. Dipper went pale. But he didn’t have time to think about it. They had school in the morning.

[janicho88]

Unlocking Secrets

Pairing-Dean x Reader

Word count- 3928

Warning- Slight angst, little fluff, implied smut, injured reader and angry Dean.   

A/N-This is for @deanwanddamons and @impaladreamers’  I do get that reference writing challenge.  The show I chose was I Love Lucy.  For this fic, Gabriel didn’t go into hiding after season 5. 

Summary-  Things have been a little rough between you and your best friend lately.  Is he tired of having you around.  A rough hunt, and a trick or two bring secrets to light in a different world. 

You were so relieved to be walking back into the bunker after this last hunt.  It had been a rough one to say the least, and ended up with you and Dean arguing again.

 The three of you had gone after a small pack of werewolves, assuming there were only 5 of them.  Entering the abandoned house they were occupying you had quickly realized that number was oh so wrong.   There were easily 9 in the room you and Dean walked into, and you heard more in the back where Sam was to enter from.

 It was a struggle but you finally managed to take them all down, but not before you ended up hurt.  Out of the corner of your eye you saw one sneaking up behind Dean, claws out, without thinking you pushed him out of the way. He turned in time to see the monster’s claws shred through your shirt and skin across your side and stomach. Quickly firing he took down the last one as Sam came bursting through the doorway. 

 Sam rushed to your side seeing the blood flowing from your cuts, he pulled your flannel off to hold against your open wounds while he helped you outside to the car.  Dean was notably absent as you made your way out.  While Sam was tending to you outside Dean had gone back to the house with gas and matches to take care of the mess. 

Back at the hotel, Sam was the one who stitched up your wounds when Dean dropped you off and sped out of the lot.  After a shower to wash away the blood and grime from the hunt you exited the bathroom towel drying your hair and spotted Dean sitting on your shared bed.  Coming closer you could smell the alcohol on him, guess that’s where he went when he left.

“Why the hell would you do that, what were you thinking?” Dean suddenly yelled.

“What?”  You were shocked at the anger coming from the oldest Winchester.

“You put yourself in danger, why would you do that? If he had gotten you a few inches higher or even a little deeper, you wouldn’t be standing here right now.”

“Dean, if I didn’t push you away it would have been you!  I don’t want to lose you.  I’m fine, it’s a cut, a deep one, but still a cut it will heal soon.”

“I can handle myself, I don’t need you getting in the way.”  Dean scoffed, grabbed his bag and headed out to the car shaking his head.  The ride home started out fairly quiet each of you in your own thoughts until Dean noticed Sam going through his phone. “What are you thinking out?”

“I’m just checking the news.”

“We barely finished this one, you aren’t looking for another case are you?”

“Just seeing what was going on in the towns we are passing through, it’s no big deal Dean.”

“The last thing we need right now is another case for Y/N, to make some stupid move and end up hurt again.”

That comment from Dean got your attention quick.  “I’m sorry, what did you say Winchester?”

Dean glanced back at you with a hard look, “You heard me Y/N, we don’t need to worry about you making another reckless move.”

“Saving your life was a reckless move?  Sorry I won’t make that mistake again!”  Turning yourself to stare out the window instead of looking at the hunter in the front seat mindlessly watching the world go by.  You had known the Winchesters since you were 12, having met them at your uncle Bobby’s when you went to live with him. It took a little bit to gain Dean’s trust, but he had become your best friend.  He was also the man who stole your heart, but that was your little secret.  You had spent many nights of your teens, and even recently dreaming of green eyes, and endless freckles. Sam and you had more of a brother sister relationship, with him being two years younger.  Recently though it seemed you and Dean were fighting more than getting along.  

Back at the bunker you headed to your room to change into comfy clothes to just hang out in.  Sam disappeared to his room, and you figured Dean went to another bar.  Heading to the kitchen you grabbed a snack and drink before making your way to the Dean Cave to get lost in a show.  Settling yourself on the couch you started flipping channels to see what’s on. A swoosh next to you had you jumping then grabbing your injured side from the movement.

“Seriously?!  Warn a girl next time, Gabe.” 

“Sorry, sweet cheeks.  What’s wrong with you tonight?”

“Nothing, I’m fine.”  You turned back to flipping through the channels and ignoring the Archangel next to you.  He might not get along with the guys too well, but he had taken a liking to you. Appointing himself your guardian angel after meeting.  Although sometimes he was a bit slow to reach you. 

“Yeah, you’re fine and I’m the serious brother. Hey, wait, leave it here.”

You turned back to look at the TV and saw the black and white screen with the beginning of I Love Lucy.  “Not that I don’t enjoy this show from time to time, but YOU want to watch this?”

“Uh yeah.  She’s a comedy genius.”

Settling back into the couch you hear the familiar “Lucy I’m home!” When Ricky entered the apartment, laughing at the trouble Lucy got herself into. It was at the end credits of the first episode and just before the next began that Gabriel asked again what was wrong.  You could either tell him or risk him going through your thoughts himself.

“I had a fight with Dean at the end of the last hunt.”  You went on to explain everything that happened on the hunt, at the motel and during the ride back home.  “I don’t know, it just seems like we fight more than anything else anymore.  Maybe it’s time for me to go, I’ve been living with them since we lost Uncle Bobby.  I guess I’ve just worn out my welcome.”  You didn’t want to leave your home, or the guys, but you couldn’t keep this up with Dean.  As much as it would hurt to leave your best friends and only family you had, all this fighting was worse. It just made it clear that your feelings aren't reciprocated.   You weren’t the type of girl Dean would go for, the fact he never tried driving that truth home. 

Gabriel leaned over and put his fingers to your forehead and healed your new wound.  He knew there was more you weren’t saying.  Not that long ago you had drunkenly confessed your feelings for the older Winchester to him, although you didn’t remember the following morning.

You settled back into watching the next episode of Lucy.  She jokingly handcuffed herself to Ricky but they weren’t the joke handcuffs she thought.  Ethel came back to warn her with Fred trailing behind, but they were too late. There wasn’t a key to this pair so they couldn’t separate.  They had to wait for a locksmith who wouldn’t arrive till the next day. Of course because it was Lucy, there were a few hiccups along the way. 

Down the hall from the Dean Cave, in the kitchen Dean was grabbing another beer out of the refrigerator when a swoosh came right behind him. “Dammit Cas, what have I told you about this?”

“Sorry Dean, I sensed your distress and came as soon as I could.”

“Cas, I didn't call you.  Since you’re here, Y/N, was hurt on this hunt if you could go heal her.”

Cas disappeared to your room, not finding you there he discovered you with Gabe and assumed his brother had taken care of you.  Returning to Dean he again asked what was causing him such misery. Dean didn’t answer and just sat drinking his beer.

“Does it have something to do with your feelings for Y/N?”

Spitting out his beer, Dean turned round eyes on Cas.  “What?  I don’t know what you are talking about man.”  Dean got up and left heading to the Dean Cave to get his mind off tonight.  Walking into the room he stopped when he saw Y/N on the couch curled into Gabriel’s side.  The jealousy started to bubble up in him and he had to fight to push it down.

Hearing a noise behind you, you turned around to see Dean in the doorway glaring at you.  “Don’t worry shows over, we were just leaving.” You two get off the couch and head out, but you don’t see the searching look Gabe is giving Dean. Parting from your friend in the hall you head to your room to call it a night and figure out what you were going to do.  

Gabriel headed to the library where Castiel was sitting browsing through a book. 

“What is going on with your boyfriend?” 

Cas glanced up from his reading “I’m not sure of the question.  I have friends that are of the male kind, I don’t know what’s going on them though.  In the way that some humans use the term I don’t have... ”

“Nevermind.”  Shaking his head, Gabriel sat down across from him, “What’s Dean’s problem?”

“Y/n.”

“Do you want to expand on that and tell me why he suddenly hates his best friend?”

“I wasn’t aware that he did, that is new since I saw him recently.”

He stared at Castiel a moment before talking, “If he doesn’t hate her, why are they fighting so much?”

“It could have something to do with his feelings for her that I sense, but he never answers me about them.  I often feel distress coming from him when he is thinking about those feelings.”

“Cassie, not sure if you have been any help or not.” Gabriel got up and walked back toward the Dean Cave thinking over what Cas said, what he felt from you, and the look in Dean’s eyes when he saw you curled into the angel’s side.  When he got to the door he noticed Dean hadn’t changed the channel and was just staring into space, Lucy causing chaos in the background.  The trickster knew what was needed.

You woke up on your back with your left arm stretched out to the side, trying to move it to roll on to your right side proved to be difficult. Opening your eyes, you didn’t recognize the room you were in, turning you saw a man beside you facing the other way.  It took your sleepy mind a minute to recognize Dean, and another to realize your left hand was connected to him.  Wait, that is Dean right, everything was darker than usual.  Were you on a hunt?  Thinking as hard as your partially sleeping mind could, you didn't remember one. 

“Dean, Dean.”  You tried to carefully wake him. When that didn’t work you softly tapped his hand that was stuck to yours.

“What, What!” He shot up looking for the reason he was awake.  “Where’s my gun?”  Turning over he saw you behind him.  “What are you doing in my room?”  He turned back around looking around as he did.  “This isn’t my room…. it’s not yours either.  Something doesn’t look right.”  He went to run a hand down his face only to discover it was heavier than usual.  Upon closer inspection he found the handcuffs that connected you both.  

“What the hell?”

“I don’t know I woke up just before you did, I could have sworn I fell asleep in my room last night and I don’t remember leaving it.”

You glanced over seeing a lamp beside the bed, slightly pulling Dean’s arm with you, you reached for the switch.  Turning it on didn’t exactly have the desired effect, but now you know why things looked darker, everything was black and white.  The two of you struggled to get up out of the beds and not pull the other’s arm too hard.  Leaving the bedroom you went down a hallway that ended in a living room.  Slowly turning around the best you could this room was starting to look familiar to you.  

“Oh a kitchen, please have coffee.”  Dean had spotted the small kitchen through a door in the living room quickly pulling you that way.  You recognized this too. Back in the living room waiting for Dean’s coffee the door to the apartment bust open with Sam and Cas running through. 

“What happened?  Where are we?  Why is everything in black and white?”  Sam asked.  

You couldn’t answer right away because you started laughing too hard.  Dean gave you a funny look before turning back to the guys, understanding and joining in on your laughter.  

“Cas, man what are you wearing?” The angel looked down in confusion, not understanding why Dean was asking about his clothes.

“I have no idea.”

“I think,” you spoke up when you could, “we are in I Love Lucy, everything is black and white like the show.  We must be Ricky and Lucy, this was their apartment.  You two must be Fred and Ethel, judging by Cas’ nightgown he’s Ethel.  How did you know where to find us? They lived in an apartment building, did you search all the rooms?”

“This was the only floor the elevator would go to , and none of the other doors actually work.”

“Why are we here?” Dean angrily asked.

“I don’t kn..,” you were interrupted before you could finish your sentence.

“Lucy, I’m home!  Man, I could have annoyed my brother for centuries with that line” Gabriel came walking in the front door dressed in one of Ricky’s outfits. 

“What did you do?” You rounded on the archangel.

“You two morons need to talk, you um, got some ‘splainin to do.  This episode sparked the idea.  This way,”  he pointed to your joined hands, “neither one of you can walk away from the other.”

“Son of a bitch!” Dean hollered turning toward the shorter angel.  “Get us out of here, now!”

“Ah, no can do, Deano.  None of you are going anywhere till you two talk this out.  When you have everything out in the open, the cuffs will release and you will be transported back home.  Nothing else will set you free.   Have a nice chat kids!”  With that he was gone again.

“What does he think we need to get out?”  Dean tries to throw up both arms, but the one connected with yours didn’t move too well. 

“It might have something to do with the distress you feel everytime you think of Y/N.” Cas injected. “He was curious about your problem, last night.”

Missing Dean turn to glare at his friend.  You faced away from the three guys so they couldn’t see the hurt on your face.  Doing your best to keep the tears at bay you took a deep breath.  There was your answer, you had overstayed your welcome with the guys. 

“When we get back home, I’ve realized it’s time for me to go.”

“Go where?” Sam was the first to ask.

“I don’t know yet, maybe see Jody or Donna.  I’ve taken advantage of you guys long enough, time for me to stand on my own.”

“Are you getting out of the life?” Sam wanted to know, Dean was watching you with an unreadable look in his eye.

“No, I’m a hunter, Sam.  I have been since the vamps came after my parents when I was 12, I’m not walking away from that.”

“So you are making another stupidly reckless decision, huh?  Hunting on your own, you know how dangerous that can be Y/N!”  You could see the anger in Dean’s green eyes now, but there was something else there too, pain.

“You don’t want me around Dean, why do you care what I do?”

“Who said I don’t want you around?”

“Cas, just said thinking about me distresses you.  You ought to feel relief If I’m gone.”

“It isn’t you that brings him distress, Y/N, more the feelings around his thoughts of you.”

“Cas, stop helping,” Dean growled out.

Sam stepped in between the two holding up his hands.  “We’re going to go see if there is anything for breakfast in the kitchen.  You two start talking about whatever you’re hiding.  I’d like to go home sometime this year.”  They walked off to the kitchen with Cas telling Sam that he didn’t need food.

The two of you sat down on the couch, neither wanting to speak first.  As far as you were concerned, telling the guys you would be leaving was what you needed to get out in the open.  Figuring you might as well get this over with so you could move on you turned to face Dean.  “So what are you hiding Dean?”

“What makes you think I’m the one hiding something we need to talk about?”

“Cas, Gabe, and the fact that you seem to hate me lately.”

“I don’t hate you. Sweetheart. I could never.”

“Then why have you been so angry lately, we have fought more in the last few months than the past 20 years?”

Sighing Dean looked away before turning back to you.  “I can’t keep pretending, so pushing you away was my only option.”

“Can’t keep  pretending what?”

Dean tried to get up and walk away forgetting for a moment that he was chained to you.  “I can’t keep pretending I don’t care about you.”

“I care about you too, Dean.  You’re my best friend.”

“I don’t want to be your friend!” He yelled before you could go on. “You deserve better than me, so I tried to push you away so I wouldn’t get hurt, and so you wouldn’t be close to me to get hurt by some monster.”

“Wait, Dean are you trying to say you like me, you actually have feelings for me?”

Before Dean could reply you heard two loud yeses coming from the kitchen. Closing his eyes and shaking his head Dean turned back to you. “I know I’m not what you want, and like I said you deserve a much better man than me.  I didn’t want to lose you as a friend, but I did anyway with my behavior lately.  It’s not easy going to the bar, or working a case and seeing some other guy all over you. If you were mad at me, you didn’t want to go with me when I went out.  This last hunt when you got hurt, I kept thinking you could have died and it terrified me.  I turned that into anger and it came out at you.”

“You haven’t lost me yet Dean.”

“You just said you were leaving and heading out on your own.”

“I didn’t think you wanted me at the bunker anymore.  I’ve been in love with my best friend for years, but never thought he would see me that same way.  Dean there is no better man for me, than you.  I know exactly what it’s like seeing someone else get close to the person you want most.  Your one night stands over the years have been utter torture.”  

Dean had his free hand on the side of your face while his eyes searched yours before quickly pulling your lips to his.  “Oh Sweetheart, I’ve wanted to do that for a very long time.”

“Finally!” Sam yelled from the kitchen doorway.

You leaned in to kiss Dean again when there was a flash of light and you found yourself in the Dean Cave with the guys.

“That Archangel has terrible timing,”  Dean muttered leaning toward you once more.

“Or he just likes to interrupt your fun.”  Gabe said from right next to you making the both of you jump.  He quickly vanished before Dean could hit him, or find an angel blade, but his “You’re welcome” could be heard through the room.

 Dean shook his head muttering under his breath before turning back to you.  He put an arm around your waist to pull you into him, the other going behind your neck as he leaned down and his lips met yours once more.  Both of you getting lost in the kiss as you feel his tongue glide across your lower lip, your mouth opening in response.  

The need for oxygen and Sam clearing his throat had you pulling back slightly.  Dean’s mouth tried to follow yours before also pulling back.  Sam was saying something about you two not dragging him and Cas into your fight next time.  You didn’t really catch it, too distracted gazing into the green eyes looking lovingly back at you.  Never noticing Sam pulling Cas, who was still in Ethel’s sleeping clothes from the room.

Leaning back in toward Dean your lips connected again, only this time he pulled away.  “Hey the cuffs are gone!” Dean exclaimed looking around him to see if they were lying around.

“Um, yeah, Gabriel said we would be released when we got everything out.” You weren’t sure why he was surprised they were gone, or suddenly important enough to stop what you were doing.

“I was going to hang on to them for a, um later time.  I guess I can pick up another pair.”  The smirk on his facing giving away what exactly he wanted the handcuffs for. 

“Who says I don’t have any in my room?”  Dean gave you a long look before throwing you over his shoulder and running toward your room. 

“Let’s go dig those out, Sweetheart, gotta make up for lost time.”

A few hours later you quietly left your room, leaving Dean sleeping peacefully. Grabbing a drink you headed back down the hall opting for the Dean Cave to think back over your day instead of going to your room and possibly waking Dean.  Not that you would mind Dean awake, especially if you had a repeat of what you two spent your afternoon doing.  Turning on the tv for some light, you didn’t pay attention to the show.  Yesterday, at this time you believed your time with the boys was over, turns out you and Dean just needed to get your secrets out.  

“Hey,” you heard a sleepy voice say behind you.  “I woke up alone, thinking I had a crazy, but great dream.  Then I realized I was naked in your bed, so I was actually lucky enough to have you want me too.”

“Hey,” you replied, turning around and leaning up a little to kiss his scruffy cheek.  “Not a dream, just a trickster.  Actually trying to be helpful for once.”  

Dean walked around to join you on the couch pulling you into him.  Both of you looked toward the tv quickly when hearing a familiar voice calling out ‘Lucy, I’m home!’

“Is that?”

“Yeah, I think.” Dean answered.

The Ricky on tv walked forward looking right at you both.  “I resent that, I am always helpful when I want to be.  Treat her right Deano, or you won’t like the show I send you to next.  I’m thinking something on a plane, or killer monster.”

“Okay, thank you for your push Gabe, goodnight.” You shut off the tv while the Archangel was still coming up with somewhere to send Dean.

“I don’t think I’m going to be able to watch Lucy for awhile,” Dean whispered while leaning down to softly kiss your lips. 

  Thank you for reading!

Tags  @talesmaniac89 @katehuntington @winchest09 @flamencodiva @whatareyousearchingfordean @waywardbeanie @smol-and-grumpy @emoryhemsworth @anathewierdo @malfoysqueen14 @superfanficnatural @jensengirl83 @atc74​ @sandlee44 @akshi8278  @fantasydevil2002​

[unsteadygalaxy]

all is soft inside chapter 12

a miragehound multichapter fanfiction

Also posted on Ao3, my username is the same there!

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12. give me a piece of your heart

A quick note: I have the Pathfinder's Quest book and I finished it today (Feb 2nd 2021)! It was mind-blowing and amazing and SO, SO GOOD. Unfortunately, this fic can no longer fit into canon because of what we find out about Bloodhound. Don't worry, I won't be spoiling! I had a story set up for them before I read the lore book, and that's the story I'll be sticking to. Maybe one day I'll write some canon things, but for now, this story is no longer canon-compliant. Part of me is sad to have all the answers, but hey! That's what makes canon-divergent fics so fun :)

Elliott practically flies down the street towards the Legends’ apartment complex, bursting with nervousness and energy as he goes. The torrential downpour of rain doesn’t even manage to dampen his mood; he’s got a heavy-duty umbrella and an upbeat attitude that could make the skies clear up in moments. Bloodhound’s proposition hangs in his head, and he clings to it with an embarrassing neediness. ‘Would you like to visit me in my apartment later this evening?’ they had asked, and he thought his heart would burst out of his chest. He feels like a dumbass for the way he had reacted- god, he was so lame. Falling over his words, making the simplest mistakes… What fourteen year old in the area had reached out and possessed him? Whoever it was, he’d have to have a strong talk with them later.

After arriving back to his apartment above the bar, he’d scrubbed himself clean and very meticulously arranged his hair. He’d eventually chosen a deep purple sweater over a light blue button down, a pair of his nicer dark jeans, a black belt, and sneakers to wear for the evening. He’d hemmed and hawed in front of the mirror for at least twenty minutes, rolling and unrolling his sleeves, second guessing each outfit choice he made until he settled. He had decided to keep the sleeves rolled up, but the easy confidence he usually has in himself has chosen to take a pointed leave of absence.

Elliott really does feel like a teenager obsessing over their first date all over again, but he has to remind himself it’s not a date, it’s just a talk. A nice evening in. A nice evening alone with Bloodhound. His cheeks blaze, and the enormity of his crush on them plummets onto his head all at once. 

Ahh, shit.

He finally lets his thoughts race and wander while thinking about them. For the first time in days, he lets himself linger on his memories of their face, though the quick glimpse he had gotten had not left him with much to remember. Their gorgeous red hair, their piercing green eyes, the striking contours of their face… They are so beautiful, and he would do anything to see their face again.

A giddy smile crosses his face when he thinks of all the times they’ve touched him on the arm or on the shoulder, or held his hands so softly. They had exuded kindness and compassion in those moments, the genuineness of which Elliott has not truly felt in a while. Bloodhound’s quiet vulnerability in the bar the other night had struck him as both odd and humbling; their increasing trust in him is something he definitely doesn’t want to take for granted. 

The complex comes into view and Elliott’s heart starts to pound harder in his chest. It takes a great deal of effort to not run all the way to their door… until he realizes he doesn’t know which floor is theirs, much less which door.

Bzzt! His phone vibrates in his back pocket, and he jumps a little before retrieving it. A message from an unknown number is emblazoned across the lock screen:

Second floor, number 14.

-BH

Excitement and happiness surges through his veins, and he immediately saves their contact information. God, is he really that pumped about having their number? A big stupid smile stretches across his face, and he wants to smack himself. Chill, Elliott, chill. You’ve gotta get ahold of yourself before you get up there. He takes a deep breath and sends a quick reply to Bloodhound as he continues down the sidewalk, valiantly avoiding the puddles. 

Nearly there! How’d you get my number?

A reply flashes through faster than he thought it would.

Renee owed me a favor. I hope it is all right that I asked her.

Oh, yeah, that’s fine! No problem :)

He has to physically restrain himself from adding a little heart; Renee or Octavio or Makoa were used to his nonsense, but he figures Bloodhound would only find it strange for him to be adding those things to his texts right off the bat. He’s busy smiling off into space when his phone vibrates again.

I am looking forward to seeing you.

Elliott’s heart practically explodes in his chest, and he steps right into a puddle.

------

Bloodhound can’t stay still.

Ever since those traitorous words had fallen from their mouth, they’d been on red alert, their brain and body a hopeless torrent of conflicting emotions that hadn’t quite settled. They think it’s fitting that it is raining; it seems the Allfather is showing his sympathies in the smallest of ways. The rain patters against the windows in a steady rhythm, and under any other circumstance it would have been very calming. They would have shed the mask and goggles and snuggled into the couch with a book and a cup of tea, but tonight, that isn’t an option. Instead, they’re wandering aimlessly around their apartment- cleaning corners that don’t really need to be cleaned, tending to Artur, and sipping at a glass of water every time they walk by the kitchen.

They’d hopped into the shower immediately after arriving home and cleaned every inch of their skin with an annoying attention to detail. Their anxiety had mounted in their chest until they had had to sit on the cold tiles of the shower with their head between their legs. Everything is going to be fine, they’d repeated to themself over and over again. Elliott would never hurt you.

The thought is ironic because of the stubborn headache at the base of their skull- Boone’s pain medicine had done little to abate the throbbing in their neck. As they think back on their day, they feel a surge of pride for Elliott. It seems that he is finally allowing himself to succeed, instead of limiting himself like he had before. He had truly surprised them today. Where they had once seen hesitation and worry, it had been replaced with deadly precision and focus, and Bloodhound would not change the outcome of the match even if they could. Elliott had been a wonderful sight to behold.

The frantic fear is nearly gone, but it lingers just enough to make them a little self-conscious. Opting not to wear their Games attire, they’ve picked a thick turtleneck, fitted cargo pants, woolen socks, and a slimmer pair of gloves that will hide their hands but not hinder any movement. The mask is laid on the table, ready to be put on at a moment’s notice. They’re already wearing the helmet, their goggles, and the leather cap. They’ve always hated having to pile wet hair under the hood, but their plans left them no choice. Bloodhound hasn’t cared much about their physical appearance in years, but for some reason, the idea of being alone with Elliott again makes them want to hide away in embarrassment.

An eager knock at the door startles Bloodhound, and they very nearly knock over their glass.

Their heart starts pumping in their chest, and their fingers fumble a little as they clip the respirator to the cap. Immediately, their breathing comes easier, and they scold themself for going so long without it this evening. Bloodhound makes their way to the door and opens it, revealing an absolutely drenched Elliott holding a broken umbrella in one hand and a pair of sopping wet sneakers in the other. 

“Hey! I, uh, definitely stepped in a ton of puddles on the way here. I usually watch where I’m going but these ones were sac- ski- scattered everywhere, so I couldn’t see them at all, and then of course the wind picked up and shredded my umbrella, so I’m totally soaked.” He shrugs helplessly and shakes the bent umbrella off a little, showering Bloodhound’s feet with droplets of water. “Ah, shit. Sorry!”

They shake their head at him and sigh, and a shiver goes through their body as they think about being drenched in this weather. “It is of no consequence, Elliott, I can very easily change socks. Please, come in,” they say, and they lead him into their apartment.

They try not to look at him as he takes in their apartment, suddenly insecure about how simple and bare it looks. The apartment had come furnished, but it is not quite to their tastes. Bloodhound prefers a more homey and warm feel, not the modern, sleek look that is so popular these days. The windows in the living room are quite large. Bloodhound had had a tinted effect added to them immediately- for their anonymity and so the light coming in would not be quite so harsh on their sensitive eyes. The furnishings are a combination of aesthetically pleasing colors and fabrics, all tones of white or grey or brown. A couple of plush blankets are draped over the back of the couch, and minimalistic frames are hung on the walls, great white voids containing typeface quotes and old cliches. The fireplace is an inordinate monolith of dark stone, and if Bloodhound had thought of it, they would have started a fire to make it seem less dull and boring. The thought occurs to them that they should have made this place more welcoming, but they are not vain enough to care in the long run. After all, will Elliott even want to return after he receives the answers to his questions? Bloodhound thinks not.

“Wow,” Elliott remarks, leaning his umbrella against the wall by the door. “It’s so clean.” He strips off his socks and rolls up his pants a little so the soggy ends aren’t rubbing around his ankles. The cuffs fit tightly around his very sculpted calves, and Bloodhound blushes before looking away pointedly.

“This space is not to my tastes,” they reply, watching him walk around. “My real home is much more notalegt- cozy- and warm. Not cold and unfeeling like this place is.” 

“Your real home?” he asks, glancing at them. “You don’t live in the Legends complexes full time?”

“I stay in the buildings during the on season, but during the off season, I retreat to a modest cabin in the woods,” they explain, and they realize they’ve made their first confession of the night. That... wasn’t so bad. “There are bookshelves from floor to ceiling, a large fireplace, plenty of furs to keep warm, and a view that would take your breath away. I quite enjoy it.” 

“That sounds amazing,” he grins. That smile… Bloodhound has to take a deep breath.

“Maybe I will show you one day,” they say, surprising themself with how easily they offer. “It is a beautiful place, and I think you would like it.” 

“Really?” he asks, surprised. “You’d, uh… you’d let me go with you?”

“Perhaps,” they murmur, and their heart starts to beat hard in their chest again. They notice he’s still carrying his wet shoes and socks, and they move to take them from him. “Here. Let me start a fire. Your shoes and socks will be dry in no time.” 

“Oh, thank you!” he replies cheerily, and the smile he gives them makes their heart skip a beat. They take the soggy items from him, cringing a bit at the questionable texture, and set them on the mantle for a moment. Overly aware of how closely he’s watching them, they kneel down, turn the gas knob, and light the fire quickly. In moments, a rosy glow emanates from the fireplace and Bloodhound pulls the screens over to eliminate any chance of Elliott’s things going up in flames. They reach up and place the shoes and socks on a small rack in front of the fire, and then they stand and retreat to their room for a moment.

Before long, they return to the living room wearing a fresh pair of socks and carrying a pair for Elliott. “Here,” they say, holding them out to him. “So your feet are not cold. It can be drafty in here when it rains.”

A pink tinge comes to his cheeks, and he accepts them hesitantly. “You’re way too nice,” he grumbles quietly as he sinks down onto the couch. He puts them on and then pushes his floppy wet hair out of his face. “Hey, can I borrow your hair dryer?” he asks, giving them a questioning glance.

“I… do not own one,” they reply, face burning. “Mine gave out a few weeks ago and I have not yet had time to buy another.”

To their surprise, he grins widely and looks away, suddenly very focused on the fire. “That’s all right,” he says, and his voice is curiously flustered. “I can just sit in front of the fireplace for a bit. You’re about to see the fluffiest hair the Outlands has to offer.” He laughs and rolls his eyes, raking his hands through his messy mop. 

The thought of Elliott with an untamed mess of curly hair makes them smile like a lovesick teenager, and they’re so, so glad they’re still wearing the mask. “So your hair is not perfect all the time?” they tease, sitting down on the couch next to him. They leave a respectable distance between them, but the distance is smaller than it would have been two or three weeks ago. “Ah, so he does have a flaw. Artur, can you believe it?”

They look to Artur’s perch where the bird has been sleeping peacefully throughout all of this. The bird shakes his beak and gives a soft caw before shuffling along his branch, completely ignoring Bloodhound. They shake their head at him. Unhelpful creature, they think affectionately.

Elliott scoffs and says, “Psh, no! I’m absolutely fal- flo- fu- perfect. My hair just has a life of its own sometimes.” He flips his hair to the opposite side and gives Bloodhound a ridiculously goofy expression. It takes everything in them to not burst out laughing, and they would have given him a deadpan expression if they could.

“Like your aim with an R-99, then,” they reply, keeping their voice as even as possible.

His mouth drops open, but he’s smiling. “Wh-What? Was that a joke? Did you actually just tell a joke?” A huge, incredulous laugh escapes his throat and he grabs his chest, and Bloodhound almost loses it. “That’s a little unfair though, considering how I absolutely lasered you today.”

It’s Bloodhound’s turn to laugh, and their face hurts from how much they’ve smiled lately. “You are correct, Elliott,” they admit, holding their hands up in a placating gesture. “I was very impressed with your skill this morning. Your precision and focus made you a formidable opponent, and I was honored to fight with you.”

Instead of the cocky, arrogant response they have come to expect from him, Elliott actually blushes. It is a welcome change; his cheeks turn a lovely shade of red and he looks away, biting his lip. “Thanks,” he says simply, and his voice is… bashful? 

Bloodhound does not quite know what to make of that.

------

His face burns fiercely and he can’t meet their eyes. He loves getting praise from his fans and from his friends, but getting praised by Bloodhound somehow means so much more. Maybe it’s because they’re so skilled, or maybe it’s because he respects them the most out of any other Legend, but such high compliments coming from them renders him a little speechless. 

“Hey, I know this is dumb since we’re paid to kill each other, but, um… Sorry about today,” he says sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. “Taking an entire clip of ammo to the head always gives you a nasty headache.”

Bloodhound huffs quietly, and Elliott takes that to be a soft laugh. “Do not worry, vinur minn. I am perfectly fine. It was simply the Allfather’s will for me to lose today, and I am not offended.”

Elliott lets out a small chuckle, relieved. “Well, that’s good to know. I was worried I might have broken your mask.”

They tap their mask firmly, and it makes a solid thunk sound. “You see? Perfectly fine,” they reply, and Elliott can hear the smile in their voice. “It is quite solid and substantial. Unlike much of your humor.”

Elliott stares at them open mouthed. “I’m wounded, Bloodhound, truly!” he rebutts, scandalized. He flops back against the couch dramatically, the back of his hand pressed against his forehead. Bloodhound, making multiple jokes in one night? The world must be ending, he thinks, and he doesn’t even care that the jokes are coming at his expense.

Bloodhound laughs, and God, he’s missed that sound. The gentle lilt, the soft breathiness of their voice… Elliott blushes even as he giggles, and he treasures the noise they’re making. 

“I have been known to be humorous now and again,” they say, still chuckling. 

Elliott can only smile and shake his head in wonder as the two of them laugh, and soon, he’s wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. “Wow. Okay, out of all the things I expected tonight it definitely wasn’t that.”

“And what have you expected for this evening, Elliott?” Bloodhound cocks their head and leans back into the couch, folding their arms.

A thrill of joy runs its course throughout his body when they say his name, and he finds it strange. Bloodhound has surely said his name hundreds of times, but this feels different. Elliott is sure he’s overthinking it, but the way they had said it feels like they were humming a song. 

His entire body glows with warmth. “You promised me answers,” he says carefully as the giddiness starts to drain away. “You don’t have to go into specifics but… still, you promised answers.”

Bloodhound is silent for a moment, and their hands fidget lightly in their lap. Then they nod. “Yes. I do owe you answers, so please, ask whatever you would like.” Their voice is guarded and serious, and the shift in attitude is sobering. 

Elliott notices how discomfort begins to creep into their posture, and so he resolves to not push them any further than they are willing to be pushed. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, the air hissing between his teeth as he leans back and begins to think. “Okay, um… Well, I was worried about your mask breaking because I don’t know how it works or how it helps. Can I ask why you need it?”

The question only makes Bloodhound’s body language tighten up more. They are silent for several long moments, seeming to ponder and consider his question. Was that too much right out of the gate? he thinks frantically, and he’s about to redact his question when they let out a big breath and begin to speak.

“When I was a child, I was… in an accident,” they say, but something about their admission feels shallow, as if they have more to tell. “No. I made a grave mistake.”

Elliott takes a deep breath and readjusts himself on the couch. He can tell this story will be a long one, and he intends to listen to every word.

“In my culture, young warriors must endure a rite of passage that shows our strength and our transition into adulthood,” Bloodhound explains. “My test was to slátra a prowler beast. I was afraid, but... I knew the Allfather would guide me.” They pause for a moment, and Elliott hangs on to their every word. “I followed its tracks to an abandoned IMC facility deep in the woods, but what I found there was far more hryllilegur. Horrible,” they add when Elliott raises an eyebrow. 

“A jötunn had made its home there. It is a terrifying beast, all horns and teeth and claws. It is as large as some of the buildings in Slum Lakes, if you can recall. I began to run away, but I found a prototype Charge Rifle and shot the beast. I thought it was dead. I collected its horn to present to my uncle, but he was... disappointed in me.” They sigh deeply as dread begins to pool in Elliott’s stomach. “I had rejected the sacred laws of the Hunt by using a gun in order to defeat this beast. Artur was steadfast, immovable in his convictions, and no matter how hard I tried to convince him of my victory, he would not validate it.

“I left in anger. I was a child, only fourteen years old, but if the other village elders knew what I had done, they would have exiled me. I was... so ashamed.” Bloodhound swallows, and it sounds like it takes a lot of effort. “I retreated to the forest to be alone, as I often did, and… the jötunn was there. It was not dead, as I had hoped. It sought revenge.

“I tried my best to fight it off. My uncle was alerted to my cries, and came to help, along with many other villagers. They fought, and…” Their voice tightens, and Elliott’s heart breaks. “Many died. Including my uncle.”

Their voice has become achingly vulnerable and soft the longer they’ve spoken, and Elliott wants nothing more than to reach out and take their hands again. He shifts closer to them on the couch, closing the gap ever so slightly. His eyes stay glued to their mask, and the lenses of their goggles reflect the flickering light of the fireplace. He’s always found the mask to be either intimidating or expressionless, but Bloodhound’s sadness speaks for them, and the mask seems to be considerably more morose than usual. 

“I sought the beast out,” they continue, and Elliott is surprised by how quietly angry and low their voice is. “It had returned to the abandoned facility. The halls had been equipped with coolant lines in case of an explosion or other emergency, and I broke them in order to immobilize the beast. But I breathed too much of it in, and… it dehydrated and froze my skin and lungs, leaving me scarred. Fortunately, I was able to find an oxygen mask just before I succumbed to the cold. Once the beast was frozen, I killed it with my uncle’s axe, fulfilling my test.”

Bloodhound is quiet for some time, and it takes Elliott a moment to realize they’re done talking. He knows he’s staring, and he knows he looks like he’s pitying them, and he fights to find an adequate response. “I’m so sorry, Bloodhound,” he murmurs, and he reaches out to them hesitantly. He takes their hands ever so softly, giving them every opportunity to pull away. “I’m so sorry you had to deal with such horrible things when you were younger. That sounds really tra- tor- traumatizing.” He’s struck by an incredible urge to pull them into his arms and hold them close, and a wave of embarrassment runs through his body as he presses that urge down.

Bloodhound’s hands begin to tremble in his, and he’s alerted to their discomfort immediately. Their breathing comes quicker and shallower even through the mask, and he holds onto them tighter. “Hey, are you okay?” he asks, worried.

“I-” Their voice breaks and Elliott’s heart clenches in his chest. “I- I am sorry, Elliott, you do not want to see me like this-” Bloodhound makes an attempt to pull away and stand, but Elliott holds on tight, keeping them right where they are.

“Hey, hey,” he soothes. “It’s okay! It’s all right. I’m not bothered by you being emotional. It’s actually pretty refreshing, honestly. Makes you feel more normal, like the rest of us.”

They laugh weakly, and Elliott sighs in relief. “T-Thank you, vinur minn. I just- I am prone to anxiety attacks, and…” They suck in a huge lungful of air, but they’re still shaking. “That is why I left the other night. When you asked me about Artur, I was overcome and needed to leave as quickly as possible. Please do not take any offense- it was not your fault.”

Elliott’s chest fills with a strange sense of compassion and guilt, and he squeezes their hands comfortingly. “It’s okay, Bloodhound,” he reassures them. “I’m not mad. Just… worried.” The admission makes him feel exposed and overbearing all at once, and he really hopes he’s not making them uncomfortable.

An idea comes to his mind. “Hey,” he says quietly. “Breathe with me.” 

Bloodhound stiffens, and Elliott hopes to God he hasn’t somehow offended them. He closes his eyes and breathes deeply, and after a moment, he hears Bloodhound inhale greatly as well. He finds himself rubbing his thumbs back and forth across their rough gloves, just like they had done to him a few nights ago. He lets the air calm him and settle his racing heart. He still doesn’t really know what he’s doing, or if he’s even doing this right, but to his delight, Bloodhound’s breathing begins to slow and even out. They gradually stop shaking, and he smiles. 

Elliott opens his eyes. “Better?” he asks, and he gives their hands a quick squeeze. 

They are quiet for a moment. “Nearly,” they murmur, and they pull their hands away. Elliott’s face falls, and rejection begins to rise in him, but they take off their gloves and reach for him once more. He eagerly closes the gap between his shaking fingers and theirs. The place where they make first contact with his skin- a small place near his thumb- tingles pleasantly, and the warmth of their hand settles in his. He inhales sharply, and beams as their fingers curl into his own. 

“Better.” They are so quiet and soft as they speak, and Elliott almost misses what they say. “Your kindness is a blessing to me, kæri vinur. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he smiles, trying to find their eyes beyond the lenses of their goggles. Despite his happiness, he finds himself wishing that he could search their face for meaning, for emotion, for clarity. He knows why they need and wear the mask. He knows why he will likely never see their face again. But, damn, does he desperately want to gaze upon them just one more time. He doesn’t know what kæri vinur means, but he can’t help but notice the similarities between it and what they usually call him. 

He doesn’t dare to hope it means anything.

...does he?

“Do you… do you want to talk about it, or…?” he trails, attempting to do what they had done a few nights ago. 

“No, Elliott,” they reply, but their voice is not unkind. Their grip on his hands tightens for a moment, then they loosen, and it sends a thrill down Elliott’s spine. “Your help was more than enough to calm me.”

He adjusts himself on the couch, and his knee brushes against theirs. The only light in the room comes from the quietly crackling fire, and it highlights Bloodhound’s features with a silhouette of warmth. His heart starts to pound in his chest once more, and every sense heightens. Elliott suddenly becomes aware of how intimate and vulnerable this little bubble of space is, and his shoulders tense in anticipation of something he knows will never come. He wants to pull them close. He wants to lace his fingers in theirs. He wants to…

“Can I trust you, Elliott?”

They sound so… exposed. So afraid. His breath catches in his throat for a moment. “O-Of course, Bloodhound. You can trust me with anything,” he murmurs, rubbing his thumbs across their knuckles reassuringly. He’s surprised by how rough their hands are, and it’s only then that he remembers the silvery spider web scars stretching across their skin. 

“Then… there is something I wish to share with you,” they reply, and their hands begin to tremble in his again. They let go of him, and to his utter shock, their hands go to their helmet, edging towards the many clasps that fasten it to their goggles and respirator.

“W-Wait, hold on,” he stutters, and he reaches for their hands again. “A-Are you- hey, you really don’t have to do that if you don’t want to, I mean- I mean, are you absolutely sure?” He stares at them in confusion and worry, and his stomach is an unintelligible knot of emotion. Elliott searches their mask and their body language, trying desperately to figure out what the hell they’re thinking.

“If I was not sure I would not be doing this,” they chide gently, and they remove their hands from his grip. “Please, just let me do this. Ég er svo- I am so tired of hiding.”

Elliott can’t argue with that. 

“Okay,” he says, still very unsure. His hands fall back into his lap.

------

The child inside them shakes and trembles horribly as they raise their hands to their head. Part of them screams and begs for them to stop, and it’s only in this moment that they realize that part is the terrified twenty-five year old that had had their mask shattered in front of all those people so long ago. That crowd had been so cruel, but Elliott could never share their vitriol, their hatred. Bloodhound has seen into the man’s heart more than they ever thought they would, and no trace of cruelty exists inside him.

How long has it been since they willingly showed someone else their face? Five years? Ten? Ajay seeing them had been a complete and total accident- one that they had learned not to mind. Boone had grown up with them, of course, so he does not count. But Elliott… At the beginning of this night, they never would have dreamed of doing what they’re about to do. But Elliott is so kind, so thoughtful and accepting that their heart yearns for him greatly, and they can ignore that fact no longer.

Their fingers fumble with the straps of their helmet, but something drives them forward. It drives them to be vulnerable- to be open and take a risk. Elliott has seen their face already, so why are they so nervous? He has seen the scars they bear- why are they trembling like the young one they used to be? They do not know, but they hope that the price of them being so vulnerable is a price he’s willing to pay. 

There is no turning back now, they think. 

With trembling hands, they remove the helmet, cap, goggles, and finally, the mask.