#The fastest way to make really close like-minded friends almost instantly

[noyzinerd]

I feel like Stiles and I share the unique trait of shamelessly enjoying our hobbies without embarrassment (which I highly recommend trying, by the way, it's very freeing).

I'd love to see a Sterek fic of Stiles emitting the same vibe as all these times I startled a laugh out of people (and/or became instantly endearing by just refusing to feel ashamed):

Stranger: What are you looking at?

Me: Teen Wolf fanfiction.

Stranger: *startled laugh* W-what?!

Me: What? Am I supposed to be embarrassed? I'm married in my 30s. Who do I have to impress?

-----

Me, after finding where I placed my phone: Oop, wouldn't want anyone finding that.

Acquaintance: Ooooooo~ why? 😏 Are you hiding something?

Me: No. I just have a lot of porn on there.

Acquaintance: *shocked laughter*

-----

[After 6 hours of silently listening to our permitted music at work]

New Gen Z coworker: Hey, what do you think about when you listen to music?

Me: Naruto fight scenes.

Coworker: *horrified wheeze* How can you just say that? I mean, yeah, we all think it, but you're not allowed to just say it out loud! That's how you get S.W.A.T-ted.

Me: Don't be jealous.

Coworker: I am, actually.

-----

Stiles being sarcastic and witty is great and all, but Stiles answering honestly in complete deadpan I feel like is so much funnier.

Plus, the thought of Stiles startling a laugh out of Derek by just unapologetically living fearlessly gives my brain the happy chemicals.

[elentiyawhitethorn]

When Passion Rules the Game | Part Two

CW: language

Part One//Part Three//Masterlist//2228 words

There was something Aelin had to do today.

She had been lying in bed semiconscious, held tightly by strong arms for a few minutes now. And there was this nagging sensation at the back of her mind that something important was happening today.

Maybe to do with Fleetfoot. No, Dorian was staying over because his girlfriend was pissed at him, as she tended to be, and he had promised to feed and walk the dog in exchange for a couple days on Aelin’s couch.

What, then?

Was she missing some sort of event? Like… work? Did Aelin work? She probably did. Most people had jobs. What was hers, then?

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Aelin did have a job. And not only was she supposed to be on time on a regular day, a new employee was joining the office, transferring from his position in Doranelle. Whitethorn. Yes, Rowan Whitethorn. That was what she had to do today.

Aelin jolted into a sitting position the second she remembered. All tiredness vanished from her body, leaving her an anxious wreck. She had a fucking job.

Someone groaned in their sleep, protesting her sudden movements. Aelin glanced over to find the hot guy from last night reaching for her drowsily. Mournfully, Aelin shook off his grasp and crawled out of bed, landing on the floor unsteadily. She spotted her dress on the floor and reached for it, tugging it on as quickly as humanly possible. Then she grabbed her heels, knowing putting them on would only slow her down.

Her underwear… had been in the man’s pocket last she checked. Fuck. She’d just have to leave it. And damn if that didn’t upset her; it was her favorite pair.

Sighing, Aelin exited the bedroom with one last backward glance at the sleeping man. Then she navigated her way down the thankfully simple hallway and to the front door.

Half an hour later, Aelin was at work.

She had raced home, getting lost only a couple of times. Then she had stripped and taken the fastest shower of her life. Pulling on a pantsuit and flats, Aelin had ignored her growling stomach, desperate for breakfast, and bolted out to her car. In which she had broken about five different traffic laws trying to make it to work. She had probably set the world record for getting out of a one night stand’s bed and to her job.

Maybe no one would notice. Maybe she wasn’t actually late, and her watch, and her phone, and the clock on the way to the elevator were all an hour off. Maybe her new employee, who she was supposed to make a good first impression on, would believe her if she said her dog had been run over by a train. So many maybes.

“Where the fuck have you been?” a voice hissed. So much for no one noticing.

Aelin glanced over at Elide, her assistant and closest friend. “Who, me?”

Elide crossed her arms. “You’re an hour late.”

“I was just…” She waved her arms vaguely.

A death stare was all she received in return. “I don’t care whose bed you find you way into on your own time, but I expect you to make it to work, especially when you have a new employee.” Elide could be terrifying when she was angry, and she often acted as more of a mother to Aelin than an assistant or friend, despite the fact that she was two years younger.

Aelin winced. “Is he pissed? Did you tell him he got the wrong time and I’m actually early? Where is he?”

Elide sighed. “By the gods’ good grace, I suppose as a second chance for you to pull yourself together, he isn’t fucking here.” She didn’t curse often. When she did, it meant run in the other direction.

“He’s not here? Like actually?”

“Yes, like actually,” Elide said, sarcasm dripping from her tone. “I don’t understand what’s wrong with the world. His first day of work, and he’s not here. Go to your office. Now.” Elide thrust a cup of coffee Aelin.

Knowing better than to argue with the petite woman, Aelin nodded guiltily, grabbed the coffee, and headed back. She closed the door behind her, taking a seat behind her desk. Then she took a much-needed sip of caffeine.

She was really an hour late, and Rowan Whitethorn still wasn’t here? As relieved as Aelin was, she was also pissed. What right did he have to be absent of his first day? That took some nerve. He better have a damn good excuse.

Aelin tried to catch up on some paperwork while she waited, but her mind was far away, in the bedroom of the sex god she had encountered last night. She drank some more coffee.

Not five minutes after she sat down, a firm knock sounded on the door.

“Come in,” Aelin called, scrambling to put some papers in front of herself and pretend she had been doing something of consequence.

The door opened to reveal Elide. “Mr. Whitethorn here to see you.” Her voice was innocent enough, but the look on her face said, You may have been spared by the universe, but I will come for you later.

“Send him in,” Aelin said impatiently. How dare this man be… five minutes later than her? The nerve!

Elide backed away, revealing a figure. A figure that Aelin knew. She froze.

Tall, well-built, silver-haired. Green eyes and a light stubble, probably forfeiting shaving for making it to his new job. A long-sleeve buttoned shirt covering what Aelin knew to be a tattoo. A long and sexy tattoo. He looked like a wreck, circles under his eyes and a guilty, terrified expression. He must be concerned he was going to be fired, and he was almost certainly regretting last night. Aelin knew the feeling.

Aelin could see the exact moment he recognized her, his steps faltering and his guilt and fear turned into surprise. Elide sent a confused look to Aelin, and she quickly mastered her shock. “Please take a seat, Mr. Whitethorn.”

His eyes no less conveying the rude awakening he was feeling, he walked forward and took a seat on the other side of Aelin’s desk.

Satisfied, Elide said, “Let me know if you need anything,” shutting the door behind her. And then they were alone.

“You’re Aelin Galathynius,” the man stated in disbelief. Rowan.

“And you’re Rowan Whitethorn,” Aelin said dryly. “A pleasure.”

Rowan blinked. “You—”

“I expect you not to be late in the future,” Aelin said, not bothering to acknowledge him.

“But… Aelin… fuck.”

Aelin frowned, taking a deep breath. “We are going to pretend last night never happened. Nor will there be any repeats. As far as I’m concerned I’ve never met you before.”

Rowan opened his mouth. Then closed it. Then opened it again.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Whitethorn.” Aelin stood and extended her arm over the desk.

“Aelin—”

“Miss Galathynius,” she corrected sharply.

“Miss Galathynius,” he repeated, still dazed. And from the prominent marks under his eyes, he was as tired as she. “Nice to meet you, too,” he finally replied, shaking her hand. “I’m sorry I was late. It won’t happen again.”

Aelin almost shivered when his strong, calloused hand grasped hers, and she was instantly flooded with shame. This man, her employee, had had those fingers inside of her. He had gagged her and bound her and spanked her and called her a slut. And she had begged for him.

She pulled her hand from his grip a bit too sharply. “Good, it better not,” Aelin said, pretending that nothing had happened, pretending that her face wasn’t flushed with humiliation. She was a fucking CEO, and now this man probably wasn’t thinking about that, or about all the work she had put into making it to this position. He was likely thinking about what she had let him do to her. Maybe he was even thinking about trying to do it again. Gods damn it all to hell.

Glancing at his wary posture once more, Aelin slid her coffee cup to him. “Drink. You’ll need it.”

Needless to say, they had a long day.

—

“Was it worth it, Aelin?” Elide asked with a frown.

She and Dorian were on one of Aelin’s couches, Aelin herself sprawled across the other one. Apparently Elide was not over today’s late appearance.

“Was what worth it?” Dorian asked, giving Fleetfoot a rub.

Elide sighed. “She came in an hour late, a whole hour, because she got held up in some dude’s bed, or so I’m assuming. Nearly missed meeting with a new worker.”

Aelin remained silent.

“Ooh, sounds like fun,” Dorian said, earning a glare from Elide. “Well? Was it worth it?”

“No,” Aelin said flatly.

“That bad?” Dorian asked sympathetically.

Aelin shot him her best glare. “Fuck off.”

“You weren’t this pissed off this morning,” Elide said. Sly little bitch.

“You fuck off, too.”

“What happened?” Dorian pleaded. “I have no gossip these days. Manon won’t let me back into the apartment until I apologize for staining her favorite dress. I am literally starved for anything.”

Aelin couldn’t even bring herself to laugh at his conundrum. Instead, she buried her face in a pillow and let out a muffled yell.

“Hey, what’s wrong, Lin?” Elide asked, all annoyance gone from her tone.

As much as she didn’t want to talk about it, she also wanted to scream to somebody. “Remember Mr. Whitethorn, the new guy?”

“Yeah,” Elide said hesitantly, probably thinking this no longer had anything to do with last night. How wrong she was.

“Remember how he was also late this morning?”

“Yeah…”

A moment of confusion passed before Elide and Dorian started yelling at the same time. They were speaking over each other, so it was hard to decipher, but Aelin caught a few ‘what the fuck’s, ‘oh gods really’s, and ‘you did not!’s.

“Shut up,” she moaned, banging her head on the couch. “I’m so fucking screwed.”

“Seriously, Aelin?” Elide asked in exasperation.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” she snapped. “I didn’t know it was him.”

Dorian laughed gleefully. “He slept with his boss.”

Aelin grunted.

“Was it bad?” he asked.

She grunted again.

“Was it good?”

Aelin’s silence had Dorian cackling. “How good are we talking?”

“I didn’t say it was good,” she muttered.

Elide snorted. “Just answer the question so we can decide how much we need to make fun of you.”

Aelin scowled. “Miscreants.” She blushed. “It was pretty good.”

Dorian just about howled. “We need details.”

“We do not!” Elide protested, but she was laughing.

“Ugh!” For all of Aelin’s complaints, she was a total gossip at heart and sharing with two of her best friends always made her feel better. Not that she was going to give them any actual details. “We hooked up in the bar’s bathroom. And then I was in his apartment. Fuck, I was in my employee’s apartment! I was in my employee’s bed!”

They both laughed. Traitors.

“Tell us about him,” Dorian said suggestively.

“I will not, damn it. I’m done talking about it.”

“Come on. At least tell us what happened this morning.”

Aelin debated it. “I woke up. And then I remembered that I had places to be.” Elide snorted here. “I pulled on my dress and ran out the door. I went home for like five minutes. Then at work, some little bitch yelled at me for being late.” Aelin glared at Elide, and Dorian grinned. “And then that little fucker walked in my office.” Aelin detailed the rest of the day, from the initial conversation, to the awkward interactions later on, to their uncomfortable farewell as the work day ended.

Elide was giggling hysterically by the end of it, pleased that Aelin had been thoroughly punished for being late. And then some. Dorian was overjoyed, because he was a little shit. Aelin wanted to murder them both by the end of it, but of course, they had made her tell them. She needed to talk about it, if only because she couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Elide left after a little while, leaving Aelin with a threat to be on time tomorrow. Dorian stayed on the couch, and Aelin went back to her room very early, with a lot of sleep to catch up on.

In bed, though, sleep did not come. Aelin just couldn’t stop imagining last night: the way Rowan’s cock had filled her deliciously, the way he had brought her over the edge three times, and probably would have done it more if he’d felt like it.

No matter the shame that welled up inside of her for the thoughts that were coursing through her mind, Aelin just couldn’t stop wanting him, couldn’t control herself from feeling wet at the thought of their handshake this morning, his fingers gripping her strongly. The fact that she knew his name made it so much worse. Now all Aelin wanted to do was scream his name to the gods.

It took every molecule of willpower in her not to slide her fingers down her body and imagine they were Rowan’s. Instead, she eventually fell asleep with her hands clenched into fists and tears of frustration and self-resentment drying on her cheeks.

In other words, Aelin was screwed.

———

Tag List:

@aelin-bitch-queen

@autumnbabylon

@evolving-dreamer

@feysand-loml

@flora-shadowshine

@gracie-rosee

@infernoqueen19

@julemmaes

@lemonade-coolattas

@live-the-fangirl-life

@midsizewitch

@morganofthewildfire

@nehemikkele

@realbookloverproblems

@rhysandswingspan

@rowanaelinn

@sexy-dumpster-fire

@sleeping-and-books

@story-scribbler

@swankii-art-teacher

@thenerdandfandoms

@yesdreamblog

[buckstaposition]

Don’t wanna miss a thing

Birthday song challenge for @din-damn-djarin (prompt 37)

Marcus Moreno x widowed f!reader, Missy Moreno & reader 

1999 words

summary & warnings: Just days before your wedding to Marcus, your emotions are going a bit haywire. Starts angsty but turns fluffy I promise! Themes of loss and grief, loss of a spouse/family member

Sobbing in the bathtub a couple of days before your wedding was not where you thought this evening was going, but here you were. Bawling your eyes out. You had just meant to take a quick shower to freshen up before bed, as your day had been mostly filled with last minute preparations and you were sweaty from hauling around decorations. Maybe not hiring a wedding planner had been a mistake, in more ways than one.

“Honey? You in there?” Marcus’ voice sounded after a hesitant knock on the bathroom door. You knew you should answer him, but you just didn’t have the strength to at this moment.

“Sweetheart?” He tried again, and you could hear the worry in his tone and it only made you feel worse.

“I’m coming in.” Marcus warned after another two minutes or so. It was endearing how considerate he was of your privacy even though you’d told him it was okay to come into the bathroom with you on numerous occasions. If you really didn’t want anyone to come in you’d lock the door and he was the man you were going to marry in less than 48 hours.

The door creaked open and Marcus padded across the bathmat, slowly pulling aside the shower curtain.

“Darling?” Hesitantly, he reached out his hand to you, gently nudging your shoulder. Still sobbing, you gripped it and held it to your face, kissing his palm between tears and hoping he’d understand. Even if you didn’t.

“Is this about Sean?” He asked softly, thumb caressing your cheekbone. You nodded. Marcus sighed; he hated seeing you upset. Just like Sean had. Marcus nudged your chin up and pressed a kiss to your forehead, not caring that the water got on his glasses.

“If you want to be alone for a bit longer that’s alright, but please let me get you out of the shower? You’re shivering.”

It was true enough. The water had gone cold a while ago and now, taking stock of your body you realized you were freezing. You nodded and let Marcus help you up and wrap you in the big fluffy towels he’d bought the two of you as a house-warming gift when you’d moved in together. You leaned on him as he dried you off, suddenly exhausted from your outburst of emotion. You let him help you dress yourself in your fluffiest pyjamas, the shivers slowly subsiding when he pulled your extra fluffy socks onto your feet.

“Okay?” He asked, kneeling on the ground between your feet while you were sitting on your shared bed. You nodded absently, catching his hand and bringing it up to your face. The tears had stopped but the deep sadness lingered.

“Please stay?” You whispered. He kissed your knee, then your free hand.

“I’ll just tell Missy good night, okay?”

A noise from the hallway drew your attention. Missy stood in the doorframe like summoned, and your heart broke at her anxious expression.

“Hey bunny.” You tried to smile, but it didn’t quiet reach your eyes. Missy looked between you and Marcus in concern, her lip starting to quiver.

“Bunny, what is it?” You patted the space next to you, inviting her to sit. After a look at her father, she rushed over, instantly wrapping her arms around you. You exchanged a worried glance with Marcus, and he rose to sit down at his daughter’s other side.

“What’s wrong, bunny? You know you can tell me.” You coaxed again, your own undefined sorrows forgotten in face of her obvious anguish.

“Diyouchangeyourmindaboutthewedding?” It rushed out of her in one breath and she clung to you harder. You hugged her back, squeezing her smaller frame tightly and caressing her hair.

“Oh sweetie, no! Why would you think that?”

“Cuz I heard you crying and-“ she hiccupped a sob into your shoulder, her voice small when she continued. “Please don’t leave us!”

“Oh bunny!” Your own eyes were starting to water again. “I won’t! I won’t ever leave you! You two are my whole world!”

You squeeze her tightly to you, feel Marcus’ arms enveloping you both and look up briefly to see how he’s doing with all this. The look on his face is heart-breaking, and you lean over quickly to press a reassuring kiss to his lips.

“Then why are you so upset?” Missy sniffled. You sighed and ordered your thoughts, mad at yourself for causing anguish to this girl you’ve grown to love so much.

“It’s sort of a silly thing really.” You began. “You know how I was married before?”

“Yeah.” You’d taken her to see his grave once, just like Marcus and Missy had taken you to meet the previous Mrs Moreno. It felt only right. “You still miss him?”

“Yes. Yes, I do. I always will, but that’s not what made me cry. It was… I feel guilty for being so happy, with you two. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah…no… I don’t know.” Missy scrunched up her nose in thought. She was a smart girl, very mature for her age, but in the end she was still only a twelve-year-old girl.

“You see, when you lose someone you love very much, that grief never really goes away. Like you still miss your mom, right?”

“Every day.” She sniffled a bit less now, and looked up at her father, who nodded silently. “But I’d miss you, too!”

“I know, bunny.” You kissed her forehead, wanting to soothe her. “You won’t ever have to choose between us. Your mom is your mom and that will never change.”

“I don’t want to have to choose.” Missy whispered, wiping her tears away. “But I still want her back.”

“I know, bunny, I know. I want my husband back all the time, too.” You exchanged another glance with Marcus, glad to see that he understood and let you take the lead in this discussion. It warmed your heart to know how unconditionally he trusted you with his daughter. “It’s so unfair, isn’t it? It makes me so angry sometimes that it happened to me.”

“It does?” Missy’s eyes went wide. She turned to her father to confirm and he nodded, mouthing a soft ‘yeah, me too’ to her.

“The point is, it’s okay to feel all these conflicting things. And sometimes they might overwhelm you, like they did me today, and that’s okay too because I have people who are there for me when that happens.”

“You know you can always talk to me, us, about anything. Or grandma. Or your friends.” Marcus hugged her close and wiped away her tears, like he had yours earlier. “And if that’s not enough we will do anything to help you, okay?”

“Okay.” Missy smiled a watery smile, snuggling into her dad while holding your hand close. The three of you huddled together for a few minutes, giving everyone the chance to settle. Missy, being a kid, bounced back fastest.

“Can we have a movie night?” She looked at you both with the big puppy eyes she had inherited from her father and perfected over the course of her young life. You didn’t even need to look at Marcus to know the answer.

“And what movie were you thinking?”

“Mulan!”

“Okay, you prep the TV, I’ll get on the popcorn.” Marcus prompted, motioning for her to go ahead downstairs. She was out of the room with the speed of lightning.

“You sure that kid doesn’t have any powers? Super speed maybe?”

“Positive. You okay, honey?” He cupped your cheek and looked deep into your eyes, gaze searching.

“Positive. This actually really helped.” You smiled and leaned in for a small kiss. “So, I think we’re not too bad at this parenting thing, huh?”

“Are you kidding? You’re amazing at it!” Marcus hugged you close, kissing your forehead and then your cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

---

The reception was in full swing and everyone was enjoying themselves. There had been no mishaps save for the kind that would make for funny stories later and the cake was almost gone. Almost being the operative word. You were in your seat, relieved to be sitting down for a while and re-braiding Missy’s hair where the decorative ribbons and flowers had come loose during the day. Marcus was weaving his way through the guests back to your table, grinning triumphantly.

“Swiped the last slice of cake while Colin wasn’t looking.” You looked behind him to see Miracle Guy frowning at the now empty cake stand.

“Oh darling, you shouldn’t have!” You protested insincerely. It was your wedding after all. You felt you were entitled to some cake.

“He’s already had two!” Marcus put the plate down in front of you and produced some clean cutlery from his pocket. “Besides, anything for my girls.”

“Awww, you’re the best husband and dad!” You pulled him in by his bowtie to press a kiss to his lips.

“Gross.” Missy commented, snatching up one of the small fancy forks and starting to dig in. The two of you paid her no mind, too engrossed in your new marital bliss. You took turns feeding each other cake in between kisses and whispering sweet things, but really Missy got most of it. You didn’t even notice the band switching to a new song. Or the announcement they had made just before that, apparently. At least not until Anita planted herself right in front of your table and brought her cane down hard on the ground.

“You two! Stop canoodling! It’s time for your dance!”

“Mom!” Marcus whined, mostly for show as he was already pulling his tux jacket back on in the same motion, then holding his hand out to you. “May I have this dance, Mrs Moreno?”

“Gladly, Mr Moreno.” You smiled and rose, letting him lead you to the middle of the dancefloor. The band had been stuck playing an intro to your chosen song for several long moments now and launched into it one last time as you took your positions. Aerosmith – I don’t wanna miss a thing. Your song. Marcus took your hand, smiling softly, and when the vocalists started so did you, twirling around the dancefloor. You felt like you were floating, a moment of near perfect happiness.

“I love you so much.” You mouthed to Marcus as he led you across the dancefloor, his hand warm at your waist. He smiled, spun you out and then reeled you back in, closer this time to press a kiss to your temple.

“I love you.” The song ended and you paused for a moment to receive the applause from your guests. The band faded into another song and people started filling the floor around you while you swayed in place for a moment.

“You know, there’s only one thing missing.”

Marcus’s brow furrowed. “What’s that?”

You nodded towards the table where Missy was still sitting, chin in her hands and looking out towards the dancefloor, a picture both wistful and yet a little forlorn. You waved to get her attention, then motioned for her to join you two once that was accomplished. She started, her brow furrowing in the exact same adorable way as her father, then stood hesitantly.

“Come on, bunny!” You called, letting go of Marcus just enough to make space for her. Her whole face lit up and she came running over, long hair swooshing after her. She all but crashed into the two of you, throwing one arm around your waist and the other around Marcus.

“Wanna dance?” You smiled at her, drawing her as close as the volume of your skirt allowed for a little side hug.

“Yes!” She exclaimed, already starting to sway to the music. Marcus surreptitiously wiped at his eyes before hugging the both of you close. It took you all a moment to adjust your footing, but you managed it soon enough. This was truly, absolutely perfect. You could stay lost in this moment forever.

- - - 

author’s note: I started this whole thing over like five times, with different concepts and characters, and somehow landed on this. It turned more into bonding with Missy than the pairing, but hey. Hope you’ll still enjoy it. 

and yes, I named Miracle Guy Colin. He just looks like a Colin to me ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[spaceskam]

8 for Malex? Thanks!

*hiding because this took an embarrassing amount of time I'm sorry*

tags: high school au, slight mental health stuff goin’ on, bed sharing

8. bedtime stories [ao3]

Alex never claimed to be subtle.

He watched Michael openly, his thumb between his teeth as he eyed the way he pulled his shirt over his head. He knew this was probably inappropriate. However, Michael was hot and had yet to tell him to stop staring. Sometimes it seemed like he deliberately did things to make Alex stare. So Alex kept on and hoped that, if he was only doing this to make fun of Alex, at least he got something nice to look at.

“Hey, Alex,” Michael called, tossing his sweaty shirt into his bag and grabbing a dry one, “Do you think your brother would mind if I stayed over tonight? I don’t feel like going home.”

Alex swallowed and sat up straight. He looked around at the other guys in the locker room. He was sure one of them would say something. Magically, they didn’t. 

“Clay won’t care,” Alex said, trying to seem nonchalant. Michael closed his locker and looked at him with a massive grin as he pulled his shirt down. His hair was still damp with sweat and it stuck to his forehead. Both of those things together were too much for Alex’s sanity.

“Cool. Meet you after school at my truck?”

“Okay. Yeah.”

Michael leaned close into Alex’s face and gave a mocking, “Okay, yeah,” before he laughed and walked around Alex. He twisted on the bench and followed him with his eyes as he went to the other side of the locker room where his other friends were. They instantly started talking about the game next Friday and how they were playing Carlsbad and how their team’s cheerleaders were hot. Michael didn’t deny it and Alex tried not to feel weird about it.

Instead, he grabbed his back and quickly headed out of the locker room. He hated gym and had put it off until his senior year, but now he was stuck doing it with basically no one to talk to except sophomore loners who seemed content to fail the class. He felt that.

The only highlight of it was Michael Guerin who he got to watch work up a sweat for 45 minutes every single day of the week. He got to watch him play dodgeball with too much enthusiasm and run the mile at the fastest in the class and play put-out with his friends. Alex had, somehow, befriended him when they were freshmen and both the youngest in their math class, so they stuck together. Then sophomore year they had Spanish together, junior year they had chemistry, this year they had gym. It wasn’t much but it was enough to spark an unlikely class-only friendship that turned into a school-only friendship that turned into an actual one.

He was Alex’s favorite person in the world.

The next two classes passed by relatively quickly, solely relying on the fact that Alex wasn’t paying attention and instead doodling aimlessly in his notes. Science was boring, math was easy.

Alex let himself into Michael’s truck because he was a dumbass who never locked it and sat in the passenger seat. His notebook stayed in his lap and he kept shading in the boat he was working on as the parking lot filled with other people going to their cars and people going to their buses. Michael always talked to his fellow football players before he left considering they couldn’t leave until the buses did anyway, so Alex wasn’t in a rush.

When Michael did climb in, he raised his head to get a good look at him. Because he always wanted to get a good look at him. Today, just like most days, he looked gorgeous and lit up from the inside and he was already staring at Alex.

“What’cha drawing?” he asked, scooting to the middle to look at Alex’s book. He pressed up against his side and eyed it, nodding his head. “Nice. I’m gonna get one of those tattooed on me one day.”

“What? A boat?”

“No, one of your pieces,” Michael laughed, shaking his head as he moved back to the driver’s seat. He turned the ignition and Alex stared at the side of his face. “Whichever one you think I should. Think about it.”

And Alex would think about it. It wasn’t even the first time he thought about it. Michael had spoken of getting one of his drawings on him before and the thought was quite possibly the most erotic thing Alex could think of which was ridiculous. There was nothing sexy about that in reality. But… Michael shirtless and having something Alex created permanently on his skin was just so good.

He went back to the drawing before he could entertain putting his tongue on it.

Michael turned up the radio before backing out of his spot and then they were on their way to Alex’s house. He put his drawing down in favor of watching out the window as Michael badly sang along to Nirvana and Beck.

Junior year was the first time Michael had come over to his house and it had felt weird to acknowledge that the person he’d spoken to nearly every day for over two years knew approximately nothing about his home life. Alex had half-assed an explanation about how his mother left and his dad was in jail, so Alex only lived with his brothers. Michael hadn’t judged him, only loudly made it clear he thought Clay was badass for stepping up when he was freshly 18 to make sure the rest of them didn’t get too screwed.

It was a few more after school hangouts after that that Michael confided that he’d been in the foster care system since he was a baby and had been in a group home for the last few years. Teenage boys were a hard sell to foster parents, apparently.

Clay had no problem giving his number to the group home to call for check-ins whenever Michael started staying over. 

“Please tell me he got spicy Doritos because I‒hell yeah,” Michael said, letting himself roam freely around the kitchen. He pulled the bag of spicy nacho Doritos labeled Michael out of the pantry and ripped them open, a grin on his face. Alex could watch it all day.

“Can I steal the bar mix that you haven’t touched in, like, a month?” Flint asked, his gaze stuck on his computer where he was doing homework. His eyebrows were pulled into an angry glare at it.

“Yeah, sure, if it’s still good,” Michael answered, falling onto the couch right beside Alex and holding out the bag to him. Alex shook his head. Michael often got food obsessions and would go a month where that was all he wanted, but during bad days it was the only thing he could eat that didn’t make him lose his appetite. 

Despite the fact that he was all smiles, Alex had memorized the warning signs and knew he wouldn’t be eating dinner.

“Sweet,” Flint said, sliding to the pantry to grab the remnants of Michael’s last food obsession.

One of the warning signs that Michael wasn’t doing great, despite the fact that he’d asked to come over at all and hadn’t just invited himself, was the fact that he had taken any excuse all day to be tactile Alex. He’d spent all lunch and gym with him instead of with his football buddies, he’d wanted to sit closer in the truck, he immediately sat practically on top of him on the couch.

Later that night, he sat beside him at dinner and picked at it, only eating the crunchy asparagus and the edges of the tortilla part of his quesadilla. Alex ate what he didn’t.

Michael took a shower and wore Alex’s clothes and made himself at home in Alex’s bed, all cozy and on his phone with his thumb in his mouth when Alex got out of the shower. When they’d first started spending the night together, Michael slept on the couch or on the floor. One night they’d fallen asleep in Alex’s bed during a movie and now that’s where he went each night.

Alex didn’t mind.

He shut off the lights and jumped into bed, putting on Netflix on the TV and starting up where they’d left off in their third watch-through of The Good Place. Michael scooted closer until they were touching in some way, his eyes still partially on his phone and partially on the TV.

It should’ve bothered Alex. It should’ve felt like taunting. Occasionally he did feel the need to shake him and ask him if he really wasn’t seeing how much Alex was into him. Was the staring not enough? Was the way he got a bit dizzy whenever he realized Michael was beginning to smell like Alex’s shampoo not enough? Was Alex’s eyes tracing every bead of sweat that rolled across his face like he hadn’t had water in weeks not enough? Was every single one of Michael’s other friends mentioning that they acted “kinda gay” not enough?

But mostly Alex was fine with it. Michael was safe here and comfortable and Alex wasn’t going to ruin that by wanting something more. So he would keep his hands to himself. He wouldn’t be subtle, but he wouldn’t be overbearing. He would just be Alex and hope that was alright.

“Alex,” Michael whispered, moving until his head was on Alex’s shoulder. Alex hummed in response. “Can you tell me a bedtime story about your boat?”

Alex smiled and shifted, his fingers slipping into Michael’s hair. Michael tilted his head up until they locked eyes. They were so close, just like every time Michael requested a bedtime story, as if that was the only acceptable time to be less than an inch away from each other’s face. Alex very quietly thought that their entire friendship felt like one.

“Once upon a time, there was a very loud pirate captain,” Alex started, watching as Michael’s thumb slowly started gravitating towards his mouth again, “He was old and held very strict beliefs. If you disagreed, he’d throw you overboard.”

“What a dick.”

“Mm, yeah, very. Anyway, he was always angry and his crew were like ‘shit, what if he’s lonely’ and decided they needed to get him a friend.”

“Oh no, poor lonely pirate man,” Michael said around his thumb.

“Poor lonely pirate man indeed,” Alex agreed, nodding solemnly, “So they searched high and low for anyone to be his companion. Not someone on the crew, but someone who would be his equal and separate from his employees. It was a very complicated task. They would find people who seemed good, but then the pirate captain wouldn’t like them and kick them out. It happened so many times they almost gave up. But eventually, they found an astronaut who seemed like a good fit because he was very smart and very happy.”

Michael pulled his thumb from his mouth with a loud pop, “So they really searched high, huh?”

Alex huffed a laugh and nodded, combing back his hair. His heart thudded in his chest as he stared at him, at his interested and tired eyes. God, he was so into him. Every single bit of him. Even when he needed moments like these.

“Yeah, really high. And they brought him back to the boat to meet the captain and they really, really thought he would hate him. But you know what? He didn’t. They actually got on quite well. And the captain started becoming a lot less angry,” Alex said. Michael shifted, pressing closer.

“And did the astronaut change?”

“Mhm. He got to relax too. He didn’t feel like he had to be super smart and happy to make everyone else happy anymore, he could just be himself. He could even be sad sometimes and that was okay because he had someone who liked him no matter what,” Alex explained, “He even would stop at islands to get his favorite foods.”

“Were they just best friends or were they in love?” Michael asked. Alex swallowed carefully and scanned his eyes over his face, trying to gauge what would be a better answer.

“They started as just best friends,” Alex decided, “But they fell in love. They were both. Somewhere in between.”

“Somewhere in between?”

“Yeah, like, not quite just best friends and not quite together romantically. Something different. Something special,” Alex tried. Michael watched him closely. In the background, Eleanor watched herself fall in love with Chidi for one of the hundreds of times they fell in love and Alex tried not to be too poetic about it.

“Alex,” Michael said, his hand dropping between them, “Are we somewhere in between? It feels like we are”

The question was honestly innocent but Alex stopped breathing, not knowing how to answer. He had a football player cuddling up to him in his bed. He should say no. He should save his own ass. He should keep it to himself.

But Michael was comfortable enough to cuddle him, to be babied when he needed it, to be raw and open.

So why couldn’t Alex?

“Do you wanna be?” Alex asked. Michael blinked. “Or… like… do you wanna be somewhere… not in between?”

“Like, on the other side? The romantic side?” Michael clarified. Alex nodded slowly, unsure. “Does it mean I get goodnight kisses?”

Alex let out a slow breath and laughed cautiously, “If you want them.”

“I want them,” Michael said assuredly. Alex couldn’t fucking think straight and he was just smiling stupidly at him. “Well?”

“Well, what?”

“Goodnight kisses, right here,” Michael said, tapping his lips delicately.

“Right. Okay.”

Alex moved his head just a little to give him a soft kiss, barely lasting a few seconds. He didn’t want to be too presumptuous. And, still, it was probably the best kiss he’d ever had in his life. His heart was trying to escape his chest.

He was really doing this. This was really happening.

“Did they live happily ever after, Alex?” Michael asked against his lips. Alex breathed and nodded.

“Yeah. They did.”

[andypantsx3]

conspire | 3 | practice

pairing: Todoroki Shouto / Reader

length: 13,307 words / 5 chapters

summary: Shouto Todoroki had definitely only asked you out in order to ward off his horde of interested suitors. So why does he keep actually taking you out on suspiciously realistic dates?

tags: romance, reader-insert, fake dating, misunderstandings

warnings: aged up characters, eventual smut

Fake dating Shouto Todoroki was an absolute whirlwind, but it certainly came with its benefits.

As weeks passed, you found yourself with a compliant test subject and plenty of data for the work you were doing on his support item. You’d confirmed that you could use this work as your submission for your senior project -- developing a support item without any input, direction, or critique from a professor -- and you’d set to the task with enthusiasm after that.

Shouto caved easily enough to the tests you’d put to him on your first “date” and you’d had way too much fun getting him to freeze and heat things for you, strapping him up in all the nodules and wires as you’d promised. Over the course of a few weeks, you’d analyzed the absolute crap out of the cryogenic structure of his ice crystals and tested the limits of his temperature control to your heart’s content, pleased that the amount of time you were spending together also played into your cover story.

It turned out his quirk worked as you’d suspected, which was incredible. Shouto’s power allowed his body to work like a heat pump, directing thermal energy against the current in which it naturally flowed at will. He used the energy from one side of his body to alternately push energy into or draw energy from the other side of his body, in order to create a temperature gradient strong enough to induce ice or flames.

He was basically like a really good looking, high-powered air conditioner.

The discovery was overwhelming and gave you limitless possibilities as to what kind of support item you could build for him.

The problem was, there were maybe too many options.

“You can watch my quirk training, if you need more direction,” Shouto had suggested one night when you were tucked up doing homework together. He’d really taken to the role of doting boyfriend and put in appearances often, taking you out on a series of other mind-bendingly good dates and showing up to your dorm on school nights with homework and small, thoughtful gifts like bottles of tea.

Through his efforts, he’d become something like a close friend.

You’d discovered over the course of your time together that Shouto wasn’t as quiet and serious as you’d initially suspected him to be, and you quite liked the sides of himself that he chose to unveil. He had a tendency to be blunt and was strangely oblivious given how observant he could be, and he had a little bit of a short fuse when the match was properly lit. He was still kind and thoughtful for the most part, but as he grew more comfortable with you it was like a flip sometimes switched and out crawled an inner gremlin, eager to tease and fluster you.

To your eternal mortification, he’d most definitely caught on to the fact that kissing you was the fastest way to fluster you, though in your defense, being kissed by a man who had no romantic interest in you was certainly a mind-boggling concept in and of itself. He’d thankfully only kissed you a few other times--once, weirdly, when you’d been almost sure no one else was around--though he sometimes watched you with a look in his eye like he was scheming up ways to make it happen again.

He was a very convincing fake boyfriend.

You had agreed to follow him to quirk training the following evening, and showed up to take your place on the sidelines of beta field that afternoon in a thick coat with a thermos of warm tea. Deep in your bag, you’d embarrassingly stowed an extra for Shouto, a habit formed by all of your time spent together.

He was there when you got there, clearly having come straight from class, and huge walls of ice already dotted the field, one or two twisted into melting spires. Slick trails of water ran down their sides where he’d blasted them with his fire, pooling into the cracks of the earth at their bases, and singe marks scored the grass around them.

Shouto seemed to brighten when he caught sight of you, and he came padding over to where you were making yourself comfortable on the cold ground.

“Anything in particular you want me to test out?” he asked, but you shook your head, unearthing a notebook and a pen from your bag.

“No, just do your thing,” you said, uncapping your pen. “I’m just looking to observe how you usually move around and channel your quirk. I rewatched all the sports festival footage from the last couple years but your style changes wildly between them, so I want to get a feel for how you currently do things.”

He looked somewhat embarrassed. “You watched those?”

You let a teasing smile flit across your lips, curious to see what kind of mood he was in today. “Oh yeah. Loved the one where you got totally stomped by Bakugou.”

To your amusement, his eyebrow twitched. “I let him win.”

Men and their fragile egos. You suppressed a smirk and stretched leisurely like a cat in the sun, tipping your face back to look up at him. “Sure you did.”

A look of annoyance passed over his handsome features, and he huffed, taking a threatening step closer to you. Something glinted in his eye, and that was all the warning you had before he leaned down and pressed his mouth over yours.

You instantly dropped your pen, fisting a hand in the jacket of his uniform to pull him closer. It briefly crossed your mind that no one was around to observe the two of you, and that this kiss was perhaps wasted effort on his part, but then he did that thing with his tongue you liked and all rational thought fled from your brain.

Shouto kissed all the sass straight out of your mouth before drawing back, looking thoroughly pleased with himself.

“I’ll thank you to keep quiet,” he said, and you could only stare at him dumbly as he smirked and made his way back onto the field.

Confusion eventually washed over you as he set about practicing with his quirk, and you could only pay half a mind to what he was doing.

What had that been about? You checked your periphery to confirm that no one else was around to have witnessed his assault on your good sense, confusion only mounting when there was no one in sight. You knew he wasn’t actually interested in you, but that kiss had felt like something a real boyfriend would do to shut a mouthy girlfriend up. Was he getting so used to your little charade that he hardly minded? Did it affect him so little that it hardly troubled him at all?

You pushed your thoughts down for examination at a later time, forcing yourself to keep your mind on Shouto’s quirk training.

You took careful note of the graceful way he moved, the raw power with which he released both sides of his quirk. He was faster than almost anything, able to maneuver around the field with deadly precision, unbelievable power called to his fingertips within seconds and wielded with brutal efficiency. He was, much like his quirk, two halves of some contradictory whole, combining incredible strength with unexpected elegance to create a combat style that had quite likely never been seen before.

You sketched out several notes on his movements and jotted down a couple vague ideas for support items that came to mind as you watched him.

After a while, Shouto seemed to come to the conclusion that you’d had enough time to observe him and started messing around instead, creating enormous ice waves to slide down for your amusement, looking like a very strange surfer on some still mass of ocean. You laughed as he shot down a slope faster than he’d clearly expected, throwing up another hill of ice to slow his descent.

He came sliding over to you, huffing a little after hours of exertion. “You’re acting like you’ve seen better.”

You smiled. “You just looked funny.”

That wry twist at the corner of his mouth was back. “You do it, then.”

You stared at him. “What?”

He held out a hand, wiggling his long fingers. “You’ve had your fun judging me from over here. You do it if you’ve got opinions.”

A stab of panic shot through you. “Absolutely not.”

Something like a challenge glinted in his eye and he surged forward, scooping you up into his arms easily. You panicked, instantly trying to twist out of his hold and get him to drop you, but he just walked back onto the training field, one arm barred across yours in a steely hold. You tried to get a foot against his hip but his grip was too tight to allow you movement enough to do it.

“Shouto, you had better drop me or I will straight up murder you,” you grit out, gripping his sleeve in terror as a crackling noise started where his feet met the ground.

“You had better hope I don’t,” he tossed back as a platform of ice formed under his boots, carrying you up to the top of one icy wave. Your rise was horrifyingly quick, and you were torn between being absolutely terrified and impressed that this is how he maneuvered around all the time. You gripped him in horror.

“I will never forgive you if you do this,” you threatened, staring down the steep drop hundreds of feet to the ground. “Nothing you could ever do will make up for a betrayal like this.”

“I have some ideas,” he said. Then he took a step off the top.

You became aware of a piercing scream and realized it was coming from you. You wanted to press your face into Shouto’s chest and close your eyes but you were too terrified to even look away from what was happening as the two of you slid down the ice at hundreds of feet per second, hurtling at the ground like a rocket. You couldn’t believe you had laughed at him if this is what it felt like to do what he did.

You felt Shouto tense underneath you, and the arm under your legs flashed notably colder, before another layer of ice formed, evening out the wave into a less precipitous curve, slowing your slide and carrying you easily to the field. Gravity seemed to catch up to you again and you slid down a little in his arms. Your heartbeat pounded in your chest and your hands clenched in the fabric of his costume, even as you slid to a stop, soft grass rustling underneath his boots as he stepped off the ice.

“You’re a dead man, Shouto Todoroki,” you promised, hands still fisted at his sleeve. And he was, just as soon as you could let go of him.

Another smirk crossed his infuriatingly handsome features and you found yourself a little mesmerized by the sight of him.

He hefted you higher in his arms. “But if I was dead, how would I do this?” he asked, then pressed his mouth to yours again.

Well, he certainly had your number. Your plans for murder were instantly wiped from your brain like notes from a whiteboard, and you moved a hand to his collar to pull him down to you. His mouth was hot and he was excruciatingly gentle, working you over thoroughly, until you could hardly remember your words, never mind a flawless plot for murder.

Shouto shifted carefully and you became aware of grass under your back. Then he was moving over you, pressing you into the field with the solid weight of his body. His mouth left yours to pepper a trail of kisses in a slow line down your neck, and those long fingers tugged down the zipper of your jacket, coming up to pull down the collar of your sweater to allow him better access.

You squirmed mindlessly under him, letting out surprised little gasps whenever he found a spot that you particularly liked. The chill of the evening washed over you and you pressed yourself into him for warmth, sighing when his left side flared hotly. He bit down carefully over your pulse where it beat wildly in your throat.

“Y/N,” he groaned, and a vague thought came to you like this was somehow strange for the two of you to be doing, some reason why you shouldn’t be. You couldn’t remember why. “Tell me if I should stop.”

He pressed his mouth back to yours again, a calloused hand making its way up the side of your sweater and disconnecting your thoughts again. This felt too good to be wrong, why shouldn’t you do this? A thumb brushed under the fabric of your bra, catching a nipple, and you jerked under him, letting out an embarrassing noise. He made a noise low in his throat and did it again, tensing when you shuddered under him again.

He let out a harsh breath, then your sweater was torn upwards and your bra quickly followed, a warm mouth closing over one nipple. You swore, the heat of his mouth so unbelievably good against the cold air, arching into him as he swirled his tongue.

“Oh my god,” you managed, fingers tangling desperately in his hair. You hooked a leg over his hip, anchoring him against you harder. Your own hips raised without any input from your brain, and you swore again when one of his thighs pressed tightly to your core.

He moved to your other breast, laving over the hardened peak, two toned eyes watching your face with undisguised interest.

“Shouto,” you gasped out, drawing him back up to you to kiss him. His chest pressed into yours, the strong line of his body pinning you down everywhere, and the weight of him was unbelievably wonderful over you. Why had you ever thought you shouldn’t do this?

A blinding light suddenly flickered on over you, searing even through your eyelids where they’d fluttered closed. You jerked apart in shock. Blinking blearily, you realized it had grown dark and the field lighting system had just kicked in.

Shouto sighed and crawled off of you, leaning back on his knees to stare down at you. You blushed, the implications of what you’d just done pressing down on you, realizing your entire chest was exposed to him in the harsh light. You yanked your sweater back over you, struggling a little bit to get the band of your bra back down. Shouto placed a hand on your hip.

“Uh,” he said, something like a flush rising to his own cheeks, “That’s what you get for laughing.”

You choked out a shocked laugh, staring up at him. “That’s what I get for laughing?”

He smiled again, climbing to his feet and pulling you up with him. “I imagined my girlfriend would be more supportive.”

You gathered up your bag, hardly daring to look at him. “You picked the wrong one then, I think.”

His smile turned soft, something almost private. “I think I did okay.”

Warmth flashed through you again and you had to push down the well of thoughts that bubbled up inside you like a spring. You tried to ignore the niggling at the back of your brain as bid your goodnights and went separate ways to your dorm buildings. One thought refused to be pushed aside, however, following you as you made your way to your room, lingering as you readied for bed and turned out the light. You couldn't sleep for a long time as you tried to dredge up an answer.

What the hell had that been?

[ilguna]

Anteric - Chapter Eight (f.o)

summary: secrets have more worth than you gave them credit for.

warnings; swearing, blackmail, mention of underage drinking, BURIED ALIVE IN DETAIL, GORE, DEATH, SPIDERS, mild CLAUSTROPHOBIA

wc; 14.1k

NOTES; I give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

The hallway’s silence is deafening, filled with only your breaths. Bodies are lined up against the wall on each side, all sitting. Across from you are the Dauntless-born initiates, and on both of your sides are your fellow transfers. The person that stares at you through the darkness is Blaire, who twists the end of his shirt around his finger, stretching it and leaving wrinkles.

He’s obviously distracted, eyes not seeing you, but the space beyond it. It’s the exact same look that a few others have. It’s gone quickly, though, all with a simple accidental bump from Nestor. A smile spreads across Blaire’s face, eyes immediately going to his friend to give a gentle push back, ultimately starting a shoving match.

Down the line, from left to right, is Sydney, Nestor, Blaire and Ameer. As for Mirza, Horace, Cass and Lennox, they’ve already been called into the room with Laurel. She takes each of you one by one, in no particular order. You originally thought it was alphabetical, the theory was gone as quickly as it came when she called Thyme first. Her last name is Tattrie.

To your left is Trink, she twirls a strand of her blonde hair around her finger, laughing at Blaire and Nestor. To your right is Finnick, with Eytelle on the very end. There’s a large gap between you and Finnick, and that’s because Allio and Thyme were there before they were called in.

For the first stage of initiation, your two groups were ranked separately. The real challenge begins here, now that you’ve been combined. You had started with eighteen, but with four being cut in the last stage, there are now fourteen. On the way here, Laurel told you not to stress out, no one will be getting cut this time around. The next stage, the final stage, is when all final decisions will be made. This is just the preparation.

You watch as Nestor bounces against Sydney too hard, sending her to the side. Her hand slaps against the ground, stopping her from hitting the floor. Instantly, her hair flies out of her face as she glares at the back of Nestor’s head, “Can the two of you stop it?”

Blaire is laughing too loudly, causing Nestor not to hear. He knocks into Sydney, she doesn’t waste time making her point known. She shoves Nestor from behind, sending him flying into Blaire.

You crack a smile, watching as the two boys then go to gang up on her. In no time, the hallway is filled with screeching giggles, kicking to get them off. For a moment, Blaire turns his attention to you, eyebrows and hands raised as a challenge. If he even dares...

You back away from him, sitting flush against the wall, “Unlike Sydney, I’ll aim for the face.”

Trink lets out a noise that’s closest to a laugh, “Oh! That’s true, and she’s brutal.”

No one responds to what she says immediately, until Ameer is leaning forward, barely coming out of the shadows and into the soft blue light, “Brutal?” he challenges, “What did you rank, again?”

Sydney and Nestor are beginning to relax now, interested in the conversation that’s about to be had. You accidentally catch a glimpse of their hands intertwining, and end up forcing yourself to look at Ameer for a distraction. You can already feel the judgement rolling back on. After what happened during breakfast, you’re not sure if you want your friends to catch on again.

In Abnegation, relationships happen, obviously, but they are not physical and out in the open like this. They are supposed to be private and to keep others from feeling uncomfortable. Your parents had been married for years and there’s not a single time you can recall them kissing. Hugging, maybe, but all the intimate movements would have to be saved for private.

This is different, new and something you have to overcome before it’s recognized as a weakness by others.

Your eyes lock with Ameer, “Second.”

Something flashes across his face, disbelief, you think it is, “How many wins did you have?”

“Two.”

The doubt is settling in, you can tell by the way he squints his eyes, mouth puckering as he watches you carefully, “Who was first?”

“Allio, he had three wins.” your hands find each other, fingers intertwining. He’s going to come to the same exact realization that the rest of you did. That there is foul play and you are undeserving of your title.

Ameer’s eyes break contact with yours to find Finnick. His head is tilted in your direction, listening in on the conversation like he’s anticipating his turn to be the topic. But he doesn’t say anything, only waits patiently.

“I thought Finnick was leading?” Ameer asks, eyebrows drawing in.

“Not anymore,” your words are crisp, “He’s third, with three wins.”

There it is, the questioning look from Ameer. He doesn’t have to tell you that it doesn’t make sense, you’re already nodding. You know, Finnick knows, everyone else in your group knows. There is nothing you can do about it, not that you would want to anyway.

“I’m brutal,” you give him a smile, like that statement alone is enough to erase his questions. You won’t leave him hanging, it’s hard not to brag with the next sentence, “Who do you think did that to his face?”

Ameer doesn’t respond at first.

Since yesterday, you’ve decided that you shouldn’t let the others know that you’re semi-friendly with Finnick. On the off-chance that they let Thyme know, or she somehow finds out, you’ll automatically be fucked. However, it doesn’t matter that much, anyway. You were stopped in your tracks when you realized that this is the fastest that Finnick has ever turned around. It’s a red flag.

And it could be because of a number of things you’ve said to him. It could be because you’ve known each other since forever, since you were infants. To him, you are the last thing he has from home. He is almost the same to you, except you have someone to fill that gap of homesickness.

His name does not start with an F.

What you know for sure, is that you don’t want to head into things blindly regarding Finnick, not with Thyme around.

Ameer glances at Finnick again, the gears turning in his head. You watch his eyebrows raise slightly, “You have to be kidding. Finnick’s like a whole foot taller than you.”

You cross your arms instead, it feels more natural this way, “So?”

“So,” he mocks your tone, “You couldn’t possibly reach up that far, right?”

There’s a few things wrong with what Ameer is saying, and the first thing is that Finnick is not a whole foot taller than you. You and Finnick have got distance, but it is a much easier gap to close than what Amos had against Eytelle. The second, is that he’s suggesting that you’re not good enough. And you’re not sure if he wants to head down that path with you.

You can feel your face darken, teeth pressing into each other, “Would you like to test that theory?”

Ameer opens his mouth, going to speak, but nothing comes out. He closes his mouth, shakes his head, and falls back against the wall like he’s trying to escape the door he had just opened.

It’s too bad for him, because you still have more to say, “I’m not sure if you’re one to talk, anyway.” you lift your head back up, eyebrows in, “If I remember right, you placed fifth. Which is kinda embarrassing, considering you’re the son of one of the leaders.” 

His eyes narrow, mind changing again, “At least we know I didn’t cheat.”

You smile, “Ameer if it’s a fight that you’re looking for, all you have to do is ask.”

He stares at you, jaw clenching and unclenching. It’s pretty obvious to you that whatever minor friendship that had been forming between the two of you, is now gone. Which means that you can probably go ahead and assume that Mirza is off the table too. 

It’s a shame because Ameer isn’t all that bad to be around, but the timing of all of this is wrong. You’ve been walked on too many times in the past couple of days and it’s starting to get irritating. You’re not about to bite your tongue with him, especially since you don’t know him all that well, anyway.

In the end, this could all be reversed, you’re sure. A little spout like this won’t stick in Dauntless. Not when initiation ends and all of you have met the end of the tunnel. It’ll be like water under the bridge, a memory you can laugh at.

The door at the end of the hallway opens, making you all look over. Laurel is the one standing in the doorway, leaned up against the frame, “(Y/n).”

You rise from the floor, making a point to avoid Ameer’s extended legs, just in case he gets any bright ideas. Unfortunately, you think you’ve had more than your fair share of tripping during school. After Erudite started releasing the reports, it just got worse.

Laurel moves back and out of the way, allowing you to come inside. You only get a few steps in, looking around the room before you stop. Laurel has already reached out, pulling the door shut behind the two of you. She slips by as if your stillness isn’t a surprise.

In the middle of the room sits the same exact chair that you had sat in during the aptitude test. Beside it is the machine that looks a lot like the one that was used to measure your decisions for your future faction. However, in this room, there are no mirrors for you to stare into. There’s barely any light, and the only other object in the room is a computer sitting on a desk in the corner, emitting a small amount of light.

“Go ahead and sit.” Laurel says, standing in front of the machine, you slowly make your way over.

If the chair is here, it means that you’re going to be subjected to another simulation, there’s no question about that. What you’re really worried about is the results and whether or not they’re going to be reported. Laurel and Caspian might be okay with it, but they’re just two out of the several hundreds of people in Dauntless.

If Laurel has to report the results, there’s no way she’s going to be able to manually insert them like last time, not without seeming suspicious.

You slowly slide into the chair, “What simulation do I have to go through today?”

“You’ll be facing one of your fears today,” her eyes meet yours, “your results will be sent to the administrators for review.”

You press your lips together, wanting to ask her if there’s danger in doing this. But you don’t even have to ask, you already know the answer, and it’s yes. Mox told you plainly that this would be easy for you, which is basically a red flag, especially after how hard the first stage was. This should be just as, maybe more, difficult.

“Okay,” you say, as if you’re agreeing. You don’t really have much of a choice.

“Stay still, I have to inject the serum.” she says, coming around the chair. In her hands is the syringe, tinted orange because of the liquid. She has her thumb against the plunger, ready to go. The needle looks longer than what you’re used to at the doctor’s office.

With a shaky hand, you move your hair behind your shoulder so that she has easy access to your neck. You wonder why they can’t just make you drink the liquid instead of injecting it. Sometimes needles aren’t a bother with you--you’re sure that it won’t show up during the simulation--but it’s bigger than usual.

Either way, you sit as still as possible when Laurel presses the needle into your neck. The pinch is much more painful this time around, the ache begins before it’s even been removed. You stare straight ahead at the door, wondering what the others are talking about now that you’re gone. It might even include Finnick.

It’s an instant relief when the needle is removed, “You have sixty seconds before it kicks in,” Laurel sounds like she’s standing behind you, probably next to the machine again, “To put this stage simply, we’ll be training you to get over your fears--or at least make them manageable. Just in case you were to come across a situation that would involve it in the real world.

“The serum induces a hallucination, and I’ll get to monitor what you’re doing the entire time. After, this will all be submitted to the administrators, as I told you before. You will stay in the hallucination until you can calm yourself down by lowering your heart rate and controlling your breathing.”

While she talks, you can feel your heart start pounding in your chest, hands automatically gripping onto the arms of the chair. They slip against the metal because of the sweat, making it impossible for you to feel stable. When you realize this, you try taking deep breaths, desperate to know if you can end the simulation before it begins.

Laurel gently places her hand on your shoulder, coming around the chair and into your line of sight, near the door. Your eyes flicker to her.

“Take your time, you’ll be okay.” she smiles.

You fall back against the headrest.

And jolt awake hard enough to hit your head on the ceiling above you. A groan leaves your lips as you press your head back down against the floor beneath you. Wherever you are, it’s dark and it’s going to take you a second to adjust to see. 

You run your fingers against the floor, eyebrows knit together as you try to figure out what it is. It’s not cold or grooved, so you’d like to confidently say that it isn’t concrete or wood. It feels smooth, almost soft against your fingertips--silk? You move your hand to touch your forehead, still aching from your initial wake, when your elbow hits a wall.

You lift your head now, staring down at your feet through the darkness. When you extend your toe, you can feel another wall. The final one sits behind your head, which has to mean that you’re boxed in somewhere. You press your hands firmly against the top, pushing as hard as you can. They don’t think that you’re claustrophobic, do they?

You could sit in this box for the rest of your life if it weren’t for the elements. The problem is that Laurel said she’s just monitoring, she’s not actually picking and choosing the scenes you go into, unlike the aptitude test. She might be able to end the test early if needed, but you think that would be the extent of it.

The top of the box isn’t budging, and you’ve got your arms locked out straight, shoulder blades pressing into the fabric beneath you. You don’t know what’s locking you in here, maybe steel or wood, but you’re pretty sure you’re not going to be able to get out. Even a solid half-kick doesn’t break anything, only sends pains shooting through your toes.

Well, for a fear-facing simulation, it really missed the mark. A box with no escape doesn’t really have any effect on you, which means that with a couple of deep breaths, you’ll be out of here in no time. 

Resting your head against the box again, you close your eyes and try to focus on your breathing. Even a couple of seconds later, you feel much better. You can see yourself waking up in the chair, with Laurel standing two feet or so away.

The silence is disturbed by a thudding sound on the other side of the ceiling. You stare, mouth turned into a frown, “Hello?”

As you wait, you press your hand to the ceiling in front of you again, wanting to know if it’s going to come loose now, but it’s just as stuck as it was before. There’s no vocal response that you can hear, just another thud, except it sounds like rocks raining down on the other side, dirt that sounds like sand.

Maybe you weren’t loud enough, “Hello?”

Still nothing, besides the rock sound. 

Actually, there’s a faint murmur, you have to strain to hear what’s being said. Even then, you can make out only half of the words. You think you hear ‘dead’, ‘coffin’ and ‘dirt’ all in the same sentence. Which is ridiculous, right? You’re not dead, so there would be no reason to bury you. But it would explain the rock sound.

“Hey!” You scream, face twisting as you slam your hands against the lid. If this is a coffin, then the lid should’ve budged by now. It isn’t moving, though, not as far as you can tell.

You keep screaming, slamming the toe of your shoe in the same place over and over, hoping that you can kick a hole through the wood. Unless it isn’t wood, which would explain why they can’t hear you, concrete absorbs sounds like they don’t even exist.

They’re going to leave you down here if you don’t find a way to catch their attention. Then you’ll be left to starve, your family mourning even though they don’t have to. You scream louder, your throat becomes sore, tears appear in your eyes. You pause, huffing out air, making you realize just how warm it is in here, and how limited your air is.

“Help!” you fall back against the floor, breathing through your mouth, “please!”

The thudding on the other side of the coffin is much softer now, not as prominent before. You can already picture the dirt encasing you, ensuring that you won’t escape. It’ll look exactly like when your parents had been buried, one after the other. You remember thinking that you’ll never see them in person again.

You grit your teeth, letting the tears roll down the sides of your face and into your ears. You need to get out of here, and the only way you can do that is if you let this go.

Your nails dig into your palm, trying to ignore the music that’s playing above you. Laurel told you that the trick to this is deep breaths and slowing your heartbeat. It’s just a hallucination, you’re not actually buried underground. You’re in the chair, you’re in the chair, you’re in the chair…

You open your eyes, only to be blinded by the one light in the room. Without being prompted, you get to your feet, arms wrapping around your upper body as a hug. You don’t care what happens next, all you know is that you can’t be laying down anymore. The way that the chair is angled is too similar to how you were inside of the coffin.

Laurel is pulling wires off of her face with a neutral expression. Her eyes find yours briefly, before she heads over to the machine, which is clearly more important than your wellbeing. 

A gust of cold air from a vent makes you remember the tears on your face, and you work quickly to wipe the wetness off with your shirt. You sniff and readjust and rub your knuckles, the feeling of pounding on the lid won’t go away. It’s a phantom feeling, the sister of the pain in your feet from trying to kick free.

“Well,” Laurel drags out the word slightly, “In comparison to the other initiates I’ve seen today, you were, by far, the quickest to come out.”

You have to ask, “Is that good or bad?”

“If you keep it up, you’ll be number one when the rankings come out.” She doesn’t say it outright, but her eyes do. If you’re in and out then you’ll definitely attract attention, something that you don’t want.

“What’s the average time?”

“Sixteen to eighteen,” she presses her lips together, “You were out in a little less than four minutes.”

Oh.

Oh, that is not good at all.

“Okay,” you say, but it’s not, you feel like screaming. You need to find a way to purposely spend more time in the hallucinations. But you’re not sure how to do that, because what felt like ten minutes inside of the hallucination, was only four minutes for you.

“You can leave the same way you came in.” Laurel gives you a smile, “Don’t worry about it too much, okay? I’ll see you later.”

“Thank you.” you murmur, slipping out of the door and back into the hallway’s darkness.

Unfortunately, on the way out, you have to pass by your friends. When all of the others had come out of the room, you weren’t paying attention to their faces. Most of them, like Horace and Cass, you didn’t really care for. But now it matters, especially since it’s only friends that are left. And they’re definitely going to want to look at you.

Their laughter quiets the closer you get. The first person to look up is Finnick, eyebrows together as he looks over your face. You force a quick smile, passing by him while being careful to avoid Ameer’s feet again. No one speaks, until Blaire grabs your hand.

“Any advice?”

You place your hand over his, “Focus on your breathing.”

He lets you go, just in time for the need to hug yourself comes back. You carefully wrap your arms around your upper body, before taking the next corner.

You wait in that hallway for a while, leaned up against the wall to blend in. You don’t know who you want to see first, Blaire or Trink? Or maybe Finnick? You’re hoping it’s not Ameer, but you really wouldn’t mind hanging out with only Sydney and Nestor again.

The person that rounds the corner first is Finnick, you reach out to grab his arm, ultimately scaring him. When his eyes land on you, you can see that he’s already pretty shaken, so maybe this wasn’t the best move. You’re not sure standing in the middle of the hallway would have been much better, though.

“Hey,” you say, “Are you busy?”

He shakes his head, you go ahead and readjust your grip on his arm, pulling him along with you. You make sure to take the hallways that won’t bring you to the dormitory, or anywhere near it. If there’s a chance that Thyme is waiting for him nearby, you’d rather take the long route to the chasm.

The silence isn’t as uncomfortable as you thought it would be. However, you are surprised that Finnick doesn’t try to start a conversation on the way. You guess that since you’re the one taking him somewhere, you should be the one to talk. But it’s always been Finnick that can’t stand the silence, you know how to sit through it.

He’s lucky that the chasm isn’t a far walk. As soon as the roaring of the rushing water comes into earshot, you release him and let him decide how close he wants to get. The first couple of times you came out here, you didn’t want to get near the railing, unsure of how sturdy it was. Now you know it can hold your bodyweight, doesn’t tilt or come loose or anything.

“I would’ve talked in the dorm but I thought I’d show you where I disappear to all the time,” you say, turning to face him while practically sitting on the railing. You can feel the breeze blow against your back, reminding you not to lean too far, “I don’t want to argue, Finnick, so please just bite your tongue for a minute.”

He’s making his way towards you at his own pace, “Okay.”

You watch his face for a moment to make sure that he actually is calm this time, because every time the two of you talk, it always seems to end in an argument. It doesn’t help that the irritation is already high because Thyme is trailing him. But for once, with her not here, you feel good.

“I want to tell you everything, but I would rather do the meaningless stuff first.” you can be honest with Finnick, you know this. You’re just afraid of creating a problem that doesn’t need to be made.

Finnick stops across from you, leaning against the rock wall. He hums out a response.

“You also can’t tell Thyme I’m talking to you,” your words pick up pace, “I’ll explain it all later, she just can’t catch wind of this.”

A crease appears between his eyebrows, “Okay.”

You begin picking at your nails, feeling smaller than him. This shouldn’t feel like a confession, but it does, “It was mostly during the first stage, because we were fighting the others. And kinda during the gun training too, actually.” you shrug, “I don’t like it when you brag.”

His face relaxes, a smile peeking at the corner of his mouth, “That’s it? That’s why you were going off alone?”

“I told you it was meaningless.” you roll your eyes.

He’s not hiding his smile anymore, “Anything else while you’re at it?”

You shrug, “You should probably get back to the dormitory before it looks like you got lost in the halls,” you smile, “After all, I disappear all the time.”

“Right,” he says, standing up fully, “I’ll talk to you later, then.”

“Yeah, remember what I said about Thyme.”

Finnick winks, takes a couple of steps to leave, and then pauses. When he turns to you, his eyebrows are raised, “Can I ask you a question real quick?”

You grip onto the railing, “Shoot.”

He’s no longer smiling, “Did Thyme say something to you?”

--

Finnick sits across from you in the hallway, patiently waiting to be called into the fear facing room like the rest of you. There’s a noticeable distance between him and Thyme, an unmistakable glare in her eyes. You’re not sure what he said to her yesterday evening, but it’s made her sour. Not enough to push her away, though, she’s still sticking pretty close to him. Still, the distance between them is satisfying.

Much to his annoyance, you couldn’t tell Finnick everything. The root of the Thyme problem starts with you, and you can’t just outright tell him you’re Divergent. You know you keep saying that the two of you have known each other since you were kids, but if a person like Thyme can come in and wreck shit within a week… 

You told him what you could, specifically what Mox and Keely said about her. You couldn’t go into great detail, mostly because they didn’t give you anything to go off of in the first place. However, the moment you told Finnick that Mox was dead serious, he seemed to sober up and believe you.

If there’s one tell tale sign that Mox isn’t lying, it’s when he’s completely serious. It’s such a stark contrast to his normal lighthearted demeanor, and he never abuses the look. Unlike Reed, who’s had the same expression on his face ever since your parents died. It’s like the joy was sucked right out of him.

Anyway, you and Finnick are definitely making progress. He might not know all the details just yet, but at the pace you’re going, you two will be back to normal in no time. He knows that Thyme isn’t what she appears to be, and that she said something to you after your family left.

Thyme’s blackmail will end as quickly as it started.

“What was your fear?” Lennox asks Trink, fixing the laces on his shoe.

Trink half-shrugs, “Something stupid, I’m not even that scared of it.”

You resist the urge to contradict her. No one got a full night of sleep last night, which isn’t her fault. Everyone was stuck in their own personal nightmare as soon as they fell asleep. Sucked into a world they thought was under control and torn to shreds immediately because they didn’t make the rules in there.

Let’s just say you didn’t sleep in your bed for long after realizing that you might as well have been back in that coffin. Hard bed, dark room, only your thoughts to accompany you. There’s a sick feeling in your stomach each time you think about going back to bed. 

“You don’t have to act tough,” you murmur, causing Lennox, Trink and Blaire to turn in your direction, “I couldn’t even sleep last night.”

“Yeah, we know,” Thyme says, not missing a beat, “You’re so fucking loud.”

You look at her, “Are you sure it wasn’t the sound of your own sobs that woke you up?”

Her face twists, “Don’t you forget--”

“Thyme!” a voice shouts, it’s Laurel. She’s a few steps out of the doorway, “Are you fucking deaf? Let’s get going!”

Thyme shoots you a glare, not finishing her sentence. She gets to her feet, shuffling down the hallway and vanishing behind the Door of Hell.

It’s quiet for a moment, Trink is the one to break the silence, “Forget what?”

You wave your hand, trying to come up with some excuse. Trink will pry, and Lennox will go with it to add peer pressure. You’ve seen it too many times now, with Sydney and Nestor. They are purebred Dauntless, and they will raise the stakes to get what they want.

You need a pacifier, a sacrifice that’s small and insignificant to keep them from pushing later on.

A laugh peels from you, “She found out the fear from yesterday, and she thinks that she’s going to use it against me,” your eyes find Finnick’s, hoping that he catches the subtle hint, “But if I tell you guys, it’ll have no effect, right?”

Trink nods, bobbing her head right next to Lennox. The two of them are so hungry for drama that it hurts. You’re glad to know that you have one humble friend, Blaire tells you that you don’t have to tell them if you don’t want to.

“Oh, it’s okay. I don’t think any of you will get the chance to bury me alive.” you wink at Blaire, who smiles shyly back at you, “It’s one of those things that are ridiculous.”

Trink keeps nodding, “Yours makes me feel so much better about mine,” her face is turning a slight shade of red, “Like, public humiliation is the least of my worries, honestly. Not getting into Dauntless is my big number one.”

“Isn’t it everyone’s?” Blaire sighs.

Lennox lets out a scoff that sounds like a snort, “Not mine, I’m going to trump you losers in the next ranking round.”

You press your lips together, because unless he’s going to magically beat four minutes, he’s not trumping anything. You’re sure that it’s important to be confident in Dauntless, but you can’t imagine how many times people have to eat their words.

And that gives you an idea.

You turn to Lennox, “I bet the remainder of my points that you won’t be number one.”

Blaire sucks in air through his teeth, “Are you sure that’s a good idea? Lennox is the epitome of perfection when it comes to Dauntless standards.”

Lennox smirks a little, you know that he won’t turn down the challenge, “How many points?”

“I’m sporting nineteen right now.”

The smirk widens into a grin, “I have twenty.”

You hold your hand out, he takes it without a hint of hesitation. He’s going to get his ass kicked, and he doesn’t even realize. The two of you shake, and when you fall back against the wall, Finnick has a smile too. 

“What do you even need twenty more points for?” Trink asks.

“A new wardrobe.”

She lets out a dreamy breath, “Okay, I approve.”

You let out a laugh, which the others join in on.

About fifteen minutes later, Laurel opens the door, letting Thyme out and calling you in, “(Y/n).”

You take your time getting to your feet, thanking your friends when they wish you luck. You’re sure you’re not going to need it, it’s them who will have to worry about the rankings when they come out. You slip past Thyme, the door clicking shut behind you. 

“Good afternoon,” you say, heading over to the chair.

“Same to you.” Laurel murmurs, “The needle will go into your arm today.”

You’d prefer that, anyway. Having needles go into your neck is just wrong somehow. All the shots that have ever been delivered to you, have been through your arm. It’s less of a risk of doing permanent damage, besides scarring.

You slip in the chair, face twisting when you realize how warm it is.

“She was sweating,” Laurel comes around the side, syringe in hand, “You’re lucky that I could wipe it down.” You give Laurel a look, and after a moment she cracks a smile, “Sit still and stop mean mugging me.”

You let your head lay against the headrest, curling your toes when her needle breaks skin. The ache in your arm is a lot more forgettable this time, compared to your neck. The pinch is gone quickly, and you watch as she goes to tend to the machine. Once again, you’re left to stare into the empty room.

“You have sixty seconds before it kicks it.”

You don’t bother to tell her that you know already, and the fact that you can feel the effects begin to kick in around fifteen seconds. Unlike yesterday, today your throat squeezes tightly as if you’re having an allergic reaction, making it difficult to breathe. It doesn’t help that the urge to run is beginning to settle in, you grip the arms of the metal chair to keep yourself grounded.

“Remember to breathe,” Laurel’s voice is sounding faraway, a whisper compared to the rapid beating in your chest, “And take your time.”

You want to tell her that you will, but your teeth are glued to each other, mouth dry, and you’re drifting. Once again, you find yourself trying to hold on through the little things. Like how the metal is digging into your palm, and there’s sobbing coming from somewhere.

You fall, head slamming into the ground beneath you. Your face immediately twists, eyes squeezing shut. When you reach to rub the spot, you notice that you’re not confined in a coffin this time, but it is dark enough for you to feel like you’re blind. So, you take it easy while trying to sit up.

The floor beneath you is wood, you can tell because of the paneling. It feels worn, like it hasn’t been replaced in years. And a little uneven, some will dip in the middle, gaps between wood, drop offs that’ll catch the tip of shoes. Almost like the rock flooring in Dauntless, except wood is rare here. Besides the dormitory, the only other place is the training room.

With that, a single light floods the dark room as a reward for cracking the code. The light is on you, once again blinding you. You cover your eyes as you look around, you can see the door to leave is on the right, so you must be sitting where you used to stand during the fights. And if that’s right, then the circle is in front of you.

The light shifts as you raise to your feet, trying to squint through the white. You don’t know what fear this correlates to, but the sick feeling rising in your stomach is telling you not to underestimate the situation. Everything was fine in the last simulation up until you started to become aware of your surroundings.

You shuffle forward, being careful not to snag your shoes on the floorboards. As you get closer to the circle, there’s a familiar smell in the air. The stench is strong, though, enough for your stomach to hurl, pushing you to the edge. You cough to ease the tension in your throat, but it ends in a gag.

Sucking in air through your nose just makes it worse. The smell of blood is normally manageable for you, since it’s always been small or in adrenaline-fueled hazes, but this is different. This is all you can smell, all you can think about. You need to find the source, find who’s bleeding and stop it.

A few more steps, and you come crashing to the world. You slip hard, falling on your ass. The pain in your tailbone is enough to bring tears to your eyes, but you’re more concerned about the pool of blood you’re sitting in. And the person it’s coming from.

His face is tilted away from you, blood soaking his brown hair. You get on your knees so that you can lean over him, hands trembling. He’s pale, his green eyes are staring into the darkness. They quickly flicker to you when you accidentally let out the shaky breath you were holding.

Finnick Odair is bleeding out in the training room.

And you don’t know what to do about it.

His black shirt is stuck to his skin, riding up slightly. You think that the source is his stomach, but there’s no holes or anything. Which makes you think it’s his back, you shouldn’t move him though, right?

“I…” you whisper, he’s waiting on you, he wants you to save him, “I don’t…”

He looks exactly like he did after the fight, when you beat him to near unconsciousness. You can picture the way his head rolled to the side once he was on the wheelchair, Cleo pushing him out. How his eyes stuck with yours until he couldn’t look anymore.

Except, this time he’s bleeding out.

“Okay,” you breathe, even though it’s not, “I’m going to--I’m gonna help.”

You sniff, hands gliding through the air to grab the end of his shirt. You carefully pull it up, trying your best to avoid the red, even though your jeans are already soaked in it. If you took off your clothes, you’d be stained, permanently tinted.

No. No, only temporarily.

The wound is on his stomach, a slit that mimics the one of a knife, making you freeze. 

This is what your dad looked light, bleeding out in the factionless streets, all by himself. Hurt, pale, the grey clothes of Abnegation selflessness soaked the angry shade of maroon. And he was dead, curled up and clutching to his wedding ring.

You sob, throat still swollen, the back of your hand pressed to your mouth. You tilt your head back, white light shining in your eyes as you cry. You try to suck in air through your mouth, but the revolting smell of metal and dirt has infiltrated your senses, and you can’t without violently gagging.

A gentle touch startles you out of your train of thought, reminding you that he’s there. Finnick gives you a closed-lipped smile that reaches his eyes. He breathes in through his nose too sharply, triggering him to cough, sending blood out. His face is twisted in pain, you jerk forward to help him lower his head back to the ground.

You need to focus.

“Okay,” you breathe again, tilting your head to the side, “This will hurt.”

And it does. You press your hands to the wound on his stomach, hoping that will be enough to stifle the blood. There’s not much you can do in the first place without a doctor, and that job is normally dedicated to the Erudite. In the meantime, you need to get out of here.

The moment you start breathing deeply, a new problem arises. A second hole that you didn’t see before, further up his chest. But the more you move his shirt, more appears, like the simulation is trying to keep you from saving him. You have to, though, and you will.

You move to take off your shirt, placing it on the--what you now recognize as--bullet holes. You press down on the area with the other hand, since it’s separate from the first. You try to give Finnick a comforting smile, it’s hard to because you don’t know what you’re doing. The pool of blood is just widening, reaching the circle’s white line.

It gets worse, some pain in his leg appears, and then his arm. You can hear him moaning in pain, but there’s only so much you can do. You try to cut off the blood flow, and a wound will appear above it, defeating the purpose, getting you more wet. You’re sure that he should be dead by now.

It’s like he’s a test dummy, seeing how many injuries they can rack up on him. And instead of torturing him, it’s torturing you. You’ve used your belt, and your shirt. His shirt is too risky to take off, and Finnick doesn’t normally wear a belt. And you have both of your hands stopping blood, both of his barely pressing hard anymore, and a leg draped over his thigh as if you’re fucking helping anymore.

All the while his eyes are drooping, and you think he’s saying something to you but you can’t hear him, can’t read his lips through the tears in your eyes. Not to mention, you can’t breathe, can’t speak, can’t keep him awake. You can’t fucking help. Why was it you that found him? Why couldn’t someone else have walked in?

“Finnick, please,” your voice is scratchy, throat incredibly sore from the sobs, “Please don’t go, please stay with me.”

His head is rocking from side to side, is he shaking his head? You don’t know, you don’t understand. He can’t leave you, Finnick can’t leave you, not like this. He’ll hate you forever because you can’t fucking save him. All you want to do is save him.

You rock forward, hands sliding when you press your forehead to his collarbone. All you can do is apologize as you clutch onto his shirt. You can feel his arm shift from beneath you, rubbing up your back. You can’t do it, it’s a simple task and you can’t even do it.

“It’s okay.” Finnick’s voice is small, but it cuts through the silence. You raise your head to look at him, he’s got so little time left, “Breathe.”

You let out a sob, hand over your mouth. You don’t think it’s you controlling your body anymore. You think it’s autopilot, because you reach forward and cup his cheek in your right hand. A tear rolls down, creating a streak of cleanliness in a sea of blood on his face.

“Let go.” he whispers.

You jerk forward, suddenly awake in the fear facing room. Your hand is clamped over your mouth to make as little noise as possible, but you can’t help the cry that comes out. 

“Three and a half minutes.” Laurel says.

You slide out of the chair, wanting to scream because you don’t care. Five minutes, thirty minutes, one minute, it all feels the same! It feels like you’ve been holding onto dying Finnick for days, pleading for him not to leave you. You’ll be living this woken nightmare for the next few months, and you’re supposed to care that it took you three and a half minutes to get out?

You can’t shake the look that Finnick gave you at the end, the look of knowing. He knew that his time was up, and he opted for you to leave. And the worst part of it all is you don’t even know what fear that was supposed to encompass. 

“I’m done,” you say, “I can’t fucking do this anymore, I’m done.”

Laurel lets out a quiet noise, when you look at her, she’s shaking her head, “It gets easier.”

“Easier?” You ask before yelling, “Easier?! I just watched Finnick bleed to death in my arms, how does it get any easier?”

She hushes you, setting the face wires off to the side, “That’s one of your fears, something you need to come to terms with.”

You grit your teeth, “When is Finnick ever going to bleed out? Chocked full of bullet holes with no origin?”

“Fears are typically irrational, you have to know this already.” She reaches for the sleeve on her arm, yanking it up to reveal the mannequin tattoo, “I work with mannequins all day, so tell me why I would feel afraid of them if I already know that they’re harmless?”

You don’t know, how are you supposed to know?

She must not like your silence because she lets out an annoyed sigh. One that you’re all too familiar with, it sounds just like Reed’s sigh. The lecture is coming, “Haven’t you noticed the pattern so far? It’s been two days and I can already tell what you’re afraid of.”

“So tell me.” your voice is hoarse, a side effect from the simulation.

“Maybe you should spend some time trying to figure it out by yourself.”

The problem is that you don’t want to. You’ll already suffer later on tonight, so why should you bother torturing yourself right now? So much is on your plate, and more keeps getting shoved on. 

First it’s Caspian finding out that you’re Divergent, second it’s Thyme blackmailing you with it. Then Finnick crawls out of hell and decides that he wants to be friendly again, and you can’t even get help from Caspian because he’s been interfering too much already. And now you’re suffering through your own fears just so you can stay in a faction that--surprise, surprise!--is more ruthless than you initially thought.

And she wants you to spend your time thinking it over.

No. No, if anything, you think you need to get away from here.

You wave your hand, heading for the exit.

“Take the other door, you won’t be disrupted.” she says.

You spin around, heading for the door she’s talking about. It’s on the left wall, in the back corner. Compared to the right, which has the computer that contains your escape from Finnick’s demise.

You shove the door open, letting it slam against the wall on your way out. The hallway is a straight path for a while, there’s no side paths that you can take and it’ll magically bring you back to the others. Not that it matters much, it’s not like you can talk to any of them about it.

Your feet know where to bring you, straight to the same place you go every time there’s a dilemma. You don’t sit against the railing today, there’s no reason to. Finnick’s not here to talk to you, and you’re pretty sure that he’s not going to be out of the simulation for a while. And that’s under the assumption that he’s next.

You close your eyes and rest your head against the wall. The sound of the water is similar to the noise of static, making it easy to numb the mind. You need to seriously make a dent on Finnick before Thyme finds a way to draw him in again. The two of you are tugging at each of his arms, trying to get him to stay long enough to hesitate on going back to the other.

It’s been three days since the final fight, and two days since Thyme has blackmailed you. You want to think that it’s too soon to start pulling harder, especially since the peace has only been recently established, but you also don’t know how much time you have before Thyme comes in.

Plus, it’s not like Finnick has given up on you completely, right? There’s been a few instances where you’ve hit a chink in his armor, and all of them start with you. It’s never been the surface stuff, like the fact that you came from the same place. That can be easily forgotten, the saying ‘faction before blood’ doesn’t come from nowhere.

As soon as you told him that you left your family for him, he broke. And you’ll bet it’s because he knows how much family means to you. After everything that’s happened in your life, the one thing you had going was family, something that you would have never traded, but you did it for him.

It happened again later on, during the fight too. It was the vulnerability of your voice that made him hesitate. He also trailed you into the bathroom that morning, despite being tired. And you’ll bet that he wanted to talk to you, not use the toilet or whatever.

You think you’ve done it, finally cracked the code. 

He lives for the real moments, and you’re not talking about the heat of the moment when the two of you are arguing. It’s the softness, no secrets, no guards in front of the palace. The second it all started falling apart was the second you were told you were Divergent.

You and Finnick have never really had a reason to keep secrets from each other.

The sound of someone clicking their tongue fills the air, making you jump slightly. When you open your eyes, you’re met with Sydney and Nestor, both of them staring down at you. Sydney’s pulling her hair into a ponytail, Nestor has his hands shoved into his pockets, leaning back with a ruined posture.

“Are you crying?” Sydney asks, the words are slightly muffled because she doesn’t move her teeth. You think you can see a hair tie in her mouth, which is probably why.

“No,” you say. 

The tears dried themselves on the way here.

“Are you sure? Because you’re sitting out here all by yourself.” Sydney speaks normally.

“Looked like you were having a moment.” Nestor agrees.

“Haha.” you roll your eyes, getting to your feet, “What do you two want?”

Nestor half-shrugs, “Banding together a party. Ameer found some alcohol in the kitchen.”

You press your lips together, not sure which part of this story you don’t like, “Found it?”

“Ameer has sticky fingers, Mirza knows how to get in,” Sydney says, “If it helps, Maarja and a bunch of other older siblings will be there.”

You tilt your head, a sour face coming on, “Are you sure that Ameer wants me there?”

Nestor lets out a laugh, “Ameer doesn’t care, he’s probably forgotten about your argument already. Same goes for Mirza, the two of them don’t get hung up. They give it up, forget, and forgive. It’s their whole motto.”

“Which is lucky for you, because Maarja knows how to throw bomb ass parties.” Sydney says, “We just need to know whether or not Finnick should come.”

“Thyme’s already out of the question, no one wants to deal with her.”

“She’s going to know something’s up.” you say.

Sydney shrugs, “So? What’s she going to do about it?”

They’re right, as long as your name isn’t connected to the party in any way, you can’t be blamed for the fact she wasn’t invited. However, Finnick is another story. She might think you’re the one that wanted him there.

“Finnick is okay to come, but I can’t be the one to invite him. It has to be Blaire or something.” 

“We gotcha covered, we’ll pass on the message.”

Sydney grabs your upper arm, pulling you with them, “In the meantime, we’re gonna drop you off with the others.”

“The others?” you ask.

“Maarja and them, they think that you’re going to help out and get shit done since you’re from Abnegation,” Sydney says, “And we tried to tell them it was a stereotype but they said it’s worth a try.”

You can’t help but laugh, this is exactly the type of behavior that you’d expect from them. Pick at the stereotypes and hope for the best, they never really think things through. Yet, they’re in charge of important jobs like security and the entire army. 

God, is Dauntless ridiculous.

“I mean, I guess they were right.” You laugh, Sydney cracks a grin.

She slaps your upper back, “That’s the spirit! The more people you please, the more people will like you.”

“Or they’ll keep going to you for help, one or the other.” Nestor shrugs.

“And by the way, we were going to invite you either way, help or not. Maarja just wanted to push her luck.” 

“I don’t mind, seriously.”

And you don’t, because this is what Dauntless is all about. The ziplining, the fighting, facing your fears, and going to parties. You rinse and repeat the next day, and it’s just like this, over and over for the rest of your life. This is why you’re here, this is why you can’t quit.

Your two friends bring you down a series of hallways, straight to a single door. Sydney pushes it open with her hip, opening out one of your arms, as if she’s telling you to marvel. There’s not much to be amazed at, so you shoot her a questioning look.

She cracks, her laughter echoing through the large room. She catches the attention of the older siblings, they turn their bodies so that they can see. Sydney holds up a hand, “It’s just us, (Y/n) said she’d help out.”

Maarja cheers.

The floors in this room are wood, the walls rock and stone. Basically like the training room, except this room is much smaller, brighter, and there’s only one exit. You guess that makes it an easy way to lock up, but it’s definitely a fire hazard. You can’t imagine the last time anyone has been in here, though.

“I knew you’d help,” she smiles, “Do you think your Abnegation friend will too?”

“He hasn’t even been invited yet, Maar.” Sydney says.

“And he’s not exactly the selfless type, anyway.” you slide your hands into your pockets, “Hated it there.”

She shrugs, “Whatever, bring him anyway.”

You crack a smile, “So what do you need help with?”

“Everything, but shit will start coming in one at a time. We should be done before dinner.” Maarja looks past you, “Keep taking people, will you?”

“Sure.” Sydney begins backing up, “Good luck, (Y/n).”

You don’t need luck, because spending time with Maarja and the others isn’t nearly as bad as Sydney and Nestor makes it out to be. They’re fun to be around, they know how to break someone out of their shell if they’re shy. In no time, the lot of you are laughing, tears in your eyes as you change lightbulbs and set up speakers for music.

You can definitely see the resemblance between Sydney and Maarja, they’re sisters through and through. Of course, they look a lot like each other, but they also have the same laugh, the desire to be on the edge of danger all the time. Sydney had stood on the edge of that building, and Maarja stands at the top of her ladder on her toes, with no one to steady the bottom.

They playfully fight, as all siblings do in Dauntless, and bounce back as if hurtful words were nothing. If you tried half of this with Reed, you would have been scolded. Mox might have been easier, but it would have never been this fun. Mox and Reed are alike in most ways--more than you will ever know, according to Caspian--but you and Finnick are closer.

You guess it’s the age gap that does it. Mox and Reed are only two years apart, Maarja and Sydney are one and a half, you and Finnick are the same. Compared to Mox, who’s three years older, and Reed who’s five. It doesn’t seem like a gap, but it really is. Plus, all three of you have managed to have different childhoods, you can’t imagine what’s in store for Alyssum.

It’s weird to picture you and Finnick as siblings, though. The two of you don’t fight like that, don’t talk to each other like that. You wouldn’t exactly call each other polar opposites, either. However, you guess that definition fits better. You see the things he doesn’t, and he sees the things that you don’t.

“You know what they say about polar opposites,” Daziel says, he’s Lennox’s older brother. 

He’s got the exact same looks as Lennox, with the brown hair and brown eyes. He’s taller than Lennox, but shorter than Horace. When he laughs, it’s childish, yet there’s an edge to him. He leans forward as he talks, like he’s always delivering some sort of threat. 

Because of him, you’ve noticed that there’s two ends to Dauntless. The first side is like Maarja, carfree, party hard, laugh as loudly as you can and have fun because this is your youth. On the other side is Daziel, intense, scary, probably guards the walls or patrols the factionless areas, and he talks quietly because he knows that the room will fall quiet to hear. Everyone else, besides them, falls somewhere in-between.

If you were to put Daziel and Lennox together, you’d go ahead and say that they’re siblings. Their personalities don’t come close to each other--although, you do have a suspicion that Lennox looks up to Daziel, which explains the behavior--but they aren’t the same person. And yet, they were born a year apart, which contradicts what you said earlier.

You suppose that every statement has an anomaly to make it false, right?

“What do they say?” you ask. You’re currently crouched down to the floor, opening a water bottle. You’ve been trying to get the speaker to work for five minutes now, you’re sure that Trink would be better at this than you.

Torrac, Nestor’s brother, says, “They attract.”

It doesn’t take a genius to decipher that one. 

You roll your eyes, drinking the water. Like Daziel, Torrac looks a lot like Nestor, except he’s shorter. He doesn’t have that same bad posture either, and his voice is a whole lot deeper. On the spectrum that you made, he’d be closer to Maarja than Daziel.

“No, I’m serious.” Torrac stops, “It happens a lot. Sydney and Nestor weren’t always dating--”

“Much less, friends.” Maarja mutters.

“--but suddenly they came to some middle ground and started dating. Now there’s almost no difference between them. They balance each other out.” Torrac finishes.

There’s a long silence between you all, allowing actual work to get done. You get the speaker to work, and after that Daziel thinks it’s funny to speak into the mic and not help out. It’s a little annoying at first, but once Maarja cracks, you and Torrac aren’t that far behind.

“You know, you talk about Finnick a lot.” Maarja says, “Are you sure you don’t have some sort of crush on him?”

“Are you kidding?” Daziel doesn’t give you a chance to answer, “Lennox says Finnick talks shit about her all the time.” 

You were right when you said that Lennox is hungry for drama.

“I think you missed the part where she said that they were like this--” she crosses her fingers, one over the other, “--besides, a lot of people hate each other and then get together. Torrac literally said that ten minutes ago. Do you have cotton for brains?”

Daziel, who still holds the microphone, says, “You are the one that nearly killed yourself because you didn’t know how to harness yourself correctly. Please, keep talking.”

Maarja points her finger at him, which quickly changes into the middle finger. After that, she looks over at you, “Anyway, do you have a crush?”

You shrug, shaking your head, “No…?”

“Oh, she’s unsure!” Torrac says, he’s smiling.

“It’s official, (Y/n) has a crush on Finnick.” Daziel’s words echo loudly, “A stiff likes a stiff, why am I not surprised?”

“It’s not like that,” you say, looking to Maarja for help.

“You’ve just never thought about him like that before?” she says, you nod, “Well, congrats on your awakening, good luck.”

You open your mouth for a sarcastic response, but the door opens. The four of you look up and over to see Finnick, Ameer, Blaire and Horace. They’re all carrying different objects, with the exception of Finnick, who looks like he just came from facing his fears.

“We brought the goods.” Ameer says, holding two bottles of alcohol by the neck.

“Over here.” Torrac says, motioning them over, “Finnick, you can join (Y/n).”

You don’t like the wink that Torrac sends you, but the wolf whistle that Daziel lets loose into the microphone is worse. You cap the water bottle in your hand before hurling it at him. He has enough time to dodge, laughter filling the air.

“Hey, Finn.” You stand, he’s coming into the room, heading towards you, “Maarja is the one on the ladder, she’s Sydney’s older sister. Torrac is the one setting up the tables, related to Nestor, and,” you shoot a glare at Daziel, who gives you a bright smile, “the dumbass on the mic is Lennox’s monkey brother, Daziel.”

“They’re all older siblings?” Finnick asks.

“Yeah, they’re cool. Daziel’s on thin fucking ice.”

“I can tell,” he smiles, “Have you been here all day? Trink’s looking for you.”

“Yeah, Sydney and Nestor found me. Did Trink say what she needed?”

He shrugs, stopping next to you. He takes a look around the room, “Doesn’t look like much of a party.”

“We still have a long way to go,” Maarja agrees, she’s coming down the ladder again, “I think we just need to remove a few more bulbs and cover up the windows. Torrac can set up the tables with Blaire…” she trails off for a moment, looking at Ameer, “Hey, that’s not all you took, right?”

Ameer scoffs, “Of course not. Mirza’s taking more and he’ll be over with Lennox. I have to find a way to get us snack food, though.”

“We’ll have some chocolate cake, I know that for sure.” Horace says.

Maarja snaps, “That’s right. Okay, so snacks won’t matter, just drinks.”

“And we’ve got that covered.” Ameer is heading towards the door with Horace, “See you guys in a few.”

“Thanks!” Maarja says, she then turns towards you and Finnick, “You two work together to pull out lightbulbs.”

“Sure,” you push Finnick forward, “He’ll be the one on the ladder, though.”

“I thought you got over your fear of heights?” Maarja asks, Blaire briefly looks up from his table.

“Chicken shit.” Daziel says.

You ignore him, “I don’t feel like risking my life today.”

And you’re not lying, because you honestly don’t feel like standing on the top of the ladder like Maarja was. But the moment you see Finnick start going up, you begin picturing him standing at the top, falling, cracking his head and bleeding out on the floor, and you change your mind.

You grab the end of his shirt, “Get down.”

“What?” he asks, his face twists as he looks you over.

“Get down, I’ll go up,” you say.

“I can do it, if you don’t want to. It’s not a problem for me.”

“I know that, just... get down, please.”

He gives you a weird look, getting down. You head up the ladder, ignoring the screaming in your head. If you fall, Finnick will probably be able to catch you, but not the other way around. And you’d much rather take the chance, anyway, because he’s still recovering from the beating you gave him.

Finnick holds the ladder while you unscrew the light bulbs. When you ask Maarja how she expects all of these to get back in, she shrugs and says it’s not her problem. They plan on leaving the bulbs in a box by the door. You don’t bother to mention anything about someone stumbling along and turning on the colored lights.

Finnick does, and he’s immediately met with Daziel’s criticism. 

“You know, the older siblings are typically the smarter ones,” Finnick starts, he has to look over his shoulder to see Daziel, “It’s nice to know that you’re helping Lennox break the standards.”

You can see the sarcastic smile Finnick gives Daziel, you can’t help the giggle that leaves you. Daziel mocks it into the microphone, “Shut up and work.”

“You should be on one of these ladders, actually,” Maarja says, “You’re the tallest out of us.”

Daziel shrugs, not moving from where he sits.

“What did Daziel place in the final rankings?” Blaire asks.

“Like, fifth or something,”

“That’s not hard to believe.” Finnick mutters.

The room slowly comes together, with the lightbulbs out and the windows covered, the atmosphere is already setting in. There’s a row of tables along one wall that’s covered in the food that keeps coming, and Daziel gets up to start mixing the alcohol into other juices with Torrac and Lennox.

At some point, the only job left is to wait for the cake and start retrieving the only people that don’t know how to get to the room--Trink, Eytelle and Allio. Everyone else is on their own time schedule, and they look right at home when they enter. It’s always in clusters of three to four, with brightly colored hair and piercings that catch the light.

Maarja takes the microphone from Daziel and hides it somewhere. Then, she starts to play music somehow, none of which you and Finnick are familiar with. Music is typically only for enjoyment, so that was out of the question in Abnegation. Plus, you thought it was supposed to be an Amity-exclusive thing to listen to, anyway.

The tempo is typically upbeat, and if the artist isn’t screaming the words, then you can understand it fairly well. It isn’t long before Finnick has blended into the crowd, singing along to the repeated chorus and bouncing around. You watch him for a while, standing off to the side with Maarja as she watches the scene she created.

“Have you ever been to a party before?”

“Dinner parties with the neighbors.” you tell her.

“Dinner what?” Daziel shouts, leaning forward.

“Dinner parties! You guys probably don’t have those very often,” the looks on their faces makes you stop, “or at all, I guess. We all eat in the same room so it’s a foreign concept to you.”

“Not to me! I know what you’re talking about.” Trink nods, “Normally you invite someone over from a different house and cook for them. Sometimes they bring food so that they don’t feel awkward.”

You motion to Trink, “Except, in Abnegation it’s a custom to bring a few dishes. To let the entire other family cook would be extremely rude.”

Maarja and Daziel look vaguely horrified, “Okay, what do you do at those parties?”

“Eat, but you can’t talk about yourself. And typically gossip is rude, unless you know the family you’re eating with, really well.” you say, “You could always run the risk of someone else hearing, and reputation is very important.”

Trink’s twirling her hair around her finger, “Intelligent conversations, mostly. My family would have competitions to see who could come up with inventions that could improve lifestyle. I always won.”

Daziel stands up straight, “You two are incredibly boring.”

“How are your factions not getting along? Like, seriously?”

“Power.” you say, Trink’s bobbing her head in agreement.

Somewhere in the middle of the crowd, you spot Finnick motioning to you. You tilt your head, beginning to shake no, but Daziel shoves you forward, “Go get him!”

“I don’t dance.” you say, “It’s self-indulgent in Abnegation.”

“It’s a good time to learn, you’ll be doing a lot of it in Dauntless.” Maarja says, she then leans forward on your shoulders, talking in your ear, “Have a drink, if you’re really that nervous.” She pats you once or twice as encouragement, letting go. 

You sigh, dragging your feet as you go to find Finnick. He’s easy to lose in the crowd, since he’s just as tall as the rest of them. Still, you manage to catch a glimpse of his hair in the purple light, eyes locking with his. He moves forward slightly, hand extended to you. You slip your hand in his, and instantly get yanked forward.

It’s too loud to just speak normally here, so he leans down, “I figured out the trick, it’s just a bunch of jumping.”

He backs away, joining the crowd’s rhythm, a smile on his face. You stare at him, not moving at first, so he grabs a hold of your hands and starts moving them like a puppeteer. 

“Come on, (Y/n)! Feel the music!” he laughs, forcing you to twirl.

You want to tell him no, but you’ve already done a lot in Dauntless that you never pictured yourself doing. You’ve broken so many boundaries, disobeyed everything you’ve learned in Abnegation, and you’re refusing to dance? You ziplined off a building, hung hundreds of feet in the air, and you can’t do this?

You know, there’s a lot of things that you couldn’t do today, but this is something you can do. As long as it keeps that smile on Finnick’s face. If it stays, then you think you can do this.

“Okay!” you agree, waiting a beat or two before beginning to bounce too.

Finnick’s laughter fills the air, and for the first time in your life, you finally notice the butterflies. Light, swarming, and suffocating. You laugh too, holding onto his hands a little tighter. This is how it should be between you.

You’ve got a hold of Finnick again, and you’re never going to let go. Thyme can try to get in the way, but she won’t succeed. Finnick’s yours, he’s always been yours. By the time the rankings come out, she’ll be gone. Finnick will know your secrets, and he’ll help make sure that they don’t get out.

His smile fades a little, hand tilting your face up, “What’s wrong?”

You hadn’t even realized that you stopped smiling, “Nothing.” you grab his hand, squeezing it, “I’ll tell you later.”

Finnick gives you a look, “Promise?”

You won’t ruin tonight. You’ll tell him tomorrow if you can.

You beam, “Promise.”

--

It’s so painfully obvious that something went on last night. Every single initiate, with the exception of Thyme, is dragging their feet. A few people act like they turned into vampires overnight when they wince at bright lights and loud noises. Others are just in irritable moods in general, hungover from the alcohol.

Thyme is still sour from yesterday, you think, so there’s that. However, when you all came into the dormitory at three in the morning, she exploded. She didn’t yell, she managed to keep her voice level, but it was like all of you were in an interrogation.

One of the Dauntless-borns had said something to her along the lines of, “Shut the fuck up, this is why you weren’t invited.” and it worked. Thyme just glared daggers at the back of their head as they trudged their way to the bathroom. Now that you think about it, it might have been Lennox.

You also may have forgotten to mention an important detail about the dormitory now--it’s now occupied by the Dauntless-borns too. As it’s been said a hundred times before already, your groups had been kept apart. Now they’re combined, there’s four new bunk beds, and you get the pleasure of listening to Lennox and Sydney bicker in the mornings.

Anyway, Thyme went to bed after making a fuss with Finnick. He didn’t say much to her at all at first, then she wore on his patience--as she always does--and he snapped and told her to leave him alone. He was just invited to it, it’s not like he controlled the guest list. It was run by a bunch of the older Dauntless siblings.

And Thyme went, “Like who?”

Which made, literally everyone, point to either Sydney, Nestor, or towards the bathroom, where Lennox had disappeared inside of. Three people she doesn’t know, and therefore had no chance to actually build up some sort of friendship. It did raise the question on how Finnick got in, which was quickly answered by Blaire.

And, as if the salt wasn’t already bad enough, Cass went ahead and said, “Just face it Thyme, you’re fucking unlikable.”

A line with such irony, since the Amity are supposed to be the most liked. Yet here, she’s the most hated. Anyone could go ahead and say that Dauntless just hated Amity, and by default, Abnegation too. But then they’d have to explain why, especially since a former Abnegation is helping lead Dauntless, and you and Finnick are good in the books too.

Anyway, you can confidently say that Thyme is pissed. She’s been giving you a few looks every now and then, which is your fault because you’re the only other person that hasn’t been a complete asshole today. It’s weird to see, you came back with the rest of them, a little buzzed too. You shouldn’t be as on-top of it as you have been this morning.

You think it might have something to do with the adrenaline. To be completely honest, you don’t remember falling asleep, and each time you think of talking to Finnick, your stomach flips. Most of it has something to do with the fact of telling him you’re Divergent, but the other…

“Thyme.” Laurel says, hanging out of the door.

Thyme doesn’t move from her spot in the hallway, eyes on you, “Can you call someone else in?”

“No.” Laurel says, “You’ve had a shitty attitude all day, I want you over with. Get in here.”

Today also happened to be the day where gun training resumed. So, the first thing you got to do this morning was shoot. A lot of people complained, namely the ones who drank too much, but Caspian and Laurel were thoroughly enjoying themselves. You guess that the party was no secret, and you can’t really be surprised. The music just seemed to get louder the more time went on.

Not to mention when Maaja started playing popular songs, and the sing-alongs started. You swear that you’ve never heard a crowd yell that loud, drinks protruding into the air, swaying, harmonious. You and Finnick didn’t know what to do besides watch in awe.

Thyme gets to her feet, purposely kicking your ankle. You dig your nails into your palm, staring after her. Once the door swings shut, conversation takes over, forgetting her immediately.

“Does anyone remember how we got back?” Sydney asks, her hair is tied up messily, it looks like she got dressed in the dark.

“We walked back in a crowd.” you say, Cass immediately nods.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Cass agrees.

“I wish someone could tell me how much I drank.” Lennox groans, leaning his head back onto the wall.

You could probably tell him, but you think you stopped counting after three. Plus, you think he likes the attention he gets from Trink in response, how she immediately leans into him with a coo.

“We have to plan another party, right after initiation,” Ameer says.

Mirza nods, “We probably won’t be able to get as much alcohol as we did, but if we start taking some now…”

“I wouldn’t push it, we’re lucky we got any at all. Caspian had to pull some real strings.” Nestor says, earning two agreements from Sydney and Lennox.

“Wait,” you say, “Caspian helped?”

“Yeah!” Cass sits up straighter, “He’s the one that started the tradition, after all.”

You share a look with Finnick, “Why am I not surprised?”

“Caspian would start something like that.” Finnick laughs, you join in.

“Is Thyme always like that?” Horace asks.

There’s a lot of nodding, “Yeah, pretty much.”

“It’s a good thing she wasn’t invited, then.” Cass says.

“You can thank (Y/n) for that,” Sydney tucks some of her hair behind her ear.

Finnick gives you a glance, and for some reason, you remember that you need to talk to him. The only problem is that Thyme is obviously on your tail, so it might not be the smartest idea to talk to him just yet.

While the others talk about the party, you lean to the left, into Finnick. He leans back, already knowing what’s going on. He tilts his head a certain way, offering his ear to you. It’s a habit for the two of you, never listening to the Abnegation ideals. Abnegation says not to disturb others, which is typically interpreted as silence, Finnick finds a way to speak quietly. It took a couple of weeks for you to master, but you’re just as good as he is.

“I think we should cool it for a little while.” you watch his face, the crease appearing between his eyebrows, “I don’t want to upset Thyme, and after last night, she’s definitely pissed.”

“So when?” he asks back, it’s his turn to watch you.

You press your lips together and shrug, “A couple of days?”

A warning look.

“I promised.” you remind him.

He nods, sitting up. It doesn’t look like any of the others noticed the brief conversation. Which would be good, but it’s not like it matters anymore. Everyone saw you with Finnick last night, and you two hardly left each other’s sides. You’ll be lucky if they don’t say anything to Thyme, especially since you haven’t told them what’s happening between you and her.

Slowly but surely, one by one, you all get called into the room, with the previous person coming out. When Thyme comes out again, you criss-cross your legs, and watch as she gets to Ameer before his leg shoots out to trip her. She barely catches herself, and doesn’t even dignify Ameer with a look.

However, you all know she’s fuming when the laughter starts.

About eight people later, the only people left are you, Sydney, Lennox, Cass and Blaire. The conversation isn’t so much about the party anymore, and more so about what you think of their siblings. You had been left with them for four hours by yourself, you got the authentic experience.

Honestly, they aren’t all that bad. For Dauntless members, they’re pretty chill. The only intense one was Daziel, but it wasn’t all the time. Blaire is glad to know that he’s not the only one that thinks that. You go ahead and tell them about the microphone and most of the things that he said while he was in control. And then you inflate Lennox’s ego a little bit by saying he’s definitely the smarter one.

Sydney is proud to know that you think she has a cool older sister. She says that she’ll pass on the word, because there’s no way in hell that Maarja hasn’t grown attached to you in some way. As for Torrac, there’s not much to say, besides he was the most level-headed one, and he shares a close resemblance with Nestor.

“But would you hang out with them again?” Lennox asks.

“Oh yeah, for sure.”

Ameer comes out of the room, keeping you from going any further. Laurel points at you, gives a big motion for you to go after her, and then disappears into the room. 

“We’ll see you later.” Cass says.

You give them a smile, rising to your feet. Ameer looks like a zombie when you pass him, you wouldn’t be surprised if he was in some sort of autopilot mode. You gently push the door shut behind you, heading toward the chair. Laurel lets out a breath of air.

“How’d you like your first Dauntless party?” she says, you can see her preparing the syringe.

“It was exactly how I expected it to be.”

She laughs, “Yeah, but I’m pretty sure I saw you having fun.”

Your eyes flash to her, “You were there?”

“In the corner, I was there for Caspian. He couldn’t make it.”

“Leader business?” you guess, sitting in the chair.

“Something like that,” she comes around the side. You offer up your arm for her, she slides the needle in and slowly presses down on the plunger. “I need you to focus for a moment, okay?”

You nod.

“Let’s say you have twelve fears, about four to six of those will come out in the second stage, and the other half or so will stay hidden until the final stage. There’s a good chance that your fears will start repeating, since we still have a week and a half of initiation left.”

You don’t have the heart to tell her that you can’t focus on her face for more than a second. You know that the simulations are hallucinations, but this is a pre-hallucination hallucination. There’s little black objects zipping across her body, and the urge to reach out and grab one is strong.

You are hearing what she’s saying, though.

“You’re going to get a lot of practice in with the fears that do repeat, but you’ll be left in the dark when the final stage comes around, because all those hidden fears will reveal themselves.”

“Sounds like a nightmare,” you murmur, you think you’re going to be motion sick. The jolt from setting your head against the headrest, is enough to make you want to puke.

“It is. There are advantages, especially for people like you.”

“That’s phrased like an insult.” 

Most families in Abnegation are religious, it’s part of the traditional family roles stereotype. It was never that way for yours, and after your parents died, the idea was buried with them. You like to think that hell isn’t real, then shit like this happens. You’re staring face to face with Laurel, who no longer has eyes, just black holes and tiny black dots coming and going as they please.

With that, you’ve decided that you won’t try and fight off the simulation. 

You think you hear Laurel say something back. The words don’t sound like they’re in your language, much less coherent. And really, that is the least of your concerns, mainly because you blink and the scenery changes around you. You’re inside of an empty tank, which is, of course, inside of a dark room.

You let out a huff of air, getting to your feet, “I’m not afraid of the dark.”

There’s no one around you this time, no dirt to come raining down. You shift on your feet for a while, calves incredibly sore from all the jumping. Torrac had set up no chairs, claiming that no one would want to sit down, anyway. He must’ve forgotten that he had six inexperienced partiers inside of the room.

Needless to say, getting down from the top bunk was, most certainly, your own personal nightmare.

A tickling sensation ghosts over your ankle, making you absentmindedly lift your other foot to itch through your jeans. The feeling leaves for a few seconds, before quickly returning. It’s not just your right leg anymore, though, it’s both, and it kinda hurts. When you look down to see where it’s coming from, you see why.

A scream rips through your throat, loud and raw. It’s been less than a second, and tears have already appeared in your eyes. You can’t escape this box, yet you slam your hands against the walls anyway.

Spiders coat the floor, hundreds of them, of all different sizes, climb up anything possible, including your jeans. On top, underneath, the floor, the walls. You slap a shaky hand over your mouth, sobbing through your fingers, struggling to breathe.

You try to dodge them, kick them off. In an adrenaline rush, you try brushing them off your jeans but end up making it worse when they hang off your arms. They jump, attach themselves to your shirts, staring up at you.

“No!” You scream, stomping to get them off, “No, please!”

A strike of pain goes through your arm, a red welt immediately forming. You can hardly see, hardly breathe, anymore as you brush them off. This is worse, this is so much worse. You brush off the spiders that you can’t, and you’re forced to watch them crawl up your body in front row seating.

The lightheadedness only gets worse with the hyperventilation. You lean against an empty part of the wall to keep yourself upright. You need to get out. You need out. You need to leave. 

You close your eyes and grit your teeth hard enough for them to squeak. With your head leaned up toward the ceiling, you try to breathe normally. You’re going to get out now. You don’t care how quick it is, you want out immediately. It hurts, the spiders bite, and you think it’s starting to itch.

“Please.” you moan, the inhales through your nose are full of snot. A shudder runs down your spine when you feel a spider coming up, “Please…”

And just as it comes up your neck, heading straight for your chin, you wake in the metal chair.

“One minute--”

Your scream cuts her off.

--

ANTERIC IS A SPIN-OFF DIVERGENT AU //MASTERLIST//

add yourself to the TAGLIST

@amixedwitch / @justthatfangirloverthere / @fnnshelbys / @neenieweenie / @vxntae / @liaaacantwrite / @terezasworld / @i-dumb-bitch 

[damn-stark]

Dreadful summer nights

Chapter 8 of Different Light

A/N- I hope you guys liked it :) I can’t wait to write more!! Let me know what y’all thought?!

Warning- SLOWBURN, fluff

Pairing- Harry Potter x Malfoy!reader, Fred Weasley x Malfoy!reader

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

————

Summer.

Summer was and has been completely dreadful. There's been nothing to do and nowhere to go beside the corridors of your own home, the garden, and Draco’s bedroom to pester him.

With your father out all day and sometimes all night, and with Narcissa defiant not to leave home without him, you've been stuck at home. Just bored, sitting on a reading chair with your legs on the headrest and your head dangling off the edge of the chairs cushion, throwing a green apple up in the air and catching it before it hits you.

That’s how it’s been all summer long. Well that and beside the letters—

“It’s that Potter boy again, he was attacked by Dementors today.”

You gasp at the sound of your fathers voice echoing from the entrance and instantly stop what you’re doing, forgetting in that quick action about the green apple you had thrown in the air until it fell back down to hit you in the face. “Ow.”

“Did he send them?”

Very quietly you twist your body around to sit up straight—as if that was going to do anything to make you hear better. Regardless you also do it because you didn’t want to be caught sitting improperly.

“No, but perhaps someone else did. But because of the attack he had to use magic in front of a muggle and break the breach of underage sorcery. He should be expelled from Hogwarts, but that’s still to be determined.”

You're quick to your feet after the rest of the news and instantly get drowned in worry for said boy and find the need to check on him the best way you could. You hardly even think to hear more of the news, if there was more, that instant just made your mind race to Harry; and that was your motivation to race to your room, slowing down just as you passed Narcissa and your father to greet him. “Hello, father!”

His head turned to follow you up the stairs and quickly come at you with a response. “Where are you going in such a hurry? You didn’t even have time to greet me properly.”

You sigh out heavily through your nose and stop in your tracks to trail back towards your father, offering him a quick smile before giving him a peck on the cheek. “Hello papa, it’s good that you’re home.”

“Hmm, go along now, but come back for dinner.”

You show him a beaming grin and then spin on your heels to retrace your steps back to your room, double checking the hall before closing your door, so that Draco wasn’t being sneaky and trying to find any dirt on you to go tell father.

Once you’re on your desk chair, you proceed to sit quickly and clumsily get out a small piece of parchment and a quill to write to Harry.

Dear, Harry,

I’ve heard the news of what happened to you, and I couldn’t wait until we returned to school to have to check on you, so I’m sending you another letter this week.

The way I heard the news was in the matter of eavesdropping so I don’t know much, but I think I know enough. I hope you’re doing okay, I’ve never faced Dementors, but I know you have so that’s keeping me from thinking the worst. if you have the chance to write back, do so as soon as you can with news of your well-being, or else I think I won’t sleep with the worry that’ll grow.

And maybe to ease your own worry, I also do have hope you’ll return to school, they can’t expel you for something that wasn’t your fault. So remain hopeful Harry. If you want more updates on what the ministry thinks, remember that you can always ask me and I’ll get whatever information I can from what I can hear.

Lastly to not make this any longer, good job! As unfortunate as it is, today’s attack was your second time defeating them, so I think that deserves some recognition!

With love, your friend, Y/N Malfoy.

Forcing yourself to leave this letter short, you end it before you could write a whole essay, rolling it up as small as you could and walking to your open window to attach it to your eagle-owl Athena. “I know I can always count on you girl, so please take this letter to Harry as fast as you can. And remember, remain undetected.”

Athena voices a soft ‘oohu’ before leaning in so you’d pet the top of her head before she flew off to do as she was asked; disappearing into the darkening, sweet smelling evening. Leaving you to wait, and wait for what seemed hours. Having to distract yourself with going down to dinner, but hardly even being able to concentrate on what was talked about around the table as your mind only worried for that awaited reply.

And before, in days, weeks and the few months that passed this summer, after Harry sent his first letter to you and you sent one back, that cycle started, you waited for a reply after you sent a letter. Yet the anticipation was never so deeply developed as it was today. Before you could wait to hear back from him, after all you didn’t want to raise suspicion, but today was different, this letter contained important matters that couldn’t wait for some other time. You wanted answers. And yet they took forever to arrive. Not until almost midnight as you were falling asleep on your desk chair.

And once the news thankfully did arrive, you ran the fastest you had ever done to meet your owl, almost ripping the letter attached to her leg.

Y/N,

You’re always so kind, so to put you at ease, I’m alright. My cousin Dudley, not so much though.

Regardless, thank you for believing in me, it seems from the past couple letters I’ve received today that no one has.You’re the first one to even congratulate me on winning against dementors in fact, so thank you, I appreciated that.

It seems that's all I have been saying to you all summer though.

But that’s because you’re the only person I’ve really talked to.You’re the only person who ever writes me with more than just a few bleak sentences.You’ve become a true friend to me and again I appreciate it.

And regarding your offer to help inform me with the news about myself, I’d like that. But if at any time it gets too hard just leave it as it is, okay?

I’ll hopefully see you when we return to school.

Harry.

A relieved smile grows on your face and you sit back in your chair and fold the letter back up to tuck it safely with the rest of his and Fred’s letters.

Now with that worry done with, all you had to worry about was what else you could hear. Which at the end of the day wasn’t a lot. The daily prophet seemed to be for once oblivious on news regarding Harry Potter, nothing new was reported, nothing about his attack, or the aftermath of the attack. All the news you received was from your father, but that too wasn’t a lot. You tried to get more news from Harry, but that end was cut off. The three days following the events, you tried to report to him with the little things you heard, but Athena returned with your same letter untouched. You tried the next day, but that too was returned.

It was odd.

All you had to rely on now was your father.

“So, father, what's on the news on Harry Potter's trial?” You ask innocently.

“I hope he gets expelled and has time in Azkaban.” Draco interjects with a smug grin.

You shoot a discreet glare before looking back at your father who remained serious. “Harry Potter, did not get expelled, nor did he get time in Azkaban,”

At the news you express a soft relieved sigh and take a sip of your drink to hide the fact that you were smiling.

“He will continue going to school because his charges were cleared.”

Draco scoffs and grips tightly onto his fork. “But he broke the law, he should be punished.”

“Should’ve. But Dumbledore was at his side.”

Your eyes study them both before you shift your gaze down to your food and add a daring comment before taking a bite of your food. “Well, I don’t think that would be fair, he was attacked, he was simply defending himself. How would you like it if you got put in a cell because you defended yourself, Draco?”

All three pairs of eyes flew to you at the sound of your comment and silence overtook the dining table for a moment. When you looked up you simply shrugged while you swallowed the food in your mouth.

Once Draco fully understood your comment he scoffs again and doesn’t think much of the comment. “Well I think, Potter, just summoned the dementor and then attacked it because he knew everyone would talk about it. He just wanted more popularity.”

Your gaze narrows on your brother and you set your fork down to argue. “You really think that? You think he summoned those horrible monsters just to gain popularity?”

“Yes.” Draco shrugs with his smug smile glued to his face.

Just as you’re about to shoot back, you’re interrupted by your father. “And does it matter if he, or did not summon them himself, y/n? He’s below us and shouldn’t be a topic that has you arguing with your brother.”

You swallow thickly and lower your gaze as you offer him one small nod. “You’re right, I’m sorry.”

“Regardless. Kids how would you both like it if next summer instead of coming home you two went out of the country on a nice vacation?” Narcissa finally gets to interject with her voice sounding a bit shaky.

Both Draco look at her and then meet each other’s gaze for a brief moment, both finding it strange that she would suggest it, Narcissa was always so eager to see you both return from school, especially during the summer since your stay at home lasted longer than two weeks. She hardly liked being apart from either of you, it was at times overbearing, but it was at times also sweet. So her suggesting for the both of you to leave without having the chance to see her was completely off putting. “But—”

“Narcissa, we’ve talked about this,” your father cuts you off, “they’re not little children anymore. They won’t escape the reality of what we’re facing, they’re not cowards.”

“But they’re children, our children. I can’t let them fight for him, Lucius. They’re just children.”

“And we’re also Malfoys, how would it look like if they just ran away? They have to make this family proud.”

Once again, just like many times this summer after the dark lord returned, you’ve found Narcissa and your father arguing more than you’ve ever heard them argue. Usually always about the same topic, Draco and you. Which always leads to the both of you walking away where you couldn’t hear them.

This time is no different, you look to Draco to meet his gaze and point your head to the hall so he’d follow as you both quietly stood from your chairs and slipped away. Walking in silence until nothing was heard but each other’s footsteps inside the corridors of your dimly lit halls.

“They can’t seem to stop arguing.” Draco says in a much less smug voice than what he used moments ago.

You look to your side to see his shoulders were low and his eyes were unfocused. “Yeah, but they’ll stop soon. Once they come to an agreement.”

Draco manages a soft scoff and feigns to be more confident than he currently looked. “Well I can decide for them, I'll work with the dark lord like father, I’m ready.”

This time you scoff and raise your brow at him. “You are?”

“Yes, just like you.”

Your eyes instantly fly to him and you frown. “I’m not ready.” Draco looks at you and his confidence falters. “I don’t want to be a death eater, I agree with our mum.”

Draco’s lips part and he stays quiet for a brief second, he balls his fists and his eyebrows furrow as he glares at the ground before stepping out into the garden. Not daring to look at you as he tried to argue. “You’re scared. Just like her. But we’re not kids anymore.”

“She’s worried.” You correct him. “It’s okay to be scared, Draco, none of it is easy.”

Draco puts his hands in his pants pockets and looks to the hedges ahead that were lit by the lamps above, he tries to hide the fact that he was scared, that the topic of the dark lord scared him, but you were no fool, you could see right through him.

“So what are you going to run?”

“Not without you.”

Draco’s eyes snap to you and his gaze narrows on you, his lips twitch, but he’s quick to hide any sort of indication of a smile by looking away and simply continuing with his stubbornness. His reaction however makes you smile and playfully hit his shoulder with yours before adding one last bit and finishing with that topic already. “If you go, I go. Simple as that. Just because we may fight doesn’t mean I won’t have your back, okay?”

“Yeah, whatever.” Draco rolls his eyes, making you smile wider.

——

It felt exciting being back on the train that went to Hogwarts, it felt exciting being away from home and finally getting to reunite with your friends and Fred; with Harry. You had been counting the hours since you had woken up until you would finally get here. That feeling was so strange since when you would go to Durmstrang you dreaded waking up to head to school.

Now you can't think of anything better. Hogwarts truly felt like a home away from home.

When you had gotten on the train albeit, since Draco had no recollection of all the torment from last year, it was hard convincing him that you were okay sitting somewhere else that wasn’t near him. As tough as he acted, he liked having you around, he liked showing you off like a proud brother. It was admirable, but you've been apart from your friends for too long and stuck inside a house with Draco for longer. Plus he loathed your friends, he didn’t know it was those friends you were saving a compartment for and he didn’t need to know. You’d deal with that headache later.

Now you counted the minutes—

Before you could finish your thought, a sudden loud crack goes off in front of you, making you jump off your seat and look to the spot where the noise originated from, to see two redheads suddenly in front of you with happy, mischievous grins on their face. “Malfoy!”

You hold onto your chest after your yelp and glare at them both, forgetting the greeting you and planned for them. “Well that just answered my question.” You say through gritted teeth.

“What no welcoming hug, or a happy smile for your best friends?” George remarks sarcastically, trying his hardest not to smile at your still frightened state.

You close your book and shake your head. “No, that was thrown out the window the moment you both chose to scare me.”

Fred chuckles and takes a seat beside you, wrapping his arm around you and continuing to tease you. “We saw you through the window while we were walking to the train,”

“And thought we’d show off the fact that we can apparate now.” George finishes as he sits at your other side.

You roll your eyes. “Show offs.”

Both brothers just grin and you continue to look at both, noticing the change in their appearance. You grin brightly and stand to get a better view. “You two got hair-cuts!”

“Yeah,” Fred says, beginning to smugly brush his fingers through his hair.

“We thought you’d never notice.” George continues.

“Well they look great, they suit you both.”

“But who pulls it off the best?” George asks, “be honest. And no pity votes for your boyfriend, now.”

Fred scoffs and shrugs. “It’s not a pity vote if she likes it better on me. Now, darling choose.”

Your eyes drift to both Fred and George for a brief moment before a smirk tugs on your lips and you simply shrug. “Like I said, I like them on the both of you. I won’t choose.”

Fred and George groan and just as they’re going to protest, three others come into the compartment. Your smirk falters and a smile threatens to show as you see Harry walk in after Ron and Hermione.

“Y/N!” Hermione greets excitedly, instantly throwing her arms around you. You return the embrace and her bright smile.

“Hello, Hermione, it’s so good seeing you again.”

“You too,” Hermione breaks away and walks back to sit beside Ron. “I was excited to see you, I hope your summer went well.”

“It went...okay,” you scoff, sitting back down in between the twins and focusing on Harry. “Hi Harry.”

Harry’s distant gaze looks away from the window and lands on you, seeming to take some time to really grasp who he was seeing until several minutes passed. “Y/N, hi.” A blush grows on his cheeks and he shifts in his seat. “I’m sorry I couldn’t write back if you sent me a letter after my last one, but I was well, busy with my trial and all.”

“Oh,” you wave off, “I understand, I imagined so. But didn’t I tell you; I knew you were going to return to school. I should’ve bet on it.” You grin, unknowingly catching everyone off guard with your conversation with Harry. “Are you okay, though?”

Harry hesitates, but he chooses to nod. Not really convincing you, but not leaving you a chance to follow up on his hesitation. “Yeah, I’m okay now. Are you? I mean, I remember you mentioned about your father and Narcissa arguing all the time.”

Your eyes widened at his comment and they briefly flicker to Fred; who you hadn’t mentioned about your father, or Narcissa arguing in your letters during the summer. You didn’t mean to leave it out and leave him in the dark when he would ask if everything was fine, but it just felt easier to talk about that with Harry.

With Fred, well it was all lighthearted and fun, while with Harry...well it could be the same, but it was also more serious. It just wasn’t the same.

“Oh,” you try to brush his comment off smoothly, “yeah, I’m fine.”

You avert your gaze and look to Hermione and then twins. Choosing to leave the letter talk for some other time and focusing instead on her and the twins the rest of the way to Hogwarts.

——

“Good evening children!” Dumbledore greets as he takes his usual spot by the podium, making you take your last bite of food before giving him your wavered attention. “Now we have two changes in staffing this year. We are pleased to welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank, who’ll be taking care of magical creatures while Professor Hagrid is on temporal leave. Now, we also wish to welcome our new Defense against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Dolores Umbridge. And I’m sure you’ll all join me in wishing the Professor good luck.” He pauses for everyone to clap before continuing, “as usual our caretaker, Mr. Filch, has asked me—”

The sudden sound of a very squeaky clearing of the throat catches your attention, just like it had with the rest of the students. Where there had been some murmurs here and there, now there was total silence at the sound of the new professor in all bubble gum pink suddenly, and surprisingly interrupting Professor Dumbledore. It makes your curiosity heighten and your head raise so you could see her fully standing up from chair and begin to walk to the podium.

“Thank you Headmaster for those kind words of welcome.” She softly says. “And how lovely to see all your bright, happy faces smiling up at me...”

You scoff and pinch your eyebrows at her absurd and daring assumption.

“I’m sure we’re all going to be very good friends.”

Your eyebrows raise and a smirk appears on your lips as you try hard not to laugh, feeling the twins lean back towards you from their spots in their assigned table to both simultaneously add a sarcastic remark that made you snicker. “That’s likely.”

Albeit at the quiet and private comment the twins made, the pink lady looks to the three of you and shoots you a glare, whilst her smile that she carried seemed to have more hatred behind it than her actual glare. “The ministry of magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be a vital importance. Although each headmaster has brought something new to this historic school, process for the sake of process, must be discouraged. Let us preserve what must be preserved, perfect what can be perfected and prune practices that ought to be prohibited.” Professor Umbridge ends her speech with a giggle before walking back to her seat, letting you grin and lean back towards the twins to add one last comment regarding her.

“Well this year ought to be fun.”

The twins lean back and even if you couldn’t see it, they both smirked as they both simultaneously respond, “wickedly fun.”

.

.

.

.

Tagged- @peter-laufeyson , @swiftlymoniquesblog , @spideyyypeter , @gsvshsjsbs, @accio-prozac , @cherriesanwine , @kokomaesadie , @april-14-blog , @prettypinkpeachh , @pest-ill-ence , @ilovespideyyy , @m3ssytrash , @hogwarts-babe-blog , @yodaboo

[chaseatinydream]

snakes, cats and dogs || c.s (atz)

➵ pairing: reader x choi san (ateez)

➵ word count: 2831

➵ genre: hogwarts au; rivals to lovers

➵ synopsis: at the rate things are going, hogwarts is going to become a zoo

>>>

You don’t think it’s a secret to anyone that you hate Choi San.

Alright, perhaps hate would be too strong of a word. Choi San is annoying. He pisses you off. He’s like a pesky little fly that buzzes in your ear and lands in your soup but you can never catch, he’s just that.

Annoying.

Really, really annoying.

You sigh, shaking back the sleeves of your robes to look at the time. A glance at the watch sitting on your left wrist tell you that it’s time for prefect patrol, getting up from the plush leather seats of the common room, you bid the Giant Squid goodbye with a weary wave as it slinks past the windows, basked in the ghostly green glow.

Stepping out of the doorway, you tuck your hands into your pockets, the dungeons can get a little chilly, especially at night, and you’re not in the mood to catch a cold at this time of the year. There are exams to be taken and you can’t afford to fall sick now. With a soft hum, you head to the Great Hall to meet up with the other prefect on duty tonight.

Tonight, Kim Hongjoong is waiting for you with a cup of hot chocolate in hand, feet swinging back and forth gently, perched on very end of the Ravenclaw table, bundled up in a warm knitted blue scarf. The sixth year is one of your good friends, having started off as a good mentor for your studies, as uncommon as inter-house friendships sounded.

He waves warmly the second he sees you step into the Great Hall with a soft, secretive smile, the massive school is entirely quiet and empty, completely yours. There’s magical feeling in the air when your footsteps echo in the silence of the hall, the air so often filled with chatter and laughter now hushed and drowsy with slumber.

“Good night to you.” Hongjoong raises his mug in some sort of greeting and you laugh quietly, taking a seat on the bench next to him. He slides a cup over to you as well and you sip it, letting the sweet warmth spread from the tip of your tongue down to your toes. “It’s cold. Didn’t you bring a scarf?”

“I didn’t think I would have Apparated to the North Pole the second I left the Common Room, but by then I was too lazy to go back and get it.” You shrug and Hongjoong chuckles, he’s used to your careless attitude. “I’m alright. I’ll just finish up patrol, head back to the dorms and defrost in front of the fireplace before I go to bed. Anyways, I’m sure running after him will get my body temperature up.”

At the sheer thought of him, your face pulls into a scowl.

Hongjoong winces in sympathetically. “That kid still giving you the run for your money, huh?”

“He’s so... ugh!” You complain, slamming your mug down on the table for added impact. Luckily for you, it’s already completely empty, its contents having all gone down your throat. “I just spot him sneaking out in the corridors all the time and I’m not fast enough to catch him! He’s as slippery as a snake, honestly!”

An amused smile curves Hongjoong’s lips. “Aren’t you a Slytherin too? Moreover, didn’t you use to slip out at night after curfew too last year?”

You pause, scowling, it’s too late for your mind to be working at this hour. “I... yeah, but I’m supposed to be a prefect now. It’s... it’s a pride thing. If he keeps escaping me it’s like a taunt in my face. I’ve never even seen him do anything, but he’s just there.”

Hongjoong does laugh this time, his melodious voice ringing throughout the Great Hall.

“Alright. How about we get to patrol fast so you don’t become a walking icicle by the time you return to bed?” He raises a chocolate warmed hand to pinch your cheek playfully and you laugh, batting his hand away, your bad mood instantly gone. “I take the eastern side and you take the other?”

“Howdy, Future Head Boy.” You salute and he pushes you in the arm with a laugh, you set down the mug; the house elves will clear it later for you. The two of you get up and start walking out of the Hall, Hongjoong making small talk with you about Transfiguration and the latest Quidditch match. After he makes you promise to attempt to stop San from sabotaging the semifinals (Ravenclaw against Hufflepuff), you wave and part ways.

The hallways are ghostly silent as usual, and by that you mean deathly silent aside from the mad cackling of Peeves in one of the upper classrooms. With a sigh, you slide a hand into your pocket to rest on your wand, ready to cast an Obscurio charm on the poltergeist in case he’s round the next bend. Slytherins aren’t known for being resourceful for nothing, and you guess that you’re one of the only people to know that the blinding spell works on ghosts as well.

Making your usual rounds, you scale the stairs, careful to make sure that the whimsical staircases aren’t about to move before hopping up the steps as fast as you can. And just as your foot touches the floor, you hear the groan of the staircase moving behind you; there goes your fastest way back to the dorms. With a sigh, wishing that you’d thought to bring a scarf, you step forward... and hear a strange, muffled noise.

You frown.

Pulling out your wand with cold numbed fingers, you move towards the noise, you’ve heard the basilisk stories and whatnot about werewolf professors. While you’re pretty confident in your dueling capabilities, having been invited to join the Dueling Club in your third year, you don’t want to risk anything. So, warily, you inch closer and closer to the end of the corridor, the shadows being cast by the windows in the light of the full moon really aren’t helping your paranoia, and you keep Protego on the tip of your tongue, ready to blast a Shield Charm at the first sight of danger as you round the corner-

“Woof!”

Huh?

You poke your head around the pillar and make a face, to your surprise, it’s a Shiba Inu sitting there, tail wagging excitedly. Your stare continues even as it barks a joyous little sound and runs circles around you, tongue lolling out - you’re pretty sure dogs are not on the list of approved pets in Hogwarts, and that you should report it to the teachers immediately, but...

But you’ve always had a massive weakness for dogs, and from the way this one keep pawing your legs excitedly, it likes you too! You can’t help but feel your heart fill with warmth.

“Hey there, little guy.” You murmur, getting on one knee to crouch in front of the dog, immediately it licks your hand vigorously, barking the entire time. It rubs its head against your palm and nuzzles its snout into the folds of your robes, as if searching for treats. “How did you get here?”

“Woof!” The dog barks brightly in reply, and unluckily for you, you don’t speak a word of dog. However, lady fortune shines upon to you tonight, there’s a noise down the hallway you’d just come down and you rise to your feet instantly, wand already out even before you realise.

“Shiber?” You hear a voice calling, and to your glee (and perhaps annoyance) you realise that it’s Choi San’s voice. Then you frown and glance down at the Shiba Inu at your feet, who’s still panting happily and looking up at you. Why on earth is San looking for his cat at this hour of the night?

You ignore it, however, and merely wait for your prey to round the corner. Finally you will catch him, finally you can stop running after him, and finally-

The dog runs out and you barely manage to fight down your gasp, berating the dog mentally for startling you, but before you can get upset, you hear San cry out in happiness.

“Shiber! Thank goodness I found you!” He says, sounding relieved and there’s a series of short barks in reply, and to say you’re confused is an understatement. You wrack your mind, desperately, trying to pull the frazzled pieces of your mind together, it’s eleven at night and it’s too cold for this. Isn’t Shiber a cat?

“Why did you run away, huh?” San’s voice turns scolding now and you keep silent, still utterly confused about this. You’re pretty sure San either had some wrong mushrooms at dinner or he’s just plain sleepwalking right now, until you hear the next words that leave his lips. “What would have happened if any of the professors were walking around at night and found out that you’re actually a dog, Shiber?”

For a second, you simply make a face, mind trying to fire its remaining cylinders in the cold. And then your mouth falls open, and it clicks.

Shiba Inu. Shiber. Shiba Inu. Shiber. It makes so much sense now.

“Choi San, you have a dog?” You say, incredulously as you round the corner. San almost leaps five feet into the air in shock, as if you’re Sirius Black out for his blood, with an incriminating Shiber clutched tightly to his chest. Now that you look at the Shiba Inu a little more clearly, you can see where the coloring of its fur matches that of its feline form, the coat is of the same shade, the ears twitch in exactly the same way. ”Oh my god, that’s some high level Transfiguration skills right there-”

Before you can say another word, San pins you to the wall, one hand pressed urgently against your mouth and you make a noise of protest, smacking his arm hard indignantly. “Yah!”

“Shh!” He hushes you immediately, glancing around warily as if looking out for something. Of course you don’t listen to him - what does he think he’s doing - opting instead for flailing about in a bid to get free but he’s too strong, deceptively lean arms hiding well toned biceps and forearms.

“You can’t just do this to your house prefect!” You protest against his palm, the sentence coming out more like a garbled string of incomprehensible noises rather than anything resembling real words. He ignores you, you feel your fury spike up and you’re ready to stab him in the eye with your wand when he turns to look at you, he’s very close, way too close.

“Shh! What if a teacher walks past?” He whispers fiercely into your ear, a scowl replacing his usual, devil-may-care grin. You give him and death glare and kick him in the kneecap, but he doesn’t budge in the least. Rolling your eyes, you lean away as far as you can from him, there’s nowhere to go but the warmth of his forearm cushioning your back from the stone wall, it burns through your thin robes and an unwilling flush rises to your cheeks.

“Then you’ll get detention like you should!” You hiss in reply, trying to wriggle out of his grip. “And then get into trouble for bringing a dog into school, like you’re supposed to!”

San’s face go white the second those words leave your mouth, than to your absolute shock he grabs your hands pleadingly, wringing them back and forth with a frantic look on his face.

“You can’t tell.”

“What can’t I tell?” You grumble, suddenly immensely awkward, you weren’t expecting him to do this in the least, and immediately contrive to extricate yourself from the social train wreck as fast as possible. “Choi San. Choi San, let go of me!”

“You can’t tell the professors.” San says almost desperately, subconsciously pressing forward in his distress, and you make a face as you try to back away, whoa, whoa, whoa, personal bubble, boy! “Please!”

“I’m a prefect, I can’t just let you get away with stuff like that.” You snap, still trying to pull away from him. “What, the worst thing they can do is send Shiber back to your parents, it’s not like the school will turn him into hot dog or something-”

“They won’t.” San tells you, and for the first time you hear the edge of desperation and sheer, undiluted fear in his voice, his hand gripping your impossibly tight. “But my parents will.”

It’s no secret to the whole school that Choi San is practically nobility, even among the Slytherins. He’s the only son borne of a marriage between two aristocratic families. Power, prestige, wealth, he has it all, and even his money has its own prestige, it’s old money, businesses and trades that have been passed down the generations. And his parents wouldn’t take care of one dog?

“Wait.” You pause, giving him a confused look. “You mean... your parents didn’t give you the dog? How did you get it?”

“I rescued him from Hogsmeade.” He says, finally removing his hands from you, belatedly, you realise that you miss the warmth of his hands, goosebumps immediately racing across your skin where his skin once touched yours. “It was winter of our third year, and I found him in an alleyway behind Knockturn Alley, freezing and starving to death. I figured his previous owner must have abandoned him, so I brought him back with me to the castle... they aren’t allowed in the school, so I transfigured him to look like a cat... but he still barks sometimes and-”

“Explains your weird ass cat.” You realise, unable to believe how long you’ve been fooled for two whole years. “You mean this kind of Transfiguration in Year Three? All on your own?”

San at least has the conscience to look a little guiltily, scratching at his head awkwardly. “Well I... I did ask Mcgonagall to give me advanced lessons meant for the Year Sixes, that’s how I-”

You hold up a hand, sighing. “Okay, okay, I get it, you’re genius.” San opens his mouth to protest but then you crouch in front of Shiber, who’s still barking cheerfully, one hand coming up to scratch the fur around the ruff of his neck. “You say your parents won’t take him in? Then what do you do during winter break when you go back to your home?”

“Not home, house.” San corrects you immediately, a dark shadow crossing his face the second the words pass his lips and you feel a twinge of sympathy. Even for a Half Blood (one of the only to ever get in Slytherin, you might add) yourself, you've heard of the notoriety of the nobles and are lucky not to be one of them yourself. “Wooyoung takes him back with him to his family in the Muggle world but...” He pauses, looking slightly upset. “I don’t want to cause more trouble to his family than I already have...”

Slytherins are well known for being skilled in getting others to do what they want through any means possible. Whether it be emotional manipulation, underhanded, subtle pressurizing or completely shameless, full blown threatening, the means don’t matter, only the end. The lot of you are Slytherins, after all, and to each his own. San might be just trying to play you along like a puppet on a string, but still, you have nothing to lose by allowing him to keep his pet (you do have a weak spot for the small cat... uhh, dog).

However, you can’t just let this opportunity slide past you, it’s simply not in your nature to do so. “Well...” You drag out the word, pretending to consider this carefully and rubbing your chin. “I can’t just let you get away with doing something like this...” Your sentence trails off meaningfully and San’s eyes widen minutely, before he pauses to look at you more carefully with a guarded expression.

“What do you want from me?” He asks cautiously. Will it be money, an invitation to one of those prestigious galas that his parents host but he never wants to go to, or something even more exorbitant? Instead, you shrug carelessly. He’s a Slytherin, you’re a Slytherin. The two of you are birds of the same feather, or well, in this case, snakes of the same scale, and he knows that no Slytherin will ever in their right mind do a favour for a stranger without a reward.

“Nothing at the moment. How about you owe me a favor?” You say, with a cheeky grin, fingers reaching down to stroke your fingers through the dog’s fur. San takes a moment to think, looking down at Shiber, the dog barks happily and wags its tail at its master.

The he sighs, nods and turns to you. “Fine.” You smile triumphantly, hold out your hand, a grin playing on your lips.

“Deal?”

“Deal.”

And that’s the beginning of it all.

[masonscig]

holiday

pairing | mason x aimee lin

word count | 2.5k

warnings | cursing, innuendos [it’s mason and aimee u know what to expect]

author’s note | so our friend group decided to do a little secret santa type gift exchange and i got the lovely @masonsfangs – i couldn’t NOT write maimee !!! not gonna get super sappy on main but i’m so grateful for your friendship, becky and i love you so so so much!

•─────────────────•

Out of all the fucking times he has to run out of cigarettes, it’s the moment he needs them the most.

His hands were quivering ever so slightly in his pockets, but no one would be able to tell unless they were looking for it. And even then, he was hidden by the shade of the door frame – not dark enough, but it’d do.

Why the fuck did he agree to a holiday party? In what world was he the type to go to parties, much less celebrate anything?

The laughter of the surrounding agents, mingling in clusters around the room, pounded at his eardrums like a mallet to its surface. The music flooding through the speakers was even worse, grating at him so intensely that he could feel the individual droplets of sweat start to bead across his palms.

A century’s worth of annual holiday festivities at the agency, and he chooses to attend when there’s ample sound technology to add to the already irritating sound of each voice – he could normally block them out if he needed to, but in a crowd this size? He was lucky if he could manage a couple of seconds where he could hear himself think.

He wasn’t looking for her, no matter how many times Farah tried pestering him about it.

“You got here pretty early, Mason,” Farah started, a teasing smile tugging at her lips. “It’s almost like you’re… waiting for somebody –”

“I’m not,” he snapped – two words were an effort to say.

He was straining himself trying to adjust to his surroundings, but it was like no matter how hard he focused, the noise was still deafening, still restricting.

“Well, tough luck. You know she’s fashionably late to everything,” she said. “Said so herself.”

Farah waggled her arm in front of Mason’s eyes, flashing the bright screen of her phone, the string of charms nearly striking his face.

“Yeah, I get it.” He’d been at the party for nearly a fucking hour and she hadn’t shown. He was growing more and more frustrated with each minute.

By the time a few agents had loaded up the table with platters of both human and… not so human foods, he was ready to bolt. The smell of the sweets mixed with the eggnog was overwhelming.

He’d barely been able to manage a couple minutes at Haley’s Bakery each time he went before he dipped out because he craved fresh air.

“Mason,” Nat called from a couple feet away, approaching him with furrowed brows. “You look pale. Are you feeling alright?”

“I’m fine. I’ll manage.” Two word sentences were all he could handle – he hoped Nate wouldn’t notice the slight waver in his voice. He did.

“This isn’t an obligation, by any means. You’re free to leave at any time –”

The side door burst open, and she strode through, her heartbeat faster than normal. A soft flush painted her cheeks, likely from the frigid December winds.

Mason pushed away from the wall, leaving his shaded door frame for the first time that night, completely ignoring Nat’s vocal realization as she figured out why he was there in the first place.

Aimee approached him, still panting from the effort. “Thank god. I thought I ran here for nothing.”

Something about her was different – a good different.

His eyes raked over every inch of her, his nausea fading away as he settled on each change.

Wild curls free from their normal elastic constraint, cheap stud earrings traded for tasteful emeralds, lashes thinly coated and curled, lips a soft rouge – even the flannel was traded for a tinsel lined sweater.

“What’re you looking at?��� She asked, lip raised in annoyance.

“Who do you think, sweetheart?” Quick flirtatious retorts were the fastest way to get him feeling like himself again.

She rolled her eyes, trying to hold back a smile. “Oh, shut up.”

His stomach churned as he watched her take a few steps toward the main area. She stopped when he didn’t follow, sneakers squeaking against the linoleum as she swiveled around to throw a look his way.

“You coming?”

He shrugged, hands still trembling in his pockets. “I’m good here.”

Her brows pushed together, brown eyes (almost black as the night sky) flitting across his face.

He should’ve fucking lied better. He didn’t need her worrying and bitching at him because he was a little uncomfortable.

She closed the gap between them, sliding an arm around his waist. “Let’s go.”

“Damn, you really wanna do it outside? You’re adventurous today,” he teased, shoulders instantly relaxing as soon as he felt her hand slip underneath the hem of his henley, cool fingertips grazing the small of his back.

“Maybe,” she grinned, tugging on his torso, leading him to the back doors.

“You haven’t said a word to anyone else here,” he said, planting his feet.

“Since when do you care?” She laughed, flicking a thick curl off her shoulders, clearly not used to the feeling of it on her neck. “You don’t want to be here anyways.”

“Fuck off. I’m just trying to save you from some weird tension with Rebecca.”

She huffed. “Fine. I’m saying hey to Farah, Nat, and… Rebecca, and we’re dipping. Meet me outside.”

He shot her a look, and she shot one right back, challenging him. “Sure,” Mason said finally, shrugging, then strode towards the door with a second glance.

The feeling of the freezing air against his exposed skin was painful to say the least, but holy shit did the knot in his chest vanish the second the night sky was in view.

Within minutes, Aimee pushed through the doors, keys in hand.

“Seems like you were looking for a way out,” he said, trailing behind her.

“Don’t flatter yourself, sunshine. I can think of quite a few places I’d rather be than here,” she winked, unlocking her car and slipping in.

He perched against the side of her hood, feeling the rumble of the engine beneath his hip. Normally he’d be fumbling for a cigarette right about then, but Aimee’s pulse in his ears was the perfect comedown.

The window squeaked as it rolled down, her lips just barely visible over its edge. “Dude, get in. It’s freezing.”

He took a step towards her, pressing his forearm on the top of the door, using it as leverage to lazily bend down. “Where are you taking me?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she teased, her breath curling and twisting in translucent streams around them, their faces close enough that he felt the warmth of it. “It’s a surprise, dummy.”

He pushed away from the window, making no hurry to walk around the front of her car. Through the windshield, he could see her reel her arm back and motion like she was going to lay on the horn, but the sound never came – a muffled cackle met his ears instead.

He settled into the passenger’s seat, wondering how the fuck it felt colder inside of her car than outside of it. “Jesus Christ it’s freezing.”

He kicked a few wrappers out of his way so he could spread his legs comfortably.

“Once we start moving it should warm up.”

“Or we could heat it up on our own,” he said, head lolling to the side, a lazy grin slowly spreading.

“Oh, keep it in your pants,” she laughed, tossing him a glance over her shoulder as she backed out of the parking spot.

The ride there was calm. The stuttering purr of her engine, the soft gusts of warm air, the faint sweet smell of her gloss – sensations he could handle. Hell, sensations he’d come to tolerate.

Aimee’s quiet hum was the loudest of them all, but he didn’t mind it, oddly enough. He found himself timing her soft intakes of breath between hums with the hypnotising cadence of her heartbeat.

Aimee was a symphony without even realizing it.

“Hey, I’ve got a pack of cigarettes in the glove box and a lighter in my cup holder. Knock yourself out,” she said, breaking him out of his train of thought.

“Thanks,” he murmured, reaching for the lighter and the handle of the compartment.

He placed it between his lips, flicked the lighter, and inhaled, but… he didn’t need to. Force of habit, he guessed.

She pulled into a gravelly patch on the outskirts of Wayhaven. He was familiar with the quieter parts of town, but even this terrain was new to him.

“It’s just down this path,” she said, tossing a blanket over her shoulder while walking away.

He flicked the cigarette onto the ground, grinding his heel into the bud without a second thought. With a few brisk strides, he caught up to her, slinging his arm around her neck over her thick mass of hair.

“You look good with your hair down.”

She tried holding back a smile. “I didn’t do it for you, but I’m glad I have your stamp of approval.”

“I know you didn’t do it for me. I’m enjoying it, though.”

She laughed, her free hand raising to grip his forearm. “I’m happy to distract.”

“Distract me from what, sweetheart? You haven’t even kissed me yet,” he teased, leaning in to speak into her ear.

A slight shiver made its way up her back, but she quickly masked it. “You were uncomfortable.”

They reached the clearing, the edge of the cliff open, overlooking Wayhaven. Aimee laid the blanket down and plopped down wordlessly, patting the seat next to her.

She still hadn’t explained what she meant, and he was too prideful to ask.

He sunk down onto the cold blanket, dangling his legs over the edge alongside hers. They weren’t up too high – far enough that most of the stars were visible, but close enough that the carolers strolling downtown were mere background noise.

The wind whipped at Aimee’s curls, strands tossed around her face like a halo of coils, the scent of her shampoo filling the space between them.

“Your face was contorted when I walked in. Like you’d sucked a lemon or something,” she said, kicking her feet.

“I was fine.”

“You were not.”

“Yeah, I was.”

“You know I’m right.”

He scoffed, leaning back onto his elbows. “No.”

“Whatever you say, honey,” she teased, leaning over, shoving her arm against his, but he didn’t budge.

He eased back onto his elbows, nonchalant. “I didn’t really care to be there. You’re right about that much, detective.”

“Ouch. That almost hurt,” Aimee laughed, pulling her legs up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. “‘Thank you, Aimee’,” she said in a voice like she’d swallowed jagged rocks – her worst impression of him yet.

He grumbled in response, settling into his propped up position as the crowds thinned downtown. He wasn’t sure how much time passed before she spoke again.

“They’re gonna be turning on the lights, soon,” she said offhandedly, voice barely above a whisper. Like she didn’t want to interrupt whatever was about to happen.

The lights caught his attention before he could think of a quip. Line after line of Christmas lights lit up, a net of stars hovering above the businesses below. The wind must’ve shaken some of the wires – the breeze made them nearly shimmer.

Nothing was said for a while – the hum of the occasional car passing and the rustling of the tree branches was comforting enough.

Mason caught himself stealing a couple glances her way. Something was still a little different about her. Something he couldn’t put a finger on, but it was undoubtedly there.

“They’re like stars,” he murmured, feeling a little different himself as he watched a shit-eating grin stretch across her face.

He was more surprised with his own reaction than Aimee’s childlike expression at the lights.

“Is that holiday cheer I’m detecting?” She said, whipping around, shifting her weight to her hands so she could lean closer to him.

He shifted, reaching out to her, wrapping a curl around his knuckle. He tugged just hard enough to elicit a soft gasp, followed by her smirk, one that was becoming so familiar to him that he wondered for a split second if to others they looked like mirror images of each other.

“I don’t know, are you gonna show me the true meaning of Christmas or what?” He asked, pulling her even closer – so close that their cold puffs of breath intermingled.

“I would, but I don’t feel like getting arrested for public indecency tonight,” she laughed, her breath a soft gust against his face.

“Then why’d you bring me out here?” He asked, dropping his hand, shifting back to lean on both of his elbows.

She shrugged and turned back to face the town. “Thought I’d show you this place in case you wanted to come back. The warehouse rooftop might get old someday.”

His brows furrowed. She’d never gone out of her way to do something like this for him. She just wasn’t the type.

It’s what he liked about her.

Shit was simple. No complications. Just good, casual sex.

But this was… different. She was different.

And then it dawned on him

That’s what was different about her – holiday cheer? Whatever the fuck she wanted to call it, Aimee had a lot of it.

She didn’t have to say it out loud. Her expression was enough proof.

“Rooftop works fine.”

He didn’t know why he said it. He wasn’t upset with her for bringing him there. He was just… taken by surprise.

Not a bad surprise at all. Just unexpected. Kind of… nice.

She’d brought him somewhere that meant a lot to her, completely unprompted, and didn’t try to jump his bones. 

She rolled her eyes, sighing heavily. “This is the thanks I get for trying to get you to branch out.”

He sensed a shift in her demeanor – she was definitely a little upset with him. He hated damage control in most situations, but with her he’d rather do it before it blew into a bigger fucking mess he wouldn’t be able to clean up.

“Aimee,” he said, waiting for her to turn back and look at him. “Thank you.”

He held her gaze, knowing good and well it was hard for him to convey sincerity, but he’d be damned if he didn’t try.

He pushed himself up into a sitting position, their faces close.

A genuine smile stretched her lips thin in a wide grin, eyes crinkling at the corners. Aimee traced the pad of her thumb over the stubble on his chin. “Don’t mention it.”

She tugged his chin forward, lips meeting his in an enveloping kiss, Mason’s experience at the party long forgotten, cigarettes a distant thought.

He’d humor her by indulging in at least the reflective aspect of the holidays.

The shittiest parts of Wayhaven couldn’t touch his best moments with Aimee.

––––

[buckthegrump]

IBTHNTTTY - 4

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Y/n hates Bucky Barnes. Absolutely loathes him what makes it worse is that she has to share her office with him. Now with a promotion on the horizon she has to find a way to work with him and not against him.

Word Count: 1384

Warnings: Angst (kind of), fluff, mentions of past bullying, wizard swears, probably other things

A/n: i’m actually making pretty good time on this fic

They made it to the cabin site safely. 

Everyone had made it before them and had already divvied the cabins and teams for the weekend. While Y/n would be sharing a place with Natasha, her partner for the weekend would be none other than Bucky Barnes. That had Jill and Natasha written all over it.

Seeing as how it was still early in the day, they had an hour or so to get settled in their cabin before their first activity. So Y/n was in her cabin with Natasha.

“I know you’re behind it,” Y/n muttered. Both were sitting on their respective beds.

Natasha smiled. “It was Jill’s idea, I just talked to Coulson, and he agreed that the two of you could learn to work together better.”

“We share an office and haven’t killed each other yet, I’d say that we work together fine.”

Natasha snorted. “Please, at least once a month, the two of you get into a yelling match, scaring your poor intern who’s only trying to do his job. Not to mention that whenever I ask someone to take a manuscript down to you, their immediate reaction is to cringe and ask if they half to. Honestly, I’m surprised that no one died in that car on the way up here.”

“I still hate you for making me be his partner this weekend,” Y/n grumbled.

“It’s only two activities; the rest of the weekend, you can mope out on the beach with the book I know you brought.”

Y/n gave Natasha a half-smile. “I brought two.

“Of course you did,” Natasha said as she shook her head.

* * *

“Ok, so now that we’re broken up into teams, here’s how the game will work. One of you will be blindfolded, and the other will direct you through the maze. Both of you must make it through the maze to win,” Maria said.

“What’s the prize?” Someone called out from the back of the group.

Maria shot whoever it was a glare. “The prize will be revealed tomorrow night.”

“Sounds like an exciting way to say they haven’t figured that out yet,” Bucky said under his breath. Y/n bit back her smile, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of her thinking he could be funny; sometimes.

“Anyway, we are staggering the entrees to the maze, and you will be timed. The pair with the fastest time will win this game. Now we will start with group one,” Maria said.

Y/n glanced down at her paper. They were number 30, which meant they were close to last, if not, dead last. It also said that she would be the one blindfolded, which she wasn’t the least bit thrilled about. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Bucky; it was just she was 100% sure that he was going to leave her in the middle of the maze.

And if he did leave her in the maze, blindfolded or not, she would be fucked. If she couldn’t look at a map or hadn’t been able to walk the terrain before, she was shit at directions. It was one of the reasons she walked around a new city when she moved.

The maze was outside and just a quick walk from the campsite. It was made of hay, very on theme for October. But it also meant that they had built it higher than the average adult man, and there was no way to cheat their way out of it.

Y/n reached into her small backpack that she’d brought along and pulled out her book. She sat on a park bench near the maze entrance, which just so happened to be a slide. That made her more nervous because then she couldn’t just retrace her steps to the entrance; she would have to find her way out.

But, instead of worrying about all that, she read her book. She had barely made it two sentences in when she felt someone sit next to her. She didn't have to look to know it was Bucky, but she was just going to ignore him and hope that he didn’t try to talk to her. She would put up with a lot of bullshit, but interrupting her reading was where she drew the line.

He didn’t. He sat there staring at his phone, probably also reading, and didn’t say a word.

Then it was their turn to go in. Luckily they were allowed to go down the slide before she had to be blindfolded. One the other side of that coin, it was getting dark out, and Y/n wasn’t sure if they would finish the maze before it was dark out.

At the bottom of the slide, she put the stupid eye mask on, but before sliding it over her eyes, she looked at Bucky.

She opened her mouth to say something, thought better of it, and covered her eyes.

“Are you ready?” Bucky asked. His breath tickled her ear. She hadn’t realized he was standing so close to her. She nodded slowly, still not positive he was going to leave her behind. “Ok, just follow my directions.”

For what felt like three minutes, he gave her a steady stream of directions before he muttered a curse and stopped. She stopped walking and turned her head side to side as if she could tell which side he was on.

Buck didn’t speak for a long moment, and Y/n was starting to think he’d left her behind.

“Bucky?” She asked and was embarrassed by how scared she sounded.

“I’m here,” he said, and she let out a sigh of relief. “Did you really think that I would leave you behind?”

“It’s happened before,” she said simply, hoping that he wouldn’t ask questions.

“Well, lucky for you, I want that prize. I’m just trying to decide if we should go left or right.” It almost sounded like he was waiting for her to answer him. “Left.”

They continued through the maze much like they had at the start, with Bucky giving clear and concise directions, and Y/n blindly following them. 

“Shit,” Bucky swore just when Y/n thought they were getting to the end.

“What?”

“It’s really dark out,” Bucky answered. “Why did they think this was a good idea, and why are we the last ones?”

“Bucky, I’m going to ask nicely that you don’t leave me behind again. I’m directionally challenged at the best of times. And being lost in a maze will almost certainly send me into a panic attack,” she spewed out information that he probably didn’t need.

“Why are you so afraid that I’m just going to leave you alone in a dark maze?”

Y/n hesitated. “It’s happened before.”

“You keep saying that, I have never -”

“Not you,” she cut him off.

He went quiet again. And although she knew that he wasn’t going to leave him, she couldn’t help herself from -

“Bucky?”

“I’m still here,” he said softly. “Fuck it.”

He grabbed her hand and began leading her through the maze. The twists and turns were going at a rate that left her confused, but the quicker they got, the better. 

Bucky’s hands were big and warm. Y/n didn’t know if he did it on purpose or if was a habit he’d picked up somewhere, but his thumb rubbed comforting circles on the back of her hand. Somehow, his hand had callouses and was soft. 

That thought brought up a funny story about one of her friends from college, who, when commenting on the softness of a boy’s hands, blurted that he must masturbate a lot.

Bucky dropped her hand, and she instantly missed its warmth.

“Ok,” he said before she could ask what was happening, “I think we’re here.”

For a split second, Y/n was disappointed that he wasn’t still holding her hand. Then she cast the thought from her mind and reminded herself exactly who Bucky Barnes was. 

They exited the maze, and Y/n finally took off the blindfold.

“Good job, you two,” Coulson said as he walked towards them, “I’m pretty sure that’s the fastest time yet.”

Bucky looked at Y/n and winked. His smug expression made her want to slap him. She groaned and walked away.

[misha-moose-dean-burger-lover]

It's logic, really.

Sam's the biggest, and Jack's the smallest. They take the backseat. Dean and Cas are regular sized human (and angel), so they get the front.

Though, leaning back against the locked door, with arms crossed on his jacket and legs half-propped on the seat, Dean's still touching knees with Cas, who's in a similar position, with one leg folded on the seat, and the other still on the ground. And he's thinking about the other possibilities.

Clearly, he and Sam can't fit in a single seat anymore. Those days are long, long gone.

The only other option is Dean and Jack, which would be pretty comfortable, considering the kid takes half the space the rest of them do, but that'd leave Sam and Cas, and Sam's tall and Cas's wide - so Dean needs to be reasonable and accept that wouldn't have worked out either. (Plus, the two of them are way too weird and comfortable with each other, and would probably end up sleeping in each other's laps in the name of suitability, because not everyone has Dean's issues with everything.)

(Especially when it comes to Cas.)

Anyways, that brings him back to where he is right now. Bumping knees with Cas - and, for that matter, a trenchcoat-free Cas, because dude had to go and be a wonderful dad, and give his coat as a blanket to Jack. Speaking of, when Dean peers at the backseat, Jack does look very comfortable nestled under it.

He's all the way in a corner, with his beige blanket tucked around him, and he's got his legs up on the seat, crossed ankles. Sam's not got his legs up anywhere - content to sprawl out, and rest his head back, and he's always had an uncanny ability of not needing much persuasion to go to sleep when in Baby, so the way he's already zoned out doesn't really come as a surprise.

"I like this." Jack sighs, eyes still closed. From the other corners of the car, his dads smile at him. He looks the cosiest of all of them. "This feels like the stories you tell me." He adds, in Sam's direction. "Of growing up here. Of the impala being home."

"It does feel like it," Sam says, exchanging a soft glance with Dean.

"We almost never slept in the car," Dean protests, but there's no passion in it. Why is his first instinct to always play defense for John's parenting, he'll never understand.

Cas seems to get it, though. Because he steers the conversation back to general nothings. "It's nice. Jack, are you sure you're not cold?"

"Not at all."

"Yeah, that coat's burly, Cas." Sam adds. "How do you even wear it all day?"

"I've gotten used to it." Cas answers, at the same time Dean pipes up with, "He's an angelic hot-water bag."

Sam raises an eyebrow at Dean, as if the question, how do you know, was right at the tip of his tongue, but he spares Dean the embarrassment.

How Dean knows, actually, is by having fully functional sense organs. Cas is radiating warmth - and as Dean slowly drifts away from consciousness, to the backdrop of the rest of them talking, it's becoming more and more clear that perhaps there's a better way he and Cas could fit.

Like, if Dean scooted over to his side, and ended up with Cas's warm chest behind him.

Or something.

"I'm comfortable," Jack restarts conversation, like the first time round. "But I don't think I'm sleepy." Dean agrees with the sentiment.

"You can talk to us until you feel like you can sleep," Cas tells him, always supportive of endeavors which get Jack to share - and like an overconcerned parent, always looking for reasons to have conversations. The love in his heart for Jack is evident in his voice, and it's actually heartwarming. Except for the fact that he's wrong.

"No, that's not how it works." Dean interrupts, not unkindly. "If he talks, he stays up. Cas, why don't you talk?"

"Jack, and us can listen." Sam seconds his opinion. "Wait. We?" He corrects himself, sleepily. Before reverting to a small, confused, "Us."

Dean sends a fondly irritated look over his shoulder.

"Okay." Cas lets out.

"A story?" Jack asks.

"U-uh." Cas clears his throat. "Alright."

***

So then, as Cas tells a very non-biblical story of biblical times, the rest of them listen, hanging onto every word - until they're asleep. Sam goes down the fastest, snoring reasonably softly for being Sam, and Jack follows, noiselessly slipping into slumber with a relaxed smile on his face which makes Dean as happy as Cas looks, and in the end, just remains a really drowsy Dean with a serenely rambling Cas.

"You can straighten your legs if you want." Cas takes a pause, when Dean squirms when he tries to adjust his knee in a more comfortable position. It's not about the position, as much as it is about Dean being on the wrong side of forty. "I don't mind."

"Nah." That would just get Dean's legs in Cas's lap - a rather strange, but not entirely uninviting scene, though one he's not looking to create. "Wait, do you want to - ?"

Cas shakes his head.

"'Kay."

He's too exhausted to keep pretending. And too sleepy to realize that he's stopped.

"Hey, you think it'd be easier if our legs were on one side of the seat?"

He's done it. He's upped and done it. He's fucking upped and done it, and this could go either way, and -

"Preferably your side." Cas says, simply. "The wheel," He gestures vaguely. "Only our legs could fit next to it."

There's no more words said.

Dean's shifting, slightly, and it's even more apparent how close they've been this whole time, because it doesn't take him long to reach Cas, at all. In fact, he's almost instantly there, inches away from the angel, with heavily lidded eyes and a hint of a smile.

Cas shifts, somehow, and suddenly there's enough space for Dean to turn and back up against him. Dean stretches his legs and crosses them at the ankles, like Jack, but unlike Jack, there's another pair of legs tangled with his.

Sometime in between, while Dean had been drawing comparisons, Cas's hand had come to rest on Dean's ribs, while the other was still around the top of the seat. Dean swallowed, and entwined his fingers with Cas's, before he went the last inch of a mile, and fell asleep.

*

When Sam woke up in the morning, force of habit, he saw his brother and best friend snuggling in the front seat, fast asleep in each other's arms - and then he realized Jack had migrated to his side of the seat, and was currently sleeping on his shoulder, loosely hugging an arm, and somehow Cas's trenchcoat was entirely on his lap now.

He gently pulled it over Jack, though it had become too warm inside the car for any of them to need it, and as Jack didn't even budge in his sleep, he must've been very deep in his dreams, so Sam refused to move, and simply focussed on the fluttery father-like feeling every moment like this invoked in him, until he drifted back off to sleep.

[sideshowjazz]

From The Start

Fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender

Pairing(s): Jet/Zuko

Character(s): Jet, Zuko, Uncle Iron, Freedom Fighters

Watnings: N/A

Summary: Jet must make a decision about Li. It's harder than it seems for reasons that were entirely his fault.

Author's Note: I wrote this in two hours. Please kill me.

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

Jet hated Li. He hated that he's put him in this position. Hated that he was forcing him to choose between the lives of total strangers and the life of his fastest friend. 

☆~☆

From the moment Jet had seen Li, he knew he was doomed. It wasn't his strong jaw, or his brilliant gold eyes, or his perfect dark hair. He'd seen plenty of boys like that (though the combination created a striking image indeed). It wasn't the massive burn that took up most of the left side of Li's face. Jet had seen what fire could do personally. 

No what had stood out to Jet was the way Li carried himself. He had an intense nervous energy about him. Not the nervous energy of a scared kid in way over his head but the intense energy of a man who had seen violence. A man who had been asked to kill and had said yes. 

It was the same energy that Jet felt within himself.

Li's face was a mask of cold stoicism. He said little and what he did say was decidedly impersonal. What little Jet had been able to get out of Li was that he and his uncle Mushi were traveling and they had been for a while. That his uncle was a bit of a tea aficionado. And that the burn on his face was a very sore subject for him.

Jet understood that. There were things about his past that he didn't like to talk about with his closest friends, let a lone a stranger. Jet respected Li's desire to keep things close to the chest. 

Yeah Jet liked Li from the moment he saw him.

☆~☆

Li and his uncle were firebenders. There was no other explanation for how his uncle could have ice cold tea one moment, and then be sipping scalding hot tea the next.

None of the Freedom Fighters, his friends, had believed him. They'd insisted that Li and his uncle were just simple refugees trying to start a new life in Ba Sing Se. Just like they were.

Yes, Jet had a history of paranoia in the past. His hatred of the Fire Nation was well documented. But he was right this time! There was no other explanation. When pressed on this, his friends would just remind him that he was supposed to be starting a new life in Ba Sing Se. 

That was the whole reason he wanted to turn them in. 

☆~☆

Li seemed to have a good head on his shoulders. When presented with the prospect of stealing from the defiantly rich, Li had agreed at once. And  that wasn't all. Li was incredibly competent. He blended into the group like he'd always been there. And his skill with a sword was by far the best he'd ever seen. 

Jet was in awe at Li. He barely had to speak. Li understood his cues and read his body language better than anyone he'd ever met. It normally took years to gain that kind of understanding with someone. Even his own Freedom Fighters couldn't always read him the way he could read them. There was none of that with Li. 

Immediately following the very successful raid, Jet had presented the idea of Li joining the Freedom Fighters. They'd instantly reminded him that there were no Freedom Fighters anymore. That they barely knew Li. And while those were both true, Jet couldn't get the idea out of his head. He couldn't get the idea of Li out of his head.  

It was just so nice. 

☆~☆

. 

Jet knew what would happen if he turned Li and his uncle over to the Dai Li. At best, they'd be quietly executed. At worst … Jet couldn't think about it. No. He had to think about it. He would be sentencing two people to unspeakable torture by a police force that were not held accountable for their actions. He'd be sentencing two people he liked to that. 

But what other choice did he have? Let two firebenders just live undetected in the city? He'd seen what firebenders could do. He saw it every night when he dreamed about his village being burned down. And the idea of having to see that again was almost too much to think about. 

☆~☆

The ferry ride was an overnight trip. Normally if you made the trip at sunrise, you could be in the city by sundown. But they'd started late and wouldn't be arriving until the next morning. Private accommodations were provided for those who wished to sleep but Jet wasn't the least bit surprised to find Li wide awake in an empty sleeping room.

"Mind if I join you?" Jet asked, putting on his most charismatic voice. Li made a noise of affirmation and nodded his head. 

Jet sat beside him on the cot. There was a beat of not uncomfortable silence. It was companionable. Li was companionable. 

"I'm sorry about asking about your scar." Jet poured every ounce of apology he could into his voice. 

Li's voice was small. "It's fine." 

"No it's not." Jet said matter of factly. "It was an invasion of privacy and I'm sorry." 

Jet hadn't known Li for very long but he'd bet his life that he rarely looked so surprised. 

"I'm guessing people don't apologize to you often?" Jet smiled.

"No, almost never." Li shook his head. 

"A shame, really." 

Li looked at him curiously and the way his golden eyes glittered made Jet's brain stop working. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to Li's. It was quick, chaste even. But Li radiated a heat that bordered on scalding and when he heard Li let out a contented sigh, Jet couldn't help but smile even wider. 

It was Jet who pulled back first. He was still smiling when he spoke. "I'm uh- sorry about that too." 

Li smiled softly and Jet could have sworn he'd died and found his everlasting paradise. 

"Don't be." 

☆~☆

Jet felt stupid now. He'd let his guard down. He'd let Li get inside his head. He'd been blind to the truth. Of course Li was skilled in militia operations, he came from a military state and very well might have been a part of the Fire Nation military. Of course he was so stoic, it was a whole lot easier to not accidently light something on fire if you kept your emotions in strict check. Of course he was traveling for such a long time, the Fire Nation was hundreds of miles away. 

He hated himself for falling for all of it. He was an idiot! If it wasn't for a tea lover's carelessness, they would've gotten away with it. 

Jet knew what he had to do. Li had left him no choice. They had to be reported to the Dai Li.

[anangelicday-mrwolf]

Wolfsbane : Noblesse Fanfic (post-ending)

(previous chapter)

Chapter 65 – What I Truly Must Do

“Sir?” 

Takio adjusted his gaze into the direction that Yuigi’s eyes and voice were headed to. 

A white-haired man dressed in a hospital gown wordlessly gave them an acknowledging look, right after which he returned to his play-meerkat stance. 

The course of his action was as swift as a lightning, enough to convince some spectators, if there were to be more besides the two visitors, that he was a man who knew nothing of manners. 

Hence Takio and Yuigi mimicked his behavior out of curiosity, and understanding lit across their faces. 

They happened to be standing in the area within the KSA infirmary, at the corridor with the wall partially made of glass for bystanders and passersby to observe what is taking place inside. 

And Tao was tending to several civilians sent to KSA on the other side of the wall. 

Takio and Yuigi were in the middle of their search for the rest of the RK, to discuss how they should wrap up the calamity at Seoul. 

Since they were unaware that Rael had a small business with Yuhyung in the ICU, they sought Tao. 

They have found him, only to remain immobile in their places. 

It was not because Tao was putting up a show of “how-to-make-a-back-and-forth-marathon-in-a-hospital,” doing nearly as thrice as much work than others, checking up on patients and assigning drugs and orchestrating treatments. 

Their eyes were locked upon a child. 

Back when the gas launched by Tao finally put an end to the disaster at Seoul, the 3rd Elder was lying flat on the earth as an aftermath. 

But he was more concerned about the well-being of the bodies around him, and on the other hand he pled that they send the fastest among them to the site he had in mind. 

Not long after, Rael retrieved from the coordinates he provided a girl and a woman the former addressed as her mom, whose blood pressures were being measured by Tao. 

“If it does not concern you, may I ask what is your relation to that girl?” 

Asked Takio, who remembered how the 3rd Elder was visibly relieved after he was shipped to KSA, to witness that Rael performed his commission to perfection. 

Could they be a family? 

Yuigi was also waiting, her question tugging at her nerves. 

“If the relation you speak of is a biological type, I assure you that me, that girl, and her mother does not share any sort of genetic bond.”

“...Really? Then why would you ask me – ask Rael to prioritize that girl and her mother in collection?” 

“...I owe that kid a debt.” 

“A debt...?” 

“...If I were give you the details...” 

At then 3rd Elder’s lips emitted a poof that was most certainly meant to be a smirk, making Takio and Yuigi wonder what in the world could the man be planning to tell them. 

“I’d say that kid is my master in shopping.” 

Two pairs of eyes, one cyan and one light olive, rippled with confusion at the series of words that they deemed impossible to hear from 3rd Elder, whether it is a jest or not. 

Their confusion grew harder as they ascertained that his claim was as unfeigned as it could be. 

The 3rd Elder was wearing a smile deriving from his heart as he regarded the kid. 

He was truly grateful that she was safe. 

And he was truly abominating himself for what the girl and her mother had to go through. 

*****

By the time Frankenstein took to his mouth the wolfsbane tonic that he changed the components of, the 3rd Elder was sprinting out of his island, wrenching himself by force from the purgatory of his heart. 

Snapping at himself that a bowl of water once toppled is no longer worthy of carrying, he did not cease until he joined Helga in Seoul. 

It’d be preferable to have our enemies learn that you are now with us as late as possible. So for now, I must ask you to stay here. We’d appreciate it if you could back us up when you determine it is necessary. 

After the brief briefing, 3rd Elder assumed his position on top of a building not very far from KSA. 

When the cataclysm Helga mentioned broke in the city, he observed everything from where he was standing. 

During the briefing, he was told that everything was simply one of very small steps that will help them unlock the new beginning of the Union.

In fact, that was what he had been lecturing himself even before the briefing. 

‘But why...? Just why would I feel this way...?’ 

Ever since his lodging at Frankenstein’s island, he had been tormented by sense of loss and melancholy stasis that he could not fathom the end to. 

He had given his all to the Union, for mankind’s evolution and growth, and ultimately for mankind’s peace and welfare. 

Union has been his alpha and omega, the commanding key in his every steps and choices and words and actions. 

Alas, now nobody could ever promise that Union will have a future to look up to. 

Instead he had accustomed himself to the ordinary life that had been perfusing into his days and nights; however, he chose to shake himself off from such life to finally lend a hand to the rise of Union back to heaven. 

But why? 

He knew that some sacrifices are a must, as he and Helga intended to critically sabotage the force that must be gone for Union’s revival. 

Besides, he had hundreds of experiences in watching, apprehending, administering, and forgetting such sacrifices during his time at the Union.

Nonetheless, he could feel his heart moaning as he took in how civilians erratically deformed and disfigured were spraying and spreading blood about them. 

He had to fight an iron-hard urge to abandon his post, against which he miraculously managed to prevail as victorious.

‘Don’t you dare. Now there’s no going back. You can only go forward. You must.’ 

The man hammered his lips with his teeth, forceful enough to draw blood, and even shut his eyes tight, until a horror-stricken voice shrill enough to rend anybody’s heart menacingly pierced his eardrums.

His eyes snapped open at the suggestion from the voice that its owner was no older than ten. 

When the breath that was stuck in his throat restarted its circulation, he had already hopped onto the street into a sprint. 

Soon enough he could lock on the origin of the shriek, and his heart twisted as if it were struck by a meteor. 

“Mommy...! Mommy...!!!” 

A girl was dripping tears at how her mother, as loving as any mother would be just a moment ago, was growling at her. 

As much as she was shuddering in terror, her natural-born affinity to the center of her world forbid her from refuge. 

Nevertheless, a parent who lost her abilities to tell her daughter from her foes revealed her sharpened teeth and lunged towards her. 

At the same time, 3rd Elder hollered at the top of his lungs.

“NOOOO!!!” 

Instantly his eyes flashed, keeping his power just about right to keep the woman fixed on the ground. 

Yet his power was far too great for a puny girl to take, and she fell to her feet, to safely stumble onto her savior who had dashed right away to her side. 

And his eyes started during the course of his anxious, hurried inspection. 

‘You...?!’ 

Fate could be cruel at the most unappreciated moment, thought 3rd Elder, who was too hasty just before to study the profile of the girl. 

The girl was his little helping hand. 

The girl who taught him how to use a self-checkout machine, on the day when he first met Helga in this country – the day when he was almost drowned in the questions about the Union, Union’s purpose, and Union’s future as he stood in the middle of ordinary people busy with their ordinary lives. 

The girl whose face was marred with tears, shocked beyond her sanity that her mother got very close to ripping her head from her shoulders. 

The girl who was nearly made victim to the bloodshed that none other than 3rd Elder himself was part of. 

‘She knows nothing about my world... She has nothing to do with my world. She has done nothing wrong. And because of me, this girl...!’ 

The man’s head drooped, boneless, until a cacophony from humans attempting to maul him hit his senses. 

Pushing them away with a single glance, 3rd Elder could at last take in the view surrounding him. 

A wife and a husband were chomping on each other’s limbs, tramping over the bag of fried chicken that was supposed to serve as their late-night snack.

One of the duo of students on their way home had his shoulder bitten by his friend, who was equally spilling blood from his arm nailed with a row of teeth. 

A group of young men , strangers to each other, were scrambled into a ball of flesh and blood. 

They were all innocent people, who should have had no business at all with what 3rd Elder and Helga had planned. 

‘This is for the sake of mankind’s evolution and growth, and ultimately for peace and welfare...? This is the inevitable gateway to Union’s return, future, and purpose...?’ 

The white-haired elder recounted what Helga guaranteed him. 

At the same time, he beheld the catastrophe no different from what he had familiarized himself with at Union, or perhaps worse, considering how these were all ordinary people. 

And slowly his head began to turn sideways.

Once. 

Twice. 

And again and again. 

‘No... This is wrong!’

Finally the realization of what he had unleashed upon Seoul – in reality, what he had been endeavoring to ignore – crushed upon his shoulders. 

Unconscious of what he was doing, 3rd Elder held his head low, to gaze at the girl who was still listless in his arms. 

He also held in his eyes a tiny lollipop she was clutching in her fingers even now, probably a gift from her mother. 

A sight that pushed a cloud of heat and moisture to the corners of his eyes. 

A child perfectly aged to fool around, have fun, and gorge herself on a bunch of sweets was caught in a night of horror like nothing else. 

All because of him. 

‘This isn’t what I wanted...! I...!’ 

This isn’t what you wanted? 

Don’t play innocent. You’re the one who brought this upon her.

The voice within him yelled into his head, as if it were waiting for the moment, and 3rd Elder’s entire body shook in dreadful tremor. 

‘What have I done...?!’ 

He almost lost his breath, nearly swept away in the tsunami of regret; however, he persevered like never before to still and keep himself standing.

Sealing his lips, shedding blood as the result of his ruthless mincing, he started to move. 

He stacked all the modified humans in the largest crossroads, and he ran into Yuigi in the middle, seemingly trying her best to find an exit from this situation, and they shared what they knew, before he handed her a spare communicator he had. 

He did not forget to pick up the girl and her mother, to safely tuck them away from the rest. 

When he managed to reach Tao and learn his plan, he did not wait to urge him to do it, despite Tao’s warning that he could lose his power. 

He figured it is a must-have sacrifice.

In fact, he did not care if he were to lose his powers. 

His powers were what represented him as the elder of the Union. 

They were the most powerful, essentially the only connection he had to the Union. 

Yet here he was, willing to lose – no, willing to give up on his powers. 

For he knew they were not what truly mattered.

‘How I wish I learned sooner what truly matters... What Union truly had to do... What I truly must do.’ 

Which was why he did not regret at all that he might lose his powers.

Which was why he accepted it as natural as the sun rising from the east. 

Which was what he was ready to do in order to pay for what he had done, if it could be paid for. 

Feeling how his heart was being steeled in wholeness, somewhere between guilt and relief, 3rd Elder smiled until Tao’s missile landed.

*****

Knock, knock. 

Tao drummed the glass Takio and Yuigi were also looking into. 

In notice of the sound, 3rd Elder scrubbed the smile off his face, to whom Tao waved his hand in invitation. 

“What is it?” 

“Someone’s looking for you, sir.” 

I don’t think there is anyone who would require my presence, thought 3rd Elder as he followed Tao, and he flinched upon reaching his destination.

“Mister!” 

The girl jumped off her bed and threw her arms around his waist, not giving any hint whether her recognition is based upon their encounter at the market or from her vague memory about her savior. 

The man froze, unresponsive, feeling too guilty to show any welcoming gesture, and the girl rummaged her pocket. 

“Here!” 

From the girl’s pocket was revealed a lollipop, the one that she was holding during the disaster at Seoul, and 3rd Elder’s eyes momentarily bulged in surprise. 

“...Is this for me?” 

“Yeah! Mr. Handsome over there (At then 3rd Elder’s hesitant, unconvinced eyes shifted towards Tao very shortly, who was smirking in glory and pride) told me that you took away the bad stuff in me and my mom! So you can have it!” 

He knew she would otherwise hate to give away a single treat, given her age. 

He knew he should thank her at once, but he spoke of something else, completely barred from innocence in the presence of the girl. 

“Are you sure you want to give this to me?” 

“I’m okay! I can ask my mommy to buy me new one!” 

Exclaimed the girl, until her face grew a shade closer to a frown. 

“So I want to get out of hospital fast. I want to go have picnic with mommy. And buy candies.” 

Her spectator’s lips were ironed taut at an instant, as he stared at how the girl pouted with her cheeks puffed up. 

However, he soon placed his hand on her head and beamed at her.

“Don’t worry. You’ll soon get to do that.” 

“Really? You promise?!” 

“Promise. I promise you.” 

You will get to do what you want to. What you have to. 

You will get to enjoy your ordinary life, as you should. 

“Luckily, the kid is practically clean of the effect of the gas, probably because she is not completely grown up. Of course, I’m keeping my eyes on her just in case. No need to worry.” 

Quoted Tao for the 3rd Elder, as they walked away from the girl and her mother. 

“By the way... I’m hoping to run more thorough tests on you. I know you went through the most basic ones, but you need to go through ‘check-ups’ check-ups to figure out how much damage that gas caused upon...” 

“Sure.” 

Tao and Takio and Yuigi, who were waiting for them to finish, gaped at the 3rd Elder, their eyes wide open, for they expected him to decline at least once, genuinely or not. 

“Uh... Sure. Why not?” 

“And make it happen ASAP, please.” 

“Uh... Yeah. Sure thing. But why did you suddenly change your mind?” 

“...Let’s just say there’s something I must do, before I die.” 

The three listeners silently flipped but said nothing, seeing how he was so very blasé for a person who was expecting death. 

They could only tail him with teetering steps, as he led the way to the lab. 

And thus things were projected and progressed in order, and by the time the examinations and treatments were complete on people sent to KSA and hospitals under association with KSA, the one person they had been waiting for finally made his comeback. 

At last Frankenstein returned to Korea. 

(next chapter)

This chapter shows the process through which 3rd Elder changed his mind and sided with the RK, as he has been getting familiarized with ordinary life and starting to question Union’s purpose and existence. Like I mentioned in my previous chapters, in the early seasons Noblesse focused on the value of ordinary life, so I wanted to highlight this through 3rd Elder and his characterization in this fic. Now his story has been almost wrapped up, and I have a few more stories to unravel for this fic. I’ll do my best until the final chapter, and thanks for staying with me so far! :)

[sugar-kisser]

Park Seonghwa « What Ifs (RW)

original warnings: none word count: 1855

Summer has slowly come to an end, and autumn is just beginning. The cool breeze is what everyone was begging for, but were not expecting this early. But none the less, college students still trudge around campus preparing for their midterms that are in the coming weeks. Just about all the floors in every library is filled except for the oldest library on campus that is said to be abandon, but you and Seonghwa found it the perfect place to study because not many student’s actually step foot near the old building.

So behind several shelves and almost lodged into a secret corner of the library on the second floor, Seonghwa and you sit at one of the small rectangular tables. You currently have three different biology books opened to random pages and sitting in half a circle around you and your not very completed study guide. Seonghwa on the other hand has a stack of four textbooks sitting next to his large history textbook that’s opened to the back so he can right down all the laws he needs to memorize for his history exam in two days. Some times he wished he started on things like this sooner, but you know, college is basically procrastination. Like if you think high school is bad just you wait. Plus he had a life he wanted to live and he didn’t need to attend every single class, so he skipped a few, and just a few. You probably wouldn’t catch him with bad grades so when he found the time to ditch for a day trip somewhere, he did.

You on the other hand never missed a day of class. You were afraid you would fall behind easily considering you’re not the fastest learner and it takes twice as long for you to completely understand something than the average student. But that also makes you a perfectionist because you want to be able to explain it with your eyes closed or even in a different language if you need to. The big achiever that nobody really liked to be friends with in high school, but you cut all ties with your previous life. You needed that fresh start, and you’re happy you did because you met Seonghwa on the first day of college in a level 300 class you accidentally signed up for instead of the level 100, but he managed to help you through it and you ended with a B.

You deeply sigh which easily distracts Seonghwa who puts his pencil down to look at you.

“You okay?” He asks with a small little grin on his face that you want to wipe off.

“No,” you whine, “this midterm is going to be the reason I fail college.” Seonghwa pulls his lips together to not only hide his smile but the oncoming laugh from your dramatic statement. You then drop your head onto the table with a loud thud that could probably be heard from the other side of the library. Seonghwa reaches out to help you back up while sneakily laughing.

“Laugh all you want I don’t care,” you tell him. Your dramatic mood changed to a more depressed tone, and Seonghwa practically feels the life and energy drained from you. All in a matter of a second which quickly concerns him.

“You’re going to be just fine on this test. You have nothing to worry about,” Seonghwa tells you as he rest his hand on your upper back, slightly running his fingers up and down for comfort.

“But I also don’t have your test to copy off of,” you counter which makes Seonghwa bite the inner parts of his cheeks to reframe himself from continuing to laugh as your despair is a little more important at the minute.

“Just take a five minute break, relax, and then get back to doing the study guide,” Seonghwa suggests, “you’ll feel better.” You lift your head up from the table and Seonghwa retracts his arm. You sigh again and look over the mess of your half of the table is. In the corner of your eye you watch as Seonghwa continues about his time writing down his needed information from his history book. You lean over and rest your head against his arm, only causing him to stop writing.

“Y/N,” Seonghwa coos to you, “I need to write.” You whine and move your head back over to your own workspace. You rest your head on top of your hands and close your eyes. A few moments of just not doing anything could be good right? You promise yourself just to count to one hundred before getting back to your assignments. But you don’t quite reach thirty before passing out.

Your light snores don’t go past Seonghwa as he every once in a while glances over at you to make sure you’re okay and not drooling over the libraries textbooks. He’s glad you’re finally getting some sleep. He’ll notice your apartment lights still on when he returns from his late shift hours just about every other day. Lately he’s wondered if you’ve even been sleeping considering the bags under your eyes are black and purple. You do try to hide them with your make-up but Seonghwa knows your little tricks and you can’t fool him. 

An hour and a half passes by and Seonghwa gets through most of all his work before deciding he wants to call it a night. He looks over you one last time deciding if he should wake you now or if he should let you sleep a little longer. You don’t quite look comfortable slouched over a table sleeping but you didn’t seem to mind it all that much. Seonghwa leans back in his chair and looks out the tall skinny ceiling to floor window. A smile blossoms on his face as a lightbulb blinks in his head. 

Seonghwa packs his bag and collects his textbooks setting them on a cart for a student librarian to place them back. He sets his bag on the floor after grabbing his wallet and hurries out of the library and across the street to your guys’ favorite coffee shop.

You eventually find yourself waking up when you no longer feel any other body near you radiating off even the smallest amount of heat. You push your head off your textbook and run your hand through your hair. You look over and notice that Seonghwa’s side of the table is spotless clean. His bag isn’t even anywhere in your sight. Had he left you?

You flip your phone around and check the time when the screen turns on- 7:46 PM. You feel your heart sink a little further. Didn’t Seonghwa have another late shift tonight? It starts in about 15 minutes. What sits heaviest on you overall is the fact that Seonghwa didn’t even wake you. Usually he would if you fall asleep during one of your study sessions, so what makes tonight different? 

With a shaky little sigh that breaks past your lips and small little droplets of water collecting at your waterline you push yourself up in your chair and look over your study guide and the textbooks in front of you. You at least need to complete the study guide tonight so you can study it for the next seven days straight to get the A you need on the test. You absentmindedly find answers to your study guide questions and write them down without retaining the actual information which will easily leave you lost later on when you come back to study it.

“Ah! You’re awake,” Seonghwa’s voice softly calls out. You whip your head to face the black haired boy approaching you, two large hot drinks in his hands.

“Seonghwa, I thought you left? Don’t you work tonight?” You ask, your voice rather quiet and hoarse.

“No, silly. I don’t work Thursday nights, remember?” Seonghwa lightly laughs, “besides why would I leave you alone in the library sleeping?” He sets the two cups down and that’s when he see’s the build up of water about to fall down your cheeks.

“Y/N,” Seonghwa’s face drops instantly and he wraps his arms around your shoulders and pulls you into a hug. You arms wrap around his waist and the side of your face buries itself into his mid-torso. “I’m sorry I didn’t leave a note. I didn’t think I’d be gone long, nor did I think you were going to wake up until I got back.” Seonghwa let’s go of you before crouching down, his butt almost brushing the floor.

“How about I walk you back to your apartment and we watch a movie? You’re way to stressed to be working on this study guide,” Seonghwa suggests, but you shake your head and blink back your tears.

“I can’t,” you whisper afraid anything above that you’ll have a mental breakdown, “I need to finish this tonight. My test is next week.”

“Which means you still have plenty of time to finish it and study it all,” Seonghwa counters with a small smile, trying to convince you to take a break.

“What if I forget about it?”

“You won’t.”

“What if I don’t complete it?”

“You will.”

“What if I fail the test.”

“Y/N,” Seonghwa laughs in almost disbelief at all your excuses which only causes you to feel more guilt.

“You’re going to be just fine if we take the rest of the night off,” Seonghwa explains as he brushes your hair out of your face, “and when you pass your test next week after not forgetting to complete your study guide I’ll take you out.” You feel everything in the world stop. Did he?

“I won’t know my grades until after the short break,” you tell him which causes him to laugh.

“Y/N you’re going to pass this. So I’m going to take you out,” Seonghwa more-so tells you rather than suggests, “on a date.” You feel heat rise to your cheeks and you reach up to lightly brush your fingers against your pink cheeks.

“Come on cutie,” Seonghwa pats your head before standing all the way back up, “let’s head back to your apartment, watch a movie, and eat food because I am starving.” You break into a small smile which makes Seonghwa instantly feel better that he’s lighten your mood. You put your papers back into your bag and before you can grab your coat Seonghwa does and helps you put it on.

“Thanks,” you squeak before picking up your three textbooks. Seonghwa grabs his backpack and your two hot chocolates, and the two of you head towards the exit. You place your books on the return cart next to Seonghwa’s and take your hot beverage from his hands. 

A cool breeze swipes right past the two of you as you head outside into the cold. You slightly shiver but that doesn’t stop Seonghwa from grabbing your hand and pulling it into his coat pocket along with his. You bite back a smile as the two of you head towards your apartment.

[lossknown]

𝒍𝒐𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏:   multiple  places  in  /  surrounding  tera. 𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒏 𝒕𝒐:   closed,  self - para. 𝒕𝒐𝒑𝒊𝒄:   gracie’s  death.

          sude  fills  his  lungs  almost  as  easily  as  a  scream  rips  through  the  air  while  he’s  lounging  by  the  watering  hole.   this  wasn’t  a  rare  occasion  —  sneaking  out  past  curfew  with  his  friends  to  get  high  away  from  the  bustling  atmosphere  of  tera.   the  group  of  five  spent  a  countless  number  of  nights  out  with  each  other,  each  one  as  happy  as  the  next  to  be  able  to  escape,  if  only  for  a  few  hours.   their  nights  out  worked  like  clockwork  most  times.   lukas,  bazz,  and  kyra  would  get  high  by  the  water,  gracie  and  vince  would  wander  off  to  make  friends  with  the  creatures  of  the  night  (  most  were  harmless  little  things  ).   on  this  night,  though,  there  was  nothing  insinuating  harmlessness  in  the  way  the  shriek  pierced  his  ears.  there  was  a  brief  moment  of  exchanged  looks  between  the  trio,  but  then  lukas  was  running.   he  wasn’t  sure  where  his  legs  were  taking  him,  but  it  was  a  miracle  he  hadn’t  tripped  over  anything  on  his  way  to  the  source  of  the  sound.   a  branch  is  snapped  as  he  runs  through  it,  the  bush  revealing  a  panicked  vince  kneeling  over  gracie  —  shirt  stained  red,  puncture  in  her  side,  tears  streaming  down  her  face.     “   what  the  fuck  happened  ?   “     frozen,  shocked,  and  unable  to  process  the  situation,  lukas  felt  panic  build  beneath  his  chest.     “   vince,  what  the  fuck  happened  ?   “     the  repeated  question  is  accompanied  by  his  hand  yanking  the  other  male’s  body  back  to  force  him  to  snap  back  into  reality.   it  didn’t  work  because  he  didn’t  get  a  response.     “   gra—  gracie.   “     a  hushed  plea  of  a  response  fell  from  his  lips  as  he  knelt  beside  the  girl,  one  hand  instantly  moving  to  inspect  the  wounded  area.

          gracie,  unlike  most  things  in  his  life,  had  been  consistent.   she  was  there  when  he  stepped  foot  into  tera,  she  was  there  every  morning  from  then  on.   the  two  were  practically  attached  at  the  hip.  if  someone  didn’t  know  better,  they  could  come  off  as  two  kids  in  puppy  love,  but  nothing  romantic  ever  happened  between  them.   on  any  given  day,  you’d  find  gracie  hanging  off  of  lukas’  back,  barking  orders  in  his  ear  and  he  obeyed  every  single  one.   out  of  the  five  of  them,  those  two  were  the  closest.   in  fact,  there  was  rarely  a  night  that  went  by  when  one  wasn’t  staying  at  the  other’s  place.   it  was  mostly  due  to  how  late  they  stayed  out.  they  were  just  too  tired  to  split  up.  their  friendship  was  different  than  all  his  other  ones.

          “   we  gotta  get  her  to  the  infirmary.   “     it  wasn’t  a  suggestion  so  much  as  it  was  a  demand.  careful  not  to  disturb  the  injured  area  too  much,  lukas  stepped  over  gracie  to  make  an  attempt  at  picking  her  up.  the  groans  and  whines  of  pain  made  him  hesitate,  but  they  couldn’t  leave  her  there.     “   no...  no  infirmary.   “     the  next  demand  came  from  the  blonde  in  his  arms,  a  single  hand  just  barely  reaching  up  to  pull  at  lukas’  shirt.   one  look  in  those  hazel  hues  and  lukas  couldn’t  pull  himself  to  disagree  with  her,  but  he  knew  she  wouldn’t  live  without  some  kind  of  medicine.  defeat  riddled  already  tired  features,  a  nod  soon  following  her  words.  he  wasn’t  about  to  start  an  argument.     “   bazz,  take  her  to  my  place.  i’m  gonna  go  get  stuff.   “     the  handoff  was  messy  and  probably  uncomfortable  for  gracie.  it  physically  pained  lukas  to  see  her  in  such  a  helpless  state.     “   they’re  gonna  see  us  if  we  go  ba—   “     bazz  started,  but  the  look  on  lukas’   face  was  enough  for  him  to  dismiss  his  last  hesitations.  he’d  do  what  he  had  to.     “   i’ll  be  back,  okay  ?  do  not  let  her  die.  i  swear  to  god...  i’m  gonna  take  twenty  minutes,  max.   “     there  was  one  last  look  at  gracie,  one  last  glance  at  the  wound,  and  then  lukas  was  off.

          in  all  honesty,  he  wasn’t  sure  how  he  ended  up  back  within  the  walls  of  tera.  sneaking  out  had  happened  so  many  times  that  he  had  a  route  memorized  like  the  back  of  his  hand.  it’s  not  even  that  they  were  really  out  when  the  gates  were  closed.  they  did  cut  it  pretty  close,  though,  and  the  sentinels  knew  that.  before  he  knew  it,  lukas  was  approaching  the  infirmary  —  one  of  the  many  places  he  generally  wasn’t  allowed  to  be  simply  because  he  was  a  nuisance.  still,  that  didn’t  stop  him  from  swiping  an  access  card  from  one  of  the  doctors  leaving  as  he  was  going  in.  it  gave  him  easy  access  to  places  he  needed  to  be  in  order  to  get  some  supplies. ��careful  to  avoid  the  sight  of  guards,  lukas  remained  calm  as  he  maneuvered  through  the  halls.  and  when  he  found  the  room  he  was  looking  for,  one  final  glance  down  the  nearly  empty  hall  gave  him  a  clear  coast  to  slip  inside.

          it  wasn’t  until  his  hands  were  grazing  the  shelves  that  he  noticed  the  blood  on  his  fingers,  the  trembling  of  usually  still  limbs.  it  made  him  hesitate,  if  only  momentarily,  before  grabbing  a  few  different  vials,  along  with  other  meds  that  he  knew  might  have  a  chance  at  working.  in  all  honesty,  he  wasn’t  sure  what  attacked  gracie,  how  her  side  got  punctured  the  way  it  did.  he  had  no  idea  what    he  was  dealing  with.  and  once  he’d  finished  tucking  the  items  in  his  pocket,  he  left  the  room.  while  looking  over  his  shoulder,  he  nearly  ran  into  a  body  that  was  waiting  right  in  front  of  him  near  the  end  of  the  hall.  looking  down  at  the  other  male,  lukas  just  removed  his  hands  from  his  pockets  and  tried  to  brush  by  him  with  a  nearly  inaudible  apology.  that’s  when  he  felt  the  other’s  hand  press  against  his  chest  to  stop  him  from  continuing,  eyes  glancing  down  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  name  ‘  preston  ‘  plastered  on  the  uniform.     “   you’re  not  supposed  to  be  back  here.   “   oliver  observed,  but  it  was  something  they  both  already  knew.  and  lukas  really  didn’t  have  time  to  be  dealing  with  a  sentinel  right  now.     “   i  was  looking  for  my  mom,  but  she’s  not  here.   “     a  lie  that  was  almost  too  easy  to  tell  slipped  through  the  younger  male’s  lips  as  he  kept  his  demeanor  calm.  his  gaze  met  oliver’s  briefly,  but  they  both  knew  lukas  was  full  of  it.   a  pause  that  felt  like  forever  was  taken,  but  then  the  silence  was  broken  by  oliver  once  more.     “   empty  your  pockets.   “

          man,  if  looks  could  kill,  lukas  might  as  well  have  been  medusa  in  that  moment.     “   i  don’t  know  what  you’re  talking  about.   “     lukas  responded,  not  an  ounce  of  his  tone  faltering  as  he  took  a  step  back  to  show  he  wasn’t  in  a  rush.  but  he  was  —    gracie  was  dying  for  all  he  knew.  and  oliver  wasn’t  buying  his  story.  then  the  sentinel  was  one  step  closer,  speaking  at  a  much  lower  volume  than  before.     “   now.   “     and  lukas  wasn’t  really  in  much  of  a  place  to  be  fighting  back.  a  cold  glare  is  what  he  got  in  return,  jaw  tightening  as  lukas  refused  to  move.  the  only  thing  that  made  him  give  in  was  the  fact  that  attention  was  being  drawn  to  them.  he  could  see  a  nurse’s  head  turn  in  his  peripheral,  to  which  his  chin  dipped  slightly,  but  he  didn’t  let  up.     “   please,  just...   “     lukas  started,  but  it  appeared  oliver  wasn’t  having  any  of  it.     “   just  what  ?   “     his  head  was  pounding,  different  scenarios  reeling  in  his  mind  as  the  male  tried  to  figure  out  his  options.  after  a  quick  glance  at  the  clock,  he  decided  he  needed  to  go.  and  that’s  what  he  did.

          lukas  took  a  few  steps  back  before  turning  around  and  running  towards  the  other  end  of  the  hall.  the  hands  that  trembled  before  were  the  same  ones  that  crashed  through  the  door  before  the  rest  of  his  body,  feet  carrying  him  down  the  stairs  and  out  another  door  on  the  lower  level  before  he  was  looking  for  the  fastest  exit.   he  seemed  to  be  in  the  clear  until  he  collided  with  a  nurse  who  wasn’t  paying  attention.   neither  of  them  fell,  but  it  was  enough  to  make  him  mutter  a  string  of  apologies.   the  look  on  her  face  was  enough  for  him  to  realize  that  she  knew  he  wasn’t  supposed  to  be  there.   he’d  lost  track  of  time,  so  much  so  that  he  only  stopped  rambling  when  someone  else  grabbed  his  arm,  but  before  he  knew  it,  he  was  being  shoved  into  one  of  the  empty  rooms  with  the  door  slamming  shut  behind  them.     “   hey,  man.   what  the  fuck  ?   ”     lukas  nearly  spat,  venom  threatening  to  surface  as  he  finally  put  together  just  who  was  standing  in  front  of  him :  oliver  fucking  preston.   jaw  tightened,  one  step  taken  back  as  he  tried  to  think  of  a  way  to  get  himself  out  of  this  one.   his  options  were  limited.   preston  went  on  a  spew  about  how  much  trouble  lukas  could  be  in,  about  how  he  was  disturbing  the  peace  of  the  entire  infirmary,  about  how  his  recklessness  was  going  to  get  people  upset.     “   i’m  not  asking  again.   empty  your  pockets.   ”     the  male  stated  calmly,  palm  extended  towards  lukas  as  the  youngest  wayne  just  let  his  gaze  lock  onto  oliver’s.   if  he  gave  anything  up,  gracie  would  die.

          “   if  you  don’t  let  me  leave,  grace  duval  is  gonna  die,  okay  ?   it’s  your  job  to  protect  people,  isn’t  it  ?   if  you  let  me  go,  i  can  save  her.   ”     he’d  lied  enough  times  for  the  sentinels  to  take  everything  he  said  with  a  grain  of  salt.   it  looked  like  oliver  was  the  same,  because  his  demeanor  hadn’t  shifted,  he  hadn’t  moved  –––  just  waited.     “   oliver,  please.   i’m  not  feeding  you  bullshit.   she’s  dying.   ”     for  all  he  knew  she  could  be  dead  by  then.   he  was  already  five  minutes  late,  already  past  the  time  he’d  promised  he’d  get  back  in.     “   then  why  didn’t  you  bring  her  here  ?   ”     the  question  made  him  sick.   it  was  one  he  knew  he  couldn’t  answer  without  getting  himself  and  his  friends  in  trouble.   his  moment  of  hesitation  was  enough  of  an  answer  for  oliver,  because  lukas  found  himself  being  slammed  back  against  the  cabinet  behind  him.   a  grunt  fell  from  his  lips  has  oliver’s  hand  retrieved  the  medical  supplies  from  both  of  his  pockets.   the  sentinel  took  a  moment  to  inspect  what  he’d  taken,  a  quick  analysis  of  what  could  have  possibly  been  going  on.     “   don’t  let  me  catch  you  in  here  again.   ”     the  words  fell  from  the  other’s  mouth  with  ease  as  he  began  departing,  leaving  lukas  just  as  empty - handed  as  he  was  when  he’d  first  arrived.

          he  had  no  other  choice :  he  had  to  go  back.   so  he  left  the  infirmary,  anger  boiling  his  blood  as  he  broke  into  a  sprint  to  get  back  to  his  place.   it  didn’t  take  more  than  a  few  more  minutes  for  him  to  arrive,  hands  shoving  the  front  door  open  to  find  gracie  on  the  couch  with  their  friends  surrounding  her.   she  wasn’t  awake,  but  she  was  breathing.   the  sight  made  him  freeze  and  he  stayed  that  way  until  vince  nearly  dragged  him  to  the  kitchen,  questioning  him  about  if  he  got  what  they  needed,  about  what  took  him  so  long.   lukas  didn’t  answer,  just  kept  his  gaze  on  the  ground  for  a  moment  before  he  finally  looked  up  at  the  other  male.     “   preston  took  all  the  fuckin’  meds  i  had.   i  got  nothing.   ”     before  he  could  face  any  backlash,  lukas  pushed  past  vince  and  made  his  way  back  to  gracie’s  side,  taking  a  seat  on  the  ground  beside  the  couch  as  kyra  joined  him.   with  how  calm  lukas  was  and  how  he  hadn’t  whipped  out  whatever  medical  supplies  they  expected  him  to  return  with,  everybody  knew  he  came  back  with  nothing.   thank  god  nobody  else  blew  up  at  him  for  it.   he  took  a  moment  to  observe  the  blonde’s  exterior  for  a  moment :  discomfort  permanent  on  usually  light  features,  shaky  breathing  here  and  there,  a  decent  bandage  plastered  over  the  wound,  and  blood  staining  both  her  clothes  and  his  furniture.   one  hand  lifted  slowly,  wrapping  around  gracie’s  carefully.   her  body’s  reaction  was  to  flinch,  but  it  made  her  eyes  open  slowly.     “   hey,  luke.   ”     the  nickname  just  barely  made  it  beyond  her  lips  before  she  was  coughing,  something  violent  that  made  his  body  tense.   still,  he  forced  a  smile  and  let  his  thumb  graze  the  back  of  her  hand  to  show  that  he  was  still  there.   from  how  devastated  everyone  looked,  from  the  lack  of  movement  in  the  room,  even  gracie  could  tell  lukas  didn’t  get  what  he  said  he  would.   of  course,  she  knew  him  well  enough  to  know  that  he  tried.     “   i’m  sorry.   ”     the  male  murmured,  an  uncomfortable  heaviness  pressing  down  on  his  chest  as  he  tried  not  to  break.   he  was  the  strong  one  in  their  group  if  gracie  couldn’t  be.     “   i’m  so  sorry.   ”     lukas  repeated,  head  dipping  to  shield  her  from  the  view  of  tears  brimming.   he  rarely  cried  and  certainly  wouldn’t  let  other  people  see  him  cry.   still,  kyra  pressed  her  head  against  his  shoulder  in  an  attempt  at  comfort  and  gracie  had  failed  to  show  even  an  ounce  of  disappointment.   instead,  she  just  squeezed  his  hand  gently  and  offered  a  smile,  something  weak  but  not  quite  forced.

          another  moment  passed  before  he  finally  looked  back  up  at  gracie.   the  only  thing  that  made  him  do  so  was  the  release  of  pressure  from  her  grip,  panic  churning  somewhere  deep  in  his  ribs.     “   gracie  ?   ”   her  eyes  were  closed,  the  wincing  stopped,  and  her  chest  seemed  to  remain  still  with  each  second  he  watched  it.   his  hand  squeezed  hers  now,  but  it  felt  different  ––  felt  more  limp  than  before.     “   hey.   ”     lukas  murmured,  eyebrows  furrowing  as  he  sat  up  more  and  reached  out  to  shake  her  shoulder  only  gently.   no  response.   the  head  on  his  shoulder  was  now  buried  in  vince’s  shoulder,  kyra’s  sobbing  only  causing  a  chain  reaction  within  the  group  as  the  realization  of  what  was  happening  hit  hard.   lukas,  himself,  even  found  himself  nearly  choking  back  a  sob.     “   gracie.   fuck,  grace.   hey,  c’mon.   ”     his  efforts  at  waking  her  up  were  useless.   it  wasn’t  until  there  was  another  hand  on  his  shoulder  that  lukas  fell  apart.   his  head  dropped,  forehead  pressed  against  gracie’s  shoulder  as  he  cried.   uncontrollable,  staggered,  and  silenced  sobs  echoed  within  the  walls  of  the  room.   the  amount  of  times  apologies  fell  from  his  mouth  couldn’t  be  counted  on  just  two  hands  as  the  three  others  moved  to  wrap  themselves  in  one  big  hug.   they  didn’t  pull  him  away  from  gracie,  didn’t  say  anything  as  they  just  comforted  each  other.   grief  could  sneak  up  on  people,  but  not  them.   it  hit  harder  than  anything  lukas  had  ever  experienced  before,  making  him  feel  completely  useless  and  weak  as  he  cried.   and  they  stayed  like  that  for  hours,  crying  over  gracie’s  lifeless  body  on  his  couch,  crying  over  the  loss  of  such  an  important  person  in  all  of  their  lives.   and  lukas  thought  he’d  never  feel  fully  happy  again,  never  feel  complete  without  his  best  friend.   and  he  was  right.

[like-a-bag-of-potatoes]

Stolen Moments - Part Two

A/N: A little miniseries that I’ve been working on. Not gonna lie, this is probably the hardest I have ever fluffed. It is also my very first at Sebastian Stan fanfiction, so go easy on me alright? Feedback is GOLDEN, and the fastest way to my heart. Thanks to @superapplepie​ for letting me test my fluff on her, and to @thorne93​ for correcting all my spelling, you guys are the best.

Pairing: Sebastian x Reader

Warnings: none

Wordcount: 1844

“I can't believe you’re ditching me,” (YN) said, falling down into her best friend’s couch. Ellie and (YN) had planned this girls weekend to New York months ago, and they had both been so excited to go and spend some much needed time together, how could she cancel so last minute? 

“I have to tell you something,” Ellie said, taking a seat next to her friend on the couch. “I'm pregnant,” she continued, a small smile tugging on her lips. 

“What? Are you serious?” (YN) asked in mixed shock and excitement, pulling Ellie in for a big hug. “Congratulations. I'm so happy for you,” she said, her eyes welling with tears. She knew they had been trying for a while, so this was definitely great news. 

“Thank you,” Ellie said, her blue eyes glistening with her own tears. It had been a nightmare to keep this secret from her best friend, but both her and her husband had decided to wait until they knew that everything was as it should. “I'm still having a rough go with this nausea and I don't think I'd be good company for you right now,” she said, explaining why she was cancelling on New York. 

“That's okay. I'll make some calls and cancel, see if we can get some of our money back,” (YN) offered. 

“No. I think you should go. Relax, have fun, maybe call up Sebastian,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. 

“I don't think he’d want to meet up,” (YN) countered. Yes they had gone on that one, amazing date, but at the end of it he hadn't kissed her, he hadn't even hugged her goodnight, and that told her all she needed to know. 

“You guys have been texting constantly and talked on the phone every day even when he's been traveling around the world,” she interjected. “I'm pretty sure he's into you,” she said knowingly. 

“I don't knoow,” (YN) dragged. 

“We’re not gonna get any money back when it's less than a day away, so you might as well go. And when you’re there already, you can call him up, at the very least you'll get some peace of mind on the matter,” she countered. 

“Fine.” A few days away didn't sound too shabby, and she had really been looking forward to this trip. How bad could it be?

“Good girl. Now that that's done, I'm gonna go throw up again,” she informed as she got to her feet. 

“Aaaaand that's my que to leave,” (YN) said with a chuckle as she watched her best friend make a beeline for the bathroom down the hall.

 **

(Yn) had packed her bags and called an uber to come pick her up in the middle of the night, so she was good to go. Well almost… she still had a phone call to make. She poured herself a generous glass of wine and got situated on her couch before she looked up his number and pressed call. It had been so easy to talk to him over the last month, but now that there was a possibility that she would actually get to meet him again, her body had filled with nerves. The wine would probably help with that though. 

It was getting late in New York, but Sebastian was still awake when his phone started buzzing on the coffee table. He smiled to himself when he saw her name on the screen. “Hey, you,” he said softly, leaning back into his couch. 

“Hey. I didn't wake you did I?” she asked, suddenly realizing it was nearing midnight there.

“No, I'm still up. How was your day?” he asked. These little conversations on the phone had come to be the highlight of his day, hearing about her day and telling her about his made him feel a little closer to her in a way. 

“It was good. I turned in that article I was working on, did a little packing, and then went to see Ellie for a little while,” she summarised. “How was your day?” 

“Very uneventful,” he said with a huff of air. He had literally done nothing all day. “Wait, you've been packing? Are you going somewhere?” 

“I am,” she said, biting her lip as butterflies rushed through her stomach. “I'm going to New York tomorrow.” 

“Really?” he asked in excitement as he sat up on his couch. “For work?” 

“No. It was supposed to be a girls weekend with Ellie, but she canceled on me today. And then she convinced me to go alone,” she explained. “I was wondering if you’d like to meet up?” 

“Definitely,” he replied instantly, a wide smile on his face. He was so excited about the prospect of seeing her again that he didn't even dwell on the fact that she hadn't once mentioned traveling to New York to him. “When are you getting in tomorrow? Maybe we could grab dinner, or drinks?” he tried to sound casual, but he wasn't sure he succeeded. 

“I would love to,” she said, smiling into the phone. “My plane lands at JFK around three thirty.” 

By the time they hung up the phone they had made a plan for the next day, dinner and drinks, and they were both very excited to see each other again. Sleep didn't come easy to (YN) as the butterflies had taken up permanent residency in her stomach, but eventually she had drifted away into a peaceful slumber. 

  New York

(YN)’s flight had been delayed, and it was nearly six pm when she finally landed at JFK. Between waiting for her luggage and finding a taxi it had taken nearly two hours to get to her hotel, and by the time she was checked in, showered, and changed out of her airplane covered clothes, it was nearly 9.30. She was beat, and the bed in her room was calling out for her, but she had made plans to grab a beer with Sebastian, and however exhausted she was, it didn't measure up to how desperately she wanted to see him again. 

She didn't regret her decision to meet him though, she had a great night with him- or a great couple of hours at least, but now she could hardly keep her eyes open anymore, and she was glad they were on their way back to the hotel. 

Sebastian felt a little guilty about keeping her up so late after the day she'd had, but everytime she smiled at him or laughed, he forgot all about that. She was so much fun to hang out with, so easygoing and relaxed, which made him relaxed as well. Now on the other hand, his body had filled with nerves, because he knew he had to say goodnight to her soon, and he hoped he could find the courage to do what he didn't last time they went out; kiss her. He figured he'd ease into it so as they walked through the park he reached out for her hand and laced their fingers together, hoping he wasn't pushing his luck or reading the situation wrong. 

It was as a jolt of electricity shot through her arm at the contact, and she instinctively looked up at him, offering him a smile as she saw the uncertainty on his handsome face. Maybe he was just as nervous as she was? Either way, the little gesture he had just made gave her courage to ask what had been on her mind all night. “I wanted to ask you something,” she said before she let the nerves get the better of her. He looked down at her with a curious expression, urging her to go on. “I have two tickets to this concert on Saturday, and I wondered if you would like to go with me?” 

“I'd love too,” he said instantly. 

“Bold of you to accept without even knowing which band, or what kind of music they play,” she teased. “But you said yes, so there's no turning back now,” she quickly added when he was about to say something. 

Sebastian just laughed. In truth it didn't matter to him what concert it was as long as he got to spend some more time with her. Talking on the phone was great and all, but it was nothing compared to having her here with him. A pit grew in his stomach as her hotel came into view and he realized it was time to say goodnight to her. 

They stopped in front of The Mark hotel, a little ways away from the entrance so that they wouldn't be in anyone’s way. “So, this is me,” she said as she looked into his eyes, anticipation and nerves blurring her mind. 

“I know. I picked you up here, remember?” he teased, a small smile tugging on his lips. 

“Right,” she dragged, a nervous laugh falling from her lips as she dipped her head down in embarrassment. 

Seb reached out for her and hooked a finger under her chin, gently coaxing her to look up at him again. “I had a really good time with you tonight,” he said softly as he looked into her sparkling eyes. 

“I did too,” she said. 

A nervous tension fell between them as Seb’s hand moved from her chin to cup her cheek, his thumb ghosting over her skin, setting all her nerves on fire. This time she was sure he was going to kiss her, and time felt like it stood still as she waited for his next move. He took a small step closer to her, his ocean blue eyes flitting between hers as if searching for a sign to stop, but he didn't find any. He was nervous, heart pounding in his chest as he leaned down, his lips hovering just millimeters from hers. She was the one who closed the gap between them, just barely brushing her lips to his as if she was testing the waters, but it was Sebastian who chased her when she tried to pull back. His lips were soft against hers, and it was over before it had even started, but it had ignited something in both of them, leaving them wanting more, but that would have to wait for another time. 

She dipped her head down and smiled as Sebastian pulled back, she could still feel him on her lips and she had a suspicion that that feeling would linger for a while. 

“Will you have breakfast with me tomorrow?” he asked. Suddenly Saturday was too far away and he needed to see her again before then. 

“I'd love to.” 

“Alright. I'll pick you up here around ten?” he asked. 

“Sounds good,” she agreed. Before she could prepare herself, Seb leaned in for another quick kiss, but also this one ended too soon. 

“Good night, (YN),” he said, barely above a whisper as he pulled back again. 

“Good night, Sebastian,” she said, chuckling a little as he gave her a wave before he turned on his heel and started on his way home. 

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