#And they pettily talk about him behind his back

[honesttoglob]

I feel like Tim and Munkustrap interactions would be really cute. Idk why. I feel they're used to being the "straight men" (I use this term extremely loosely) to Steve's goofy antics, and even though they get tired of his shenanigans sometimes, they're still super protective of him.

[ariichive]

crossed wires

k. kenma ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹🍒

fluff | misunderstandings (nothing serious) | reader has a rbf | mutual pining | cursing | fem. reader

this is a cute idea i had; i thought kenma would be a good fit for this ;p

"kenma, how do you not see what everyone else does?"

kuroo's teasing voice rung through Kenya's mind. it was like an alarm going off on an early school day. please, just be quiet. kenma stared at the giant 'GAME OVER' on his console; his irritation with his best friend seemingly growing.

"clearly, you're not seeing correctly. you sure your hair isn't cutting off any brain cells?" kenma mumbled as he pettily shut off his console. his eyebrow twitching when he heard the familiar snicker from the tall captain next to him.

"dude.. that's like.. not possible."

kenma did not have the energy to respond.

the two friends continued on their walk home after a long practice. kuroo, the whole walk there, had been nonstop bickering about the 'not so obvious but totally obvious' admirer he had: (name). admirer was not the term he would use. if anything, it was more like a butcherer stranded on a meat farm with nothing but a meat saw and an empty stomach. maybe even like one of the villains from his game; the ones with a deep rooted trauma causing an untamable hatred for the player. well, in kenma's case he was the poor player and you were the villain.

it all started in the beginning of the new school year. new faces in a new classroom. usually, kenma never really paid attention to his classmates. sure, he gave them a typical rundown and would decide to judge them based on first impressions for the rest of their lives. then boom, he would eventually forget their names come the second week of school. they didn't talk to him, he didn't talk to them.

that was hard to do when you, a classmate who sat diagonally behind him, would constantly feel stares at the back of his head. one time, he seen the reflection of your murderous gaze in his gaming console and he damn near flinched.

did he accidentally do something to you in the past? he tried to put a name to the girl with (eye color) eyes and (lip color) lips, but nothing was ringing a bell in his head.

because of this, he started to pay more attention to you.

when lunch would roll around, you would become joyful with friends, a rather pretty smile on your face. this was when he heard one of them say your name in a fit of laughter. (name). he repeated a few times in his head. kenma thought it was a nice change of scenery; his heart even skipped a little. and then when you felt eyes on you, turning and making eye contact with the quiet boy in your class, your face dropped.

it looked like a mix of both fear and absolute horror before morphing into a stone faced, angry expression.

yeah, you definitely hated him.

at first, he kept these interactions a secret from kuroo; truly not wanting to become a victim to the already relentless teasing.

until the one day you so happened to take the same train as them. today just had to be different.

kenma was set on ignoring you. he was locked into his video game: a PVP fighting game with unlockable characters and an online ranking system. kuroo usually would have ignored kenma's gaming; it was second nature to him after all. but of course, today was different.

"care to tell me why you're playing an online game with no internet?" kuroo pointed out as he stared at the constant loading circle making zero progress on kenma's screen.

kenma snapped out of whatever trance he was in and looked up at his friend with wide eyes. "...no." kuroo hummed in response, taking a quick look around the train. that is when he seen a sight that he never thought he'd witness. a girl staring at kenma with practical hearts in her eyes.

"kenma.. that girl is totally checking you out."

kenma's face contorted into one of disgust and confusion as he looked in the direction kuroo was only to make eye contact with you.

"kuroo, if that's how girls look at you i think you're never going to get married." kenma quickly shook his head and avoided looking back at you with everything in his body. "what? i know what i'm talking about. listen to me, i'm older and wiser." kuroo smirked arrogantly.

"she is the definition of if looks could kill."

"so you think she's pretty?"

kenma paused, his brain not really processing kuroo's words.

"that's not what i..."

pretty?

he hesitantly glanced at you again. with a closer look, he noticed how you fiddled with your hair when you looked at him. the way brows were furrowed, and the way your leg bounced.

it kinda looked like.. you were nervous?

"...meant?"

by the time he realized how long he was looking at you, his stop was already here, leading to his current predicament of kuroo's constant teasing and shitty advice.

"he.. HE DEFINITELY LIKES ME!"

you screamed into your pillow with a heated face. after rolling around for a few minutes to calm yourself down, you laid on your bed facing your ceiling.

you first noticed kenma during a rather boring lesson. the teacher's voice was draining all your energy, and it was getting harder to keep your eyes open. your eyes found focus on the boy in front of you, who had bleached hair and questionable posture.

he was playing a video game hidden in a book on his desk. you glanced up at the teacher one more time, making sure he was distracted. you watched as the boy played effortlessly through levels of a game you didn't know the name of.

before you knew it.. the school day ended.

it became a ritual for you, staring at his game after lazily taking notes. it came to the point where it felt like you were playing the game yourself. every time he would die and have to restart, you felt the anger and frustration for him.

a character would die? you'd silently weep for the fallen character since it seemed like he didn't give a fuck. and if he did, he wasn't one to show it casually on his face.

the most he ever showed (that you noticed, anyway) were subtle stretches of his legs, a twitch in his finger, and a knuckle pop.

or when he won after a tedious battle a sigh of relief, his shoulders dropping.

so maybe your facial expressions were a bit.. emotional compared to his and definitely not as subtle.

it didn't help that whenever the boy, who's name you learned was kenma, would look at you, your body immediately froze and you tried to get your face as normal looking as possible; not realizing what might've seemed normal to you was terrifying to kenma.

he wouldn't hold eye contact for so long before going back to whatever he was doing, much to your pleasure.

the train ride today was a change in your relationship with kenma.

why didn't he look away like normal?

it was a change yes, but not a bad one.

with delusional friends encouraging the idea, you've come to the conclusion that kenma kozume has a crush on you.

sure, maybe you were exaggerating. but any high school girl would, it's part of growing up! you justified this in your head.

and maybe you weren't too far off from the truth. his sneak glances during the school day allowed him to see the happy expression on your face when he reached an ending of the game. the look of anticipation when he was going through his game library; trying to find a new game to play after beating the last.

one he liked most, though, was the look of shock when he angled his console perfectly out of view from the teacher, but in a position for you to see more clearly.

pls reblog and like if u enjoyed it!

kinda proof read kinda didn't lol sorry 4 any errors

[dragonbarbie]

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐏 𝐏𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐑 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 - modern!aemond targaryn x reader

rating: 18+, minors dni

summary: academic rivals, where revision has the same rules as strip poker

word count: 3.8k

tags: mature content, smut, modern!au, reader being petty and competitive, aemond also being petty and competitive, guest appearance by aegon

note: this is like… my first attempt at writing smut so ….*clown emoji* anyway hope you like it

y/n was used to being number 1. all throughout high school, be it history or physics – she had the highest grade in every class and was managing to do so without much effort, really. she hadn’t expected that to change when she landed her dream university, dragonstone. but when she arrived she had the rude shock of getting acquainted with aemond targaryen. first day of their valyrian history class, she had expected to impress her professor with the extensive knowledge on the subject that had been one of her favourites in high school, but when she found herself being beaten to the punch by the blonde bastard, she took an instant dislike to him.

pettily enough, as everyone was leaving the class, she made a show of saying “suck-up” in a not so quiet whisper as she passed him by. “excuse me?” his condescending, posh tone made her eyes roll. “all i did was answer his questions. i wasn’t the one gushing about the books he had written.” he sharply pointed out. “whatever.” she tried to brush off the retort. “if you’re so jealous, maybe actually read before class next time, instead of whining.” he coolly stated as he stalked off, leaving her behind as she gritted her teeth and glared at his striding figure.

from that point onwards, every class that she shared with him, she made a deliberate effort to work extra hard for. she went beyond just the recommended readings, she would write extra few hundred words for every essay, and for every test she would spend hours in preparation. still, frustratingly, all of this effort only made her good competition for him and not the outright winner. it seemed that aemond targaryen was in fact used to going beyond just the bare minimum, she didn’t ever see him take a break. if he wasn’t at the library, she found him sweating it out on the track field. his perfection was downright annoying.

what her friend baela found annoying, was the detail with which y/n would observe (obsess over) his daily behaviour and then rant about it to her. by the time finals week was on the horizon, she was just about done with y/n’s obsession.

y/n had been in the middle of ranting about how she had caught aemond revising for finals on the treadmill, when baela slammed the book that was open in front of her with frustration. “why don’t you just join him then?” she sarcastically asked, earning a “yeah right” from y/n who returned back to her notes as she realised that all this talk of her rival had clearly seemed to drive her friend to the point of irritation. “actually… why not?” though she had asked the question rhetorically, baela soon realised that perhaps that wasn’t such a crazy idea after all. y/n, did not share that understanding. she blinked back at her “i’m sorry am i supposed to say something or just wait in silence while you regain your senses. what are you talking about?”

“you said it yourself, you study better with a partner. and i don’t have any of the same classes as you.” the thought of baela having fun studying marine biology while y/n had to suffer aemond targaryen’s presence all alone at the history department was a point that brought her great sadness each day. “he does. and you have to admit it, he’s pretty good.”

as soon as y/n opened her mouth with a retort right on her tongue, baela silenced her with one pointed sentence “i have one reply to all your objections — keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.”

oh, y/n thought, she’d never thought of it that way. “besides,” baela reopened the book she had shut, “this way you can keep an even closer eye on his schedule.” she teased.

☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆

aemond somehow didn’t need to lift his eye to know who it was that had approached the corner library desk that had become his unofficial residence for finals weeks. “can i help you, l/n?” he asked, as she stopped before him. “no, but i can certainly help you, targaryen.” she announced, pulling out the chair across from him and putting her laptop bag down on the desk. he wordlessly raised his brow as she made herself comfortable. “look—” she knew that selling the idea to him was going to be just as hard as it was for it to be sold to her, but she was as stubborn as she was competitive, “—if we work together, our work will be halved. i can beat your ass at history of tyrosh and the origins of dorne any day of the week, and you are marginally better than me at valyrian history and aegon’s conquest. i am proposing that we sit and quiz each other on the exam portions and that way we’re both covered for our weaker subjects.”

she did not like the smug smirk that overcame his face at the suggestion. “so, you’ve come here to grovel for my help?” she could punch his perfect white teeth in. “look you little shit, while everyone on campus will be sweating and crying and chugging copious amounts of energy drinks to survive this week – we could be sailing through it, if we do this. our rivalry’s entertaining and all, but the stress of finals week will make even your fabulous hair fall out.”

“hmm.” he considered her words for a second. she rolled her eyes as he seemed to revel in making her wait for his response, “c’mon, targaryen, do it for the hair.” she was sure she saw his lips twitch upwards at her teasing.

“fine.” he finally gave in, causing y/n to sigh in relief, “but if you can’t keep up, i’m dropping you.” “likewise.” y/n promised.

she had to admit, studying with aemond was actually not that bad. their reading speed was similar, he kept her on her toes with his constant quizzing, and initially he had seemed to be singularly focused on the task at hand. as the days went on though, y/n found that they had actually started to talk of things beyond dead king and queens. “so, you’re like, related to the conqueror?” she asked as a manner of taking a break from their revision of her least favourite class, the conquest of westeros. “yeah, directly. he’s a great-great, times ten, grandfather.” he answered, turning the signet ring on his hand subconsciously. “that’s cheating, then. i’d be great at that class too if daddy had told me tales of grandpa aegon every night before bed.” she shrugged as she reached to grab the pot of black coffee, to refill her cup.

“well, ‘daddy’ didn’t even bother saying goodnight most nights, so let’s not attribute any of my success to him.” she looked up at him suddenly at the off-handed admission about his home life, but before she could really react, he added. “you just want there to be more to why i’m better than you, rather than accepting – i just am.” there was that smug smirk again, the one that she used to loath. but nowadays, that same smile was more playful than hostile, she had noted. “or, i’m trying to figure out if being an asshole is just who you are, or if it runs in your family. aegon burned half of westeros down to colonise it, so I’m leaning towards the latter.” “colonise?” he was clearly irritated at her choice of words. “one race of people, the valyrians, through violence made another race, the first men, submit to them. that’s the textbook definition of colonisation, is it not?” she raised her brow, inviting him to debate her. she knew it was the subject he felt most passionate about, and thus, it was the class where she would most often find herself playing devil’s advocate, for no reason other than to oppose whatever view aemond had taken. in their revision sessions, too, she liked to watch the passion light a fire in his eye whenever she would declare his opinion was wrong. he looked hot when he was academically pissed off.

“westeros was just different war lord states fighting for dominance until aegon united the seven kingdoms.” he firmly argued. “so what, that gave him open invite to just come and take over?” she challenged, crossing her arms with a self-satisfied grin at having gotten him so riled up already. he opened his mouth to throw his retort at her, when suddenly the door to aemond’s apartment, where they had been studying, swung open to disturb the proceedings.

she saw a man with platinum blonde hair that matched aemond’s stumbling as he entered the apartment with his arm around a beautiful girl, with black hair hanging down to her waist.

aemond, she noted, was visibly annoyed at this.

“oh, did we spoil your little study session?” the other man rhetorically asked, without any real remorse in his tone, his words slurring to indicate that he had been drinking. he sat himself down on the sofa next to y/n, uninvited, a move that inexplicably made aemond’s jaw tighten. “you must be my little brother’s study buddy, y/n. i know all about you, and i’m sure he’s told you nothing about me. i’m aegon, the nerd’s big bro.” y/n was immediately amused at the thought of this man, who was decked in a supreme tracksuit and who’s hair seemed to have been left uncombed, was the perfect, prim and proper aemond’s elder brother. “nice to meet you, aegon. are you studying at the university too?” “business major, yeah, graduating next year.” he replied stretching his hand to place it behind y/n. aemond snorted at his brother, “with the way your finals prep is going, i would not bother wasting money on a graduation gown.” he eyed the woman with whom aegon had entered, judgement clear in his eye.

“hey! i decided to follow your lead and i’ve asked cassandra here to be my study buddy. i’ve actually gone one step further than you and invented the best revision method.” he declared. aemond seemed to have no curiosity at his brother’s statement, but y/n asked “do tell.” aegon turned to her with a pleased smile, “it’s revision, but with strip poker rules.” he simply answered.

she raised a brow at his response, “as in…?” “as in you quiz each other, and every time one of you gets an answer wrong – you take an item of clothing off. it’s a win-win, if you get the answer right, good job, you know your shit. if you don’t…. well, its so much more fun if you don’t.” y/n had to purse her lips to suppress the laughter at the back of her throat.

at the sound of aemond packing up his books, she looked away from aegon to the younger brother. “let’s go to your dorm, y/n. he definitely doesn’t know his shit, and his ‘revision’ tends to be loud.”

☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆

as per y/n’s prediction, final’s week had indeed sailed by for aemond and her because of their revision sessions. they only had one exam left now, and it was the one they had both been dreading the most – historical methods. it was a subject that was so boring and plainly simple, that they knew it was easy enough to study for, but they could not bring themselves to revise something so mind-numbingly dull.

y/n, in her frustration, threw her notes on the table at aemond’s apartment. aemond, seated on the other end of the sofa from where y/n was lying on her back, shared her frustration, but he tended to be more stoic and was determined to finish the work on hand. “it’s just a few more topics, and then you never have to think about the subject ever again.” he tried to placate her. “it’s too boring, i can’t do it!” she complained bringing her hands up to her face in frustration. aemond couldn’t help but notice how the action made the t-shirt she was wearing ride up and expose soft skin just above her jean shorts, his eye remaining fixed on the spot for a second too long.

then, the mixture of a caffeine high and a boredom that was seeming like an unending chasm, gave birth to what y/n thought was a brilliant idea. she moved her fingers slightly, so only her eyes would poke out from behind them. “let’s try your brother’s idea.” she suddenly said, “i don’t think anyone has ever said that sentence before.” he remarked.

“i’m serious.” she sat up, as if to indicate her earnestness. “the ‘revision, but with strip poker rules’ idea, let’s try it.”

aemond’s expression was unreadable as she watched him, but she was certain she saw his adam’s apple move at the suggestion. “it’s a dumb idea.” he said, but his throat had gone dry at the thought.  y/n rolled her eyes, “that’s the point! it’ll break the monotony.” she crawled to his side of the sofa. “come on, aemond. don’t be a coward.” the suggestion of him even possibly being cowardly had clearly set off something in him. “fine.” he shut the book in his hand and placed it on the table.

they quizzed each other, and it was going much the same as their usual quizzing went, which disappointed y/n since it did not in fact break the monotony as she had wanted. that was until, in her over-confidence, she got a question wrong. “well…” aemond seemed to be very satisfied indeed at her wrong answer, “are you going to do the honours or are you ready to admit that you’re the only coward here?” he scanned the white t-shirt she was wearing, almost with hunger and an expectancy, y/n thought.

she pulled the shirt off over her head, and threw it right at his smug face, “i’m no coward.” he caught it with ease, and for a split second she was sure he smelling it as he held it to his face, before dropping it in his lap. when he looked at her now, he didn’t even attempt to hide how he was taking in her figure, as she sat exposed only in her black bra. knowing that she was being watched, she sat straighter, even as she muttered “pervert” but made no attempt to hide her form.

 “please, don’t even try to pretend like you don’t love it.” now, that did take her aback. sure, she had caught him looking at her chest or her ass many-a time over their study sessions, and had done nothing to stop it, but she hadn’t realised that he had in fact, caught her catching him when he looked. he knew she had allowed it all this while, unspoken.

the monotony was certainly broken now.

when it was next aemond’s turn to ask a question, he threw her an easy one, a question she had answered in class. but y/n shrugged and said, “i don’t know”, as an answer. aemond snorted at her, “yeah, you do.”

she simply laid on her back as she undid her shorts and slid them down her legs, eyes never leaving aemond’s as she did. he wet his lower lip with his tongue, and then bit down as he watched. his eye trailed her bare legs, up to her panties, with very little being left to his imagination now that she sat only in her underwear on his sofa.

“my turn” she had the perfect trick question in mind, and when he called her out, saying “there is no right answer to that”, she shrugged once again. “are you going to do the honours or are you ready to admit that you’re the only coward here?” she threw his words back in his face with a grin.

he didn’t seem to need a lot of convincing. he pulled off his shirt in one swift move, and y/n felt her stomach clench at the sight of defined muscles on pale skin. she took a minute to memorise his details before she asked him the next question, but she hadn’t even reached the end of it before aemond was unbuttoning his pants, answering the question by simply saying “don’t know, don’t care.” it seemed as if he was in a hurry, as if he had waited long enough for this moment.

y/n seemed to be in a hurry too, when she deliberately gave a rushed, wrong answer to his next question. she moved her knees to straddle him where he sat, able to feel everything through her own cotton panties over his satin boxers. “need some help with the bra hooks.” she said as an excuse for her action. he readily obliged, with his hands reaching behind her and unhooking her bra with ease, letting the material fall down to the floor. his hands trailed up from her waist to her chest, pale hands first covering and then roughly squeezing her breasts. she started to rock back and forth where she sat, her now wet panties grinding against his obvious bulge.

“it’s your turn to ask.” she breathlessly reminded him after a minute, “fuck revision.” he was trailing kisses around her collar bone, sucking hard enough to leave bruises, she was certain. ““fuck revision”? who are you and what have you done to aemond targaryen?” she chuckled. he only gave her a growl in return, as his arms snaked around her waist to hold her up and then place her back down, with her back hitting the soft sofa.

he hovered over her for a second, supporting himself on his knees as his fingertips traced her side. “you look so hot when you’re concentrating….” he murmured, seemingly out of nowhere, as his fingers found the waistband of her panties and hooked under them. “…and when you’re debating me….” he pulled the cloth over her legs, and his hand reached down to the wetness between her legs “… and especially, when someone tells you you’re right.” a shiver went down her spine she felt two of his cold fingers in her folds. “already so wet for me.” he chuckled.

“oh, would you stop being a tease and just…” at her complaint he withdrew his fingers suddenly, causing her to whine. “just what?” he asked, making her feel more frustrated with him than she had ever felt before. “did you really think i was going to let go of the perfect opportunity to make you beg for me? make you beg me, to fuck you?” oh, there was that stupid fucking smug smirk once again. Now, it was no secret that y/n had too much pride, especially when it came to facing off with aemond targaryen. but as she lay there, exposed and achingly wet, she decided she had to bury her pride to get what she wanted.

“aemond…” she swallowed, “fuck me.” that did not seem to give him what he wanted. he cocked his head to one side, “hmm. you’re missing something.” she huffed, thinking why he had to make this so difficult, and how satisfied he must be at getting her in this position. “aemond…fuck me….please.”

at that, he grinned. he bent down to be inches away from her face, “as you wish.”

she felt two of his fingers enter her suddenly, making her gasp. his fingers curled inside of her roughly, at the same time he started to kiss the side of her neck with more gentleness than she had expected of him. the dichotomy gave her a high. his fingers continued their assault, as her hands tangled themselves in his hair. “so tight…” he whispered against her ear, “how long have you been thinking about this, you little slut?” y/n could only hum back, not capable of formulating a well thought-out response.

Her legs clenched as he continued to dig his fingers inside of her with perfect rhythm. His thumb reached up to massage her clit, as her hand reach down to grab the arm that was inside of her, nails leaving scratch marks. A warmth spread around inside her stomach at the feeling.

when he suddenly pulled his fingers out, she groaned in frustration, “has anyone ever told you, you have no patience?” he tutted. y/n rolled her eyes as she sat forward and her hands moved to finally remove his boxers, “yes.”

with his boxers now discarded, he positioned her to lay back down on the sofa, her legs around his waist. his tip grazed her core, but he didn’t enter her which only added to her annoyance. “aemond, i swear to the old gods and the new, if you tease me for a second longer—” she was cut off by him slamming inside of her suddenly. “ah!” she moaned as he filled her, “that ought to shut you up.” he grunted, supporting himself by keeping a hand on the arm of the sofa that was beneath her head. “oh, gods… aemond…” she could feel him touching her spot, legs growing weaker with each thrust.

he was going at it with a ruthless pace, leaving her feeling helpless and satisfied at the same time. his mouth dipped and he began sucking on her nipple, his teeth grazing where she was sensitive, making her yelp in pleasure. she grabbed his shoulder, grip strong enough leave even more marks. as she felt his tongue circle the skin around her nipple, she made a mental note to tell his brother that she had come to agree that his method of revising was indeed ingenious.

“aemond…i’m…” she had begun to say, “yeah baby, almost there” he replied lifting his head to her face. he tucked a stray stand of her hair behind her ear, a gesture that felt more intimate than the sex. he placed his hand on her cheek before his lips finally met hers. she could taste the black coffee they had been drinking on his tongue, mixed with something minty like toothpaste. for all the roughness with which he fucked her, y/n realised that the kiss felt sweet, tender almost.

“fuck…” he said against her lips, and she could tell he was close too. “aemond…ah!” she reached her peak, just as he pulled out and finished on her stomach.

panting, breathless and sore, for once y/n did not have a retort in the presence of aemond targaryen. he seemed rather speechless too, as he remained above her, unspeaking but his eye refusing to leave her face. he seemed to be in deep thought, and just when he opened his mouth to speak, a different voice could be heard from down the hall.

“and you called my ‘revising’ loud.” aegon snorted, leaning against his bedroom door.

[j0hnj4ej3n]

mark: childhood best friends to lovers

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: none :)

Notes: this is Mark's part of 'nct dream as love tropes', enjoy!

You’ve known Mark for more than half your life and you’ve been best friends ever since you’v met back in kindergarten. 

The very first time you remember talking to him as a kid was when he asked if he could take a turn at the swings. Mark has always been a nice boy, a little shy but super cheerful. You told him that you would have just two more swings and he can have his turn. So he waited patiently by you while you went back and forth on the swings two more times. “Okay, you can use the swings now!” You told him as you tried to get down. Mark very nicely held the metal chains of the swing to keep it still so you could get down safely. But once you got down, another boy shoved Mark out of the way and got onto the swings. 

Mark looks shocked but said nothing, his lips turned into a pout and his eyes glistened with tears. “Hey! It was Mark’s turn to play!” But even before the other boy could respond, Mark ran away to hide his disappointment. You followed after him and found him sitting by the sand pit by himself. “Sorry Mark,” you said as you squat beside him, trying to stare at his face to see if he was crying. He rubbed his eyes with his tiny fists and mumbled out a soft, “It’s okay.” You quickly thought of a game you could play together instead since you felt bad and suggested, “Mark, do you want to play hide and seek with me?” His head shot up and he looks at you with his big doe eyes before a smile appeared on his face. “Okay! I’ll hide and you seek!” 

From then on, the two of you were inseparable. The worst part of your days back then was having to go home because that meant you couldn’t play together anymore. Your parents loved the friendship you two had and would even set up playdates on the weekends. 

The two of you would do everything together. In school, you would sit together during class. Play together during playtime, eat together and even shared what you guys brought for lunch. During the holidays, your parents would take turns to bring you guys out. Your parents brought you and Mark to the zoo once. And Mark’s parents’ brought you two to the carnival. 

Eventually, you both attended the same middle school and your friendship had never been stronger. Despite being in different classes, Mark always waited for you to walk back home together. And you always looked for him during lunch to sit with him and his friends. Mark’s friends loved to tease that you were his girlfriend, which Mark would deny with pink cheeks. You never said anything, because truth be told, you did have a little crush on him. Mark grew up to be so cute, his eyes were still so big and sparkly, they would crinkle up when he laughed. His smile was the cutest you’ve ever seen and he was still always so so nice to you. 

But one time, Mark came to you to tell you about his crush on this girl in your class and even asked if you could help to pass her the chocolates he got for her on Valentine’s day. You did help him but the fact that he had a crush on someone else made you so upset you ignored him all day. You sat by yourself during lunch and even when Mark came to talk to you, you picked up your tray and left. Mark was genuinely so confused, he even felt a little sad since his best friend wasn’t talking to him anymore. After school you tried to take the bus home without him but Mark was already waiting outside your class as usual. You tried to walk away when Mark caught up to you, “Y/n, wait up! D-did I do something? Why are you ignoring me?” 

You took the box of Ferrero Rochers you bought for him for Valentine’s day and shoved it into his hands before you stomped away pettily. You prepared a gift for him as his best friend and instead of doing the same, he only asked for you to help him hand a gift to his crush. You were disappointed and angry. “Y/n! Stop!” You hear Mark calling out to you from behind but kept walking. You hear his footsteps behind and in a few seconds he caught up to you. As he stood in front of you, panting, he hands you a single red rose, wrapped in brown paper. “Happy Valentine’s day y/n.” You took the rose from him and you immediately felt guilty for ignoring him all day. “Please stop being mad at me, I’ll give you flowers every Valentine’s day if you just stop ignoring me…” Mark pleads as he stares at you with his cute boba eyes and you replied with a simple, “Okay.” 

The two of you are in highschool now. Mark’s grown even taller and even better looking in your opinion. His cheekbones became more defined, his voice broke and is now deeper. He finally learned how to style his hair properly after deciding to grow it out. But overall, despite his appearance, he was still the same, gentle, loving and cheerful Mark Lee that you’ve grown to love. 

The only problem is, your current boyfriend doesn’t like him very much. All your life, you’ve always done everything with Mark but things have been different ever since you started dating. You really like the guy, he treats you really well but if there’s anything you wished he was better at was getting along with Mark.

Mark has been nothing but nice to him but your boyfriend treats him coldly. He admits he’s jealous of your close friendship with Mark. So Mark makes an effort to keep a distance from you, but you hate it. It feels wrong and even though you really like your boyfriend, your mind never fails to drift to thoughts of your best friend who you know misses you too. 

You eventually broke up with your boyfriend, you were crushed. But Mark was with you through it all, like you were during his first break up. “There’s lots of fishes in the sea y/n. You’re one fish closer to the right one~” Mark tells you and you laugh for the first time that evening. 

It’s finally prom night and your date is waiting for you downstairs. 

[4:23pm] mark 🩵: [image attached]

[4:23pm] mark 🩵: i’m prom ready, about to go pick rachel up 

[4:24pm] you: damn, you look great mark!

[4:24pm] you: [image attached]

[4:24pm] you: i’ll see you there! jaemin’s waiting for me 

[4:25pm] mark 🩵: you’re beautiful y/n 

[4:25pm] mark 🩵: mum specifically requested for us to take pictures

[4:26pm] mark 🩵: so excited to see you later 

[4:27pm] you: whatever mama lee wants, mama lee gets <3 

And even though you both had a date for prom, you had more pictures with Mark Lee in your gallery than you had with your date. At the end of the night, you had your last dance with Mark, his hand on your waist and your hand in his. Mark’s date ended up leaving with her friends to the after party. Jaemin stayed till the end to take a few more pictures with you, leaving after giving you a kiss on cheek to pregame with the boys. 

Mark very kindly offered to take you home before joining Jaemin and the boys since you were never one for the party scene. “It’s fine Mark, I can get home on my own.” “No way I’m letting you go home alone, come on, it’s getting late.” Your feet started to hurt so Mark let you wear his shoes well he held your heels and walked only with his socks on. 

“Is it weird if I said you looked really good today?” Mark starts and you chuckle at his question. “Well, I actually tried to look good today so… hopefully it worked.” “I mean, I-I’m not saying you look bad on other days. You’ve always been pretty, it’s just… ah whatever, you know what I mean…” You begin to laugh because you can tell Mark is flustered but you thank him anyway. “You look really good yourself, I think our pictures turned out great. Mama Lee would be proud.” Mark shakes his head as he laughs, telling you how his mum sent a bunch of heart stickers when he sent her the pictures you two took from this evening. “She gave me so much shit for not taking you to prom,” Mark tells you. “Really?” “Yeah, I told her Jaemin asked you first and that you already agreed, so I couldn’t ask you.” “Wait… you were going to ask me to prom?” You asked and Mark rubs the back of his neck. “I was… but my own friend already beat me to it, so I backed off.” “Your mum’s right, you should have asked sooner. Jaemin doesn’t stand a chance against you,” you told him teasingly. “Oh shut up, you’re making me regret not asking you for real now.” 

The two of you finally reach the front of your house and were about to part ways when Mark speaks again. “You really looked beautiful tonight, I mean it,” Mark looks down at you, his eyes gazing into yours and you had to look away before you start blushing. You don’t know if it’s the suit or the fact that you’ve liked Mark for years but your heart is starting to do that thing again, the one where it tries it’s best to beat itself out of your chest. “Thank you… you should get going or the party’s going to start without you.” Mark sighs like he doesn’t want to leave and he looks like he wants to say something but is holding himself back. You can tell because he always makes this face when he’s unsure if he should speak his mind. “What is it?” “W-what?” “You want to say something, just say it…” Mark chuckles at the fact that you know he so well and because he’s nervous. 

“Since I didn’t get to take you to prom…” “Uh huh?” “May I… Um… is this weird?” “Mark Lee… are you asking me out on a date?” “Will that be bad?” Mark asks, half laughing, half about to shit his pants. “My best friend? Of more than a decade?” You feign a face of judgement. “O-okay sorry I-” “I’ll consider it if you ask me properly,” you cut him off before he actually thinks you’re serious. Mark sighs in relief before he brace himself to ask you, “my dearest best friend…” “Go on.” “May I take you on a date? Say, tomorrow.” “Sounds perfect.” You say as Mark hugs you, laughing as he does so and you hug him back tightly. “Okay you better go before the boys give you hell for running so late.” “Alright, I’ll pick you up at 6 tomorrow, okay? I’ll see you soon,” Mark says excited as he kisses you on the cheek, waving you goodbye as he makes his way back to the after party.

[maxverstappensflatbrim]

Show Me Yours | Matty Healy [28]

chapter twenty-eight, act four: somebody else

masterlist

little Author's note /TW before this act begins. There's going to be alot of talk of drug use and addiction within the chapters coming, if you're not comfortable with these kinds of things please don't read.

May 1st 2015

Matty rubs his tired eyes slowly as he keeps blinking at the screen in front of him, George is passed out on the seat beside him, he’d moved three together to fit his body with his head in Matty’s lap. The singer occasionally freezes when the drummer stirs but carries on with work once he’s settled again.

Adam has gone since Carly’s visiting, they’re staying in a hotel not too far away and Ross has claimed the pull out sofa.

Tommie had disappeared a while ago, moaning about something that Claeb had done again as she talked on the phone with this new Phoebe he is yet to meet.

When she does return he doesn't realise it, he’s working on a song muttering to himself as he does.

“One verse isn’t good enough Matty, come on….”

He sighs, replaying it and she grabs the headphones quietly putting them on to listen to what he’s working on.

‘I'll quote ‘On the road’ like a twat And wind my way out of the city Finding a girl who is equally pretty won't be hard Oh, I just had a change of heart’

She freezes, listening to the song slowly, head titlted in that way he usually finds adorable and then she scoffs.

The noise is what catches Matty’s attention and he turns quickly, eyes widening when he sees her standing behind him, “Baby-”

She shakes her head and starts walking out of the studio, he’s quick but careful as he moves George’s head, chasing her down the hallway.

“Baby, wait, Tom. Tommie!”

“What?”

“Wait, I need you- need your help.” He says stopping her, with a hand placed on her upper arm.

“That's it?”

He swallows then nods silently, “That’s it?” She asks the question again, hoping the change of tone, from annoyance to desperation, will open his eyes to the hurt she feels.

“Yeah, uh-”

“Is that song about me?”

“Tom-”

“Is it?” She asks, “It’s my words, Matty. I called you a twat, I- I said all those things to you Matty. ‘A Change of Heart’ are you fucking serious?”

“I was struggling to write,” He says, tongue peeking out to wet his lips, “I needed song inspiration, it was exciting.”

“Exciting.” The word tastes weird to her, like copper and cigarettes.

He steps back, maybe that wasn’t the right word. “I can’t take this.”

“Take what?”

She moves her hand around the gap between them, “This, this weird thing that's been going on. I… I miss us.”

“There was never an ‘us’, Tommie.”

“That’s not what-” She sighs and turns away as the lift dings at their level, “Not what I meant. And you know it.”

She moves her foot so the doors won't close, turning her body to him, “I miss what we were.”

“What was that?”

“Friends, bandmates, I’m not entirely sure. But we didn’t constantly disagree like this, we had movie nights, we talked, it wasn’t…weird.”

“Yeah, well that was ruined when you got a boyfriend.”

She scoffs, a violent sort of scoff he’s sure she never would’ve been able to do if she never smoked in the first place.

“No, it got ruined the day you decided to stick your tongue down my throat and say it meant nothing.”

She steps into the lift, hitting the button for the ground floor and he tries to step in but she stops him with one glance.

“I need you.”

“Don’t worry,” She tells him pettily as she lifts her chin, “Finding a girl who is equally pretty won’t be hard.”

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ

May 22nd 2015

Tommie had successfully avoided Matty for three weeks. In that time she’d recorded guitar pieces for new songs, altered lyrics Matty needed her help with and even done backing vocals for some tracks.

Thanks to George she was able to come into the studio whenever she pleased as the moment Matty would leave he’d send her a quick text.

During the three weeks she’d also helped Caleb get his own place out in LA, the pair had decided that instead of him moving into her house back home in Wales they’d rent out an apartment together in LA.

It’s a small flat, one bedroom big enough for the two of them just a few blocks away from where Phoebe lives. She didn’t tell him that when they were first looking, knowing he’d try to go a little further away from anyone that they knew for privacy.

“How long are you gonna be?”

“Not sure.”

“You’re never sure.”

She sighs, “Album making is a long process, not like you’d understand.”

He pauses, it's when she doesn’t hear the little rhythmic chops of the knife that she realises she said that out loud.

Neither say anything, she continues to gather her books and moves to the counter separating them, “Cal-”

“Text me when you’re on your way home.”

“I’ll see you later.” She moves to him, lips pouted ready to meet his but he turns away. Instead her lips meet his stubbled cheek and she breathes in to avoid another comment.

“Bye.” She mutters under her breath.

Closing the door behind her she walks out the flat and fifteen minutes through the LA streets to their rented studio.

Adam’s in the booth, George clicking away at buttons in his little ‘producer’ chair.

She sets off to the kitchen, making coffee and tea for the trio, that’s where Adam finds her, moving around and muttering to herself.

“Hey.”

“Coffee?”

“Tea please.”

She nods using his little ‘world’s best grandmother’ mug Matty had gotten him for his birthday last year for some unknown reason, adding in the tea bag, water, milk then his one sugar.

She makes her own tea and a coffee for George but before she grips both mugs to take them out to him Adam stops her, “What’s going on with you?”

“What?”

Adam sighs, placing his mug on the counter behind him, “You’ve been acting weird,” He tells her, “In your own head too much, what’s going on in there?”

She sighs, crossing and uncrossing her arms, tugging on the sleeves of her cardigan before shrugging, “I don’t know. I… I have no reason to feel this way.”

“Feel what way?”

She shrugs, “Like I’m in some kind of slump. I feel…” She trails off looking away from him but she sees him nod encouragingly in the corner of her eye, “I feel like I’m out of my body, I’m going about my life day to day, you know, but by the time I get home and sit down, can’t remember a thing, feel like I’ve walked around the world yet done nothing all at the same time.”

She shakes her head, “Then my riffs and solos aren’t good enough, and everything I’m suggesting is turning out shit, and when I take over for George I start ruining takes, and my vocals are getting shit cause I can’t go as high as Matty wants me to go, and the songs I’m writing, Jesus, the fucking songs are terrible, Adam, nothings good-”

“Hey woah-” His hands are on her shoulders, pushing her into the ground as if she had begun to lift into the air, “Everything you said there is a complete lie. Your solos are amazing, you’re literally the best guitarist I have ever met. Your suggestions are good, most of them have worked out-”

“Not all-”

He quickly continues on, ignoring her interruption completely, “George is grateful for the takeovers, no one else is offering to sit in the chair for hours when he plays drums over and over. Your vocals are great, and you can go high, you’re just pushing yourself to try and beat Matty which you don’t need to do, work as a team, not against each other. And I’ve only seen one of the songs you’ve written but If I Believe You was so beautifully written, it made me question whether or not to go get christened.”

She giggles at the last statement and he smiles at her, “You’re stressing, and I think Matty has something to do with it,” He approaches the subject softly, making sure to tread on the subject carefully, “Did you guys get into a fight?”

She nods, “Over what?”

“Uh… Ashley.”

“His girlfriend, why?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay,” He says gently, “When you do I’ll be here waiting to listen.”

“Adam?”

He pauses by the door before he can leave, mug once again cupped between both of his hands, “Hmm?”

“Thank you for being my mam.”

“Thanks for being my son.”

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ

May 26th 2015

It’s quiet, too quiet.

George hasn't uttered a word since she came in. To be fair he was passed out asleep for four hours as she moved around writing and recording her background vocals. But then he woke up, and now another three hours later he still has barely said anything besides a greeting.

Then she hears his chair creek, he slowly slides his headphones off and glances a few times over to her before sighing.

“Matty-”

“No.”

“Tommie.” George sighs, “He’s been asking about you.”

She shifts, then looks over at him again, “Like?” She prods.

“Like… how you’ve been and stuff.”

“And stuff?”

George nods, “He wants to go over some song lyrics with you.”

She sighs and runs her hands through her hair already knowing where this is going, “He’s on his way.”

“George…”

The door opens, George is standing and grabbing his hoodie to slide it on, “I’m going back to sleep.”

He heads over to the door separating their studio and break room, not wanting to leave in case she actually murders Matty. Something George is very confident Tommie (the one who forces him to have ‘True Crime Thursdays’ once a week) is capable of doing.

Matty pauses, as if not believing she would actually be there and then swallows slowly before moving over to her.

She doesn’t look at him, fiddling about with the production setup and tinkering with all the settings on Ross’ bass, something she knows the giant will get annoyed about tomorrow. But that's tomorrow's issue.

He tugs the chair he’s now sitting in closer to her, opening his mouth several times with nothing coming out besides the noise of his quiet gulp.

“Tom-”

“I don’t want to speak to you.”

He sighs, head bowing down, hair covering his face then looks up through his brows, “I know. So, let me speak.”

He shifts closer again and she leans back, staring forward into the recording booth and away from him.

“What I wrote… I understand that it upset you, using your words and- and saying those things-”

“Saying what, Matthew?” She says harshly, ignoring his little comment of ‘oh, guess you’re peaking to me’, “That I’m replaceable, average, that you can find someone prettier in seconds, do you-”

She stands and he leans further back, preparing himself for anything, a slap, a punch, a knife to the vocal cords, “I know I’m not the prettiest, I mean in school boys never even second glanced at me and Caleb was the first guy to even attempt to flirt with me. I was used to the funny stares and the worthless whispers of comp bullies… but coming from you? My best friend, the person who I thought loved me the most?”

“No, no,” He moves to catch her hand to stop her from turning away, “Please, Tommie, you know I think the world of you. Of your talent, the way you write, you're the most beautiful person I have ever set my eyes on, and the more I got to know you the more beautiful you became to me-”

“Matt-”

“Please listen, Tommie-”

“I-” He sighs and looks at the floor, “I wrote the song when you first got with Caleb, because I was jealous.”

“Jealous?”

“I-” He sighs, “I wasn’t the main guy in your life anymore-” She opens her mouth, ready to comment on the guys, but he beats her to it, “And I did that to myself, I was the one who pushed you away and I’m sorry for doing that but- the truth…”

He sighs and looks down at where his thumb is tracing her knuckles. He moves one of her rings, a small plain silver ring with some Arctic Monkey lyrics engraved into it, around her finger.

“The truth is I still adore you, Tommie, and nothing really matters anyway when you're around me.”

He moves his other hand to catch her left hand so he’s holding them both between them, placing one kiss upon each hand, “I think the world of you, and this song was a moment of weakness where I let my jealousy get the better of me and I’m sorry…”

He looks at her socked feet, a huge pair of green fuzzy socks which are way too big, pool around her ankles below her rolled up sweatpants.

He can see the edge of one of her tattoos peeking out from beneath the trousers. It's one of his favourites of hers, a simple frame the same size as her box tattoo, with an old vintage styling outline.

“Say the word and I’ll take the song off the album.”

She turns away from him, “Don’t just say-”

“I’m not just saying anything,” He promises, “I-” He sighs and hangs his head, long unruly hair covering his face from her, then he lifts it, flicking his head back to get it out of his eyes, “I’m sorry.”

She doesn't say anything, the frown stays on her face and she stares past his head at the mixing booth behind him.

“Tom?”

Nothing.

“Baby?”

“I broke up with Caleb.” She decides to say.

She’s not sure why she says it, but she does. It lips out, so she decides to add on, “A few weeks back,” His face drops, shoulders falling nd smile vanishing, “We were arguing a lot, and then I listened-”

He turns away. He knows, he knows what she listened to, and oh how he wishes he never met Ashley, or at least didn't meet her until after.

“George told me.” He tells her. “That you listened to it, and… about Caleb.”

“We’ve moved in together now.” She finds herself telling him, shutting down any suggestions she can see spinning round in his head through the glint in his eyes.

He nods, “Told me that too.”

“I broke up with Ashley.” He tells her then, when the silence stretches too long and her hands are covered by the sleeves of her hoodie. “This morning, on my way here.”

“Why?”

He shrugs. He knows why. It’s the same reason she broke up with Caleb.

This unspoken agreement between them that they do want to be together, in more ways than friendship. But they’re both too stubborn.

“It was a fling, maybe out of boredom, maybe loneliness, I knew it wouldn’t last, and so did she.”

“I’ve missed you.” He says then.

She steps back, “Please, don’t-”

“I have. I’m sorry, this whole-” He moves his hand around in the space between them then stands to match her height, “Thing- Can we- can we just, start again?”

“Start again?”

“From the beginning?”

“No,” She says, “I can forgive you, slowly, but I won’t forget. I can’t forget.”

He nods, then brushes his hand across her arm, past her elbow until his thumb rests in the middle of her box,  “Tom, I just- I need you to know-”

There's a knock, then the door creaks open, Caleb stands there, bouquet of flowers in hand, hoodie and sunglasses on. Tommie doesn’t see what he’s wearing, but Matty does and he lets out a little puff of hair at the irony.

There’s no need for Caleb to disguise himself, no one knows who he is.

“Oh, hey, Matt-”

He lifts his head in a greeting and sits back down in George’s chair.

Tommie licks her lips, still staring at him but he's turned the chair and is moving around to set the booth up to record some more vocals for one of the new songs.

She stares at his side profile, ignoring the sound of her boyfriend’s steps as they get closer to her, “Babe?”

Matty licks his lips, doing that little tongue into his cheek thing that used to drive her nuts. Now she wants to punch him.

“Hmm?”

He smiles a little when she blinks, shaking her head to then focus on him, “You okay?”

She nods and smiles back at him, “Yeah, sorry, just in my own head trying to get these lyrics right.”

He nods, kissing her cheek, “Sure, you’ll figure it out, uh… can we talk? Outside?”

She casts one more glance at Matty, hoping he’ll fly from his chair, wrap his arms around her and beg her not to follow.

She wants him to get to his knees and hold her there, hold her there in the studio with him, tell her not to follow Caleb. Tell her to break up with him, to leave him, abandon him. 

Because the truth is she’d still drop Caleb for him, he just needs to say the words.

He just needs to promise her he’ll get it right.

Matty doesn't move, he leans back in the chair staring at the microphone in front of him. Humming along to one of their tracks, Paris.

She nods and follows him outside, taking the flowers from him, “Look, I’m sorry about the last few weeks, I just-” He shakes his head pushing his hands into his pocket, “I think… maybe moving in has been a bit stressful since we’ve been trying to get the place sorted, and when you’re there I’m not, then when I’m there you’re not-'' He stops himself, “Point is, I think the reason we’re going back and forth all the time s because we never see each other.”

She nods in agreement, “I’m sorry, I-” She considers telling him the truth but then changes her mind, “I’ve just been taking the night shift to cover for George, he works himself too hard and I’m worried sometimes.”

The real thing she wants to say is Matty has the normal shift, the nine to five, day shifts, so she's taking the night shifts to avoid him. Stay out of his way. But if she tells Caleb that she will have to explain why. Tell him why they’re arguing, that they slept together, that she was going to break up with him.

“Let me make it up to you,” He says, “Show you I’m sorry, I mean, you were so patient as I made my EP-” She was on tour and barley around, she had no time for him not the other way around, “I’ll take you out to dinner, you pick the date, the time.”

She smiles, “I’ll take tomorrow night off, I think everyone wants a break, I’ll force them to leave the studio and do actual human things.”

He nods, “Tomorrow night, I’ll go over to the guy's place, and then I’ll come pick you up at 6, like the old days.”

“The old days.”

Four months ago.

Caleb smiles brushing her hair back over her shoulder, “We’ll go somewhere fancy, dress nice, you can do your hair.”

She frowns, but she doesn't comment.

“See you tomorrow then.”

He smiles, walking away from where she’s standing in the door frame.

Matty watches her, the way her hands are at her sides, thumb tapping along each finger, pointer middle, ring, pinkie, pinkie, ring, middle, pointer.

Her back is tense, shoulders slumped.

Button nudges his knee and looks over at her, Matty shakes his head as if the dog can understand and turns back to the song in front of him just as Tommie turns back into the room.

She swallows the rising lump of guilt and tugs her cotton t-shirt down a little before walking into the booth.

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ

June 3rd 2015

When Tommie wakes up that morning, bed cold and lonely, she doesn't expect to smell something sweet from the kitchen.

She rubs her eyes, wrapping herself up in a zip up and follows the smell and sound of humming down to the kitchen.

Only she doesn't find her boyfriend, apron on in his boxers like he usually is. No, he’s in New Jersey supporting one of his friends' bands who she’s never even heard of.

She finds Matty. Grey joggers, hair swept over one side of his head and one of their own band hoodies on.

Button is sitting on his feet, greedily waiting for food to drop on the floor as he makes what seems to be pancakes.

He turns to grab the butter he’d left on the counter and jumps, “Jesus Christ! You scared the shit out of me.”

“Me?” She asks in shock, “You broke into my house.”

“To make you breakfast.” He grins pointing the spatula at the pan.

She raises a brow, wrapping her arms around herself as she moves slowly to the breakfast bar, it separates them from each other but it's a good enough spot she can still see him perfectly.

“What are you doing here?”

“It's your birthday.”

She shrugs, pulling the sleeves down to cover her hands, “And?”

“I never miss a birthday.”

He pushes a little bag towards her and she raises her eyebrows, but then he pushes it closer again and with a sigh she grabs the little string handles to pull it closer.

Inside is a little digital camera. Not just any camera. The exact same sony little red camera she had for her eleventh birthday when she went through a photography phase.

She remembers saying something to him, about six months or so back-

‘If I could do another book I’d do one like Alexa Chung, put my old photos in it, maybe take some new ones.’

“Matt…”

“I bought it ages ago, saw it in a shop in London back in like…” He thinks for a second, “December maybe, so…”

She frowns as she looks across the counter to him, “Matt…”

“Look, I just- I’m sorry, alright. I don’t exactly know what for anymore, I just know I am. I must’ve fucked up if youre not talking to me and I just want us to be us-”

She cuts him off as she pulls him across the counter top to wrap her arms around him, holding herself to him, “Thank you.”

She sniffs, eyes glancing to the stove, “You’re burning the pancakes.”

“Shit!”

taglist

@thereisaplaceintheheart, @indierockgirrl, @sofaritsalrightt, @julezs-bl0g, @eaglestar31, @sophinthealpss, @noacfemcel, @if-my-heart-bleeds, @befrwime, @fallingforel, @sexorchocolateorpillowsorclouds, @3terna15unshin3, @1975sophie1975, @thesocraticjunkiewannabe, @littlesoldierelleora

-let me know if you want to be added :)

[fablesrose]

Ch 15 - The Zanzibar Marketplace Job

Series Rewrite Masterlist 

Pairing: Eliot Spencer x Ford!Reader

Description: Maggie gets arrested in Ukraine for stealing a priceless artifact. The team's got to go work with Sterling to get it back and clear her name

Words: 6560

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

Nate decided to let us help sort through possible clients, so the four of us, Nate, Tara, Eliot, and I were sitting around a table in McRory’s, looking through files. Hardison and Parker stood at the bar chatting, not wanting to over crowd. Nate explained his file which described a family whose pension disappeared and had their land seized by the state under eminent domain. 

“So these are all your lost sheep?” Tara asked, flipping through her own folder.  

“Excuse me?” Nate asked. 

“Well, you know, you can’t save them all.”

Nate didn’t have a response to that and just stood, saying he was going to get a refill of coffee. 

Tara looked between the two of us, “You know he’s drinking again.”

“I know,” I sighed at the same time Eliot said, “I’m not an idiot, Tara.”

“I was told this was a problem,” Tara said. 

“Drinking’s not a problem,” Eliot corrected, “It’s a symptom.”

The conversation didn’t go further as Nate came back. I kept my head down, looking at the file I had randomly selected, but I wasn’t actually reading it. They were right, but I didn’t know what I could do about it. I couldn’t do anything, really. Nate made his own decisions and he was one of the most stubborn people I knew. While I could support him, and hope he stopped again. I couldn’t make him. 

As I was lost in my thoughts I didn’t realize Nate had focused on someone who had walked into the pub until he said, “Eliot, I’m gonna ask you not to do anything violent.”

I looked up at Nate with a curious expression, why would he say that? I looked over to Eliot to see he had a similar look, but what caught my attention was the fact that Sterling was standing behind him.

“What?” Eliot said, “What are you talking about? I only use violence as an appropriate response.” 

“Hello Nate,” Sterling said. 

I watched as Eliot’s expression shifted for a split second before he stood quickly from his seat, turned and clocked him across the face. Sterling tried to fight back, even whipping out a baton, but he was nowhere close to even slowing Eliot down. A quick look at Parker and Hardison revealed that they were enjoying the show. 

“And this is…?” Tara asked. 

“James Sterling,” Nate answered, “we used to work together. Insurance.”

“Seems to rub Eliot the wrong way.”

“You could say that,” I answered this time. 

Nate walked up to the pair as Eliot pinned Sterling to the table he had been beating him on. “Hello Sterling. What are you doing here?”

“Actually, I came to offer you a job,” he strangled out. 

“There’s nothing you could say to make us work with you,” Eliot said. 

“It’s Maggie.”

Nate looked at me for a moment before telling Eliot to bring him upstairs. Eliot hauled Sterling up and kept a tight grip on him until we all got to Nate’s apartment. Sterling, of course was being a bit whiny and dramatic about being beat up, particularly that first punch across the face. I grabbed an ice pack out of Nate’s freezer and, a bit pettily, tossed it at him. I was aiming at his face, but miscalculated and it hit lower at his chest and shoulder. Though, he still flinched at the pack being cold and hard when it hit, so I called it a win. 

Sterling held the ice pack to his face as he explained the situation. A Faberge egg worth nine million dollars due to its rarity, was stolen from a Ukrainian museum. Maggie, who was working in that museum verifying Russian artifacts, was the only one in the building when the egg was stolen, therefore, she had been blamed.

“Who is…?” Tara asked. 

“Maggie is Nate’s ex-wife,” Eliot answered quickly. 

“Okay, is there any chance she took the egg?”

“No,” Parker answered this time, “Maggie is the most honest person we know, but besides that she’s okay.”

“Tara, she is probably a significant reason why I turned out, quote on quote, ‘normal,’” I added. 

Nate came rushing down the stairs from his room, “Maggie is being set up.”

“You live, and work here?” Sterling asked incredulously. 

“Yeah.”

“I like the old place better.”

“Do not mention the old offices,” Hardison demanded. 

“Maggie is where, precisely, right now?” Nate asked before that anger could get too far. 

“She is currently awaiting trial in the Kiev jail,” Sterling answered. “Of course when I heard that poor Maggie was being held without bail, I rushed-”

“Please,” Nate interrupted, “As soon as you found out that the Faberge egg that your company insures went missing, you-”

“Rushed to the Ukraine,” Sterling finished. “Of course I was unable to clear her name.”

“But I’m assuming you have another suspect.”

“Absolutely,” Sterling put a picture on the screen, “Alexander Lundy, international real estate mogul. Very rich, very powerful. My only problem is that he works at the American embassy, which makes him untouchable by normal law enforcement.”

“Guys we’ve got to book it, our flight to Kiev leaves in three hours,” Hardison insisted. Luckily we had all been multitasking getting our documents together. 

“Hang on,” Eliot said before we all scattered to finish packing. “I’m not working next to this guy,” Eliot stated, pointing accusingly at Sterling. 

“You don’t have to,” Nate assured, “I’ll work with him. You have a different job.”

“What?”

“Well, you’re the retrieval specialist,” Nate said, “retrieve my wife from jail, let’s go.”

Once we got to Kiev, Nate and Sterling went to meet with Alexander Lundy, and Tara, Hardison and Eliot went to get Maggie released from jail. Parker and I didn’t have anything to do at the moment, so we decided to go sightseeing for a little bit. We went to the museum, though I think Parker and I had different focuses. While I was admiring the art and artifacts, Parker couldn’t take her eyes off of the cameras and motion sensors. 

We returned to the I.Y.S. offices where Nate and Sterling were holding their investigation. They had boards with paperwork pinned to it, trying to figure out just how to prove that Maggie had nothing to do with the missing Faberge egg, and that Alexander did it. 

“That lying son of a-” Nate said, “I mean, look at these financials, the credit crunch wiped him out. He’s maybe three, four months from declaring bankruptcy.”

“Lundy offers up the egg to the museum exhibitions, so it falls under their insurance policy,” Sterling said, “hires a bit of local muscle to help with the heist, tidy payout.”

“Now, we just need some proof.”

Parker sighed from where she was perched on the counter, “It was an inside job. Average keypad hack time is one minute nine point three seconds, inner door access card takes at least thirty seconds for anybody but Hardison, and the vault was an old Mark two Remington.” She puffed, “In and out average, seven minutes forty seconds. With these thieves, they did it in five minutes twelve seconds. Maggie had the best access, so the real thieves only had to get her codes and badge… yeah, only way they could pull it off that fast.”

Sterling looked at Nate and I, “How long has she been sitting…”

I just nodded at him since she had been there the whole time, but Nate didn’t even bother. 

“Maggie’s on his calendar,” Nate said as he looked through some files, “he had lunch with her the day of the heist to discuss his collection. So while he’s keeping her busy at lunch, his men take her ID card and access codes… She gets framed for the heist, oh boy, I’m gonna nail this son of a-”

The door opened across the room and none other than Maggie, the woman of the hour, walked into the conference room. 

“I can explain,” Nate said quickly. 

I walked over and gave her a hug while Parker laid out some supplies on the table to show Maggie. Maggie hugged me back a bit confusedly. 

“We’re here to help,” I assured. 

“Maggie, it’s not what you think,” Nate also assured. 

Parker dragged Maggie over to the table, “It’s your first time being a fugitive, so I made you a bag.”

“Thank you, Parker,” Maggie said, “It’s not that I don’t appreciate getting out of jail, I just can’t live my life as a fugitive.”

“But you're not a fugitive,” Nate corrected, “You were released, not broken out.”

Parker was busy telling Maggie all the supplies she included in Maggie’s go back including a lock pick, toothpaste, and explosive gel, important not to mix up. 

“But you released me to run. I’m not going anywhere until my name is cleared.”

“That’s what I’m here to do!” Nate said, “to get the egg back and to clear your name.”

Maggie looked at me, thinking I was less likely to lie to her.

“Yes,” I backed Nate up, “That is what we’re trying to do, we just didn’t want you sitting in jail while we do that though.”

She turned back to Nate, “but you’re clearing my name with thieves! No offense Parker.”

Parker gave her a puzzled look, “at what?”

“Actually,” Sterling said cooly, “Nate and Y/n here have been rehabilitated.”

I scoffed, “Please Sterling, freelancing is a more honest profession than whatever you do.” The fact that I hadn’t done freelancing for months was not a fact that either him or Maggie needed to know. 

“Fine, Nate has been rehabilitated,” Sterling amended, “he’s here on official I.Y.S. business as a consultant. I brought him on.”

“You’ve gone straight?” Maggie asked.

Nate nodded but didn’t directly answer her, “the only reason they’re here is to deal with the authorities and to get you released and everything. They’re not staying.”

“Absolutely not,” Sterling said, “I don’t trust them, they don’t trust me.”

“Eliot already punched him,” Parker added, trying to help. 

“Yeah, it’s all above board,” Nate concluded, “it’s perfectly legit. You know, I think, really the best thing you could do is go back to the hotel, get cleaned up and everything, and I’ll call you if anything happens.”

Parker then ushered Maggie away with the intention of further explaining the go bag without the discouragement of Nate. I followed after them to maybe help Maggie escape if need be. I was eventually able to convince Parker that we needed to go and get her ready to ‘leave.’ It was a small lie in front of Maggie, because in reality Parker did have to get ready to leave, but it was for the American Embassy, not for home. Parker and Hardison went to the embassy pretending to apply for a marriage visa in order to get information off of Lundy’s phone. 

“Alexander has a travel visa to the United Arab Emirates,” Hardison said once they gleaned the info, “He’s also setting up accounts in the Caimans, Macao, and Switzerland.”

“Yes,” Nate said, “countries with no extradition treaty. Tax havens. Yeah, this does not look like someone who is going to wait around for the insurance payout.”

“And this guy showed up on his phone.”

“I know him,” Parker said. “That’s Adrian Chernov, he’s a fence.”

“Fence? So he’s selling it,” Hardison said. 

“Oh yeah, sure he’s selling it,” Nate responded, “He’s going to sell that egg on the black market and run.”

“Gotta hand it to the guy, it’s a pretty good plan,” Parker remarked, “I almost feel a little bad for screwing it up.”

“Really? I don’t,” Nate stated. 

I shot him a look, questioning his attitude for this job. Sure, Maggie was involved, but this pettiness wasn’t going to help in the long run. 

“Uh, Hardison? Can you get Chernov’s location for Tara and Eliot, please?” Nate requested. 

Hardison did as requested and sent Tara and Eliot on a mission. I was surprised at how quickly they were able to get some information, though it didn’t seem like much. The only thing that Chernov had on him was an envelope with a plain blank card inside. None of us could figure it out, so when they got back we called someone who might. 

“It’s a Zanzibar marketplace,” Sophie said when we showed her the card, “The marketplace is a one time event, it crops up in a city when an important piece has been stolen. You should have seen Stockholm after the Rembrandt heist. Parking was a bloody nightmare!”

“If it’s a one time event,” I started, “how do people know to come? It’s not like you can advertise.”

“Well, the prospective buyers are invited by their black market contacts,” Sophie answered. “They show up, verify the merchandise, and they make a sealed bid. Hey, shine an ultraviolet light on that card.”

Hardison dug through his bag, pulling a small one out. 

“Seriously?” Eliot asked, “you have one, just laying around?”

“And you’re surprised?” I asked in return. I had been eyeing the two braids he had in his hair the past couple of days. They originated from underneath layers of his hair, but were accentuated with beads at the end. I took the opportunity to give a playful tug to one of them, playing a bit with the bead. 

Eliot lifted his eyebrow at me, but didn’t tell me off. I gave a soft smile before dropping my hand, turning part of my attention back to Sophie and the card. I felt a bit bold touching his hair like that, I hadn’t attempted to do so until now. I didn’t want to push it though, even if he didn’t have a negative reaction this time. In fact, I hadn’t touched Eliot in any capacity very often. Still, the bit of hair I did touch was soft, and I theorized I would be thinking about it in the future. 

“The bidder’s ID number and the time of the auction’s encrypted on the card,” Sophie continued. “The bidders write their bid on the back of the card, one number, no zeros, and they hand it to the seller in a sealed envelope. They leave town immediately. A week later, if they win, they transfer the money, and the merchandise is couriered to them by a messenger as soon as the heat’s died down.”

As Sophie was explaining this, Hardison shone his little UV light on the card, and sure enough a time and bidding number appeared. 

“So no names, no contact with the money, or the item?” Hardison clarified. “Nice.”

“Alright,” Eliot said, “so marketplace means multiple buyers at the same time. Where’s he gonna do this without drawing attention?”

“At the embassy,” Nate answered as he entered the room. 

The three of us shared a look, glancing at Sophie who made a cutting motion on the screen. In response, Hardison slowly lowered the laptop screen, effectively ending the call. 

Nate continued as if he hadn’t noticed, “Yeah, the American Embassy is having a party tonight. Perfect cover.”

“It’s a great place to store stolen merchandise,” Eliot pointed out. “Pretty much American territory, local cops can’t even get through the gate.”

“Well, even if we can prove that Alexander has the egg, police can’t touch him or search for it.”

“If we can’t let loose the dogs of law enforcement on him, what do we do?” Hardison asked. 

“We, uh, steal the damn thing back,” Nate replied simply. 

I guess it was settled. Luckily formal attire has been permanently placed on my packing list, it seems you can never predict when there’s a time to dress up. All of us attended the party, courtesy of Sterling and I.Y.S., except for Hardison due to Sterling being petty about almost being blown up. At least, so I hear. 

The plan was for Tara to be the buyer and once the egg was located, Eliot and Parker would snatch it back. Hardison was in a van to run any technical support needed and I was there for additional personal support. Probably to be a distraction at some point. 

This plan was quickly foiled when Sterling conveniently forgot to tell us that Alexander and Maggie were in a relationship. This was only revealed when they walked into the party together. That meant that Alexander saw Tara with Nate, blowing her cover to be the buyer. It also meant that Eliot and Parker had to be extra careful to avoid being seen. Nate had Eliot be the bidder now, which required the envelope that Tara had with the card. 

“Parker,” Tara signaled, “Double reverse on three.” She took an empty glass and placed it along with the card on a waitress’s tray who was heading in her direction. 

I watched from a separate corner as Parker snatched the card off the tray and handed it to Eliot as they passed each other walking in different directions. “Damn, that was smooth,” I said, mostly to myself, clearly impressed and slightly jealous. 

Eliot gave me a quick wink through the crowd as he headed off to the auction which caused a blush to cross my face. 

I kept my distance from Nate and Tara as Maggie and Alexander approached, not wanting to get in the middle of that if I didn’t have to. 

Tara and Maggie introduced themselves to each other after a pointed exchange between Nate and Maggie. Alexander then thanked Nate for helping get Maggie out of jail. 

“Oh, don’t mention it,” Nate said. “After all, what was I supposed to do, let her sit and rot in a Ukrainian jail, to think about the poor choices she’s made? Without setting things right, or explaining herself?”

I sighed and said to myself, “What is it with everyone being petty today?” I then said pointedly, “ Nate, what the hell? Stop-” I wasn’t sure what to say, “Just stop with the attitude please, you’re acting like a toddler.”

Tara grabbed a drink off of a waitress’s tray and raised it to the group, “Cheers.”

Eliot made it to the auction saying, “Alright Nate, he’s hired some local security on the payroll, watch yourself.”

I glanced around the ballroom, picking out the few security personnel I could see. There was enough that suggested that there was plenty between who he hired and regular security to make certain menouvers difficult if not impossible. Hopefully if everything went to plan, it wouldn’t come to that. 

The two pairs made painfully awkward small talk across the room; I was glad I had decided to stay out of it. When Alexander excused himself, we knew it was go time. Eliot signaled they were about to present the egg and the rest of us prepared to get it back. What we didn’t expect was that the egg was presented as a video feed, meaning we didn’t know where it was. 

Hardison worked on tracking the signal of the feed and Eliot delayed the auction by having them move the egg on the screen ensuring it was a live feed and not a recording. Luckily, Hardison was able to work his magic and identify that it was not only still in the embassy, but what room it was in. He sent the map to us and Parker went to grab it. 

I was not as successful at blending into the crowd as Parker was, Maggie spotted me and wrapped me into a conversation with her and Tara. It was pleasant conversation, small talk at first, Maggie getting to know Tara. That’s to say, it was pleasant until Maggie just had to catch up with me.

“So…” she said, “anything happen between you and Eliot?” She had an innocent smile, but the intonation was more suggestive. 

I gave her a pointed smile, signalling her to drop it. “No, nothing’s happened. You know, with Nate cleaning up, going straight, I’ve only seen Eliot a couple of times since LA,” I lied. “Besides, we both know it was just the job, his character,” I said, this statement much less of one, if not completely true. 

Maggie gave me a hum and a, ‘if you say so’ look.

I glanced at Tara who had a lifted brow, curious. I lifted my own brow in return, almost daring her to say something, but desperately hoping she wouldn’t. 

Luck was on my side in this particular instance as the conversation shifted from my imaginary dating life to specifically them dating Nate. I saw Nate was walking towards us, so I gracefully excused myself to ‘grab a drink’ despite all the waitresses walking around. I started after Parker just in case something came up and she needed help. 

Unfortunately, something did come up. When the video feed ended, the guard who was in the room with the egg exited, and started guarding the door. Parker had no way in. Everyone else was out of position. I was on my way to help distract him when I ran into Sterling. 

We looked at each other for a moment in the hallway. He raised his bottle half empty bottle with a tilt of his head. I nodded, inferring what he was going to do and encouraged him down the hallway, leaving me a gap to follow. 

He started to coughing and staggering down the hallway just before he turned the corner where the guard would be. I left a roughly ten second gap before I started calling down the hallway after him. I jogged a little bit at the end, not very fast in the shoes I was wearing, but enough to show I was chasing. 

“Dad!” I said as I finally spotted him drunkenly leaning against the wall. The guard was already starting to approach him cautiously. I grabbed Sterling’s shoulder as if trying to stand him up again. “God dammit, I turn away for one second…” I feigned struggling to help him and turned to the guard who had closed the gap. 

“Do you need help, miss,” the guard asked. Well, for a goon of the bad guy, he was sweet.

“Would you please?” I asked, stepping away from Sterling to give the guard some room. “He’s a drunk, I can barely keep track of him sometimes.”

“I’m not a drunk,” Sterling slurred, “you are very strong.”

“Thank you,” the guard said as he supported him down the hallway we came from. 

I glanced to the other side of the hallway to see Parker sneaking around the corner towards the room. I nodded at her before turning back to Sterling and the guard, keeping him occupied. Parker communicated no issues when grabbing the egg and getting out. It didn’t take too long for the guard to get Sterling to a more respectable part of the embassy and for us to let him go back to his now empty post. 

“Your welcome,” Sterling said after the guard had gone. “I don’t know how you people ever manage-”

He cut off and stuck his finger in his ear. Hardison apologized for comm feedback, but everytime Sterling tried to talk, the feedback came back. I saw that Parker was cracking a smile similar to mine each time it happened.

We were prepared to clear out with the egg, but Nate was suddenly nowhere to be found. We decided to regroup back at our temporary base of operations, aka the I.Y.S. conference room, before doing anything too drastic. When we got back, Hardison tried everything he could think of to contact Nate, but to no avail. He couldn’t find him anywhere. 

“The case is closed, people,” Sterling whined, “the egg is back, I’m sure Nate is breaking it to Maggie about her continued bad choice in men.”

Before I, or anyone else, could snap back a retort, Hardison’s laptop rang with a call from Nate’s cell. When he answered, it was not Nate on the other end of the line. 

“We have your people,” the deeply disguised voice said. “No police. Await further instructions.” It then hung up. 

I immediately looked to Eliot, but my gaze shifted to Sterling who had begun to dial his phone. 

“What are you doing?” Tara asked, reading my mind. 

“Calling the police,” he said simply, “they don’t get to-”

Eliot snatched the phone before he could finish, “We’re not calling the cops. Two hostages means they can kill one to make a point.”

I nervously started chewing on the tip of my thumb, purposefully avoiding the nail. The focus and pressure on both my thumb and teeth was a distraction and outlet from the rising panic and anxiety rising through me. I couldn’t remember the stakes being this high, and for some reason, it felt that all the previous jobs and even my life before this was on easy mode, or even a dream, and that we had just entered the real world. Or maybe this was a dream, not really happening. Before I could spiral further, Eliot took charge, bringing my attention back to him. 

“Alright listen, there's three types of calls we can get next,” Eliot began, “One: amateur. Cash and a dump site. Number two: professional. That’s wire transfers and multiple location drop offs.” Eliot then hesitated for half of a second, “And three: targeted.”

“Targeted towards us?” Hardison asked hesitantly. 

“No,” Eliot answered, “towards a specific ransom demand.” He looked at the egg that was sitting in a case on the table, “not cash.”

Sterling was not having it, “You know, risking a nine million dollar artifact-”

“It might be the only chance!”

“On a hunch!”

Eliot was clearly irate as he rolled his eyes and rounded the table to stand behind the rest of us, facing Sterling.

“Let me run this,” Sterling continued, “we track the calls, find out whoever it is, let the police-”

“Sterling,” Eliot finally cut him off, “I’m the retrieval specialist. That’s my job.”

Sterling took a hard look at us, “Your friends’ lives hang in the balance, and you’re gonna take your cues from a punch up artist, instead of me?”

None of us verbally answered, it was clear where we stood. Sterling shifted his gaze across every one of us individually, testing the waters until he came to me. 

“Even you, y/n? You trust him to save your dear Uncle Nate and Auntie Maggie and not me?”

I swallowed with a set jaw before answering because it was clear this time that he wanted an answer, “Yeah, Sterling. I trust him. I’d trust him with this any day of the week over you. And to top it off, I like him better too. So let. him. do it. Or there’s gonna be problems.” I could feel myself trembling softly, mostly through my hands which I was hiding behind the table. I couldn’t decide if it was fear, anger, or something else, but I started to chew on my lip once I finished talking to release some energy and keep myself from saying something stupid. 

Sterling made an expression of acceptance and closed the case with the egg in it and grabbed it off the table. “Call me when you need me. Cuz you will need me.” He then walked out of the room with the egg in hand. 

The rest of us looked at each other once he was gone. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. I guess this was it. We had to get Nate and Maggie back. 

Eliot directed Tara and Parker to try to see where Alexander was, Tara to check his house, Parker to check around the embassy. Hardison continued to work on his laptop, trying to prepare or find anything that would help.

I paced around the room a couple of times before turning to Eliot. I was about to ask what I could do when he shook his head. 

“There’s nothing you can do right now, we just have to wait,” he placed his hand on my shoulder which comforted me more than he would know and directed me to sit at the table. “We’re gonna get them back, I promise. I’m gonna get them back.” He held eye contact long enough for me to know that he meant it. 

I nodded, letting him know that I believed him. He then removed his hand and sat at his own seat, thinking. I was so tired, this night had been long and now the stress was draining my energy even faster. I folded my arms on the table and rested my head. Just for a second, to rest my eyes. As hard as I tried to not fall asleep, Hardison’s quiet clacking on his keyboard slowly lulled away from consciousness. 

I awoke with a start when Tara and Parker walked in the room sporting no news of where Alexander was except not at his house and that his embassy car was checked out. 

“He’s angry,” Eliot said, “We took his payday.”

Just then, the phone rang. Eliot spread his hands with an ‘alright’ and pulled the conference speakerphone towards him. 

“Go,” he said simply when he answered it. 

“If you follow our instructions, your friends will be returned unharmed,” the distorted voice on the other end said. 

“We agree. Tell us what you want.”

Hardison worked on reversing the distortion and succeeded which revealed Alexander’s voice. 

“You owe me nine million dollars,” Alexander said. “I still have a buyer for the egg, return it, and I return your friends.”

“I want proof of life, now,” Eliot demanded. 

Alexander hesitated, “Agreed.”

It wasn’t long before a webcam video was provided showing a storage room where Alexander’s assistant was handcuffed. The accountant was talking about Alexander’s finances when Nate walked into frame, saying that we had found all of the fishy stuff in his accounts. Maggie then walked into frame and started arguing about us being here.

“There’s our proof of life,” Eliot said. 

“I was in that room earlier,” Parker said. 

“That’s the room the egg was in.”

“They’re at the embassy.”

“That doesn’t do us any good,” Tara pointed out. “We can’t storm it and the police can’t touch it.”

The feed cut out.

“I sent you the address,” Alexander said, “Come alone, at dawn. Bring the egg, or your friends die.”

Eliot hung up, shoving the speaker away.

Hardison pulled up the address Alexander sent, “Okay, the address is one of Alexander’s construction sites. Local project. Abandoned once his business got in trouble.”

“So now we have to go convince Sterling,” Tara said. “Who hates you-”

“Us,” Parker corrected, “He hates us.”

“To loan you a nine million dollar antique,” she continued, “so you can bring it to a ransom drop.”

“Listen,” Eliot said, “We know who’s behind this. We know what they want. We have the upper hand here. We do.”

We started to prepare for the drop. Eliot was coming up with the plan, predicting an elevator drop since we were directed to go to one of the higher floors of the building. There was a moment where he stopped mapping it out and stared at the screen again where the webcam feed used to be. 

“What is it?” I asked him when I noticed the furrowed brow. 

“There wasn’t sound on the video during the auction, but there was sound for our proof of life,” he said thoughtfully. 

I sat and thought on it for a minute, trying to find an explanation. The video played over in my head a couple of times before I thought I noticed something. 

“The assistant…” I thought out loud, “He didn’t seem… right. For someone who had been taken hostage. It sounded almost…”

“Rehearsed,” Eliot finished for me. He finally broke his gaze at the screen and looked at me, “I think it’s him doing this, not Alexander.”

I rested my head on my hands, “So what does this mean?”

He tilted his head, “He kept this pretty well covered up, blaming Alexander, he might try to pull something.”

I hesitated, “Like… leave no witnesses, pull something?”

Eliot nodded, “Yeah.”

I took a deep breath, “So what now?”

He turned back to his notepad, scribbling a bit more before setting his pen down. “Well, I have a plan. Now to see if Sterling will give up the egg long enough for us to get Nate back.”

“Do you want me to handle that?” I asked, trying to be helpful, knowing full well the tension that would be there. 

“No,” he responded simply, “I’ll talk to him.”

I sighed a little annoyed, “Eliot, don’t baby me, let me do something. I’ve felt useless the last few jobs, I want to help. I want to help get Nate back.”

“Hey,” Eliot stopped me, “I’m not babyin’ ya. I know you’re capable. I didn’t like the way he spoke to you earlier, to be honest. Just… don’t worry about anything, okay?”

I nodded meekly before saying a bit more light heartedly, “yeah, you’re right, you should do it. The underlying threat of him being punched in the face might help our case, huh?”

He gave me a crooked smile and a wink before going to make the call. 

I looked up after him as he walked away when my eyes caught Tara’s from across the room. It looked like she had been watching the exchange with a tilt of her head. I tilted my head back at her and she walked over to sit across the table from me. 

“How’re you holding up?” She asked. 

I rubbed my eyes, “You’re the grifter, I’m sure you can tell.”

“It’s still polite to ask,” she said pointedly. 

I gave a murmured agreement before answering, “I’m… okay. I trust the team. It’s just…” I trailed off, trying to find the words. “It’s just another one of those moments where it hits me how useless I am. I can’t contribute anything, I’m just dead weight that they have to worry about in case something goes wrong. You all have done this for years, you know the risks, how to navigate them. I’m trying, and I want to be here, but…” I didn’t know how to finish, but I figured I didn’t need to. I didn’t need to dump on Tara, she was here for the paycheck.

“Well, maybe they need a little bit of normal in their lives. Keeps them grounded,” she answered unexpectedly, to me at least. 

I looked up at her for a moment, “That’s kind of you to say, Tara.” It was clear I didn’t quite believe her. 

She stood up again, “Fine, if you won’t listen to me, at least listen to Eliot. Stop worrying about it. You said you trust the team. So trust them.” She walked out of the room, most likely going to the hotel to sleep. 

That wasn’t a bad idea. 

The next morning I was still stressed, but resting helped me feel a lot better. I wanted to wait with Eliot on the higher floor to be there when Nate and Maggie arrived, but he told me to go help Tara with her task. I was going to protest, but the stern, yet reassuring look he gave me encouraged me to go. 

Tara and I waited around the corner, waiting for the embassy car that the assistant would come in. Once they pulled up, he and his guards entered the building with Nate, Maggie, Alexander, and a suspicious looking bag in tow. I handed Tara a screwdriver and she handed back a license plate that Hardison had linked to a stolen vehicle. 

We each took a side and began to switch the embassy plates, making it officially a civilian car. When I had just finished up, Sterling came out of the building, the Faberge Egg in hand. I was going to ignore him, but he walked right up to me and the car. 

“Can you get me into the trunk?” He asked seriously. 

I furrowed my brow in confusion, “The trunk? You want me to stuff you in the trunk?”

His face twisted in a way that told me that he didn’t like the way it was phrased, but finally replied, “Yes.”

“Okay,” he didn’t have to tell me twice. 

They had been stupid, or confident, enough to leave it unlocked so I simply pulled the trunk handle that was beside me and opened it up.

“In ya go,” I grabbed his arm and shoved him towards the opening. 

He barely was able to catch himself and landed ungracefully. He twisted around to face me and said sarcastically, “Thanks.”

“Anytime,” I closed the trunk lid on his head, bumping it a little. I heard a muffled swear. “I don’t know what you’re playing at, but I’m sure a bruise wouldn’t hurt the act,” I answered loudly at him. I didn’t wait for another muffled answer and went to the other entrance to head up to the floor where everyone else was. Tara and I waited around the corner to watch them speed off first though. 

When Tara and I arrived, Hardison was explaining how he sped up the elevators and then stopped them to give Parker time to switch out the bomb from the elevator and then put the elevators on track to arrive on time. 

“Looks like we missed the party,” Tara said.

“Did they do what we thought?” Eliot asked.

“Yup,” I popped the ‘p.’ “Hopped into their ‘embassy’ car and sped off towards the airport.”

Tara and I raised the license plates, showing the switch. She dropped hers on the ground while I inspected mine for a moment. 

“Might keep a souvenir,” I commented. 

“How did you…” Nate asked.

Eliot explained the sound on the webcam and how he figured out who was really behind the theft and kidnapping. 

“After that, you don’t have to be a rocket scientist to figure it out,” he finished. 

“You know, people underestimate you Eliot,” Maggie said. 

“That’s kinda the point,” Nate replied. 

Eliot turned towards the rest of us with a content smile for a moment before Alexander asked where the egg was. 

“Yeah, in order for us to get the egg from Sterling, he made some additions,” Eliot said.

“Wouldn’t let the egg out of his sight, or too far from his grasp,” I added. I thought back to him coming out of the building with it and pushing him in the trunk, “He’s got it safe and sound.”

That settled it, so we left to go pack up and head home. Once we got there, we gathered in the pub for our celebratory drink. Except, the news was on. It showed Sterling crawling out of the embassy car trunk and telling the news how he discovered who had the egg and got it back.

“Based on his work recovering the priceless artifact,” the news anchor said, “He’s been invited to join Interpol. He’s a real life Sherlock Holmes.”

“That son of a gun,” I said. “I should have hit him harder with the trunk, knocked him out.”

“Yeah,” Parker said to me, “Interpol? Seriously?”

“Sterling’s career gets another bump because of our hard work,” Hardison said. 

“We didn’t even get paid,” Tara added. 

“Nope,” Hardison answered. 

“I hate this guy,” she concluded. 

Eliot knocked his beer against hers, “Now, you’re part of the team.” 

I raised my glass, “Cheers.”

A/n: Reblogs and comments are welcome and encouraged! Thank you for reading!

Tags: @instantdinosaurtidalwave @kniselle @technikerin23 @kiwikitty13 @plasticbottleholder

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Yuu can do it!

Part 59

First - Previous - Masterlist - Next

“– so Jack grabs the rock, right, and Enma asks him to pass it over. And then he –.”

“Ito, c’mon,” Enma groaned, his face in his arms, his ears tinted red.

“– tried to bite the rock?!” Ito continued to explain, incredulously.

“I had to know, okay?! Grim’s always talking about how those things taste amazing! What if he was right?!”

Kuroki grinned, rolling his eyes. “And how did it taste?”

Enma seemed to be trying to disappear into the side of Kuroki’s mattress. “Like a rock…”

“Rocks taste good,” Grim said, firmly, patting his stomach. “Especially the ones that come out of those Phantoms.”

Kuroki scratched the monster behind his ears, smiling. “Well, I’m sure those blot stones are worth a fortune, so I’m glad you’re satiating yourself for free. I don’t want to go into debt to feed you.”

“Oh,” Ito said, snapping their fingers. “That reminds me. So, you know how we kinda ruined a fourth of Ashengrotto-senpai’s restaurant?”

“I thought you said it was a sixteenth?” Grim said, confused.

“I did do that, yes,” Ito said, their lips curling into a grin. “Anyways. I’ve been thinking. Ashengrotto-senpai is gonna make us sign a deal again to make him pay off that debt, soooooo… I think we should tell the Headmaster that the Lounge got trashed during the Overblot.”

Kuroki, who was always down to make the Headmaster suffer, nodded vehemently. At the end of the day, even if Kuroki wasn’t particularly fond of Azul Ashengrotto, he hated Crowley and everything he represented. If something hurt Crowley, he wasn’t going to pettily toss the idea aside simply because it might help Azul out.

He also liked not being in debt.

“I could still make you pay regardless!” a voice chimed in.

Kuroki reconsidered whether he hated Azul or Crowley more.

Yeah… still Crowley.

But this thought was immediately swiped from his mind, because Azul wasn’t walking into the infirmary on his own. No, he was being carried on Floyd’s back like a child.

Kuroki pressed his lips into a thin line to hide a smile. The paycheck. Just think about the paycheck and keep a straight face.

It was much harder when Jade waved at Enma when the boy lifted his head to see the newcomers. Enma immediately seemed to go through all five stages of grief. And then he ducked his head once again, trying to become one with Kuroki’s hospital bed.

“Oh?” Jade said, waiting for just a moment so Floyd could deposit a grumpy Azul on one of the cots, before making his way over to poke at Enma’s shoulder. “And here I thought you were eager to fight me… why not now? We’re both free, are we not?”

Kuroki narrowed his eyes.

His expression immediately softened when Enma’s hand found his own, squeezing a little. “Even if – if –  y’know, I’m not really intending on leaving right now.”

Jade tipped his head to the side. Probably considering which choice on his dialogue tree would mess with Enma the most.

“Am I missing something?” Ito not-so-quietly whispered to Kuroki.

“We saw –.”

“I will suffocate you with a pillow while you sleep.”

“– absolutely nothing,” Kuroki decided. He could always tell Ito later, if they didn’t figure it out themself.

In the meantime, though, Kuroki considered the pros and cons of letting Jade mess with Enma. It was, slightly, unfair, he thought. He figured that, had he liked men, he would have probably been unable to look someone in the eyes mere hours after having seen them naked, especially not in such… strange circumstances.

But it was funny, so… as long as it didn’t go too far, Kuroki decided to let it ride.

Azul Ashengrotto, ruiner of plans, had other ideas:

“Nice to see that all of you can still be so… lively, in these sorts of circumstances,” he said, in a tone that suggested he did not, in fact, think it was ‘nice to see’.

“This is – like – Overblot number four, forgive us for not caring that much anymore,” Ito sighed.

“Four? I’ve only heard of three,” Jade said.

“Don’t worry about it,” Ito waved him off.

Jade looked like he was very much going to worry about it. Which was unfortunate for Kuroki, since he worked with him.

… wait, he was definitely fired at this point. Yeah! He had never been so happy to be at risk of dying of hunger!

Okay, admittedly, it was much harder to be pleased when he thought about the ‘at risk of dying of hunger’ thing.

He glanced at Azul, laying in his cot, trying valiantly to ignore Floyd poking and prodding at him.

“I do have to admit,” Kuroki said. “This is the first time someone actively tried to kill one of us. Like, most of the time, we were just there.”

Azul winced.

Kuroki pulled Grim onto his lap, carefully running his hand along his unfortunately-slick back. Floyd was right, he was like a little seal. It was cute, he supposed. He still missed the fur, though.

“... listen, Azul –.”

“I never gave you permission to call me that.”

“You literally tried to murder me. I’m done being polite.”

Azul flushed.

“All jokes – most jokes – aside… regardless of the fact that I do not like you, I can admit that you’re very hard-working. Sometimes hard work doesn’t beat natural talent, but it still does a lot, and most bosses prefer a hard worker over a naturally talented person, anyway. Naturally talented people kinda suck. See Kingscholar-senpai for an example.”

Azul’s face, slowly, flushed.

“Awww, what's the matter? Are you gettin' teary-eyed, Azul?” Floyd cooed.

“Dear me. You've gone back to that ink-spewing crybaby again.”

“Hey! You two signed an NDA covering that exact topic!”

“Right you are. My mistake,” Jade said.

Azul looked like he doubted it was a ‘mistake’. Probably because it definitely wasn’t one.

But, in the end, perhaps because he was simply too drained to deal with it, he turned back to Kuroki and said, “Your attempts to console me are clumsy at best.”

“Suffer, then,” Kuroki said. He’d tried his best. If Azul decided not to take it to heart, then what was he supposed to do? It was officially no longer his problem.

Enma grinned. “Aw. Kuroki. You were almost heartfelt for a minute there. Are you feeling okay?”

“No. I might be concussed,” Kuroki deadpanned.

… damn it, now Ito and Enma had noticed that he hadn’t even gotten halfway through his potion and were shoving it toward him again.

He, reluctantly, mostly just to assuage their worries, brought it to his lips again.

“What’s that?” Azul said.

Kuroki, pleased to talk and therefore have an excuse to not drink the potion anymore, lifted it high above his head. “A health potion.”

Azul blinked.

“... the fuck is a health potion?” Floyd asked.

“Is that a… thing from your world?” Jade asked, a little hesitantly.

Something like dread curled in the back of Kuroki’s mind. His hand fell back to his lap, his fingers tightening around the neck of the flask. “The Headmaster gave it to us, actually.”

(A little unwillingly, sure, but Kuroki would never admit that to them of all people.)

If anything, that answer just seemed to make the three mermen more confused. They looked between themselves, unsure.

“There’s no such thing as a ‘health potion’,” said Jade.

Which, of course, raised the question of what the fuck was it, then?

Kuroki worried his lip. Man, he really didn’t need any more world-shattering revelations today. Or tomorrow. Or, frankly, for the rest of his life, but he would settle for, like, a week.

“Can I analyze the rest of that?” Azul asked, his eyes gleaming.

Kuroki, who really didn’t want to drink anymore, jumped at the opportunity to rush out of bed and hand it over to Azul.

Grim immediately flew over and grabbed Kuroki by the back of his shirt, dragging him back to bed, his curses muffled by the shirt in his mouth.

Azul’s pupils narrowed at the potion for a moment. He held it up to the light, tilting it this way and that. His lips pressed into a thin line.

And then the door to the hospital wing started to open, and Azul rushed to hide it beneath his pillow.

They all smiled, innocently, at the Headmaster.

Crowley looked over all of their pleasant expressions, his wings fluffing up briefly, before he smoothed himself out, smiling in a way that was clearly supposed to be pleasant, but was instead coming off as blatantly nervous. “I’m here to assist you all.”

“Took you long enough,” Kuroki said.

The tension broke.

Enma cuffed Kuroki over the back of his head.

Kuroki flipped him off. “Bitch?! I’m injured, you can’t hit me!”

“I just watched you run across a room, you’re fine,” Enma said.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Crowley said, cheerily, striding over.

Kuroki, of course, thanks to the not-health-potion, was declared to be perfectly fine.

But Crowley still wanted him to stay overnight for monitoring. Something about how, when you survive drowning, you can later do something called ‘dry drowning’, where your lungs decide to be a bitch and fill with water a second time for funsies.

Kuroki was half-tempted to simply see whether he should test out the limits of his possible immortality, but that voice in his head sounded distinctly like Enma, and he never listened to Enma, thank you very much.

So, he shrugged and nodded. Monitoring his health would, perhaps, actually be good for said health!

“And,” added Crowley, squinting at them. He pointed at Ito and Enma. “You two have to leave when the hospital wing closes in a few minutes, and you can’t come back until it opens again at 7 tomorrow.”

Their expressions immediately darkened.

If you looked carefully, you could see their minds all racing, trying to find a loophole.

Enma, after a moment, brightened back up. “Okay, Headmaster. We can do that.”

Crowley’s victorious look dropped into a slight frown. “Why do I feel like I’m losing?”

“I don’t know, why do you?” Enma asked, so very innocent.

“Can’t you three behave for, perhaps, a day?” he damn-near begged.

“We just killed an Overblot for you,” Ito deadpanned.

“... that you did!” he coughed, awkwardly, and then turned to go deal with the victim of said Overblot.

Azul, too, was mostly fine. Though the broken leg was still there. Whoops.

Crowley, after a bit of magic to make sure Azul’s bones were in place (everyone pretended that they didn’t hear the boy gasp in pain for a minute there, they were assholes, but not evil), made a quick splint for the injury.

And then he ushered the Leech twins out the door, Ito and Enma in tow, calling for Azul and Kuroki to sleep well and to simply say his name if they needed help.

Kuroki and Azul looked at each other in awkward silence, unsure what to do. Should they just… sleep? Talk?

Kuroki scratched behind Grim’s ear, his lips pursed into a thin line. “So, uh, am I fired?” he asked.

He no longer had a contract assuring that he wouldn’t be fired for no good reason. And, even if he had, he was pretty sure that ‘breaking the kneecaps of your boss’ and ‘trashing your workplace’ would count as being ‘good reason’.

To his surprise, though, Azul shook his head. Vehemently.

“No. You make my life miserable for fun. I haven’t even done anything to you! There’s no way I’m going to give you an actual reason to dislike me.”

… Leona, you have been forgiven. Your claims of Kuroki being evil might have just saved half of the Ramshackle student’s income.

“Sweet,” said Kuroki, slumping against his pillows. He was pretty sure that Crowley would have made him work in the infirmary if he had no other options, but he also knew Ito’s paycheck was around half of his own, and that included all of the hours where they simply ‘forgot’ to clock out.

They would have been able to scrape by, but Kuroki liked having some disposable income. The ability to slowly fix up their house was nice. And not cheap.

At least a certain birdman had stopped crashing in through their windows when Kuroki started making him pay for the damages.

Speaking of…

There was a knock on the window.

Kuroki raised his eyebrows when he saw Floyd Leech, perched on the windowsill, smiling and waving at them.

After a second’s hesitation, he hefted Grim in his arms and made his way over. “Hi…”

“We’ve come to take you guys home,” Floyd answered the unasked question.

“How did you get up here?” Grim asked, his eyes wide.

“Jumped, Azarashi-chan,” Floyd said, as if it were obvious.

Maybe it was. Azul didn’t look particularly surprised.

Kuroki sighed, peering past Floyd. The others were on the ground. Ito and Enma were chatting, but they brightened up and waved at him when they noticed him looking.

“... how do you expect me to get down?” Kuroki asked.

Floyd smiled.

“Fuck.”

~

The Ramshackle and Octavinelle dorms were quick to part ways. The moon hung in the sky, tinted just slightly green as always. The campus was quiet, barely a whisper of conversation on the wind – two people rushing around, clearly looking for someone, though Kuroki couldn’t say he knew who their Waka-sama was, so he wouldn’t be of help.

Not that he was particularly interested in helping either way. On the one hand, Grim was asleep on his shoulders and he didn’t want to wake the monster, and on the other hand, he certainly wasn’t kind enough to help people for free (ew). Basically, he saw no reason to be nice right now, try again later.

Ito yawned, rubbing the tiny tears that formed in their eyes away absently. “Can’t wait to get back home,” they murmured, briefly bumping their shoulder against Kuroki’s.

“Hope the Leech twins haven’t trashed the place,” Enma said.

“We can make them pay for damages,” Kuroki decided. “Plus some – for emotional damages.”

Enma hummed his agreement.

Kuroki stuffed his hands into his pockets. “... so…”

“So?” Ito said, lightly.

He took a deep breath. “Um. I didn’t – I’m not going to say I’m sorry for making that contract, okay? If I had the opportunity, I’d do it again.”

And, seeing as that contract with Azul had dissolved along with all of the others, this was actually something he had seriously considered.

“But,” he said. “I honestly… didn’t think it would affect you guys at all. I mean, sure, my anxiety was telling me that you guys might make a deal with Azul one day, but I didn’t… actually think you would. I didn’t think it would change anything, or mean anything, really. I kind of just expected it to be a quick deal that would never come up again. I didn’t… want to hurt you guys. I didn’t think you’d ever have a reason to know.”

Enma and Ito glanced at each other.

“... has anyone ever told you that you suck at apologizing?” Ito asked, lightly, their shoulder bumping against his.

Kuroki smiled, a little sheepishly. “I’m pretty sure this is the first time I’ve ever done it, so I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Enma sighed, lifting a hand to ruffle his hair. For once, Kuroki didn’t even give a halfhearted complaint.

“One day the ‘I never really had friends or a family’ excuse isn’t gonna work, y’know.”

Kuroki peered out from under the hand on his head, warily. “Is it working now, though? Because I can pull the ‘ooh ouch owie I am in so much pain’ excuse, too, if it’s not.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Enma said, his lips starting to twitch into a smile. He pulled Kuroki into his side. “You – you know that we weren’t… we don’t hate you, right? Like, you’ve seen how Ito and I are when we hate people. We just needed a little time to deal with it.”

“I still don’t get why you were upset, really,” Kuroki admitted. “If you guys did it for me, I’d be thankful – flattered.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” Enma muttered.

Kuroki opened his mouth to argue, but Ito beat him to the punch: “It doesn’t matter how you would react, because we aren’t you.”

“... I mean…”

Ito flicked him in the shoulder. “Yes, yes, our fundamental framework seems to be the same or whatever, but there are still more than enough differences for us to technically also count as different people.”

Kuroki huffed.

Ito sighed. “We know you… didn’t take it very well that we were avoiding you, but, frankly… that was the nicest I could be at the time. I mean, if I talked to you, I’d treat you how I treat Trey-senpai, and I can guarantee you would like that less.”

Kuroki considered that. It wouldn’t pick at his insecurities in the same way, but he did appreciate not having a broken nose…

“Like, really, did you want me to treat you like Ruggie? Or Jade Leech-senpai?”

“I definitely don’t want to be treated the way you treat Jade Leech-senpai,” Kuroki said, rolling his eyes. “But you cannot call what you have with him ‘hate’.”

“How do you know that, hm? You’re not me!”

“It’s painfully obvious. I mean, dude, I thought you were a good actor.”

“It’s not obvious… is it?”

He looked to Ito for help. Ito looked away, whistling innocently.

Poor Enma’s face went beet red in the moonlight. He groaned.

“Do you think he knows?”

Ito shrugged. “Even if he returned your feelings, I doubt he’d confess to you, he’d rather watch you flounder. And I think you’d be too prideful to risk making a fool of yourself to confess. So… I don’t know if it matters.”

“... is that a no?”

“It’s an I can’t read that guy at all.”

“Either way, as the only male figure in your life, I don’t approve,” Kuroki pitched in, because he had to. “There is no way in hell I am letting you date Jade-fucking-Leech of all people.”

“What’s wrong with him?!”

“What isn’t wrong with him?”

“I refuse to be Floyd Leech-senpai’s brother-in-law,” Kuroki added.

Ito blinked. Once. Twice. “You guys’re related?”

Enma and Kuroki immediately went tense.

“No, no,” Kuroki said, scrambling for an explanation, because he doubted that the truth would go over well with Ito in particular. “It’s just… since Enma and I don’t have any siblings, and we probably have similar genetic makeups, we’ve decided that we count.”

Ito’s eyebrows knit. They glanced between Kuroki and Enma. And then seemed to shrug internally. “I mean. I wouldn’t define it that way, but you can do that, if you want.”

~

Oh, the Leech twins had cleaned up their house for them in preparation for the Mostro Lounge branch they had wanted to turn it into.

Nice. Free labor!

They enjoyed this for all of five seconds, before immediately trudging upstairs and collapsing into bed as one.

~

Kuroki rested his hands on his hips. “Why would I let you come with us? You didn’t even come and visit me in the hospital wing yesterday!”

“I was busy stealing that mattress for you,” Jack said.

“... forgiven,” Kuroki decided, suddenly recalling that the Tetanus Spring was strangely missing from their bed the previous night. “What’s you two’s excuse?”

“We got roped into helping clean up Octavinelle!” Deuce defended them.

“How?! Why?!”

Ace and Deuce looked as if they had been struck dumb.

“I think we were so used to the crazy shit you guys drag us into that we just kinda went along out of habit,” Ace admitted.

(All of that work conditioning their friends over months, and the Octavinelle people might have ruined it for them! Nooo! They were waiting to cash that in for something big!)

“Sucks to suck,” Grim said, smirking.

“Says the guy who doesn’t even notice when they’re roping him into their schemes,” Deuce said.

“They don’t rope me into anything. They’re my familiars,” Grim sniffed.

Jack gave the three Yuus a glare. The Yuus simply smiled serenely.

“He’s right. He could order us around, if he wanted,” Ito said, lacing their hands behind their back.

Kuroki hugged the monster closer to his chest, smirking over his head. “We would never manipulate him into anything.”

Enma batted his eyelashes. “He helps us because we’re his darling, well-behaved henchmen, and he’s an amazing boss.”

“Exactly!” said Grim, nodding his approval.

“This is seriously fucked up. This is – like – brainwashing,” Ace said, horrified.

Kuroki hummed, pressing a kiss to the top of Grim’s head.

“They don’t even deny it,” Deuce said.

“... I’m starting to think that I shouldn’t be hanging around you three,” Jack muttered.

“Nah, you’re stuck with us now,” Enma said, giving Jack a pat on the shoulder, a mockery of comfort.

“Speaking of which!” Ito lifted their backpack, full of leftover water-breathing potions. “Let’s go on a field trip!”

~

The museum was closed. Again.

Kuroki frowned. It… wasn’t supposed to be closed today. He glanced at the sign outside the door to confirm, and found that he hadn’t remembered wrong.

A short chat with the guards revealed that someone had privately booked the place just last night.

Enma pouted up a storm.

Kuroki sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Fine. We can go to the library. But you have a budget on how many books you can st – check out.”

Ito looked at him, now, their eyes gleaming.

“One piece of jewelry.”

“Five.”

“One.”

“Four.”

“... two,” Kuroki offered.

“Seven,” Enma pitched in, because he sucked.

“Oh, yeah, seven,” Ito nodded along.

“Three!” Kuroki amended, a little desperately.

“Three it is!” they chirped.

Kuroki narrowed his eyes at them. He, suddenly, strongly suspected that Ito had been going for three the entire time.

But he sighed, nodding. “Yeah. Fine. Let’s go get your jewelry now, since Enma’s definitely going to spend the rest of the day in the library.”

Ace, Deuce, and Jack immediately backed off a few steps.

“Yeah, no, we’re going to wait outside. You guys have fun,” Ace said.

“You guys are literally so gay,” Ito said, rolling their eyes. “You cannot tell me that you’re scared of going in a fucking jewelry store.”

They were.

And, in the end, the Yuus were happy to let the three of them go and grab some food for everyone while they shopped.

“Aw, man, and they were so cute, too,” said Ito frowning at the price of a set of earrings and a matching necklace. From the way they had bee-lined to this store, Kuroki suspected that they had spotted the jewelry pieces sometime over the past three days. Perhaps when they went to get food with Floyd, way back on day one?

But they were disappointed to learn that that shit was not cheap.

The woman running the store gave a slightly apologetic smile. “Seaglass is pretty easy to come by down here, but welding isn’t particularly fun to do. The heating vents are…”

Enma hummed, his eyes gleaming. “It must be hard when there’s no fire.”

“Oh, there’s fire, if you can get a mage to help you, but it costs a pretty penny,” she said, lifting her arms in a shrug. “And, frankly, I don’t want to get near the stuff. It’s freaky.”

Grim sulked.

Ito smiled, reaching out and scratching behind Grim’s ears. “Fire’s not all bad, just a little misunderstood. Y’know, people used to make giant forest fires on purpose, because the ashes would make good fertilizer for their crops.”

Grim brightened up again. “And it cooks your food, after, too!”

“And it cooks your food,” Ito agreed, softer than Kuroki had ever seen them.

Now, if Kuroki had to guess, Ito had probably never had a pet before, and therefore didn’t hold the same reservations against caring for Grim as they did for Kuroki and Enma. There was no mental turmoil to be had, no ‘oh gosh am I betraying my original family?’ so why shouldn’t they indulge themself? Add Ito’s fondness for children, and their openly favoring Grim was inevitable.

This didn’t make him feel any less jealous.

It certainly made him feel stupid for being jealous in the first place, though.

He sighed as he took in the price. It… honestly wasn’t that much more expensive than he was expecting…

“This is about the amount I thought it’d be, if you really want just these.”

Ito lit up, leaning over to press a quick kiss to his cheek.

Kuroki smiled a little, his bad mood dissipating instantly.

The woman laughed. “Why does the little one get to decide whether you can buy things?”

“Little?” protested Kuroki.

But his friends seemed to not care for defending his honor on that front. Or any front.

“Because he likes budgeting, and if we don’t follow his budget he complains for days,” Enma lamented.

“I’m trying to keep us from starving to death!”

Grim raised his paw. “But you don’t let me get the fancy tuna.”

“It literally doesn’t even taste any different!”

He shook his head. “The extra money makes it taste better.”

Kuroki scowled. His life sucks.

At least Ito was happy, beaming as Enma helped fasten the necklace in place, sliding the pendant under their shirt for safekeeping.

With that, they were off in search of a library they could definitely-not-steal-from.

“Not going to wear the earrings?” Kuroki asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Not underwater,” Ito said, slightly forlorn as they carefully tucked the box into their pocket. “Swimming with earrings is always a little risky. If you’re not careful, they can pull their way right through your earlobe. And then you can’t wear any earrings.”

“... I’m not sure that ‘not being able to wear any earrings’ is the worst thing about that scenario,” Kuroki said.

“No, it is.”

“Okay.”

~

Jack, Ace, and Deuce came back empty-handed.

This should have been considered a crime, but alas, they couldn’t prosecute their friends. They just glared at them as hard as they could.

“They like raw fish down here,” Ace grumbled. “And not in the sushi way, in the straight-up raw fish way.”

Grim frowned. “What’s wrong with that?”

“We’re trying not to get food poisoning,” Jack said.

“... what’s that?”

“Oh, to be a monster,” Enma sighed.

“Yeah, so you could eat rocks?” Ace asked, smirking.

“You’re on thin ice for not coming back with food, Ace, reconsider what you just said.”

Ace looked like he had considered it very heavily and was willing to face the consequences, but someone saved him:

“Koebi-chan!”

“How does this keep happening to me?” Kuroki whispered.

And then he was bowled over, arms latching themselves around him.

He scowled, pushing at Floyd’s face. “Get off. Why are you here?!”

“We live underwater. Why are you here?” Jade asked.

Enma scowled at him, crossing his arms over his chest. If asked, he would definitely say the flush in his face was due to annoyance. “We’re shopping.”

“Actually, we’re going to the library,” Grim corrected.

Enma gave him a betrayed look. Grim merely blinked back at him, confused.

Ito sighed. “We were gonna go to the museum, but it’s closed, so we’re gonna grab some books from the library.”

“And, let me guess, you have no intention of returning said books?” Azul said, raising an eyebrow. He was still in his human form, for some reason, getting dragged along by Jade.

But who cares about his weird choices? He was currently suggesting that they would commit a crime, which simply would not do!

“I plead the fifth,” Ito said, solemnly.

Unfortunately for Ito, no one understood their joke. They slumped against Enma, sulking. Enma patted them atop the head.

Kuroki pressed his hand over his chest. “What they’re trying to say is that you really can’t believe that we, the people who organized a heist to steal a photo for you, would steal from a public institution.”

Azul rolled his eyes.

Floyd hummed. “If you guys’re wanting to get into the museum, we can take you.”

Kuroki tipped his head back against Floyd’s shoulder. “It’s closed for the day.”

“And why is that?” Jade asked, smiling behind his hand.

“‘Cause someone’s rented the place. I didn’t even know you could do that,” Enma mumbled.

“You wouldn’t have been able to afford it even if you had known,” Azul said.

“... no way,” said Deuce, catching on first, surprisingly.

“Yes, we have decided to rent out the museum for the day,” Azul sighed. “I have to put a photo back in its rightful place.”

Azul glared at the Leech twins. The Leech twins, of course, were unperturbed.

Kuroki, however, was also more than a little miffed. “Really?! It was so hard to get that photo, and you’re just gonna put it back?!”

Jade tipped his head to the side. “Azul here wanted it because he wished to erase his past. Considering what happened yesterday… clearly, he cannot outrun it, so facing it is the only option he has left.”

Kuroki’s heart thudded in his throat.

He smiled around it. “So, if he’s facing his past, shouldn’t he be in his merman form?”

“You’re pushing it,” Azul gritted out, his businessman’s smile straining.

Kuroki snickered.

Enma waved his hands for everyone’s attention. “No more banter! Let’s go to the museum!”

Kuroki smiled. He was acting like a little kid who was very excited about a field trip. It was funny, but also a little cute. So, he shut his mouth, and allowed the Octavinelle kids to lead them all to the museum.

~

The museum was nice. Kuroki couldn’t say it particularly interested him. He’d never been a history buff, like Ito, or fascinated by the world around him in the way Enma was.

So, he let them have their fun while he hung back near the entrance with Azul to make sure he didn’t try anything while putting the photo back.

“It’s a nice photo,” Kuroki offered.

Azul stuck it to the wall, scowling. “It’s a perfectly fine photo, just not a good one of me.”

Yeah, Kuroki had kind of guessed that much. Between the octopus-themed Overblot, and the ink-spewing crybaby’ line, and Leona calling him a ‘cephalo-punk’, putting together the pieces wasn’t that difficult – Azul was the little octopus Jade and Floyd were annoying in the picture.

And, considering how far their little group of three was from the rest of their class, and how they all looked different from the others… well, Kuroki had a few guesses as to why Azul was the way he was.

No wonder he’d fixated on Kuroki.

Kuroki was still taking it personally, though. If only because he didn’t generally appreciate it when people tried to kill him.

Azul stared at the photo of himself.

“I thought… if I could just erase all proof of my past, I would feel better,” Azul admitted, leaning against his cane. “I managed to get all of my classmate’s yearbooks, the negatives from the photographers, even this. But…”

“It didn’t make you happy?” Kuroki guessed.

Azul snorted. “Not in the least. All I could think about was how one day, somehow, someone would find out, and everything would just… end. And I’d be back there. Never did I think that it would be my contracts that would fail me, though.”

Kuroki thought about it, and then shrugged, leaning against one of the turnstile machines. He wasn’t at all qualified, but Azul was talking to him for some reason, and therefore it fell on Kuroki to fix things.

“Well… I think your problem is that you focused on the wrong thing. You wanted to make it so no one could make fun of you, right? But the people making fun of you… okay, they were the problem, but that’s not something that you can change. Sometimes, your situation is shitty, and you just have to move on, because there’s nothing else you can do.”

Azul gave him a slightly tired smile. “You’re bad at this.”

“I’ve been told I’m bad at apologies, too,” Kuroki shrugged. “Speaking really isn’t my strong suit, I think.”

They stayed there in silence for a long while.

“... did that work for you? Moving past it?”

“Our situations are different.” He walked over to peer at the photo. Slowly, he lifted his hand, thumb up, covering Azul’s past self. “I wasn’t… bullied, per se. I just… wasn’t.”

If Kuroki had never existed back in his own world, would it have changed anything?

Had he been born here, would he have been better off?

There was no point in ‘what ifs’, and yet it was hard to dismiss the thoughts entirely.

“And, as for moving on…” Kuroki smiled, wryly. “I think this is a ‘do as I say, not as I do’ kinda situation.”

~

Enma hooked his arm through Kuroki’s the moment he saw him.

“C’mon, you have to see the dinosaur skeleton,” Grim said. “It’s huge.”

“It’s not a dinosaur, it’s a sea dragon,” Jade corrected, lightly.

“Yeah, yeah, the definitely-not-an-ichthyosaur,” Enma said, rolling his eyes.

“What’s an ichthyosaur?” Jade asked, raising his eyebrows.

Enma’s eyes gleamed. “Okay, so, it’s this species of big water dinosaur, and it –.”

Kuroki tuned Enma out. Not because he wasn’t necessarily interested in dinosaurs, he is a guy, after all, he had just heard this particular rant before.

He watched as Deuce admired the craftsmanship on a nearby cauldron, which was said to belong to the Sea Witch. Ace was laughing at Deuce, but he took pictures when asked.

Ito and Floyd had taken to the gift shop, which housed one very stressed out worker who looked like they might start swimming belly-up if Floyd stayed for much longer. Ito, of course, was probably doing this on purpose in hopes that, should the woman pass out, they would get the chance to loot the place. They were owed one more piece of jewelry for the day, after all, and if there was anything they took seriously it was certainly their physical appearance.

As for Jack, he was currently looking at the different bioluminescent plants and small fish that were being used as makeshift lamps. He poked one of the fish. The fish, being a fish, swam away. Which, unfortunately, seemed to ignite a latent hunting instinct, and now Jack was chasing it around.

Kuroki smiled, his attention turning back to Enma.

“– took out a whole T-rex, it’s so cool, I wish I could show you the movie –.”

Ah, it was still going.

Perhaps at least partially because Jade was egging Enma on, nodding along with interest, but…

Now that Kuroki thought about it, Enma’s dinosaur rants usually lasted the longest, since it usually devolved into talking about Jurassic Park, which was… a movie series from Enma’s world. Apparently, it had dinosaurs in it. Lucky bastards don’t even know what they have going for them.

Ito walked over, a new shell bracelet on their wrist. Kuroki rolled his eyes. They simply shrugged, entirely unrepentant.

Which was fair, it wasn’t like Kuroki was going to get onto one of his friends for theft.

His eyes flicked to Deuce, who might also commit theft, honestly, judging by how he clearly coveted the cauldron, and found Azul standing by him, giving a sales pitch:

“I do understand how mages create fire underwater, but I should warn you now – my knowledge doesn’t come cheap.”

Deuce and Ace started rifling through their pockets.

Had they learned nothing from the entire anemone situation? Maybe Ito was right, they should have let Azul have control over them for at least a little while.

… well, it was officially the start of Winter Break for them, Kuroki supposed, and Azul was only asking for hard cash. He could let them have their fun.

In fact.

Kuroki nudged Enma in the side. Enma paused in his rant about how the moral of the first movie (something about how ‘You were so focused on whether you could, that you never stopped to consider if you should’) was stupid and annoying, actually.

“Azul is going to explain how fire works underwater.”

“... hold that thought, senpai,” Enma said, before immediately rushing to join the others.

(Kuroki sighed as he was dragged with him, relieved. Crisis averted. Jade and Enma could not become friends – or, worse, more than friends.)

Azul raised his eyebrows at the new addition to his audience but, having been paid, he seemed more than happy to comply. Probably because Ace and Deuce had shoved some extra thaumarks into his hands.

“Well, you see, understanding fire and its properties is important. It feeds on oxygen, which means you must provide it with air to breathe. You start off with a wind spell…”

[lordperceval-16]

One more night

You've been there a million times before with Pierre, and yet somehow you can never bring yourself to resist him.

Inspired by the song "One More Night" by Maroon 5.

TW: Toxic relationship, mild swearing.

"Where the hell do you get off anyway? You've got no right to give me shit."

"The hell are you talking about?" Pierre sneered, "you were plastered all over Esteban for the night. And you were only with him because you knew of all people, he'd wind me up the most."

"Are you actually serious?" You scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief, "Esteban and I are friends and you damn well know it. You were the one in the corner whispering in some random girl's ear."

"I was only with her because I saw you with him," he stated pettily, and you threw your hands up in frustration.

"Do you even hear yourself?" You shrieked, "you're such a fucking hypocrite and you're delusional on top of everything else."

"I know what I saw," he says stubbornly.

"You know what, fuck this. I'm not doing this with you again." With that you stormed out of the bedroom and slammed the door behind you. He was completely infuriating, a paranoid little shit who wanted to keep you all to himself but didn't want to follow his own rules.

"Wait," he called after you, running down the hall and sliding to a stop in front of you, blocking your exit, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Please don't go chérie."

"You're always sorry ," you shouted, "you're always bloody sorry and then it's..."

"Baby please," he pleaded, reaching out and trying to grab your hands. You wrench them from his grip and try to storm past him again. He slid to the side and blocked you again and you huffed in exasperation.

"What even is the point of this argument Pierre?" You snapped, "you're not my keeper and I'm not yours. You wanna screw other people? Fine, great, but don't expect me to be sitting around here twiddling my thumbs and waiting for you to get home because that's not what this is."

"You know nobody compares to you," he insisted, "you're the first thing I think about in the morning and the last thing I think about at night."

"Oh don't even start with your flattery," you huffed, but you couldn't ignore the flutter it invoked in your chest. You cursed your own stupidity for even listening to him. He knew just what to say to get you to pause, and you fell for it every damn time because you wanted to believe he meant it.

"Let me show you baby," he murmured, his hand caressing your cheek softly. Your brain was telling you to shove him off, to tell him you were done with him and to walk out the door. But your body was already reacting to his touch, and he knew he couldn't lose.

His kissed you slowly, his tongue caressing yours with almost painful delicacy. As he pulled back he caught your bottom lip between his teeth and pulled gently, and you felt a shiver roll down your spine. You could have slapped him when you felt him smirk against your lips, but what was the point? You wanted him, and there was no use in denying it.

"Come to bed chérie, let me show you I care" he murmured in your ear, and you groaned with both desperate want and heartbroken resignation. He steered you down the hall and back into his bedroom with his hands on your waist, his lips trailing teasing kisses along your neck. You sighed breathily, all previous arguments long forgotten about as his fingers teased the bare skin peeking out from under the hem of your shirt. He swiftly pulled it over your head and pushed off your jeans before lowering you onto the bed. You couldn't surpress a throaty moan as he kissed his way down your torso, and your muscles tensed in anticipation for what was to come that night. There wouldn't be much time for sleep, of that you were certain.

When you woke the next morning, you sighed in satisfsction as you stretched your tired muscles. Your body felt relaxed and spent in the most satisfying way, but when you opened your eyes and looked across at Pierre you felt a sinking pit begin to form in your stomach. You'd sworn so many times that you were done with him, that you wouldn't allow yourself to be sucked back into his bed. You knew that you were toxic together, that nothing good would ever come of it, that he would never change. And yet you couldn't bring yourself to let it go.

Then again, maybe you were just as bad as he was. You'd never give him the satisfaction of admitting it, but he had been right. You had consciously glued yourself to Estaban in the club the night before because you knew it would get Pierre's attention. You'd wanted his attention, wanted to make him jealous. You knew how toxic it was, but that was always how it was with you two. You'd make each other jealous, you'd fight about it and then you'd fall into bed and forget all about it. It was an endless cycle that neither of you could break.

With a sigh you got out of bed and began to dress quickly, hoping you could get out without waking him. Unfortunately that hope was quickly dashed when he rolled over and peered up at you bleakly.

"Where are you going Chérie?" He yawned, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his palms, "Come back to bed. You can't leave without a morning cuddle and some breakfast."

In that moment you saw the Pierre that had kept you coming back for more everytime. The soft, sweet, affectionate Pierre that you had inevitably fallen in love with somewhere along the way. But those tender feelings were soon eclipsed by the gnawing guilt you felt towards yourself for allowing yourself to fall for his charms again. He would never change. He would always be an incorrigible flirt and a womaniser.

"No Pierre, I'm leaving," you stated firmly, willing your voice to remain even, "and this is not going to happen again. I mean it Pierre, no more."

"Aw baby don't be like that," he sighed, reaching out towards the in the hopes of pulling you back into bed.

"I mean it, this is the last time this happens," you insisted, although to your ears it felt hollow. You couldn't ignore the déjà vu that came with those words, considering it was probably the millionth time they had left your lips. You knew if you hesitated any longer that he'd go on the charm offensive again, so without giving him a chance to orient himself you walked out and left him sitting there, never looking back.

Barely two days later a knock on your door pulled your attention from the TV show you'd been watching. You opened it hesitantly, sighing in exasperation at the bunch of red roses that were being tentatively held out to you by Pierre.

"I'm sorry chérie," he murmured softly, his eyes earnest, "I'm sorry I messed up. Please, please give me a chance to make it up to you."

You wanted to tell him to piss off and to shove his roses where the sun don't shine. You wanted to tell him you weren't interested and slam the door in his face. There was a whole list of things you wanted to say to him, but none of them came out. Instead you stepped aside and left in him, because there he was with a bunch of roses and an apology in hand, and you didn't have it in your power to turn him away.

And so the cycle began again.

[bornspellcaster]

Little Firefly - 1

(When the time pool closes before she reaches it and Luz finds herself hopelessly stuck in ancient times, an incident forces her to work together with her enemy to ensure their survival. In the midst of it, Luz learns there may be more than meets the eye to the frigid Puritan, and discovers the real secret to saving The Boiling Isles may just lie in reuniting an estranged family…)

Next

--

She didn’t think she had to look behind her. The Boiling Isles should have honed her instincts better. She should have known! Perhaps she’d gotten too cocky, too confident, too assured that she would find her way back home without a problem. Surely she couldn’t get stuck away from home, away from home!

She’d just been about to leap into the rippling, and closing pool when her arm was harshly seized. “Hey!”

“Luz!” Lilith cried, her heterochromatic eyes widening with horror right as the ripples in the sand stilled.

“I followed you, you know,” Philip began casually as he yanked the child away. “And it didn’t occur to me to ask you—mostly because I was too busy nursing my broken FACE—but I have a series of questions for you, little wench. What has your kind been doing infiltrating the human world in the first place?”

“I-“ Luz struggled as she reached out towards the sand. “Let go of me!” 

“And I heard you talking with your aunt, you’re trying to make a door. Do you have some ingredients needed already? What are they and where are they?!” he growled. “And where does that pool even lead?”

“I don’t have any! The only portal I made collapsed in on itself!” Luz ripped herself out of his grip, her hands desperately scrambling through the sand, and shoveling up grains with her hands. She felt her anxiety climb with every inch deeper she dug, no pool in sight.

He scoffed as he straightened himself and got up, clearly paying no mind to the teen increasingly on the edge of a mental break down as she kicked and dug sand like a dog, all but shoving her face into the dirt.

“Clearly I have no use left for you then,” Philip said coldly as he left the teen to her own devices. She didn’t even hear him leave, too busy shoving her face in different parts of the beach, in a vain attempt to find another pool to take her home..

It hadn’t taken long to find him after that, his boot prints leaving their tracks along the sand and up a path leading to a cave. Luz was sure her own shoe prints were sizzling into the earth. The boiling anger seething within her rivaled the temperature of the seas.

So this is where he lived, huh? Fitting. Smelly. Old looking and alone. Cold. …Empty. She’d seen prison cells that had more furnishing.  It looked like his bed was a stone slab. There was a worn old table that he’d probably stolen from someone, and on it, a simple fishing rod and what looked like a badly whittled spear.

And there he was with his back turned.

“YOU!” Luz roared.

Philip barely had time to register the events, of vitriol spat curses in a tongue he hadn’t heard in quite some time, the man looking over in time to see a blur of colors, and being sent crashing hard to the ground.

Luz pettily clung to the back of his jacket, her hands ripping fistfuls of his beard, electing enraged shrieks of pain as the scraggly man grappled with the girl, until he’d finally ripped the brat off of him by the scruff of her collar.

“You detestable little wench!” the man seethed through tightly clenched teeth. He hurled her to the ground. “How DARE you lay a hand on me, you beastly little creature!”

Luz sneered through emotionally and physically pained tears. “Ohoho I’ll show you beastly, you smelly old dirt bag!” She reached into her satchel and pulled out a crumpled parchment, and Philip’s eyes widened as he barely had a chance to barrel roll out of the way of a crackling fireball.

“You wish to throw fire, do you?” Philip reached into his pocket and pulled out his own set of parchments, malice crackling as brightly as the flames as he clapped together two different glyphs, and Luz quickly deflected the hot bolt of electricity with a wall of vines.

“Thanks to you I’m STUCK HERE!” Luz roared, trying to lunge at his ankles with a string of tightly constricting vines. “You kept me back, away from my aunt and the time pool closed before I went through!” she shouted.

“Well perhaps you should have just stayed in your own time then.” Ducking away from needle sharp shards of ice, he bared his teeth. “Oh I’ve had just about enough of you, you little barbarian!”

“Yeah?? How about you come back to the beach with me? I’ve dug a few holes, one big enough to be YOUR GRAVE!” She tried to hurtle a ball of fire at the man, but his vines whipped out like a scourge.

Luz yelped loudly in pain as the spiked vines seized her around the waist, and hurled her against the rock side of the cave. Finally unable to withstand anymore abuse today, her helmet, dented from the battle, could no longer even grip onto her head.

Philip watched the gladiator helmet fall to the ground, and his shoulders fell slack in shock. “…You’re a human?”

Before Luz could respond, the cave….began to rumble.  Both gasped in horror as it began to collapse in on itself. Boulders crashed to the ground, sending shards of gravel and clouds of dust billowing into the air. It was hard to see. It was hard to hear over the roaring.

“Damnit, look what you’ve done!” Philip shouted at the child. She didn’t have time to snip back at him, as just then, another several rocks fell in front of the entrance, plunging them into deeper darkness. There was barely a sliver of light remaining.

Philip looked frantically back at the entrance he knew they couldn’t risk using as an exit. There were too many rocks falling. One by one, falling like a child’s wooden blocks, and soon they would reach them.

“This way!” Philip growled as he started to run further into his cave. “Well? If you don’t want to become a flapjack then come on! Makes no difference to me!”

Luz didn’t hesitate a moment longer before quickly following Philip. “It’s a dead end!”

“No. It only seems like it is!” He shoved the girl aside as he reached a strange part of the wall. Clapping a glyph combination onto the rocks, Luz was nearly blown back by the force of the sudden blast. The stack of rocks tumbled downward to reveal another passage that twisted further into the ever darkening cave.

“Ahhhhh!” An ear piercing shriek that came from the man made Luz spin around in shock. She gasped when she saw Philip, pinned to the ground by the leg by a bowling ball sized rock. Ichor spilled and stained the cave floor and Luz could already see a sizeable gash from here. 

For one mean moment, she considered turning back around…but that moment didn’t last. Gritting her teeth with a groan, Luz rushed back quickly to Philip. The man’s cerulean eyes followed her in confusion as she whipped out her vines and looped one end around the boulder, and the other part of the vine she reeled around both of her wrists.

“What are you-“

“Just help me!” Luz snarled, as Philip began pushing at the boulder as well. Once free, Luz looped the vines around his midsection and her arms under his, dragging his limp leg through the passageway, and leaving a long dark trail of blood as she did.

Philip tried to tuck them into the crevice as much as he could, and he winced with the child as the roaring got louder. Luz squeezed up close to him and shut her eyes.

They were plunged into total darkness. ….The roaring stopped and the only sounds that could be heard were the remaining small pebbles tumbling down the decrepit walls. The cloud of dust still had a chokehold around their throats, forcing them to cough into the fabric of their clothes.

Both panted in terror and Luz looked around her. The cave was so black she couldn’t even see her own hand now. The chaos having settled for a moment, she was aware of a nauseating stickiness covering her hands that stunk of copper. She knew what it was, and she didn’t know if it was from her or him.

“Ugh….” Him, definitely him.

Luz reached into her pockets with slippery hands and pulled out one of her glyphs. Activating it, an orb of light illuminated their surroundings, and the blood coating her fingers. …And Philip. Luz’s stomach sunk. He was getting pale.

“We’ve gotta stop the bleeding.” She glared at him and pulled the bandage he’d been nursing his fake injury with earlier, none too gently. “Look at that, pretend to be hurt and then you actually get hurt. Karma is a B, huh? At least you have use for this bandage now!”

Philip glowered at her through half lidded eyes, but even in the limited light Luz saw something that she hadn’t seen from the scruffy old scholar since meeting him. Genuine confusion…and almost bewilderment. Like someone had never shown him genuine kindness before…despite how she had willingly done so when they met and that’s how this mess began.

“Why did you save me?”

Luz sighed as she grimaced trying to stretch in the little, cramped space they had. “Because I’m not like you. I don’t just let other people die, even if I don’t like them.” She tilted her head wryly. “And you’re the only one that knows the way out of this cave. Now come on, lean on me,” she sighed.

He looked uncertainly at her hand that she offered out, and scowling, he grimaced and groaned as he stumbled into a limp, pointedly refusing her hand.

Luz scoffed and started walking through the small passage. “Whatever.” She instead looked around her, trying to assess the passage and just how long it might be. It twisted and turned into different stretches going down, seeming to be surprisingly deep. “It’s a labyrinth . Geez, it looked shallow until I actually got a deeper look!”

“It’s always been fairly deep,” Philip agreed, wincing as he used his splint/shovel from earlier as a cane, and stumbling his way down the dark path. “I got an infestation of those blasted spider bats and sealed off most of the other paths. I made it one tiny room, but with enough chipping away, we’ll be able to safely destroy the rocks blocking the openings.”

Luz nodded hopefully and brought to life another bright beaming glyph, shining like a small beacon to illuminate the path that lay beyond.

“Why didn’t you…tell me you were human?” Philip asked conversationally as they walked. He tried to sound as casual as he could, but inside he was reeling. Another human, here? A human CHILD, no less? By the titan, the little girl looked nearly the same age he was when he came here.

He felt for her, despite everything. He couldn’t imagine how terrifying this wretched place was for someone her age.

Luz scoffed. “Well initially it’s because me being human has led to more people than not trying to kill me at first meeting, but it seems if you get a jerk big enough like you that doesn’t matter.”

“I wouldn’t have used you as a sacrifice if I knew you were a human child!” he exclaimed angrily.

“And that makes it better? You would still kill my aunt.”

He made a face of derision. “ If you’re a human child, you don’t have a witch aunt. What are you doing fraternizing with these savages anyway?”

Luz whirled right around, and the light glowed about as hot as the rage in her almond shaped eyes. “Say that again and I’ll give you a punch in the jaw to match your broken nose.” She wasn’t sure if she could though, purely because of the injury he was currently nursing. It felt a bit like overkill and was probably making him suffer enough.

Speaking of… She glanced down at his leg and her eyebrows shot up in concern. Already a dark stain of red was soaking through the linen and starting to trickle down his leg. Judging by the way he was beginning to sway, blood loss was beginning to affect him.

“Save your bigotry for when you have more strength, how about?” Luz said dryly. “We’ve got to figure out how to stop the bleeding because this bandage isn’t working. I need to get a better look into this wound.”

“And I’m supposed to trust your expertise on medical knowledge?” Philip snipped, and Luz nearly shoved him to the ground.

“You will if you want to live, my dude! Your choice! Besides, my Mom is a vet, and she’s taught me a few things.”

Luz sighed as she looked at the glowing orb still hovering in her palm. It was barely enough to let her see his leering blue eyes, let alone the full extent of a potentially severe wound. 

“I need more light.” She grappled around in the near darkness until she found a shard of rock, one she could possibly use to scratch engravings onto the ground. “Just hold on tight, alright?” 

It was difficult in such a cramped space, but Luz managed to slowly turn a circle, the shard of rock dragging across the ground with hideous scraping sounds, drawing a much larger light glyph. She slapped her foot down and Philip winced at the blinding flash, opening one eye and staring at a much brighter ball of light that bounced its glowing rays down the tunnels.

“Alright, let’s see what we’re working with. Oh yikes, you’ve lost a shade of your complexion in the past five minutes.” Luz winced as she looked at the woozy man. 

Cautiously Luz unwrapped the wound, and she inhaled sharply. It was worse than she thought. It wasn’t deadly, but left to its own devices it may be. It was bleeding, bubbling up froth and dirt and the bleeding needed to be stopped. “I don’t have a needle and thread on me…so you’re going to have to bear with me.”

Philip looked at her uncertainly. “What does that mean?”

Cleaning away the gravel and grime from the gash, Luz bit her lip and sketched a small fire glyph. Immediately Philip’s eyes bulged out. “No! Don’t you think it!” he cried.

“Look it either has to be sewn or cauterized or this could go from something serious to deadly!” Luz snapped. “I’ll be as gentle as I can be, even though you don’t deserve gentle.”

“Gentle. With fire?! How does that work?!” he snapped, eyes wide in obvious terror. He’d lost more color but Luz had a feeling that wasn’t blood loss.

“I-I don’t know!” she spluttered. “It’s our only shot right now though.” Grimacing, Luz tore off a piece of her shirt and shoveled it in the man’s mouth. Huh, she should have done that long ago…

The girl searched around for an object she could heat up, finding her options limited. In the end, she went for the tip of his shovel and nervously ignited a fire glyph. She held the flame against the metal for a good minute, and tried not to feel pity when she saw the fear in his expression. 

“Deep breath, okay?” Luz asked gently. She prayed she knew what she was doing and she pressed the red hot metal against his wound. The sizzling crackled from his skin and the stench of burning flesh stung her nostrils. His raw screams of anguish, even muffled, were the next to permeate her senses.

Philip shrieked and tried to keep still, his hand spasming around and looking for something to grip onto for leverage. He panted and heaved, nearly vomiting into the rag in his mouth. Sweat streamed down the sides of his face and tears threatened his eyes.

Luz pulled away. “It’s over,” she reassured, pleased to see the wound had clotted, the flame siphoning off the leaking vessel. “Are, uh, you okay?” Even with everything he’d done, she took no pleasure in that.

Philip was struggling to get his bearings, but nodded shakily as he stumbled to his feet. “I-I’m fine,” he said begrudgingly as he stood. “We need to keep moving before we lose oxygen.” His legs shook, nearly sending him into the rock face. 

“How long might that be?” Luz bit her lip.

“Soon if we don’t hurry.” 

Eventually they reached another twist in the long rocky passage and a stack of well placed rocks. In such a narrow tunnel, these might be harder to destroy without further injury…or trapping.

Still, Philip extracted his shovel, the shovel head glinting in their bright golden light source. He struck down, putting weight on it with his good leg, and attempting to maneuver the metal underneath one of the small boulders. “Damnit,” he cursed. “It’s wedged tighter than I…” He grunted and with a final yank, there was the sound of a snap. …It had broken as effortlessly as a toothpick.

Two parchments glowed green as vines sprouted around Luz’s arms once more, looping around the rocks. Try as she might to yank at them, it was to no avail. They were wedged, and tightly it seemed. “Geez, how tight did you stack these things?”

“It didn’t seem to be that much!” he grunted.

“We’re so close to the other side too,” Luz sighed as she slumped against the boulders. With her ear pressed against cold granite she could hear all the sounds of the cave. Distant, dripping stalactites, the sound of stray pebbles tumbling down. And…

“Breathing…” The child’s eyes widened in horror as she slowly backed up, already preparing to reach into her pocket and snatched glyphs from her pockets. Her stash was starting to run low. It was difficult to flex her blood encrusted fingers. “Oh no…oh, it smells the blood!”

“What does?!” Philip backed up quickly, ready to limp into the other direction as fast as he could and leave the child to be consumed.

“I don’t know!” Luz veered from side to side, holding up her light glyph. The glow illuminated a bright and pale yellow eye peering through the cracks. The teenager grit her teeth as she held up a ball of flames threateningly, but whatever their predator was pursued anyway and Luz gulped as the rocks started to jostle from their positions. “Well, at least it’s moving the rocks…”

The creature let off a horrible screech and Luz backpedaled onto the cave floor, her palms scraping the rocks as she attempted to put as much distance from the creature as she could. Just in time it seemed, as the rocks tumbled down right where she’d been standing.

“It’s broken through! Hey!” Luz gaped as she whirled around. She shouldn’t be surprised, but somehow it still stung seeing Philip limping in the other direction. “Get back here!”

The creature screeched again, confusingly softer this time. Luz looked up, and she saw the friendly face of the stonesleeper, whom she had affectionately nicknamed Pancake. Its large beak twitched curiously. “Pancake!” she laughed. “Did you follow us here?” Excitedly, she ran forward and clambered the rough stone of its body to reach its back. “I’m so happy to see you!” She scratched behind the creature’s long horns.

Luz tossed a cold glare at Philip standing, or more so wobbling, about five feet away from them now. The small amount of pity she’d formed for him in the last few minutes had dissipated like a puff of smoke. “I should leave you here. I should drop another friggin boulder on your leg, you jerk!”

“I didn’t know what that beast was at first! And I don’t know how in the titan’s name you’ve managed to tame it.” He narrowed his eyes at the ancient monster that didn’t look overly enthused to see him.

“I’m just that awesome,’ Luz had to preen, strutting her chest like a proud peacock. She reached a hand down to seize one of his grimy ones. He seemed to be glaring at the beast with utter distaste and it was all she could keep from losing her temper and telling Pancake to trample him.

“Your hands are all crusty.”

This bitch… “Yes with YOUR blood, and it’s about to be more if you don’t get. on. the stonesleeper,” she spoke, through bared teeth. He got the message.

With its two passengers aboard, Pancake lifted its head, stone horns rearing up for momentum, and swinging down into the rest of any rocks that made this narrow squeeze a tight fit. Luz could feel a refreshing cool breeze touch her skin. It was a welcome change to the humid and stale air of the cave. There wasn’t very much light however.

“It’s night,” Luz realized as they finally reached the opening. She could see a canvas of sparkling stars stretch across the night sky. 

Astute observation,” Philip said dryly as he nearly shoved away from the stonesleeper in disgust, despite doing so leading to him landing hard on his injured leg.

“I hope you have nothing really important inside that cave, because whoo boy…” Luz whistled as she looked at the fallen rock structure. Philip’s face fell slightly.

“Anything of significance I have with me,” he said, patting his satchel. “…However, all of my food and equipment is in there, and now I’ll have to start fresh.” He turned to look at Luz. “Well I appreciate your assistance, child. Now it seems we’re free to part ways!”

Luz whirled to the asshole, her eyes blazing at the sheer, thoughtless audacity. Just when she thought he couldn’t get any worse, honestly. “Free to part ways??” she shouted at him. “Because of you I’m stuck here! Nuh uh, you dirtbag! You are going to tell me how to get home or I am going to cauterize the rest of you!” she threatened.

He called her out on her bluff, with the most satisfied smirk. “Clearly you’re far too ‘nice’ to act on that threat.”

“You’re really that much of a psychopath to leave a kid out here alone??” She rolled her eyes. “A ‘human’ kid?”

Philip scoffed as he turned to start down the dirt path, turning mostly so Luz didn’t see the micro flash of turmoil as ‘human’ touched his ears. “I think you’ve proven you’re more than a helpless human child, Luzura. You can survive on your own.”

He took a few steps and cried out. Sharp burning daggers shot up his injured leg and fell him like a ton of bricks.

Luz watched apathetically as he groaned. “You can’t.” She smirked as she moseyed along behind him, triumphant at his glare. “Besides, if you don’t help me I’ll just follow along on Pancake and bug the crap out of you until you do, and make things more difficult for you. Oh, that’s if you haven’t fallen down a cliff or gotten eaten because you can’t outrun anything…” Her evil grin widened as his glare darkened.

“…Fine,” Philip finally growled. “I’ll take you to a place that may be able to help you, and may be able to get information on how to create another time pool. It’s a few towns over. Consider it my repayment for your…kindness.” He almost stumbled out the last word, like it was so rare in his vocabulary he didn’t know how to say it.

“Good then. I guess for tonight we should try to find somewhere to sleep. And it’s Luz by the way.” Luz yanked him back up on the stonesleeper’s back. “Now get on Pancake, shut up, and let’s get going.”

“Why ever did you name it Pancake...?”

---

(And at last after two years the first chapter of Little Firefly is finally up! This is a fic I’ve wanted to write and have written and role played on and off for a while, but it was the uncertainty of canon and the ever changing plot and how it might conflict even more with my decision making that prevented me from writing this.

Now that the show is done I am more than confident with how I plan to twist some canon into my au and write my slightly more ‘neutered’ Philip Wittebane. This fic is highly Wittebro centric with a bit of a different take on some events, and of course one of the biggest focuses is on Philip and Luz. So I hope you all enjoy my take on ‘what if Luz got stuck in time and found herself back with the Wittebro-Clawthorne ancestors? c:)

[silentwillowwhisperer]

Tattoo Parlor AU pt.2

You know what? There is absolutely NO WAY I can finish this in one more post without leaving it open-ended, so I'm gonna do next part next weekend. If have to add another part, I'll do it the weekend after that, and so on.

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

After greeting Allura, Keith eyed her friends.

They eyed him right back.

After a moment of consideration, Keith commented, "You should introduce them to Shiro. They seem like the kind of people he would like."

Allura shook her head. As much as she loved Keith and all of his surprisingly endearing qualities, he was way too much of a loner for it to be healthy.

She pointed to Lance, fixing him with a sharp look. "Well, I don't really care all too much about if these ones tickle your fancy, because my darling Lonce here wants a tattoo. After seeing your stunning work, he agreed that you simply must be the one to do it."

Keith noticed the excessive flattery, but ignored it. Allura was clearly asking to do her a favor here.

With an exasperated huff, he grabbed the taller boy's wrist and dragged him into one of the studio rooms to talk.

He could hear Pidge behind them saying, "Welp, Lance is dead. I'll have to check my schedule to see if I can make time for the funeral. Anyway, Hunk, let's split. Mr. 6 foot Crybaby can tough it out."

Lance made an indignant noise of protest right as Keith slammed the studio door shut pettily. Pidge couldn't be blamed, though. They had woken her up at 6AM and forgotten to supply her with coffee.

Keith sat down at a small table in the middle of the room. When Lance sunk down next to him, Keith took a moment to steel himself before speaking. He had been deprived of anything caffeinated that morning, too. He was not ready to deal with random sassy customers today.

Thanks a lot, Allura.

Lance sighed dramatically. "Look, Imma be nice to you only because you're gonna be sticking needles in me if I like your designs. We don't have to like each other at all, mostly because you really need a haircut, okay?"

Something told Keith that this was not going to go well.

(even if the guy currently judging his hair also happened to be a little bit very annoyingly cute.)

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

Ugh. I have no idea what I'm dooooiiing. Unless you guys want more trash posts like this, I'm gonna need help. Could someone message me or put some ideas in the asks? (Please please pleeease? I'm only going to continue to be annoying.)

Love you guys! Byeeeeee!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

[dandelion-wings]

On that note, would you be interesting in sharing some more about the mind control concept? It sounds neat.

Kaeya being Kaeya, is he percieving the aforementioned consequences as his punishment? I doubt Jean will take the revelation well, with Gunnhildr values and history.

I would not mind! It's been very fun to contemplate. :> IDK that he takes the consequences as a punishment long-term, since in my "fewest scenes" version, at least, there's two pretty strong "tipping points" where he has opinion shifts, but the magic itself he takes as... a combination of punishment and self-restraint? One of the important details is that he knows this is happening, and agrees and consents to it at the time!

Because Diluc comes up with it in the first place because Kaeya cannot definitively tell him he won't endanger Mondstadt, just that he doesn't want to, and this is majorly distressing to both of them. (Neither of them are really. in their right minds about this right now, either, given everything going on.) Some key dialogue in my head from the first scene is Diluc explaining what he understands of the spell's basics, saying he can't be the focal point of it because he's going to leave (and, implicitly, he's not letting Kaeya come with him), and then saying that he wants to make sure that the person he ties it to isn't ever going to give Kaeya a bad order. But given the state of corruption he's just discovered in the Knights he's not sure who he can trust to be that moral, except for-

And Kaeya actually interrupts him to say "Jean," because. well. All my headcanons about them as a teenage trio are in full force here, and Jean Gunnhildr wouldn't abuse her power over another knight even if he wasn't a childhood friend.

There are just, uh, two little problems.

Problem One: they decide (and are able to, thanks to Kaeya's, uh, spy prep (Diluc: "...You've collected and kept some of Jean's blood?" Kaeya: "Did you think this is the only Abyssal rite that requires blood? I have some of yours, too.")) to initially do it without informing Jean, because she is likely to interfere and object, and better to beg forgiveness than to ask permission, right? Diluc assumes Kaeya is going to tell Jean (and maybe, pettily, thinks it would only be fair for Kaeya to have to take on her ire about this alone, because Diluc is mad at him in general but also didn't want to do this, specifically, and only did because Kaeya as he sees it refused to promise him that he wouldn't be a threat to Mondstadt). Kaeya is torn on telling Jean, hesitates when he finally goes back to the Ordo and she asks what happened in the... month or so since Crepus' death (in which he's been at the Winery the whole time), and finds that the point is moot, because Jean's response to his hesitation is, "Never mind, don't tell me."

Which, while meant as an out if he didn't want to talk about the personal stuff, is, without the "you don't have to" part verbalized, an order. :>

Problem Two: Diluc didn't actually know what the fuck he was doing. Kaeya is a little more familiar with Abyssal magic, but more in theory than in practice, and also, neither of them really know how it interacts with Visions. Just that the magic needed an elemental anchor! And Diluc was going to leave his Vision behind anyway (in this AU, he asks Jean via letter to get it back for him), so that works, right? It's a big bundle of Pyro energy and should be perfect. The parts where a) it's a much bigger bundle of elemental energy than the spell was designed for, and b) it is acting upon someone who is now imbued with Cryo, its opposing element, don't register to him as problems and might not have registered to Kaeya either even if Kaeya hadn't been disassociating from life and still semi-suicidal at that point.

Anyway, the spell was already not as innocuous as Diluc thought and gets turned up several degrees by using his Vision as an anchor, and then slowly gets stronger and stronger as time passes after he leaves. The main thing is that it doesn't just enforce direct, intended orders, or even accidental ones like the "don't tell me," it starts enforcing lines like "let's get dinner" and "we should spar" and, eventually, even very soft not-orders like "do you want to try this?"

For the record, the effect of the magic is to cut off his breathing and lock up his muscles when he makes any move to disobey an order. :> Including, gradually, when he even tries to argue with Jean. And while Kaeya does initially think of all of this as fair at first, and then, even when he realizes it's stronger than he thought, still something he agreed to and got himself into and doesn't deserve to be mad about... there's a point where it's starting to actively impede Jean, too, as she makes him her adjunct and makes clear that she would like. y'know. private feedback and corrections as she navigates her new rank as Master of Knights. Things that he cannot give her because of the spell.

So (and here I peel out three paragraphs of point-by-point plot summary that fit better in my document for this as notes XD;;), a couple things eventually break bad specifically because of the compulsive magic, and after the second one gets Jean outright furious at him. At which point Kaeya decides that, well, he does know some basic principles of Abyssal magic, and he has Diluc's Vision in his possession. Maybe he can fix this. He has to fix this. He's fucking things up for Jean and it can't go on any longer, whether he deserves it or not.

Quoth @theabysscomeshome, after Jean has kicked his door in the next day after he was hours late to work and dragged the nearest and dearest arcane expert she has over to deal with her apparently catatonic adjutant:

Lisa, finding the "fix" that left him in this state: "oh. oh no no no, cutie, you didn't."

And things come out (and eventually get fixed, for a certain value of "fixed" that never entirely repairs the damage done, but at least mitigates it) from there! After a significant amount of time where Kaeya is basically nonfunctional and in Jean's care, while she is grappling with all the revelations that have been dumped on her. :> I'm a little shaky on exactly how it gets fixed, still, except that Diluc gets hauled bodily back from his murderventure to help (Eula tells him that Jean needs him, it's about his brother, and twenty nightmare scenarios manifest in his head at once), and Lisa gets to yell at both boys on her girlfriend's behalf once it is. But the aftermath is a fun amount of emotionally messy!

[cephalotyrant]

Hii *invades ur inbox with an army of one aka me*

Do you think Azul and Riddle would have any conflicts due to suffering love languages? Actually, do you think they even have different love languages?

Idk there's just something about it to me raghhh

Azul is usually the more affectionate one. He's the one initiating kisses and displaying verbal affection bc Riddle didn't even receive affection from his mother on top of his lack of friends T_T

And Riddle probably would want to try and show affection through helping someone with their studied but he rarely if ever gets the opportunity to do that with Azul, can't take Azul out on dates bc Azul makes more than him (Riddle's wealthier by family name but I refuse to believe his mom doesn't financially abuse him just look at her)

And they're both so busy so that pretty much eliminates quality timee T_T

At the same time though, let's face it, Riddle is way more kind at heart than Azul, and Azul is veryyy insecure and is shown to also be quite irritable and short-tempered behind the gentlemanly facade

And in book 6 he's also so petty and is ultimately just completely fucking incapable of just communicating his feelings (SHOCKER: NIGHT RAVEN STUDENT IS EMOTIONALLY CONSTIPATED 😱😱😱) until he blows up at Riddle who had no clue how his actions were affecting Azul so I feel lile Azul would absolutely be that one mf where you ask thwm : "what's wrong?" And they're like "no... I'm fine..." (They were not in fact fine)

But anyways I feel like I'm talking about the angst too much for someone who loves fluffy shit more than anything T_T

Imagine Azul struggling with something for once and Riddle helping him (read: forcing him to accept a spare workbook Riddle had) and Azul is just constantly trying to repay him and Riddle's like "bitch you're my boyfriend????"

Thus concludes my invasion, I will sadly have to retreat for now 😞 will gladly invade again if I witness an opportunity so watch your back (inbox) :3

I don't remember receiving this... OK OK but. I love angst goodddd I love angst so so so much it fuels me. I constantly think about Riddle failing to escape his mother's expectations and becoming a shell of himself at some dead-end hospital jo--💥

I actually did cover this in like. One paragraph in PaP. I think Azul would have insecure bouts where he asks "What do you want from this relationship?" but of course. Riddle has no expectations on accout of having very little experience with healthy relationships... he doesn't know how to respond. So he says "I want you." but it's not the soft "ahahah you're perfect as you areee I love you <3" it's "I constantly want you under my vigilance where I can see you and bask in your presence at the very least." romantic if you're a blind man bordering concerning GET TO THERAPY, YOUNG MAN.

Azul is definitely clingy, but Riddle would discover he is, too. It's weird, but he likes it... Azul is warm, maybe I should hug him more? But also, something I sometimes want to write is the days where so much as saying a word or so much as brushing shoulder feels like sandpaper against their flesh, the very idea repulsive and their only desire is to-- who knows? curl up on the floor? Which leads to the other internally panicking and yearning and just not getting it. Azul might just pettily give Riddle the could shoulder after seeing him recoil from his touch because why? aren't they boyfriends? is he suddenly ashamed of being with Azul? Is that it?

Woops. Okay back to love languages! Azul... god. Physical touch, primarily. Maybe gift giving and acts of service (at a discount) On Riddle's behalf, definitely quality time. Physical touch depending on the day. Riddle's room is debabtbly the best room out of all the housewarden's because it has a freaking COUCH. Azul abuses the perks of the bed with curtains and the couch. Bam. Quality time (working on separate things/studying without even saying a word to each other... that's just parallel play bruh.)

Words of affirmation is tricky... because yes, Azul is used to using flattery, but it's normally empty and to gain favor. So its effect, even if well intentioned...

I never thought about the financial aspect... Azul definitely has spending money, while Riddle wouldn't probably have to draft a wholeass essay with bullet points on why he's pulling money from his account. Would he even tell his mother he's dating a boy from school for months? Or bite his tongue and buy his time to tell her in person instead of in the impersonal form of a letter, even though it makes him feel guilty, so wrong. But he fears the consequences-- he doesn't want to be separated from the people he cares about again, after all.

I still think they'd have a moment to themselves one day while they're studying and Azul suddenly goes. "They used to say I was a whiny brat after I tried to tell a teacher what they did to me." like HUH.? Sudden Azul lore???

[stupidkyupid]

𝐏𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍’ 𝐍 𝐏𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐍’ - 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗐𝖾𝗅𝗏𝖾 ！

－ 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗉 (𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗈𝖽𝗈𝗋𝖾’𝗌 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇) ．．．

"what the fuck are you doing here?" nari demanded, her breath heavy as she struggled to compose herself. "well, i know why, but i thought you weren't going through with the whole dating thing."

"i got bored, felt like it," hyunjae joked, a bright glint in his eyes as he looked down at her, clearly amused by their predicament. "god, nari, can't believe you dragged me all the way here to the bathrooms like i'm your dirty little secret. is that right?"

"stop smirking, you jerk," she said, hitting his chest, a visible seriousness in her demeanor. "okay, but what do we do? we can't tell them now, right? it would get too awkward. plus, i know dalny, but only briefly. i can't live this down!"

hyunjae placed both hands on her shoulders, shaking her slightly as he spoke, staring into her eyes. "look, it's all gonna be okay. we'll go back there and act normal. after that, we never talk to either of them again. sure, you'll see dalny at practice, but it's not like anyone actually shows up to them."

nari looked at him with a blank expression. "no, hyun, that's just you."

"alright, alright, i'm not the one you should be mad at! eric must have been trying to sabotage me. he knows i'm not ready for a relationship right now, and he surely knows about the whole bella situation," he defended, taking his hands off her shoulders and brushing them lightly down her arms, making her shiver slightly.

"okay, fine. what's the worst that could happen?" she looked up at him pleadingly.

"i don't know, nari. i could think of a few things, and all of them include your date. he's the one who said creepy things, right? doesn't know what personal space is either, it seems," he huffed out pettily. "i mean, who tries to touch someone who's visibly uninterested?"

"yeah, this isn't the time for that. we can both go to the table at the same time, say we ran into each other on the way out or something," she decided, promptly beginning to walk as she heard him mutter, 'whatever you say.' the two walked side by side before abruptly stopping.

"where'd they go?"

hyunjae's loud laugh filled the dimly lit restaurant. "looks like our dates preferred each other. saves us," he shrugged, still smiling, finding the situation hilarious despite nari's apparent frown.

"i'll drive you back, come on," he said, picking up her jacket from her chair and placing it onto her shoulders as he fished out his wallet, putting a few bills on the table before walking ahead of her and out of the restaurant. he turned back only to say, "you coming or not?"

nari quickened her strides until she was walking beside him, shoving him in the shoulder before she began, "i thought driving me around was exclusive to us being friends with benefits? breaking your rules already?"

"hmm, i don't know about that," he said, pressing a button on his keys to unlock the car. "don't you think theodore would like to see his parents in the same room again?"

the intentions behind his words made her gasp before she looked back up at him, her mind made up as she spoke, "i doubt he'd like to see the stuff we're doing."

he smiled back at her as he opened the car door for her. "come on, then. i'll turn on the seat warmer for you."

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : treblemaker!hyunjae x newbella!fem!oc

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : pitch perfect au, smau, romance, humour, drama, fluff, angst, college au

𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗏𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌 | 𝗆𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍 | 𝗇𝖾𝗑𝗍

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐣𝐨𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ! (𝗈𝗋 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖺𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗃𝗈𝗂𝗇!)

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 : @simpinghrs @zwiehe

comments and reposts are appreciated + my asks are always open!!

[foreverinadais]

in an argument (hc)

thank you for all the love on my last hc! here is another one that i’ve been wanting to write for a while. enjoy! (part 2 is here )

STEVEN:

okay so we’ve seen how this man reacts to Donna 

I don’t know... salad? bread?

in an argument, I think he would be sassy

rolling his eyes a lot

making comments straight after you say anything

“Oh well that’s bloody wonderful.”

“Do you want a prize?”

“Good job I don’t care.”

And you would get so frustrated 

because when this man starts, he will not stop pestering

“Right, Steven, I’m done with this conversation.”

“Your done? I was done with it an hour ago! But nooo. It only matters when your finished with it, your majesty.”

most of what he says is from the heat of the moment, his annoyance shining through and coming out as waffle.

you would get up to make a tea or something and he would make comments about how loud you are

“Blimey can you do that any quieter? honestly.”

And you would roll your eyes

“for fuck sake Steven, just shh already.”

he would make another sassy comment, maybe do that mimicking thing, just to reiterate how pissed he is.

eventually, he’ll just (not so subtly) excuse himself from the room into the bathroom or something and just stay there for a bit

partly out of pettiness and partly out of guilt

and wouldn’t come back out until he knew you had either left, or were busy doing something else as to avoid further confrontation

and when he did come out, the silent treatment starts.

okay but i feel like he would ignore you whilst purposefully looking over to see if your watching

like he wants your attention, wants you to make the first move at apologising.

which will not happen

so he just pettily ignores you for the next couple hours

which is fine by you, because sassy Steven is a force to be reckoned with.

MARC:

Marc would be angry in an argument.

i mean we’ve seen what he does to the reflection after arguing with Steven

maybe something big happens and he risks his life and you have had enough

so, naturally, you talk to him

and he gets a tiny but defensive

mistakes your care for confrontation 

“I’m just worried about you.”

A scoff: “No, your worried about yourself. You know if something happens to me, it happens to all of us. Just wanna keep your bed warm.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!”

“Don’t act so innocent.”

his natural instinct is to push you away

and it isn’t even his own fault

he feels insecure.

so, after a particularly heated screaming match, it would get too much.

he would just start shouting

not just at you, but at his alters too

he doesn’t want to let his guard down long enough to be vulnerable, even admit that your right.

“You know what, I’m leaving.”

“Where?”

“Don’t fucking know, anywhere.”

“Marc, please don’t leave.”

Maybe he would hesitate hearing the way your voice cracks

but then he remembers what just happened and he shakes his head, licks his bottom lip

and storms out, slamming the door behind him.

and you would just cry, or groan in frustration and worry

before climbing into bed and falling into an uncomfortable sleep.

Jake:

okay so I think that Jake wouldn’t be loud

like his face would say it all.

you would be shouting at him, beyond furious, whilst he just sits with a bottle of whiskey, sneering.

or smirking.

and it infuriates you.

“Are you even fucking listening to me?!”

He would shrug, take a swig, and look away.

“No you better look at me. I’m not doing this, do you hear me? You can’t keep doing this shit.”

Jake stands up and suddenly steps close to you, making you step back.

“Or what?” 

You back up into the side of the kitchen cabinet, and he’s close to you, close enough to feel his breath.

“Or what, Cariño?” 

and this always happens: you argue, then you don’t resolve it, you just solve it physically

so you refuse to do it again, push his hand away that’s slowly travelling up your thigh.

“Or I’ll leave.”

It catches him off guard and he instantly steps back, smirk dropping from his face.

“Really?” 

“Yes.” Your hesitant, because you don’t really want to leave him or any of them

but he needs to know what he has to lose before he makes the same mistake again.

Jake clicks his tongue in his mouth, slamming the bottle down on the counter beside you, enough that the echo sounds round the apartment.

“Fine. Leave then. Get out, I don’t care.”

You don’t. 

Until he grabs your jacket and shoves it in your hand.

“Get. Out.”

And after scoffing, you do, muttering a ‘fuck you’ as harshly as you can muster and leaving.

and Jake shakes his head, moving to the sofa, anger dissipating into sadness.

You really left.

[slvault]

Post-Time Travel Recovered Memories AU [Pt.9]

[Last]

"Can we just go?" Thomas asks impatiently, which is already about ten times more patient than he usually has the patience for.

It's five in the afternoon, and they're all loitering on the edges of the district where Sung Jin-Woo is supposed to be staying.

 Well, there's no maybe about it. One look at how thick the shadows are - and at how they seem to ripple like wind across a pond whenever Thomas looks at them from his peripheral - and they have all the evidence they need.

 Still, Thomas isn't quite sure why they're not going in. They've been talking about going in for over five minutes now, but they haven't actually gotten anywhere. Barging into foreign territory might not be the wisest option, but that's still got to be better than just standing around. By the looks of it, Liu is about as fed-up as he feels, if that increasingly homicidal smile is anything to go by, and while it's understandable why Goto doesn't seem to want to be the first one to enter, the Koreans can't quite seem to make up their minds about what they want to do.

 Except Woo Jin-Chul. Guy's fucking weird, pings that way off of all of Thomas' instincts too. A threat, but not a threat, and not in the way Liu Zhigang might feel when he isn't actively being a vindictive bastard. It's more like he physically couldn't be a threat to Thomas even if he wanted to be - and since the guy's an A-rank, that makes sense - but at the same time, there's something about him that makes Thomas sit up and pay attention, a small blinking neon sign politely advising him to mind his manners or some shit because this man could make his life real difficult if he ever feels like it.

 The guy reminds him of Laura, actually, just a bit, but somehow worse. Still, the guy's not annoying so Thomas ultimately doesn't care.

 But yeah, weird, because he's also peering intently into a patch of shadows a few feet away, and then he's crouching down and rapping his knuckles against it like it's a door. Except maybe he's on to something because Thomas doesn't think he's imagining the blue-white gleam of eyes staring back.

 "Excuse me," Woo Jin-Chul says in his native tongue, polite as fuck, and the rest of the Koreans finally shut up. "We'd like to speak to Sung Jin-Woo hunter-nim. If you could tell him we're here, and perhaps give us an indication on how to proceed, we'd very much appreciate it. Thank you."

 Thomas can't carry a conversation in Korean. But he may or may not have started learning after meeting Sung Jin-Woo, not to mention he'd at least picked up a bit of the language after Hwang Dong-Su had joined his guild way back. Mostly swear words, but a handful of more common phrases too. He still can't understand enough to really claim to know the language, but he actually does usually get the general gist of whatever is going on, and what Woo Jin-Chul has just said is no exception.

 That's already better than Liu Zhigang or Goto Ryuji, judging by their disgruntled expressions, which Thomas is pettily smug about.

 Of course, no one misses the way the shadows writhe and surge, and Woo Jin-Chul only has time to straighten to his full height and back up a couple steps before something rises from the black impenetrable depths.

 It's an ant. A winged ant but standing upright like a human, wreathed in shadows and ghost-light, easily as tall as Thomas himself. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Goto recoil before the man's self-control kicks in and suppresses it. He gets points for standing his ground, even if his face has lost at least two shades of colour.

 It's probably a good thing the other two Japanese S-ranks and Min Byung-Gyu had elected to stay behind.

 Beru, Thomas recalls, one of Sung Jin-Woo's strongest generals. He'd been one of the ones sent to fight the Monarch of the Iron Body with him.

 The ant takes a step towards them, and even Liu Zhigang's hands twitch for a brief second as if wishing for his swords. The Korean S-ranks are all tense, and Goto's jaw is so tight, Thomas wonders if he's in danger of cracking a tooth.

 He supposes he can't blame any of them. He can feel a sense of unease creeping up on himself as well, that natural fight-or-flight instinct rearing its head in the presence of a very lethal predator. If the ant decides to kill everybody here, there's absolutely nothing any of them can do about it.

 And then, "Beru-nim," Woo Jin-Chul greets with a dip of his head and no visible fear whatsoever (what the fuck even is this guy?), drawing the ant's attention to him. "It is good to see you again. Would Sung Jin-Woo hunter-nim be willing to speak with us? Several of us have regained our memories of the previous timeline, and we'd like to help him in whatever way we can with his fight against the Monarchs."

 The ant stares for a long unnerving moment before making a chittering hiss of a sound. Thomas has no idea what it means but at least it doesn't sound threatening.

 "You can ask my lord yourself," The ant rasps, and the temperature suddenly drops about five degrees, with the afternoon daylight no longer half as bright. The ant's gaze moves past their heads. "Here he comes now."

 And as if on cue, a voice from behind them - higher-pitched than Thomas is used to but familiar in both tone and cadence - speaks. "I was wondering what the commotion was about."

 They all whirl around-

 -and there he is, smaller, shorter, fluffier hair and an even slighter build. But his eyes are the same, foxfire-bright and inscrutable as they move from one Hunter to the next, and the weight of the mana radiating from his mere presence feels almost enough to drown them all.

 Sung Jin-Woo, the Greatest Fragment of Brilliant Light, the Shadow Monarch ascendant.

 Thomas has never felt so at home in this life as the mantle of this death god’s power settles over them all once more.

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

I feel like anthrorry is so professional around campus since he is a ta and all so yn would do these things to terrorise him

I don’t think she’d do something that drastic for the sake of sparing the general public, but she’d definitely slap his ass randomly, and he’d release a long sigh and give her a tired look. “Are you serious right now?”

“That’s what you get for wearing fitted trousers around me.”

Or whenever she’s sitting in during one of his group tutoring sessions, waiting for him to finish so they can go get lunch, she’d give him fuck me eyes any time he glances over at her, just to watch him trip over his words and embarrass himself in front of a hundred or so students.

Afterwards, when they’re indulging some private time in the back of his car, he’d draw back slightly with a stern scowl pinching his brows as he pants his words against her parted lips, his voice thick and deep as a result of his arousal. “That little stunt you pulled during my class today wasn’t funny.”

“To you, maybe; it was pretty hilarious from where I was sitting. Raheem seemed to think so, too.”

Harry narrows his eyes pettily at the mention of his friend. “That’s because Raheem loves watching me make a fool of myself.”

“That makes two of us, then. Seems like Raheem and I have more in common than we do; maybe I should cut you off and go have lunch with him, instead.”

“You’re not his type.”

“Whose type am I, then?”

“Mine.”

Her stomach somersaults at the definitive streak behind his answer. “Oh, really?”

“Mm.” Harry drags his wet lips down the curve of her collarbones, staining his teeth along the edge of her sweater, grinning into her skin when he feels her shudder below him.

He lifts his face back up until it’s level with her own, their Cupid’s bows smearing as he locks his darkened emerald eyes with hers, his irises cloudy beneath heavy lashes. He always gets so drunk just from the sheer taste of her.

“You’re smart, blunt, and have an attitude. Definitely my type.”

“Awww.” Y/N pouts against his mouth with dramatized fondness, knotting her knuckles into the curls along the nape of his neck, giving them a harsh tug in the way she’s learned he adores. “You’re in love with me, Plato.”

Harry hisses as a result of her rough actions, his jaw hinging open as a soft whine lodges in the back of his throat, heat bursting across his sharp cheekbones while a shiver threatens to rack down his spine. He forces the moan back into his lungs, refusing to show how weak she truly makes him.

Instead, he sucks at his teeth in mild disagreement, shaking his head lightly as he puts as much arrogance into his tone as he can render. “That’s a bit steep. I do quite fancy you, though.”

“I guess it’s a good thing you’re my type, as well.”

“Of course I’m your type. I’m everyone’s type.”

Y/N taps the pad of her forefinger thoughtfully along the center of Harry’s bottom lip, a faint simper spreading across her features. “I like your tongue better when it’s too busy to speak.”

“I could say the same about you.”

“Then we should both stop talking.”

“What’s that one quote from Romeo and Juliet?” Harry murmurs, a crooked smirk slowly etching into his dimples as he raises an eyebrow jestingly. “You should know it, you're the glorified librarian.”

“Just because I studied Shakespeare doesn’t mean I know his entire oeuvre. I’m a person, not an encyclopedia.”

“I remember it now. ‘O, then, dear saint, let tongues do what crotches do.’”

Y/N bursts into giggles against his mouth, letting her head fall back against the black cushioned seat of his car, her eyes squeezing shut as she loses herself at his stupid joke. “You’re a fucking moron, y’know that?”

Harry lets out a few chuckles of his own, coasting the bridge of his nose across the slope of her neck, gluing a chaste kiss to her pulse point just to feel it flutter below his lips. “A moron you’re obsessed with.”

Y/N rolls her eyes at his self-assured claim, contorting her face into a mocking expression as she drops the pitch of her voice to mimic his own, imitating his typical baritone drawl down to the lilt of his English accent, boggling her head from side to side to emphasize her comedic reiteration. “‘That’s a bit steep.’”

Harry’s laughter rises in volume at her little act, his forehead plopping down against her plush cheek as he swims in the humor behind her teasing, his brows jolting with glee. His snickering tapers off into an entertained groan, which then molds into him glancing up at her with one eye open, the area around his pupils gleaming with mirth. “Hysterical.”

Y/N nods in satisfaction, reaching up to move a rebellious ringlet behind his ear, her thumb caressing his temple affectionately. The undercurrent of her next remark weighs in delicate and quiet, almost as if she doesn’t want him to overhear the true vulnerability behind her message. “‘I do quite fancy you, though.’”

But he does hear it, clear as day. In fact, he hears it more than once. He hears it again later that day in the middle of one of his lectures, when he should be listening to the professor attentively and taking notes for his exam, considering his scholarship and merits depend on it. But instead, his brain is repeating the phrase over and over in her voice, leaving his entire body radiating with warmth as he taps the end of his Apple Pen against his brow dreamily, too occupied to listen as he fights back a smitten smile.

He hears it again on his drive back to his flat, when he should be paying attention to oncoming traffic and the changing stoplights at every corner. But instead, he’s hung up on the echo of that measly sentence, and the way it had made his stomach knot in such a startling yet comforting fashion, and how it had made him blush like some sort of lovesick idiot from a cheesy soap opera. 

He hears it one last time before bed when he should be well asleep, resting up for the grueling day of classes and work he has to tackle tomorrow, including a seminar he has to give as part of his internship down at the museum. But instead, he’s stripped himself bare under the sheets and has rutted the linen down all the way to his writhing hips, one palm wrapped around his cock as the other grips the headboard desperately, his mind fogging over with bliss. 

Harry spits in his hand and pumps himself eagerly as Y/N’s sweet confession plasters across the walls of his skull, driving him closer to the edge. He’s too strung out and frantic to even think of rummaging for his lube, or to fetch one of his toys, or to search for some sort of graphic video to coax him through his desires. He doesn’t need all those extra commodities, he just needs her. So instead of sleeping, and instead of rubbing one out quickly for the sake of convenience, he takes his time by edging himself over and over, pulling back from the brink whenever he feels he's about to tip. Anything to make the image of her last. 

Harry is whimpering and gasping her name into the silent atmosphere of his bedroom, his broad chest heaving and his tummy clenching as he thrusts into his hand relentlessly. He’s drenched in sweat, his matte tattoos reflecting the water on his skin in the dim moonlight, his flesh tinging various shades of red and pink in all the places he's wishing she would touch. The colored tips of his ears, his strained neck, the prominent slant of his clavicle, the tightening muscles of his thick thighs, the deep V of his pelvis— he wants her lips on every crevice of his body, exploring every inch with that satin graze he's grown dangerously addicted to.

Her words throb through his veins as he topples into a wet delirious stupor, his eyelids imprinted with the picture of her tender, giggling face, his eardrums stinging with the dirty noises she makes whenever he kisses her in the filthiest way imaginable.

He cums all over his belly and onto his butterfly inking, his eyes blearing with needy tears as he bites into one of his pillows to keep from screaming, his whines muffled by the fabric between his teeth as his release overflows and drips down the cracks of his twitching fingers. He’s left exhausted and pitiful, gulping for air as he rakes his digits through his matted curls, swallowing heavily to bring moisture back to his aching throat while he trembles with the aftermath of one of the strongest orgasms he's ever had. 

I do quite fancy you, though.

God, he’s fucked. He’s truly, sincerely, entirely fucked, in every sense except the literal one. She has him emotionally fucked, she has him mentally fucked, she has him philosophically fucked, all she has left to do is actually fuck him. She practically has him eating out of the palm of her hand, and despite all of Harry’s radical independence and his clinical approach towards romance, she’s exceeding every expectation he thought no one could possibly defeat, and she’s screwed him up while doing so.

She’s left him floundering and helpless, with that stupid contagious laugh, and those stupidly mesmerizing eyes, and that stupid fucking mouth that spews the most crude, unfiltered, off-putting things. That stupid fucking mouth that challenges him every chance it gets, that banters with him so effortlessly it feels as natural as breathing, that matches his wit seamlessly, and that leaves its silky lips marked all over his neck and chest, its impact lingering even after the actual sensation is long gone.

Y/N has him utterly fucked, and the worst part of all is that he fucking likes it. The worst part of it all is that contrary to his usual organization and compartmentalism, she’s making a total disaster of his emotions, and he has no intention of putting a stop to it. The worst part is that he wants her to keep going— he wants her to wreck his life, however she deems fit.

Harry has always been one to use his intelligence to weasel himself out of tricky situations, and he’s always been one to wield his academic strength like a blazing sword, paving his future with it and never encountering an obstacle he couldn’t outsmart his way through, or outmaneuver his way around.

Always forward, never backwards; always head-on, never head down. He’d learned to rationalize his fears, he’d learned how to manipulate his weaknesses in his favor, he’d learned to dampen his anxiety and smother his issues, and he’d grown up to be detached but polite, confident but humble, and intimidating yet alluring. He’s ethical, he’s moral, he’s logical, and therefore, he can weather any storm thrown in his path. He’d used ancient teachings, mottos, and scripture to become the successful man he is today, and education had never failed him once; it always prevailed, even when everything else went to shit.

If you can feel it, you can influence it. If you can influence it, you can orchestrate it. And if you can orchestrate it, you can mold it as you see fit— you can absorb it however you choose, and not let it consume you in the process. You can always win, every single time; it’s just a matter of knowing your opponent, and knowing how to turn the tide against them. Whether the enemy is an outside force, or your own brain composition, you can still circumvent it with the right tools and the right mindset.

“I think, therefore I am.” and what not.

But this…this is something new. It’s a curveball he hadn’t been expecting. He figured he’d date Y/N, and their dynamic would stick for a couple months or so, and then it’d fizzle away once they got tired of each other. Then, they’d make the mutual and respectful decision to move on to something else, whether that be a different relationship, or back into the cesspool known as hook-up culture.

It’s what had always happened in the past, so it’s what he thought would happen now. He actually even saw them staying friends, and maybe fucking every once in a while to scratch an itch, but that would be it, really. A prolonged fling with an inevitable end. He thought he’d gauged her correctly, and played their fate all out in his head, and seen how it would unfold. He thought he had it all sorted. He thought he had it all planned. He thought he’d calculated it down to an atomic level. He thought he’d been right. 

It seems that for the first time in a while, Harry had been wrong. Horribly wrong. The longer he knows Y/N, and the closer they intertwine, the murkier his vision for their story becomes. He no longer sees a finish line— he no longer knows if there even is one. She caught him by surprise, off-guard and overly reliant in his cemented habits, and it appears that this is the one storm he may not survive. The one storm his trusty scholarly steel and emotional concrete can’t stave off.

No amount of ethics, morality, or logic can save him now.