#also i doubt this thing is supposed to 'take turns' with whoever is the focus of arcs lmao its not that neat and orderly

[atomicpinks]

sincerely hope endo-sensei keeps up the slow plot and doesn't rush it

[treatian]

The Chronicles of the Dark One: Domestic Battles

Chapter 33: Part-time Employees

The trip that he made to find Hook and then take him to the Apprentice had been only about an hour. All that worrying and planning and preparation and in the end the Apprentice was no more in less than sixty minutes. That was rewarding in a way. And watching the hat gleam as it continued to harvest the power that he had inside of him was equally rewarding. The Apprentice had threatened that he'd never collect all the power he needed. From where he stood, he doubted that. He doubted that very much. A lesser being would have been threatened by the amount of power needed. The Dark One, on the other hand...it only made him laugh. For the Dark One, gleaning power was as easy as taking sixty minutes out of his day. As for the rest of it…

He could focus on his next target tomorrow. Now that Hook was handled and, he assumed, Elsa and Ingrid were keeping Emma and her parents plenty busy, he needed to work on something else. No, today wasn't a day for him to be a pawnbroker, even if he was working out of the shop. Today was the day for him to put on his old hat of lawyer. Today, he needed to take care of his wife the way a husband should.

Dove popped in right before lunch. It was almost startling to see him, and not just because the hat was still out in plain view. The two communicated frequently, but ever since the curse had broken and he'd given him the ability to deposit the rent directly into his bank instead of bringing it to him first, he could count on one hand the number of times they'd been in a room alone together. Certainly not since he'd come back from the Underworld, not since Neverland, maybe not even since Belle.

But it didn't feel odd looking up to see Dove standing in his office doorway, and the man certainly didn't act like it was odd. He moved back into the space like he always did when he collected the rent from him. But this time, instead of a duffle bag of money, there was a green folder in his hand.

"Boss," he nodded in greeting. "I got the forms you wanted, including the one that's not going to be helpful, which is why I also got the form you'll actually need as well. Cute…" he mentioned stoically, gesturing toward the hat.

"Which one isn't going to be helpful?" he asked, ignoring his question and opening the folder. He looked the paperwork he brought back over quickly. The marriage certificate was on top, and it was already signed by Maurice and Archie, as instructed. Beneath was a form for a name change, but beneath that…an application?

"The name change. Turns out, you have to have a name in order to change it. Given her situation, and in the interest of saving myself a trip when things didn't go the way you expected, when I went to the Town Hall, I asked around a bit and the town officially has no record of your girl."

"Still?" he balked. "Even now?"

Dove offered a shrug in response.

Belle, not having a name or identification in the last curse, he'd understood, but now? He supposed he hadn't thought to ask, especially since she'd been driving his car, but then again, she'd driven his car without a license or identification before this curse had been cast as well. Not having a license had never stopped her before, so why would it now? But that still begged the question in his mind as to why, if she hadn't gone back to the asylum, why she wasn't given identification?

"Well…" he sighed. "I suppose if whoever cast the curse cast it with the intention to recreate Regina's curse-"

"Snow White."

"Excuse me?"

"Snow White…she cast the curse."

He looked Dove over as though he was insane. Snow White hadn't cast this Curse. She wasn't magical, it wasn't possible!

"That's not possible," he corrected.

"Boss, haven't you noticed she's the mayor?"

Yes, actually. Now that he thought of it, he knew Mary Margaret was the Mayor. Emma had mentioned it the other day when she first brought Else by. Now that he thought of it, he thought she might have mentioned something about Mary Margaret casting the curse, but it was only just dawning on him and…how?!

"The Curse requires the heart of the thing one loves the most. If Snow White cast the Curse, David Nolan would be a dead man."

"Look, I can't argue the validity of magic, that's your department, all I can tell you is what I hear. And what I hear is that Snow white cast the Curse, and that's why she's the mayor. Regardless, your girl, once again, doesn't exist…I picked up the paperwork she'll need to fill out to correct that, get a birth certificate and a social security number…all the joys that come from existing in this realm, in this country. I did pick up the name change form if she wants it for later, but I figured that she could just send the application in with the name she wants. According to friends of mine who have gotten married, that sounds a whole hell of a lot easier than changing the name."

Even if Dove had not offered that plan with those insights, he would have encouraged Belle to follow it simply out of convenience.

"Thank you, Mr. Dove," he concluded, closing the folder and putting it down in the drawer he was already beginning to gather papers in. There was still more to gather, but he was confident that when the time came to go home, he'd have the paperwork settled for Belle.

"No problem. Easier than half the other assignments you give me," the bird said as they moved back to the front room. "Are you keeping up with everything happening with the Ice Queen?"

"Well enough. My wife keeps me well informed. She's friends with the Charming family, so that makes it easier."

"Lucky you."

"I am a very lucky man indeed."

"So you've heard about the-"

The bell over the shop's door chimed, and they both looked up to find Henry standing there.

"Oh, sorry, I…didn't mean to interrupt."

"No, that's alright, Henry…my friend was just leaving."

Dove nodded once but didn't even utter a goodbye before he turned to leave out the way he'd come in, leaving whatever had been on his mind unsaid. Dove knew better than to say anything to anyone while he was in the shop. And certainly, knew better than to even try and introduce himself to Henry. Dove knew well enough that the best part of their relationship was anonymity. The last thing he was going to do was introduce Dove to his family. Everything with Zelena and the dagger, even the hat, he had plans to tell Belle about one day. But Dove…Dove, he'd forever keep off the books.

"Henry, to what do I owe the pleasure?" he smiled, coming around the glass case as Dove left.

"Who was that?"

"Oh, just an associate who helps me collect the rent every month," he dismissed. "How can I help you? I hope you haven't returned to ask for your memories again. My answer will be the same as before."

"What? Oh, no, nothing like that. Things with my mom have been…better."

Just as he'd predicted. Next week, he'd return to cursing one of their names, and a minute after that, his mothers would be angels again. Thus, the life of a teenager.

"So, what brings you into my shop then today?"

"I had an idea while I was at school, a proposal."

"A deal?" he translated.

"Kinda, but not a magic one, an economic one."

An economic deal…color him intrigued.

"I'm listening."

"I was wondering if, maybe since Belle is back at the library, you might want to give me a job."

He'd give his Grandson credit, of all the things he expected that Henry might say, asking for a job was not one of them. He was smart enough to see through it. He was smart enough to know there was something going on. Henry had never come into his shop for something like this. The previous night was an anomaly, there was almost always snooping involved.

"A job?" he questioned.

"You know, after school and weekends. Now that my father's gone, I realized that you're the closest thing I've got to him, but i-if you don't want me around…"

"No, well…."

He'd never said that. And if Henry was up to something he'd much rather him be here where he could keep an eye on him.

It was only that he'd just gotten his privacy back from Belle. Now, to have Henry here would be to take some of that privacy away all over again.

But…

Henry was different than Belle. He was younger, he was his grandson, not his wife, and there was less expectation of equality. Not to mention, he was more trusting. He could set boundaries. He could work around him easier than Belle. And it wasn't as if he wanted a full-time position. He'd said only after school and on the weekends. Once all this was over and he had more time to spend with Belle, the idea of having someone around who was reliable held a lot of appeal. Assuming, of course, Henry didn't find what he was looking for and abandon him long before that day arrived.

"All right. A few days a week. But, uh…" he glanced into the back room where the hat sat on the counter, still out in the open. That was handleable, preferably before someone who might know what it was walked in. "Stay out of the back room, and don't touch anything without asking. You can be my apprentice," he smiled to himself at that comment.

"What does an apprentice do?" Henry questioned, following him to the end of the glass case.

"Many, many things," he answered as he arrived at the place where he'd set the broom when he first walked in with Hook. Oh, he did so love irony. "First, you can start by sweeping the floor." Henry looked the broom over, and then he took it. He left him there in the front room to clean up, pleased when he heard the strokes.

[bubblegumspacebxtch]

Trust the Dealer

A/N: hi so I'm a huge fan of Euphoria and season 2 just dropped and lemme just say I love Fez so much??? he's for sure one of my favorite characters and he gives off such comforting vibes, definitely someone you'd trust with your drink or to drive you home when you're drunk. so this imagine is basically just a manifestation of that. just really wanted to write about Fez because season 2 better be good to him

summary: not really a summary but this takes place during Euphoria season 1 episode 6, the Halloween party scene

warnings || swearing, mention of alcohol consumption, mention of smoking

You may have had too much to drink. Fuck it, you thought. It's Halloween, and you're at a party after all. Walking around aimlessly, you try to find Rue or any of the girls. Tonight was suppose to be fun, but Jules was acting weird, and it was clearly putting Rue off. You also lost Lexi, Cassie, and Kat almost an hour ago, so you've just been casually mingling with whoever, drinking and taking shots for the better part of the night.

Wandering by the lawn near the pool, you spot an almost empty couch. Deciding to rest your feet, you plopped down next to a guy in a buzz cut who seems harmless enough. As you were undoing the straps of your heels you heard the guy beside you start talking. "Who you supposed to be?" You turned your attention to him, taking a good look at his face before answering. "I'm Mia Wallace," you answered like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "From Pulp Fiction," you added, raising a brow at the guy. "Oh yeah you are, my bad." He gave you a once-over before bringing his cigarette back to his lips, puffing out smoke right after. You watched the fumes drift upwards before dissipating. You felt his eyes on you, but you couldn't really focus with the way things were starting to get hazy around you.

"Ain't you one of Rue's friends?" he asked catching your attention again, forcing you to focus. "I am yeah. I actually came with her," you let out a sigh. "Lost her though. Been trying to find her all night." You shook your heels off your feet, shifting on the couch to bring your knees to your chest. "What was your name again?" the guy asked, curious blue eyes settling on your small frame. "I'm Y/N," you smiled lightly before offering your hand. He transferred his cigarette to his other hand in order to shake yours. "Fez," he said. "And I think Rue left already."

Fuck. I'm screwed. What am I gonna do? "Well shit," you laughed slightly. "How am I getting home now?" you mumbled to yourself. "You ain't got nobody else you came here with?" Fez asked. "I did come here with a few other girls, but I doubt I'll be able to find any of them now." You sighed, preparing to stand then to walk home. "Woah hey," Fez stood up next to you, holding your arm as you tried to balance yourself as you stood. "I don't think you should be walking around right now, Y/N." He looked down on you, bowing only a little to meet your eyes. "I really need to get home though," you argued, feeling your insides become even warmer from his hold on you and the way he said your name. "I uh can drop you off if you want," Fez offered as he watched you try to steady yourself again, holding his arm in the process. You stared at him for a few seconds, feeling your cheeks heat up as you watched him awkwardly scratch the back of his head. You nodded. "You got an address for me?" he asked. "I'm up on fifth street," you said as you attempted to grab your shoes and your purse, but not before Fez beat you to it. "C'mon then."

Fez led you to his car, opening the passenger side door to let you in. After strapping you in he started the car. The drive was silent as you observed the neighborhood you're passing by. You fought to stay awake so as not to miss your house when Fez pulls up to your street. "You can drop me off by that red mail box over there," you said to him as you rounded the corner.

The car slowed to a stop infront of your house. You turned to Fez only to find him already looking at you. "Uh thanks for the ride. I appreciate it." You offered him a shy smile. "No problem, Y/N." He winked at you before smirking. Feeling your cheeks heat up, you gather your things before stepping out of the car. You leaned down towards his window to meet his gaze again. "Bye uh thanks again." You turned to walk up your front door before you heard Fez call out. "Nice meetin' you, Y/N." He smirked again at you. You watched him drive away before getting inside your house.

[kuroopaisen]

takes one to know one || fushiguro megumi

➵ megumi just wants to buy some flowers from the nice stall attendant he definitely doesn’t have a crush on in peace. gojou has other plans.  

wc: 2.4k

warnings: gn!reader, incoherent chaos

a/n: gracie dearest this one’s for you :( you are so sweet and so lovely to me and i’m so, so glad we met in this hellscape (i would personally like to thank psycho-pass for existing) i hope i did your boy well! 

By the time he arrives at Jujutsu Tech, Megumi knows the flowers are a mistake.

“For me?” Gojou gasps, hands clasped and mouth agape in perhaps his most punchable smile. “Oh, you shouldn’t have.”

Megumi’s fist tightens around the handle of his bouquet. Today, it’s lilacs, irises and white lilies. It’s also much bigger than usual – too big to inconspicuously leave on someone’s fence or place in the school gardens.

“You can have them if you want,” he murmurs. What else is he supposed to do with them?

The delight on Gojou’s face collapses into a precarious mix of genuine confusion and insatiable curiosity. “Hah? They’re not for anyone?”

“No,” Megumi says. And if they were, I wouldn’t tell you. Although he doesn’t say that last part. Gojou would perceive it as a challenge, and the less he knew about Megumi’s private life, the better.

“So…” A grin splits Gojou’s face. “The person you bought them from must be special, then.” 

Megumi freezes for just a second. But he knows a second is enough for Gojou to glean all the information he needs.  

“Ah,” Gojou hums. “I see.”

“No, you don’t,” Megumi mumbles, well-aware of the heat rising in his cheeks.

“But why would you go out of your way to buy a bouquet of flowers, hm?” Gojou grins, shit-eating grin back on his face. “They don’t hand these out for free, you know.”

Megumi’s grip is so firm he’s scared he’ll crush the stems.

Although, he still doesn’t know what he’s going to do with them. It doesn’t feel right to throw them out – not when you’d spent time putting it together – but he wasn’t about to revamp his room with a distinctly floral accent.

Is it against social protocol to give the flowers back to you? Not now, of course, but maybe on his evening walk… or tomorrow morning…

He still doesn’t know why he didn’t just walk past you that first day.

But something about the way you were gazing out into the street, eyes wide and hopeful as you watched people ignore you on their daily commute… something about that drew him in.

And once he’d bought something from you once – just a small flower, one he didn’t know the name of, but seemed appropriate behind a cute girl’s ear – he couldn’t very well start ignoring you.

Not when your smile is so bright, your eyes sparkling with gratitude whenever he takes whatever floral arrangement you’ve lovingly bundled together out of your hands.

But now he’s paying the price – in more ways than one.

✧ ✧ ✧

Your flower stall is just a few feet away from one of the trendiest cafes in this area of Tokyo, and whoever oversees your little operation is obviously trying to capitalise on that. Setting up so early must be an attempt to catch the rush of bleary-eyed corporate workers craving their necessary morning coffee.

What use an office worker has for flowers, Megumi doesn’t know. But he has a feeling that you’d probably say something along the lines of “it’ll help brighten the place up.”

As usual, you’re waiting there patiently, eyes hopefully scanning the streets for any potential customers. Your face positively lights up when you finally catch sight of him – something that still makes Megumi nearly trip over his own feet.

“Good morning!” You call out, waving to him.

Megumi raises a hand in response, shuffling towards you with all the embarrassment of a high schooler on their way to their first date.

“Can I interest you in a floral arrangement on this fine Saturday morning?” You grin, eyes twinkling as you make your marketing pitch.

“Sure,” Megumi sighs, scanning the vast array of flowers currently on display. He’s getting better at picking them out, but he still can’t name any of them on sight.

You wait patiently, hands folded on the counter. If you think he’s an idiot, you keep it to yourself.

“Those ones,” he says, pointing at a group of blue heart-shaped flowers.

“The morning glories?” You ask reflexively, reaching over to pluck a bunch out of their display.

“Yeah,” Megumi shrugs. He has no idea what a morning glory is. The term sounds like something Gojou and Yuji would snicker at.

“They’re gorgeous,” you smile, taking a moment to admire them.

“Yeah,” Megumi says again.

Flowers aren’t really his thing; God help him if he was ever asked what his favourite kind was. But there’s no point in saying any of that – not when he’s already spent an embarrassing amount of money at this one stall.

“You’re keeping the business afloat, you know,” you giggle, as if reading his mind.

Megumi blinks at you. “Really?”

“Mhm,” you nod. “It wouldn’t be amiss to say you’re our most important patron.” You beam at him, same sparkle in your eyes as always.

He’d be furious, if you weren’t so nice.

How is he supposed to focus when you’re looking at him like that? How’s he supposed to ask who ‘we’ is? A business partner? A partner partner?

But you look so young. You can’t possibly be running a business. But you might have a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend. Or both. Or a partner of an otherwise non-binary gender.

Too many questions, no social capacity to ask them.

“So,” Megumi begins, his voice calm and composed as ever. His mind, however, is scrambling around like a fast-food joint at rush hour, trying to string together a sentence that’s not only coherent but also fascinating.

“How old are you?”

Whoops.

It’s the forbidden question. Or, at least, that’s what people always say. People, in this case, is Gojou. It usually is.

You seem unbothered. “I turn seventeen this year.”

Was it only a forbidden question for people who’re older? But in that case, surely knowing someone’s age was pertinent for the whole ‘respect’ thing. Maybe Gojou just didn’t think he should ever ask anyone’s age because then he’s not beholden to honorifics.

But Megumi can’t imagine him using them properly anyway.

That’s not the point. The point is that you’re the same age as him. You weren’t somehow twenty-seven with a baby face.

“Oh,” Megumi nods. “Me too.”

The smile you give him is almost unbearable. How is it even more of a smile than your usual smile? That doesn’t make any sense.

There’s a certain excitement bubbling in his gut that he doesn’t recognise or like.

Wait, if you’re his age, then…

“Do you not go to school on Saturdays?” He asks.

Is this conversation too dry? He’s not sure. He doesn’t usually make an effort at this sort of thing.

“My school doesn’t have classes on Saturday mornings,” you smile, meticulously wrapping brown paper around the stems of a set of particularly bright morning glories. You always do it so delicately; where on earth do you find the patience?

There’s something… graceful, about how you go about it. Sure, it’s your job, but Megumi still enjoys watching you work because—

“Hello there!”

Megumi knows that voice.

Oh no.

“Hello!” You fold your hands in front of you and give your new customer a bow. But your usual smile has been replaced with an expression of middling confusion as you look him up and down.

Megumi doesn’t need to turn around to know who’s standing behind him.

“Who’d’ve thought there’d be so many kinds of flowers in bloom, huh?” Gojou grins, slinging a lanky arm around Megumi’s shoulders.

Megumi glances to the side.

A pair of startingly blue eyes peek at him from behind black shades.

“What are you doing here?” He asks through gritted teeth.

“Oh, I thought I’d just come out for a morning stroll,” Gojou sighs, gesturing to the sky. “Don’t you think it’s gorgeous?”

Megumi’s ready to commit a murder.

“And look at all these flowers!” Gojou exclaims, bending down to peer at some asters closely. “Did you grow them all yourself?”

“Of course not,” you laugh. “I just sell them.”

Jealous maybe isn’t the right word. But there is a twisting in Megumi’s gut upon the realisation that within minutes of meeting you, Gojou had made you laugh. Megumi, on the other hand, was yet to do that.

“Well, either way, my student is a big fan,” Gojou smirks, shaking Megumi’s shoulder. Megumi’s soul is currently leaving his body.

“I was just telling him that he’s our most valued customer,” you smile, tilting your head at the pair of them.

“Ah, is that so?” Gojou grins. It’s amazing, really, how he manages to capture all the terror of the apocalypse in one smile. “I never really took him as a flower guy.”

“Everyone’s a flower guy, sir,” you tsk, shaking your head. “Even you.”

Gojou places an affronted hand on his chest. “So quick to make assumptions!”

“Not at all,” you smile. “You’d be surprised by what our customer base looks like.”

“You don’t say,” Gojou grins, turning to Megumi.

Megumi considers the consequences of punching Gojou right in the nether regions. He doubts he’d be punished for it by the higher ups; if anything, he’ll probably be rewarded. Maybe even pushed up a grade for his invaluable service.

“Fushiguro!”

Oh no.

Megumi’s eyes widen ever so slightly. His head whips round to Gojou. His teacher is already looking straight at him.

“Ah,” Gojou grins. “I told Yuji to meet me here this morning.” The glint in his eyes strikes terror right through Megumi’s departing soul.

Sure enough, Itadori barrels his way towards them, damn near colliding against Megumi with a ‘thump’.

Megumi can do something but stare into the abyss, hoping, wishing, praying this is just a nightmare.

Unfortunately, it’s not.

You give the newest addition to this strange little posse a customary bow. “Good morning!”

Itadori beams at you, his entire face lighting up. “Good morning!”

A strange panic starts to rise from Megumi’s gut. If he thought about it, you and Itadori would get along well. Too well.

Thoughts of you and Itadori walking hand in hand down the street as you laugh, Itadori offering you his coat on a clod morning as you blush, Itadori walking you home, rubbing the back of his neck bashfully as you lean towards him and –

Megumi blinks the thoughts away. What is wrong with him today?

You and Itadori have just met. And what was it to Megumi anyway? It’s not like he—

“Megumi?” Itadori tilts his head at him.

Megumi stares back blankly. “Hm?”

“I wanted to know how you found this place,” Itadori asks, voice bright but with the uncertain quality inherent to repeating oneself.

“Oh,” Megumi murmurs. “Well, I…”

In truth, he doesn’t remember. He just saw you one morning and decided to approach. He still doesn’t know why. But he doesn’t regret it.

“I roped him in with my charm,” you piqued up, picking up the lull in conversation.

Try as he might, Megumi just can’t concentrate. Itadori’s pressed against him, Gojou’s still got his arm slung around his shoulder, and—

“Ah, Nobara’s here!” Gojou beams, waving a hand over his head.

“What are you doing here of all places?” Nobara frowns, raising an eyebrow at Megumi. “I wouldn’t have taken this as your sort of scene.”

If there’s a hell, Megumi’s sure it’s this.

Conversation is bubbling around him but none of it is registering in his mind, he can see Nobara’s dissatisfied look as she takes in the situation at hand but he doesn’t have the energy to retort, Gojou is playing with the petals of one of the display flowers but Megumi knows he’s not going to buy it and—

“Hey, Megumi?”

He snaps back to reality at the sound of your voice, gentle and concerned.

“Are you alright?” You ask, tilting your head to the side. It’s as if you’re completely ignoring the rabble, as if you see him and only him.

Next to him Gojou, Yuji and Nobara watch with rapt attention.

“Yeah,” he lies. “I didn’t sleep well last night.”

You frown at you look at him. Something flashes in your eyes and you suddenly duck beneath your countertop.

Megumi and his gaggle of fools blink in surprise.

In a moment you hop back up, something purple bundled up in your hands. “Here,” you smile, handing it out to him, “this is supposed to help you sleep.”

One whiff and he knows it’s lavender.

“How much?” Megumi asks.

You shake your head. “Oh, no. It’s on me.”

Megumi’s heart flutters as you smile. Despite the chaos going on around him, despite the fact that he knows he’s going to be mocked for this for weeks to come, he’s grateful.

Somehow.

“Sorry about this…” he mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck.

“It’s fine,” you giggle, shaking your head.

Megumi feels Gojou chuckle quietly, his chest rattling. Itadori is unusually quiet and Nobara seems moments away from a laughing fit.

“I should go,” Megumi says quickly and suddenly. He doesn’t give you time to respond, zipping down the street as fast as his feet can carry him. He needs a shower and then a run and then he needs to beat a training dummy up and then—

“Wait, Megumi!”

He freezes in his tracks. That’s… your voice.

And around his wrist is… is…

He turns to look at you over his shoulder, eyes darting for where you hand wraps around his wrist. Why is his heart racing so absurdly fast? Why does it feel like his head’s about to explode? You’re just holding his wrist. You’re not even touching his skin. Not that it matters—

“Will I see you tomorrow?” You ask, not quite able to meet his gaze.

It brings him back to the moment.

“Of course,” Megumi answers reflexively.

You finally lift your eyes up. They seem to be sparkling. “I look forward to it.”

Before he even has time to process it you’ve let him go and trotted back to your stall, tending to your flowers as if nothing’d happened.

This has been too much embarrassment for one day. He’s not entirely sure what’s going on and he’s not sure he wants to know. But man, he needs at least several hours alone to process everything.

As Megumi shuffles away, Gojou bounds after him, still grinning like a fool.

“So, Megumi’s got himself a—”

Megumi elbows him in the stomach before Gojou even has a chance to finish his sentence.

[enthusiasticharry]

the one where you and harry are keeping a secret from your brother, who happens to hate harry’s guts. 

author’s note : hello everyone! i'm back with another fic, one that i can't believe i wrote so quickly to say the least. this is part of @harrystylescherry​‘s playlist challenge. i chose drive on by miss charlotte clark because it is an amazing song, and i can only hope that i’ve don't it justice.  

word count : 13.9k of a lot of angst, smut and only a tiny bit of fluff. i really don't know what happened to me. 

please talk to me about drive on here. let me know what you think :) 

But if we parted I'd be half-hearted So I'll leave the light on

As you were getting ready that evening, you knew that you were going to have to try your hardest to not show that you were absolutely dreading what was about to happen. The light sounds of Fleetwood Mac filled your room as you finished making sure that you looked okay. It seemed as though the longer that you looked at yourself in the mirror, the more you started to doubt that you actually looked okay. 

You tilted your head to the side as you looked in the mirror, running your eyes up and down your own body as if to check that you’re at least presentable. Your outfit wasn’t too out of the ordinary, just a pair of black, flared trousers and a white knitted jumper because you knew that it is going to be quite chilly and you are going to be outside for a large portion of the evening and you make sure to pair it with some white trainers, ones that match so you start to feel a little more put together. Even though it certainly wasn’t the most out there outfit, it was okay and you had to keep reminding yourself of that. 

Walking down the stairs, you could hear the mumbling of your brother, Isaac, in the kitchen, along with someone else’s voice that you immediately recognise as Daisy, your best friend. You’re not exactly surprised at their discussion, because whenever they’re alone in a room together you know that it doesn’t usually end up with them discussing sunshine and rainbows. The more you think about it, the more you struggle to determine which one out of the two of them is more stubborn, because they both are just as stubborn as each other. 

“Baby sis!” You try not to roll your eyes at your brother’s greeting, “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” 

“We’re coming with you.” You respond, walking forward so that you can greet your friend with a hug. You knew that it was going to be a long shot of him letting you come with him, but if Daisy was too you knew that he wouldn’t be able to say no, and that’s why you go with her every single time. It’s how you’re cheated the system of having an overprotective brother. 

“I thought you were going to Daisy’s for a sleepover?” He questions, and you nod your head. 

“I am.” You smile, “But after.” 

You walk over to grab yourself a bottle of water out of the fridge because you know that if you look at him in the eyes he’ll be staring at you in a way that you could do without. You know that he’s only saying the things that he is because he’s protective of you, but you also have to keep reminding him that it wasn’t the first time that you had gone out and been to a race with him, and it certainly wasn’t going to be the last. 

Chugging down a bit of the water, Daisy extends her arm out to you and you pass the bottle to her, watching as she takes a sip before passing it back to you so that you can put the cap on. Even though you have been to the races before, that certainly didn’t meant that every time you did go you found yourself being more and more nervous for what you’re going to witness. It’s dangerous, and sometimes you feel a though you’re the only one out of all of them to notice that. 

“Every fucking time.” Isaac shakes his head and you smile. 

“Thank you.” You had an obnoxious grin on your face as you say the words, and you know it. 

“Yeah, well. . .” He shakes his head, “Just come on and let’s get in the fucking car.” 

The first time you went to one of the races, you remember not being able to focus on anything other than the fact that anyone could get really injured, or even die, at any second if they’re not careful. Maybe you were just too overly cautious, and you couldn’t ever find yourself focusing on the thrill and excitement of it all because you were too worried that someone was going to get hurt. It was even worse when the person you were worried about was someone you cared about like you did your brother. 

“One of these days you will take me without putting up a fight.” You say, following him towards his car, “I don’t know when it will be but I can feel it.” 

He looks at you as he opens his door, “That’s never going to happen. For one, I hate that you even come to where the races are held, more so that you stand and watch them.” 

You shrug and climb in the car, “Mum and Dad don’t know that you race, and if they’re not able to be there and worry about your safety then I am going to be the one to do so. Can’t have you risking your life and at least not one of us being there.”

He shakes his head and tuts, “I’m not risking my life. It’s just competitive driving.” 

You furrow your eyebrows and you hear Daisy chuckle, “You’re delusional.” 

“Says you.” 

The two of you hear a tut coming from the back seat, “I know the two of you are siblings, and this is just what I have to deal with, but sometimes I really do wonder whether or not you’re children hidden in fully grown bodies.” 

“I’m not the child.” Isaac’s quick to say, “If anything, you’re the child!” 

“Really?” You shake your head, “You must know that you saying that basically proving everything! You’re the child, Isaac.”

“God, I wish I’d never said anything.” Daisy shakes her head and you cross your arms over your chest, pouting slightly but trying not to make it too obvious because you really were trying to be the adult in this situation. 

You and Isaac weren’t the closest of siblings, to say the least. The two of you never did much together and if you did it wasn’t voluntarily, but that didn’t mean that you didn’t care for each other because you certainly did. The two of you would protect each other without any hesitation, in any situation because that was the type of siblings that you were. That didn’t mean that you were friends, though, because you didn’t have to be. You loved each other, and you cared for each other, but you didn’t have to be friends with each other and you were both okay with that. It was was though you both had an unspoken agreement that you’d look out for each other in this way. 

Turning onto the ever so familiar field, you know that it isn’t going to be long before your heart rate is going to feel as though it is beating out of your chest and your palms are going to start to get sweaty. You believed that you brother was good at what he did, he wouldn’t have gotten as far as he had if he didn’t, but even if someone is as good and as talented as he was that didn’t meant that accidents don’t happen. 

There isn’t just that fact that your brother is good at the sport to contend with, but also the fact that some people who do it may not be as good as he is, and they could be reckless, and in drag racing, recklessness gets people in trouble. You knew that, he knew that and everyone who participated and watched knew that. You knew that there were some people there just to watch the race whilst getting drunk with their friends and you didn’t mind that because that was what it was there to do, but you couldn’t stand the people who were there in hopes that something did go wrong, just to see a little bit of action in their boring day to day lives. 

You supposed that a part of your worry for these games were because you weren’t just worried about your brother, you were worried about somebody else also. Isaac stopped the car so that you and Daisy could get out but you hesitated before doing so. You looked at him, and he nodded at you so you nodded your head and again and got out. You stood and watched as he drove away, making his wear to where all of the participants line up their cars before it starts. 

Your eyes follow him, all the way along the man-made little road on the field and to where the other cars were. That’s when you see him, stood in exactly the same place as he was a few weekends before this one and a few weekends before that, leant against his car and his arms crossed as he chewed some gum. 

The insides of your stomach flutter, and not in nervousness but instead in the complete opposite way. He catches your eyes straight away, raising his eyebrows at you as you smile at him. You nod your head, trying hard not to let too big of a blush cover your cheeks and he nods back. That’s as far as your interaction with Harry can go at the moment, because if anyone saw the two of you communicating you knew that all hell would break loose and you certainly didn’t want to be around to see that. 

The race was going to start any second, and you made your way over to where Daisy was stood, knowing that she would have saved you a spot next to her so that you didn’t have to try and manoeuvre your way through the crowd to get a good spot to watch. You were relieved that you had arrived here not early enough to have to wait hours like you had before, because it was in the time like that where the overpowering feeling of worry was able to slip into you like nothing else and you would try really hard to overpower it but the majority of the time you never felt as though you could. 

What YN worried about the most though, was the fact that whoever could be injured in the race, or something worse, were both people that YN loved. The two of them for different reasons, of course, but it was still love and all of the love you felt for them was important. You watched as they both sat in their cars, driving towards the starting line with such an ease that you wondered whether or not they’d be able to do it in their sleep. You wouldn’t be surprised if they could. You know that Harry has raced in hundreds of races, and you also know that your brother is quickly catching up to that, but that doesn’t make it any easier, for them or for you. 

“Ready racers?” A woman walked in between the cars and held up a flag. Both her brother and Harry respond by a roar of their engine, “3! 2! 1! Go!” 

You look down slightly once you hear their cars start, going along the man-made path and over all of the hills and round all of the bends. You only look down for a second before looking up and watching as they drive away from you. The people around you cheer, and Daisy even cheers from the side of you but all you can make up the courage to do is clap your hands slightly. Every time you stand and watch a race, you always say to yourself that you’ll never do it again because you don’t think that you’re heart will survive it, but then you always come back to watch the next race because you physically can’t keep away. Not when two people you love are doing something that you know could end badly. 

They drive around, the two of them doing anything they can to try and throw the other off track but you know that it probably won’t work, because it works with everyone else but hardly ever with each other. You know that whoever wins will do so because of their speed, because that’s how it always happens when the two are up against each other. You stand there watching them drive for what feels like hours, the cheers only getting louder as the two of them fight for the first place prize. 

As the finishing line draws to a close, they’re playing cat and mouse with each other, and you know whoever is next to cross in front will win. 

It’s Isaac. Isaac won. You’re happy for him, but at the same time you know that Harry isn’t going to be the happiest but you’ll just have to remind him that he won last time and that he has to let other people win at some point. Your brother was cheering when he got out of his car, and you could see his friends bouncing over to him with smiles on their faces and drinks in their hands. You and Daisy make your way over, but you aren’t as excited they seem to see him. 

“Are you two leaving now?” He asks and you and Daisy look at each other before nodding, “Satisfied?” 

“Very.” You nod, “Well done.” 

“Thanks.” He raises his hand up and points at you, “Am I picking you up tomorrow?” 

You shake your head, managing to keep your cool as you did, “Daisy said she’ll drive me back. I don’t know whether you’ll be at work by the time we’re ready.” 

“Sounds good. See you tomorrow.” 

You physically let out a sigh of relief when you walk away and he believed you. You hate lying to him, you really do, but you just don’t see any other option to do what you’re doing without lying, which is horrible buy you really don’t know another wine. 

Daisy slips her arm into yours as you walk away, “Where’s he meeting you?” 

“In the usual place.” You nod, “I couldn’t see him when we were over there so I think he’s already gone.” 

“Okay.” She nods, “I’m catching a ride with Dennis, will you be okay?” 

“I’ll be fine.” You smile. 

“Call me if you need anything?” 

“You know I will.” 

“Good.” She wraps her arms around you before pulling away, “See you soon?” 

“See you soon.” 

The walk to the edge of the field, just behind a row of trees that hide Harry’s car from the watchful eye of others isn’t a long one, and you can feel the butterflies bubbling in the pit of your stomach the closer you walked to it. Just as every time you did this, your stomach was in twists and turns tightly in your stomach until you have to place your hand upon it as though it would calm it but it doesn’t. It doesn’t calm down until you see the back of the man you loves head, a slight cloud of smoke around his head and his leather jacket on his body. A smile immediately broke out over your lips. 

You bound over to him, immediately wrapping your arms around his waist and placing your cheek against the leather of his jacket. You can feel him tense underneath your touch slightly but once you hear and feel him chuckle, his whole body relaxes.

He hums, “Who might that be?” 

He grabs your hands and lightly pulls them away from his body so that he can turn around and place his hands around her back. You grin and place your chin on his chest, laughing softly as he leans down and places multiple kisses around your face, “Harry!” 

“What?” He grinned pulling away from you, shrugging his shoulders, “Do you not like my kisses or something?” 

You chuckle, “I love your kisses, but don’t you think they can wait until we’ll out of public. Away from my brother.” 

He pouts, dropping his head to your shoulder, “I suppose.” 

Harry walks over to the passenger side of the car and opened the door for you. As you walked towards him, you placed a kiss to his cheek and slipped into the car. The nerves were back in your stomach as you watched Harry walk around the car and slip into the driver’s seat. The two of you don’t get to see each other as much as you’d possibly like to, so nights like these were special to you, and you hoped that he was just as excited and nervous as you were. 

The second Harry was sat in his seat, and had started the car, his hand was on your thigh, squeezing the flesh through your trousers at you sat there. You really had missed feeling having him touching you, even though it hadn’t been that long. If it was up to you, Harry would be with you everyday and you would be able to kiss and touch him everyday without any issues, but you knew that just wasn’t the case. 

You and Harry had been together for a little shy of three years now, hiding your relationship from literally everyone apart from a few trusted people on each side of you. It wasn’t that you wanted to hide, but you both knew that you just had to if you were going to be able to have the relationship that you had. When you were younger, Harry and Isaac were best friends. You could always remember sitting in the back of the car after behind picked up from school and being squashed into the door because the middle seat was always taken by Harry. You can’t quite remember why the two of them fell out, but you did remember that it happened when the three of you were around fifteen or sixteen. 

It was a shock to everyone, because the two of them had been friends for the longest of times and Isaac did seem to be in a rut once it had happened. You had tried to talk to him about it a few times but he never said anything, so you turned to the one other person in the situation who might have to been able to help you. Harry. At first, he seemed to be completely shocked when you walked over to him one day after school and jumped into his car. He actually looked quite taken aback, but when you started asking questions about the falling out he just went quiet.

To this day you still don’t know what had happened between the two of them, but you do know that was the day that you relationship with Harry turned from being the generally acquaintances because you’re friends with my brother to something more. Harry was somebody who you had grown up with, and yes you could admit that he was handsome, but you’d never thought of him in a romantic way up until that point. A part of you wished that you had picked up on it early because you may have been able to kiss him sooner than you had but you were happy, and the two of you were now three years going strong. 

The fact that your brother and Harry had fallen out, and when the two of you got together it was really rocky between them, you both decided that the best thing to do was just not to tell him, which led to not telling anyone. You had said that when things improved between the two of them you would tell him, but once the Drag Racing started, there was no way that it would ever improve between the two of them, and you just had to accept that. 

Arriving at Harry’s apartment, it was almost as though your body was working on auto-pilot when Harry opened the door and you walked through. You kicked your shoes off by the door, walked into the kitchen to pour yourself a glass of water and made your way into his bedroom. Harry was already stood in the small room, placing his jacket in his wardrobe. You quickly started to undress, swapping your clothes for one of Harry’s shirts and a pair of your pyjama shorts. You walk into the bathroom to take your makeup off and brush your teeth. 

“Have you had any more thought into our anniversary trip?” Harry called from the bedroom. 

“I’ve thought about it.” You say, running your make up wipe over your eyes, “That’s about it.” 

You can hear his sigh even from the other room, and your inside’s twists in not the good way. The anniversary trip had been something that the two of you had spoken about for a long time, and it would be coming in a few months and Harry had been on your back for a long time so that they could get it booked, but you were thinking about a lot of other things rather than booking a holiday. You did hate that you didn’t have anything more to say to him, because you knew that he was disappointed, but there was only so much that you could say. 

“I’ll need to book time off of work soon, YN.” He appears only in his boxers in the doorway, leant against it with his arms crossed, “I need to know the dates.” 

“I know.” You sigh, turning so that your hip was leant against the counter, “I still just need to figure out what I’m going to tell Isaac.” 

Harry sighs and runs his hand over his face, “I know. We can think of what to say to him later, but as soon as possible can you tell me the dates.” 

He walks over and places his hands on your waist and you nod, “I will. I’ll check when I get home.” 

“Good.” He presses a kiss to your cheek. 

You hated hiding things from Harry, you really did, because that man really was your soulmate and the person in this world that you told everything to, so it felt horrible to be hiding something from him. Hiding things from Harry felt like ripping your heart from your chest — you just couldn’t do it— but here you were, doing it without anything happening. 

It had been a long night for the two of them, and you knew that even though Harry had a brave face on, you knew that inside he probably wasn’t too happy that he’d lost. The thing about Harry, and your brother for that matter, was that they are so competitive, especially with each other, that when either one of them loses they try to seem like they don’t care but they do. When you walked back into the room, Harry was already in bed with his arms crossed and his face in a sulk. 

You sighed and walked over to your side of the bed, pulling the duvet back and slipping under. Harry didn’t even turn to look at you, so you wrapped your arm around his waist and placed your head upon his chest so that he couldn’t help but look at her. You knew that the main thing that you needed to do right now was try and get him out of the rut. It could spring on him at any point but it was never anything that was easy to get him out of. You sighed and pressed a kiss to his bare chest. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” You mumbled against his chest. 

“There’s nothing to talk about.” He mumbled and you shook your head, lifting your hand up to push some of his hair out of his face. 

“There obviously is.” You sighed, “You’re in your rut. Talking about it takes you out of it. I know that, you know that, but you’re just too stubborn to realise this.” 

“I’m not too stubborn.” He pouts and you shake your head with a roll of your eyes, raising one of your eyebrows at him, “I just. . . fucking hate loosing to him. Talking about the anniversary, and I know why you haven’t said anything about it yet, baby, just reminded me. I’m sorry.” 

You hesitate for a second before smiling at him, “I know you are, H, don’t worry. It’s my fault. I should’ve told you.” 

“Don’t.” He shakes his head and leans forward, placing his hand upon your cheek, “Don’t apologise. I get that it’s hard for you, I know. I just. . . wish that I could take it all away from you. It’s my fault that you’re having to keep secrets from your brother.” 

You shake your head, “It’s not your fault. I promise that it isn’t your fault. There’s been hundreds of times in the past three years when I could have told him.” 

“It’s not just you. We need to tell him.” 

If you needed anything else to love Harry for (which you really don’t because you love him with you’re entire being) you feel as though this would be one of those things. You couldn’t believe how understanding he was, and even though the two of you did have times where you butted heads on things, it was never over anything big like this. The two of you made sure that if you ever did have a problem that you needed to sort, there would be some arguing and shouting but there is in any couple, but the two of you always made up before it ended up turning ridiculous. 

You turned your head to Harry and placed you lips on his, pushing his shoulders down with your hand so that he’s on your back. You move slightly underneath the duvet that you were both under, manoeuvring yourself so that you were hovering over his body, the two of your lips never separating. You were straddling him, your hands resting on the pillow by Harry’s head. Your hips ground against his boxers involuntarily, and you can feel him smiling against him. Harry moaned into your mouth, and you could feel his bulge growing harder and bigger beneath you. 

Pulling away slightly you lean forward and place your forehead upon his, smiling as you place a small kiss to his nose. The hard and stern face of your boyfriend that you had seen earlier when he was racing had completely disappeared, and it was now replaced by his soft and flush features that he only ever saved for when he was with you, and you loved it. You could still feel his hard-on rubbing against your thigh, and you leant forward and placed your lips back on his. His arms wrapped around your waist and back, slipping them down until he could squeeze and knead the flesh over your pyjama short. 

“You know I fucking love you, right?” He mumbles against your lips and you nod. 

His hips continue to buck up to yours, whilst you grind yours back down to him. You pulled away and leant your head upon his forehead again, “I know you love me. You know I love you?” 

He responded you flipping you over, his body now hovering over you. He gave you a boyish smile and nodded his head, leaning his head back down to place his lips on your neck, pressing small little kisses to the skin. 

“I know you love me.” He mumbles against her lips, “Do you wanna feel me, baby? Have you missed me?” 

You responded with a moan, the sound of his raspy voice goes all the way from your ear, all the way down your spine to the heat between your legs. You wouldn’t be surprised if your panties were completely ruined by now. 

“Of course I’ve missed you.” You mumble against his lips, your cheeks flushing as you admit it to him. For years you two have been this close, but it didn’t stop you from being nervous every single time that you are near each other. It’s always how it had been, and probably how it will always be but you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“Tell me how much you’ve missed me.” He kissed down your neck, and you couldn’t help the smile that crossed you face as he did so, “Don’t hold back, baby.” 

You threw your head back as he moved downwards, threading your fingers through his hair as you did so. You just hoped that it made him feel better than it was. 

Walking home the next morning, your entire body was relaxed and happy in a way that it only ever is after you’d spent time with Harry. If you passed anyone in the street, you smiled at them and there was a slight bounce in your step. There was an excitement that there hadn’t been in you for a long time because you were going to look over your schedule and finally get yourself sorted for your anniversary trip with Harry. Walking through the door that goes into kitchen, you immediately walk over to the fridge to take the orange juice out. 

“Morning little sis.” You jump out of your skin and turn around, leaning your back against the counter and lifting your hand up to your chest as it beats in your chest. Looking at your brother, it seemed as though he had just got back from a run, since he was all sweaty, he had his running shoes on and his headphones around his neck. Immediately your heart started to beat in your chest quicker, and the relaxation that you had felt before had immediately left your body and you feel back on edge as you do a lot of the time recently. 

“Morning.” You grin, turning back around to open a cupboard to grab a glass that you could fill with the orange juice carton that you were still holding, “Been for a run?” 

He nods his head, walking over to the fridge and taking out a bottle of water. When he wasn’t looking directly at you, a sigh escaped your lips. It was quickly over and he was looking at you again, leant against the counter across from you with his arms crossed. 

“Woke up with the want to go for a run.” He explained and you furrowed your eyebrows, looking at him and he chuckles, “I know, totally unlike me but I really did just feel like it.” 

You nod, your fingers tapping on the counter slightly, “Did you. . . did you go on your normal route?” 

Isaac shakes his head, “I met up with D’Angelo. We went to the lake.” 

Just like that, the worry that was in your body had left. The lake was on the other side of the town to where Harry lived, and where Isaac normally ran meaning that he couldn’t have seen you leaving Harry’s house which was good. You were starting to realise that the more you had to make sure that your brother hadn’t seen or didn’t know anything about you and Harry, the harder it was becoming for you to keep track of everything. The lie of staying over at Daisy’s had worked for years now, but the older that you got and the more that situations were changing for the two of you, it was harder to keep it as a lie. 

“Was it busy?” You ask, trying to make conversation that made it seem as though everything was normal and nothing had happened. 

He shakes his head, “Not really.” He hesitates for a second before looking up at you and tilting his head to the side, “I did see Daisy and Dennis though.” 

And just like that, your whole body was back to being on edge and nervous. The only way that you could describe how you felt was a mixture of both shock and immediate nervousness. Isaac continued to drink from the bottle in his hand, with no malice or shock on his features at all. If he did know something, he would’ve had said something by now and you knew that because of how well you knew him and that’s in one of the ways how you were both similar — when you knew something, you couldn’t keep it a secret. 

It was something that you had grown up with, your inability to keep secrets and you were honestly and truthfully so surprised that you and Harry had managed to keep your relationship a secret for so long. This wasn’t the first time that you had thought that Isaac had found out about your relationship, and it wasn’t the first time that you hadn’t been able to figure out how to get out of it but you knew that you would be able to get yourself out of it. You hoped that you would be able to get yourself out it. 

You were started to get quite nervous though, with sweaty palms and a heart beating directly up against your chest. Your mind spiralled and you hoped that you were going to hear something that would stop your chest in the next few minutes. 

“Did you?” You cleared your throat to make it seem as though you were more put together than you were. 

He hums, “Yeah. They explained that you were walking home and that Dennis’ arrival was out of the blue.”

You nod and smile, your heart stopping to beat so quickly the second those words escaped her lips, “Yeah. He appeared and asked her to go on a walk before work later. I said that I’d just walk home so that Daisy could go. I think he’s going to ask her out soon.” 

Isaac scoffs and crossing his arms over his chest, “I hope so. They’ve only been dancing around it for the last few years.”

You nod, “We’ve all said it. I don’t know how many times we’ve told her but anyway, I’m going to get in the shower before getting ready for work.” 

You’re quick to walk out of the kitchen and up the stairs with your head spinning. The entire time that you’re getting ready, showering and doing your hair, standing in front of your mirror and looking at the marks that Harry had left over the entirety of your skin before putting your work uniform on, you’re thinking about what you’re going to do. Today you were going to book some time off work from the café during the week of your anniversary, and even though that Daisy would know why you were doing that, you didn’t have to tell anyone else there. When it came to being at home, and telling your brother why you were going to be leaving for a month whilst Daisy stayed at home was going to be hard to explain to say the least. You were going to have to think very carefully about what you were going to say. 

Walking into the small café you worked at not that long later, you were happy to finally be in the place where anything else that happened in your life went to the back of your mind and you could focus on making drinks and serving customers. You had worked at the café since the day you turned eighteen, and you had worked there ever since. It wasn’t what you wanted to do forever, working in the little café with your best friend and your boss that is just an absolute asshole, but you just haven’t got the funds or was it the right time for you to try and get your dream going. 

Your dream, albeit a big one, was to one day own your own café that sold your own treats that you made and looked the exact way that you wanted it to. You had been planning your own café and telling everyone you knew about it since sitting in your maths classes in middle school when you realised that school really wasn’t for you. You were okay in school, and you got good enough grades, but none to get you to what you wanted to do in life. Over the last three years, many of your conversations with Harry had been about your café and how you would work there whilst he would take over his father’s mechanical shop. 

That was the plan for the future, but first — you had a shift to do and you had a lie to think of. 

“Afternoon.” You mumbled as you walked into the small café, Daisy’s eyes immediately widening as she takes a look at you stood there, “How are you?” 

“I’m sorry.” Daisy blurts out, not being able to stop herself from doing so, “I really didn’t know that he was going to be there, if I did I would have never gone there, you know that.” 

“I know.” You walk over and wrap your arms around her shoulders briefly, “He doesn’t know, it’s fine. I shouldn’t be relying on you so much, Daisy, I know that. I’m trying to figure out what to do.” 

“It’s okay, YN.” She mumbles, placing her hand upon your shoulder with a smile, “I know why you’ve done it, but I’m glad you’re finally coming to your senses. It’s three years too late, but at least you’re here.” 

“At least it’s happening now.” You sigh, widening your eyes as you look at her. 

“You’ll be fine. Everything will be fine.” 

You sigh and nod your head, hoping that she was right. 

You heard Harry’s car before you could see it, pulling up outside of your house in a quick stop so that you could quickly duck out and get it. Isaac was out for the night, doing another race in another town that Harry couldn’t do because he had work, so they had decided to spend the night together. Due to Isaac being out of town, they decided that they might even be able to go for a meal, to a restaurant, like a normal couple would. 

You gave him a small smile and a peck on the lips as you sat in the car. There hadn’t been much discussion between you and Harry that week, not since you had left his that morning. It was odd, because the two of you spoke everyday, even if it was just to check that the other was okay, but the conversation this week had been limited to you asking him to come for a meal and him replying saying that he would. You always knew that this day would come, where the unspoken issue between the two of you had become too much for you to handle. 

You had tried five times over the last week to say something to Isaac, trying to drop it in to normal conversation but you always dived away from it, as though you couldn’t allow yourself to say what you wanted to say to him. You had never been as nervous before in your life, and all you had to do was tell him about a secret that involved the one person that Isaac hated most in life and his twin sister. You just had to try your hardest to remind yourself over and over again that it was the best thing to do, and that you’d be happy if you were able to get the words out, but you just couldn’t. 

The two of you arrived at a restaurant on the outskirts of the town you lived in, one that meant you would be safe if Isaac did return home and one that the two of you also knew would serve good food. The car ride continued without any words spoken between the two of them, and you tried your hardest to not feel the nerves bubbling inside of you, but you also knew that there was a reason why you were going to have this conversation with him, and there was a reason why you needed to feel nervous for it. 

Sitting across from Harry in a booth that sat at the front of the restaurant, you couldn’t even bring yourself to take your eyes off of his face. There hadn’t been a lot of times during your relationship with Harry where you had felt like this, and it was usually always when the two of you were discussing the exact topic that you knew that you were going to be now. Whilst you couldn’t take your eyes off of Harry, it seemed as though he wanted nothing more than to not look at you. 

“Hey.” He didn’t look up from the menu that he had in his hand, “Are you going to even look at me?” 

You watch as he doesn’t even move a muscle, never mind do the thing that you wanted him to do which was look at you, “I’ve looked at you.” 

“Not since we’ve sat down you haven’t.” 

You watch as he sighs and drops the menu down so that it was rested upon the table between you and lifts his eyes up to look at you, “Happy now?” 

A small smile breaks out your face, a sarcastic one at that, but a smile nonetheless, “Very.” 

Harry rolls his eyes and leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. You look at him with your eyes widened. Why this was happening all of a sudden, you didn’t know, but you had a slight suspicion that you weren’t going to be able to argue your way out of this one with him like you had done in the past. The first thing that led you to believe that was the fact that you were in a public place, where you had to do your best to make sure that you were going to tell the truth and nothing but the truth. 

As a whole, you were ashamed of your actions over the years, and you knew that you wouldn’t be able to apologise for everything that you had done in the past but you could at least try. Everything had changed now that you had your three year anniversary coming up, and you realised that there was so much more to life than trying to hide a stupid secret from your brother. 

“Harry.” You start, a sigh immediately leaving your lips after, “I’m sorry. I really am.” He nods his head, “I don’t expect you to accept my apology, and I certainly don’t expect you to forgive me for the shit that I’ve put you through these last couple of years, but, I want to let you know that I am trying to fix things. I promise you.” 

He sighs, “I don’t know how you can, YN. I’ve thought about it a lot recently, in the past week, since our conversation last week.” 

“I have too.” You nod, your fingers messing with the hem of your jacket, “I have too. I’ve tried so many times, to tell him, but I just can’t and I don’t know why. He can’t do anything, I’m a grown ass woman and he’s just my brother. He can’t tell me who I can and can’t love, and I do love you Harry more than anything, but there’s a part of me that just can’t tell him.” 

Harry cleared his throat and sighed, “I never told you the reason we argued.” 

You shake your head, “Neither of you did.” 

“Do you want to know?” He asked. 

You shrugged, “I don’t know. . . if it will help, than yes.”

Harry sighed and nodded his head, running his finger over his bottom lip the way that you knew that he did when he was nervous, “We were in Eugene’s basement, having just watched one of his races and he had some shit, and we decided to take it. It was just us, everyone else had gone to do something else or get high somewhere else, and we were just sat.” You were hanging off of every word that he said, “We were taking about, I don’t know, life and all the shit that we usually do when we’re high and we got onto the topic of you.”

Your eyes widen, “Me? Why were you talking about me?” 

“He mentioned you and how you wanted to do things with your life and how he was fed up that all he had to do with his life was race.” Harry chuckled and shook his head, “I couldn’t even help it, I just blurted out that I liked you and that I was going to ask you on a date, thinking that he would be happy for us, but instead, he punched me in the face.” 

Your lips part, “He what?” 

“He punched me.” Harry runs a hand through his hair, “And then he just started screaming at me, saying that scum like me wasn’t good enough for someone like you. The more he said it, the more I believed it and I believed it all the way until you got in my car and asked me to tell you what had happened. I didn’t, and I didn’t for a reason, because if I had told you maybe you would’ve thought the same as him, that I wasn’t good enough for you, so instead I asked you on the date, just like I had planned to.” 

You let his words sink in for a while, the sound of them bouncing around in your head for a while as you look down at the table in front of you. You couldn’t lie and say that you hadn’t thought about what had gone down between them, and what had been said to make them despise each other as much as they did, but you certainly hadn’t expected it to be about you of all things. It started to all make sense now, how when you had asked him, after your first night together at his house, if he was okay that you didn’t tell your brother about the two of you being together, and he agreed. At first you had thought that it was odd, seeing as though this man didn’t know your motive behind why you were saying that, but at the same time, you didn’t know his motive behind why he said yes. 

It all made sense. 

You sigh and nod your head, “Why didn’t you just tell me? I would’ve understood. You know that I would’ve.” 

He shrugs his shoulders, “Why didn’t you tell me about what you had been thinking? And what you had been trying to do?” 

You shrug your shoulders, “I don’t know.” 

“It works both ways, YN.” He shrugs, “And I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you but a part of you has to realise that there was a reason you didn’t tell me and you didn’t tell him. I understand a part of you was trying to keep it calm between us, but there had to be more than that.”

You can feel the tears starting to brim within your eyes, and the more that you thought about it, the more that you knew you were going to struggle to hold them back. You start to blink quickly, lifting your eyes up to look at the ceiling. It worked, and you managed to make sure that no tears slid down your cheeks. 

“A part of me did do it because I knew that it would be easier for you, that you didn’t have to tell him that you were my boyfriend. I knew how hard that would’ve been for you.” You explain, lifting your hand up to scratch your forehead, “So I decided that for a little while, I just wouldn’t tell him. At least not until things had calmed down between the two of you. After a few months of waiting was going to say something to him, just drop it into conversation and then walk out of it with my hands up but then I realised that it wasn’t going to be that easy. The day that I was going to do it, he walked into my bedroom with this big news that he was so excited to tell me.” You take in a breath and sigh, “It was the news that you were starting to drive, and that he was going to beat you that night and I knew that if I had told him, he wouldn’t have just beat you in the race.” 

“I can stand up for myself, YN.” 

“I never said that you couldn’t.” She shook her head, “I just didn’t want you getting hurt because of me.” 

“I wouldn’t be getting hurt because of you. I’d be getting hurt because of something we did.” He explains, “Just like you can’t blame this all on me, and me on you, I’m not going to let you blame this all on yourself either.” 

“Harry.” You sigh and lean back in the chair that you sat in, “We’re going to have to tell him.” 

He shakes his head, “He’s not going to like it.” 

“I know.” You agree with him and hold your hand out, “But we’ve got to tell him.” 

“I know we have.” He grasps your hand in his.

It turned out that you and Harry didn’t have to wait for too long to tell your brother, because when Harry pulled up outside of your house, your brother was already sat there on the steps of the house, waiting for you to arrive home. You couldn’t believe what you were seeing if you were completely honest, and a part of you realised that this was it. You turned to look at Harry slightly, a sigh leaving your lips as you did so. 

“You still want to do this?” He asked, pulling his keys out of the ignition as the car came to a complete stop. 

You sigh and lean over to place your hand upon his, “I don’t think we have a choice, now.” 

“We do.” He turned his head to look at you, squeezing your fingers as he did so, “I could just drive away. Ignore him.” 

You chuckle and shake your head, lifting your connected hands up to place a kiss to the back of his hand, “Come on. He might explode if we keep him waiting any longer.” 

You certainly couldn’t lie and say that your brother looked like he was handling everything well, because he certainly wasn’t. His jaw seemed to be constantly clenched the entire time that you walked towards him, and you definitely saw his hands that were clenched by his sides in fists. You knew that he was going to be annoyed, and you expected that there would certainly be some shouting involved with this, but, she certainly didn’t want this to become physical at any point. In your opinion, it certainly wasn’t worth it. 

“YN.” You stop in front of him once he’s spoken your name, and Harry is just a few steps behind you. Having him there really brings a comfort that you don’t really feel unless you’re with him, so if anything, you were happy that he was there, “What are you doing with him?” 

“I’m—” You start, looking at him for a second before letting out a sigh, “He’s—”

You can’t find the right words to say what you want to say. You knew that it wasn’t going to be easy to explain to your brother, but you at least thought that you’d be able to get past the first words without choking up, but it seemed as though that wasn’t the case. 

“Isaac—” Harry takes a step forward, so that he was directly next to you but before he could say anything else, Isaac holds his hand out to stop him. 

“I wasn’t talking to you.” Harry clamps his lips shut, and you can tell that he’s trying to hold back so many things but at least he isn’t making the situation worse which you knew that he possibly could. Isaac then turns to you, “I was asking you the question. What are you doing with him?” 

Letting out a sigh, you shut your eyes for a second to calm yourself down, “I’m. . . we’re together, Isaac.” 

He lets out a sigh and shakes his head, tutting slightly as he did so, “When Eugene told me, I didn’t believe him. I said that you’d never do that to me because you know that I hate him more than I’ve hated anyone in my life before.” 

At first you listen to the words that he was saying and you nod along, as if you’re understanding what they’re saying, but you quickly shake your head and cross your arms over your chest. 

“I’d never do what to you, Isaac?” You ask, your eyebrows furrowing as you say the words you were speaking, “I’ve fallen in love with someone, Isaac, I don’t think that involves you at all.”

“But you know I can’t stand him!” 

“Still here, you know.” Harry mutters, lifting his hands up and walking away from them slightly. 

You turn over to look at Harry and glare at him slightly before you turn your attention back to Isaac, “Why do you think I didn’t tell you? I knew that you’d react like this.” 

“What? I’d react completely sane, YN?” Isaac scoffs and shakes his head. 

“Sane?” You physically can’t believe what you’re hearing, “Isaac, you don’t have the right to act like this over who is my boyfriend. Yeah, I understand that you don’t like Harry and he isn’t particularly fond of you either, but you don’t have a say in that.” You stop slightly and let out a sigh of relief when you realise that you’ve got him listening, “I would completely understand if you were upset about me not telling you and lying to you, but that is what you can be mad at.” 

He looks at you but then he shakes his head, and you know that everything that you’ve just said has gone and he couldn’t care less about it now. 

“YN.” You know that tone of voice anywhere, and you couldn’t believe that he was still acting like this, “It’s Harry. You don’t know the shit that he said, and you don’t know what it was like to sit and listen to him saying everything he said about you.” 

This time, it’s you who lets the words that he’s just spoken sink in for a while. If what Harry had said to you earlier was true, that all your brother had to be upset about was him saying that he liked you and wanted to ask you out. Now, you’re not exactly sure how the male mind works, but you’re pretty sure that Isaac can distinguish between someone saying that they like someone and something else. You turn to look at Harry and he looks down at the floor, and that’s when you realise very quickly that there was something else to the story that you didn’t know. The mere thought of it made you feel sick. What had actually been said that night?

“Isaac.” You turn back to look at him, “What was said?” 

“YN.” He shakes his head, scratching his forehead slightly, “I don’t want to tell you.” 

“Tell me.” Your words are harsh and you can tell by the way that Harry backs away from you that you’re about to be in for a real treat, “Tell me!” 

“When we were in high school, we had this list.” Isaac starts, and you know that what he is saying is probably really important context but you just want him to get to the point, “And on this list, we’d rank who we thought were the most fuck-able girls in the school.” 

Your entire heart plummets to the pit of your stomach, “That’s disgusting. You should be ashamed of yourselves.” 

“I am, don’t worry.” Isaac nods, “Harry never got involved with it, and we all knew why, because he was the good one who never cared about those things and everyone just accepted that. I certainly did.” 

“Just get on with it, Isaac.” 

“Well, we were in Eugene’s basement and we were high and drunk and everything was just a little blurred if I’m honest, but I asked Harry a question. I said, best friend to best friend, if you were to pick one person to go on the top of the list, and just be his one person and nobody apart from us would ever find out, he turned to me and said: you.” 

You can’t figure out what your angrier at. You can’t decide whether it’s because Harry had actually said those words to your brother, degrading you in such a way that you had never ever expected him to or the fact that he had lied to you about what had actually happened. In honesty, you do think that thing that has upset you the most was that he didn’t tell you the truth. He could have told you what had actually happened earlier on in the day on you wouldn’t have cared, because you knew that he was high and drunk and he probably wouldn’t have meant it but the fact that he lied, made you feel sick to your stomach. It made you question whether or not he had lied to you at other points and you just hadn’t known because you were too naïve to see it. 

You turn to look at Harry and he’s looking directly back at you, not at the ground and not anywhere else but directly at you. 

“Harry.” You can already feel the tears start to form within your eyes, “Tell me it’s not true.” 

Harry shakes his head and looks down at the ground, and you shake your head to try and back the tears. You know that if you open your mouth words will tumble out that you really don’t mean, and you know that you can’t let that happen but you’re in such a state that you know that you’re mind would be clouded with how upset you are. 

“He knows it’s fucking, true, YN.” Isaac says from behind you, “That’s why we fucking fought and punched the living daylights out of each other.” 

You shake your head again, the tears involuntarily spilling down your cheek, “Harry. Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“I thought—” He starts but then he shakes his head, “I didn’t—”

Just like you couldn’t find the words to say, it seemed as though Harry couldn’t either. You really didn’t care about what he said, and you wouldn’t care about what he said. There were things that you’d said when you were younger and in high school that you certainly regretted and you would hate if anyone was to bring them up but you wouldn’t lie about it. You had lied in the past and done things in the past that you didn’t agree with, but it wasn’t as though you were doing it for any other reason but to protect the relationships that you had made with people. 

“Harry.” He lifts his head to look at you, “I think you should go.” 

“YN. . .” He takes a step forward towards you but you hold your hand up. 

“Just for tonight.” You nod your head, “We’ll speak tomorrow. We all just need to. . . calm down.” 

“But YN. . .” He takes another step forward but you shake your head. 

“Please, Harry.” You close your eyes, “Just for tonight.” 

He doesn’t seem very happy with what you had said but he nods at you once before walking over to his car and getting in. He slams the door closed behind him, and you flinch when he does so. You watch through the window as he looks at you one last time before starting the engine and driving. 

He drives on, and he doesn’t look back, not even one last time and you watch as his car disappears off the street. Once you know that he’s gone, you start walking towards the end of the drive and down to the pavement. 

“YN—” Isaac starts but you turn to look at him and shake your head. 

“Not now.” You run a hand through your hair, “I’m going to Daisy’s. I’ll be fine.” 

With that, you walk down the street and towards Daisy’s house, the thoughts of what had just happened dancing around in your head. You knew that this was going to happen at some point, and it would all blow up in your face, you just hadn’t know that it would be like this.

The next day you return home with bags underneath your eyes and yawns escaping your lips. You would say that you’re nervous, but after being up all night with worry in your stomach, you’re pretty certain that you’re just a little anxious but the thing that overwhelms your brain more than anything is the want for all of this to be over. You needed to sort things out with your brother, so you could go back to being siblings that annoy each other more than anything, and then you need to sort everything out with Harry. You knew that it was going to be hard, and you knew that your emotions were going to be high but you needed to get it over and done with. You weren’t going to allow your life to be like this for longer than it needed to be, and it didn’t need to be at all. 

When you walked through the front door of your house, you didn’t know what you were expecting to see, but you really didn’t expect what you saw. Isaac was laid across the couch, with empty beer bottles on the table in front of him. You knew why he had done it, and you hated that it was your fault that he had done it but at the same time he was a grown man, just like you were a grown woman, and he knew that this wasn’t the right way to go about things. 

With a sigh, you walked over to the sofa and picked up one of the cushions by Isaac’s feet and threw it air his head. He groaned and moved around and that was when you nudged his legs so that you could sit down. He groaned again but moved them away, and you heard him yawn and felt his body lift up from beside you so that he was upright. 

“How’s the head?” You mumble, crossing your arms over your chest and leaning back in the seat. 

He groans and does the same, “It’s been better.” 

You chuckle and close your eyes, allowing a slight calmness to wash over your body. If there was one thing that you missed about getting older, was not being able to have the stupid conversations with him that made absolutely no sense to anybody but the two of them. But, something that you did know was that even when this was all sorted and everything went back to normal, you wouldn’t be surprised if not everything went back to normal between the two of you. It was something hard to understand, but you just had to accept it because you wouldn’t be surprised if it took years to fix. 

There’s a silence between the two of you for a while, but you quickly realise that isn’t going to help you in your situation so without really thinking you collect yourself and let out a small breath that you didn’t know you had been hiding for a while. 

“I’m sorry.” You say, the words coming out of your mouth stronger than you had expected them to. You thought that they would at least be broken, but they weren’t, “I’m sorry for everything, but most importantly, I’m sorry for lying and keeping it from you.” 

You don’t know what Isaac is going to say, and the fact that you don’t does make you worry slightly but you know that you’d be able to handle whatever he was going to say. You would be able to handle it because you were strong, at this point you needed to be. 

“I accept your apology.” He says, and you turn to look at him with tears in your eyes. He nods at you and smiles, “The more I thought about it, the more I understood why you did it. If the shoe was on the other foot I would’ve done the exact same thing. I wouldn’t have even hesitated to.” 

You nod your head and close your eyes, a few tears falling from them but you’re quick to lift your hand and wipe them away. He reaches over and grabs your hand, and you squeeze his as you do so. 

“I shouldn’t have lied to you though.” You shake your head, “We don’t lie to each other.” 

“Oh.” Isaac shakes his head and you furrow your eyebrows at him, “We don’t lie to each other but we certainly keep secrets. The amount I’ve kept from you. . . you’d probably kill me.” 

Your lips part in shock, “Are you going to tell me them?” 

“No.” He shakes his head, a chuckle leaving his lips, “I maybe will later, but right now, you’ve got somewhere to be.” 

“Have I?” He taps his hand on your leg and stands up, and all you can do is furrow your eyebrows in response. 

“You have.” You watch as he grabs his jacket and places it on his body, “And I’m going to take you there.” 

You know straight away that Isaac is talking about going to see Harry, and just the fact that he was going to take you made you want to burst out into even more tears that you had been before. You didn’t though, because you were able to keep your calm and just smile and nod along with him, but it was certainly hard for you to do. It felt as though you were getting acceptance from Isaac and although you knew that you didn’t really need it, it sure felt good to have. You offered him a quick smile and got into his car, driving you to Harry’s and leaving you there with a squeeze of his hand. 

Even though you weren’t that nervous when it came to talking to Isaac, speaking to Harry was a completely different thing. Whereas you and Isaac had a sibling bond that could never be broken, you and Harry had a bond, one that was love to the highest degree, but it was still a love that could be broken. You just hoped that this wasn’t it and you hadn’t met the point of no return just yet. 

You palms were sweaty as you knocked on his door, and your heart felt as though it was going to beat out of your chest but you knew that this was the right thing to do. You could hear shuffling behind the door, and then it swung open, and you wanted to sigh in relief just at the sight of him stood there. He looked like he hadn’t slept, but you hadn’t either so it was something that you both had in common, and he had his joggers hung low on his hips in a way that you always found so endearing whenever he did it. 

“Hi.” You say, the corners of your lips tilting upwards slightly, “Can I come in?” 

He opens his mouth as if to say something but then he just ends up nodding his head and opening the door wider so your body can slip through. It looks exactly the same as the last time you had been there, and it felt comfortable and like your home. It certainly was your home away from home, and living with Harry would be something that you wouldn’t mind doing in the future if time permitted you too. You had to remind yourself to take a few steps back and look at the situation ahead of you, and how you had a lot of things that you needed to talk about before anything else in the future could happen. 

Walking into the apartment, you hear Harry shut the door behind you. You knew that he wasn’t too far behind you, so you turned around.

“I didn’t think you’d be here so soon.” He muttered, shrugging his shoulders, “I thought you’d need a few days.” 

“I said I would talk to you tomorrow.” You smile and nod your head, “I’m wasn’t about to go back on that.” 

You swear you can see the slight lift of the corner of his lips, and it’s the first sign to you that everything might actually end up being okay. 

“I know you think we have things to talk about but I actually just have one thing to say.” He says, taking a step forward towards you. You watch as he hesitantly reaches out and grabs your hand, and you smile at just the feeling of his skin on yours again, “I’m sorry, That’s all I can say. I’m sorry that I said those things all those years ago, and I’m more sorry that I didn’t tell you about it when I had the chance. It was stupid of me, and I can understand if you want to. . . if you want to.” He physically stops and you can tell that he’s struggling with something, “If you want to break up with me.” 

You gasp at his words, taking a step forward and placing your hands on his cheeks, “Harry. . . no. Don’t think that. I’m not going to break up with you over that.” 

You can hear him physically sigh and you couldn’t even understand why he dared to think the way that he was, “I didn’t know. I didn’t know how you’d think.” 

“Harry.” You lean forward so that your forehead is on his, “I’m upset that you lied, but I did too. If anything, we’re just as bad as each other. That’s probably why we’re so perfect for each other, right?” 

“Right.” He chuckled, nodding his head, “We’re perfect for each other. I love you so much, I’m so sorry.” 

“I’m sorry too.” You close your eyes as you let the words sink in, “If there’s one way I know how we’re never going to go through anything like this again, is if we promise to never keep anything from each other again.” 

“We won’t.” He mumbles, “I won’t.” 

“Good. I won’t either.” Your hands grip onto his arms as they wrap around your neck, “I need you, Harry Styles. I do.” 

“I need you too.” 

With that you open your eyes so that you can look directly in his, a small smile breaking over your lips at the fact the two of you knew that he needed you just as much as you needed him. It certainly made this entire situation feel as though it happened for a reason, that it happened so that you could be stronger than you already were. You never doubted that he loved you, and that you loved him, but there was the doubt that everything would have caught up with you, and that was something that you knew would be your fault. All of this was your fault, for not being honest in the first place, but that didn’t mean that you couldn’t find it in yourself to be honest now and get you and Harry through this. 

Without even the slightest hint of hesitation you lean forward and place your lips on his, and he didn’t wait to kiss back, his tongue moving against his bottom lip before pushing it through your parted lips. Your tongue met his in your mouth, and you pulled each other closer, grasping at each other with the want and need that never stopped when you were around him. The spark that you always felt when you were with him ran all the way down from the skin of your lips to the tip of your toes, fluttering all over your body. You had told him that you needed him, which was the truth, but you were soon starting to realise that there was more to the need you had for Harry than what met the eye. It was something that went past all of the words in the dictionary to actions that you needed to name, and that’s why you pulled away and rested your head on his forehead. 

“Harry.” You mumble, “Take me to the bedroom.” 

He pulls away and furrows his eyebrows, not expecting those words to slip from your mouth, “Are you sure? We don’t have to.” 

“I’m sure.” You mumble against his lips, “Never been more certain of anything in my entire life.” 

He presses kisses against your neck and shoulders as he places you down on the bed, his body hovering over yours. When he starts to put a little more pressure on your skin with his teeth, you can’t help the light moans that start to escape your lips. He starts to toy with the hem of your shirt, and you respond to him by lifting your legs and wrapping them around his waist. Your hips move in circular motions to his, and it’s his turn to moan into you. 

You pull away and sit up, pulling your shirt over your head and revealing your bra to him. It wasn’t the nicest bra you owned, but it got to the point in your relationship when you didn’t need to wear fancy lingerie all of the time to feel good enough for him, but that didn’t mean that you didn’t every now and then to feel sexy. Every now and then, though, just like you felt now, you realise that you don’t need to wear anything to feel sexy because just the way that Harry looked at you made you feel like that. The was his eyes raked up and down your body, across every inch of skin that he could see. That made you feel sexy. The way he looked at you made you feel sexy. 

“Missed this.” He leans over and places a kiss to the skin of your shoulder, “Missed you. You’re so fucking beautiful, YN, you have no idea.” 

You lean forward and capture your lips again on his, slipping your arm around his shoulder so that you could run your nails down his back, scratching lightly as you did so. He took it upon himself to slip his hands between the two of you and unbutton your trousers, pulling them as well as your panties down your legs. You remove your arms from around his neck so that you can unclip your bra and pull it down from your torso and throw it down on the floor with the rest of your clothes. This was how you loved it to be with Harry. You just loved it when the two of you were together, alone. You guessed a part of it was because that was all you ever knew of it. 

Harry was the most loving and beautiful person you’d met in your life, and you would have loved to be able to show him off to the world as the one you loved but it just wasn’t that easy, but now you had the slight suspicion that you might be able to, and a part of you was excited about that. 

Your hands extend back out to him, pulling his body back down so that he was hovering above you again. He places a single kiss to your lips before moving his way down your body, placing kisses to your chest before moving down to the top of your breast and then down towards your nipples. He moves from each of them, one to the other, giving each of them the attention that he always does. You smile and thread your fingers through his hair, running through the curls that sat on top of his head. You used it to pull his head back up and place his lips on yours again. He responds by immediately kissing you back, and he wraps his arms around you so that he could flip you over, so that you’re resting above him now. 

You pulled back and rested your forehead against his, “You want me on top?” He nodded and you smiled, watching as he slipped his hands into each side of his joggers before pulling them down his legs, as well as his boxers, revealing his cock. You manoeuvre your body so that you’re further down the bed and so that your head is at the same level as him, and you lean forward, pressing a singular kiss to the tip. The sound that emits from his throat causes you to not hesitate in leaning forward and wrapping your lips around the top of him, starting to bob your head at a slow pace that you know is seemingly working because you can see his stomach moving up and down at a quick pace. Groans tumble from his lips, and you know that he’ll be getting close but before he can do anything else his hands press against your cheeks and lift you back up so that he can kiss you again. 

“Don’t you wanna. . . ?” You ask, your eyebrows furrowing as you look at him. 

“No.” He shakes his head, placing his lips on yours, “I don’t want anything but to be inside of you right now.” 

You watched as he moved backwards slightly, so that you were close enough to the wall that you could rest of your hand against the wall as you manoeuvre yourself over him. His cock slips between your folds, and words can’t describe how wet you are for him, dripping all over him. You place your lips on his again and start to move yourself up and down his cock. The groan that escapes his lips is unlike any you’ve heard before, and you can’t help the smile that dances across your lips. 

“You’re drenched for me.” He groans against your lips, “Fuck, I wanna be inside of you.” 

“Be my guest.” You grin, and you watch as he leans down to grab his cock in his fist and you lift up so that you can line yourself up with him. You grasp his shoulder as you slowly sink down on him, the familiar feeling of having him fill you up overwhelming you. You had been together for three years and no matter how many times you had sex, it still manages to overwhelm you more than words can explain. You whimper when he’s fully inside of you, hesitating for a few minutes before you press your lips to his in another short kiss. 

“So fucking tight.” He mumbles, “Best fucking feeling in the world.” 

You tilt your head back slightly with a smile crossing your lips, “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.” 

He chuckles but that’s quickly shut off when you start to move, bouncing up and down on his cock. Your nails scrape down his back as you move, and you can’t help the moans of profanities that leave your lips as you move. You knew you were squeezing yourself around him, it was always something that you did that caused him to clench his jaw, just has he was doing now. You quickly found a rhythm, swirling your hips and grinding them in a way that had both of you moaning out each others names. 

You tilted your head back when he hit a spot deep inside of you that sent a wave of pleasure rushing over your body. He didn’t even hesitate to lean forward and capture your nipple in his mouth, flicking his tongue over the bud slightly before moving to the other. He wrapped his arms around your body and slipped them down your back, all the way until he grabbed the flesh of your ass and squeezed. His movements were harsh, but they sent a wave of pleasure through your entire body. 

“YN.” You hum, leaning forward and resting your head on his shoulder, not stopping the movements on his hips, “You’re never going to leave me, are you?” 

You move so that you’re sat up straight and look at him, “Why would you think that? I’m not going to leave you, Harry, never.” 

“Good.” He leans forward and placing his lips back on yours. Your movements don’t slow down, if anything, they speed up and a string of moans escape your lips. His hands are all over your body, and his lips are too, and the the feeling starts to rush over you. You manage to keep your hips moving at the pace for a while before you slow down, and Harry notices this and quickly flips you both over. You lay on your back with your head on the pillow, and Harry doesn’t even hesitate when he slips back into you. His movements aren’t fast, but they’re certainly deep. 

“So fucking deep, Harry. Feels so fucking good.” Your words only seem to egg Harry on, especially the way your nails scratch down his back, “I’m so close.”

Harry was hitting just as deeply inside of you as he had been when you were riding him, and the feeling tips you closer and closer to the edge. Your hands drop down to your sides to grasp the duvet cover, and you turn your head so that you can muffle the obnoxiously loud moans that you couldn’t help leaving your lips. 

“I know you are baby.” One of his hands slips through yours, “Don’t hide them moans though, let me hear them, baby, you know what it does to me.” 

You move your head back so that he can hear your moans, and he smiles as he continues to fuck you. It doesn’t take long before he’s tipping you over the edge and your orgasm hits you. It’s one of the most powerful you’ve ever had, and you have every reason to believe that it’s because of how high emotions are between the two of you at the moment. It’s intense and you can feel it everywhere, all over your entire body and more so in the pit of your stomach. Harry didn’t stop his movements, not until he hit his high as well and spilled into you. You didn’t care about anything else in that moment though, because you felt closer to Harry now than you even had been, and you never wanted it to change again. 

Once he pulls out of you, a whimper immediately leaving your lips due to the emptiness you now feel. He quickly cleans you up, and then drops into the bed beside you, and you don’t even hesitate when you wrap your arm around his waist and rest your head upon his chest. When your eyes close, you let out a sigh of relief. 

“Harry.” He hums, and you can feel the vibration of his chest beneath your ear, “I’m sorry I told you to drive away.” 

“Don’t be.” He mumbles, his fingertips dancing along the skin of your arm, “We’ve all done thing that we aren’t proud of, but we have a new start. One where we don’t have to keep this a secret.” 

You nod and smile, still not opening your eyes, “I love you.” 

“Love you too, baby.” 

[qjhughes]

here’s to us

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Genre: Enemies To Lovers (with a twist)

Word Count: 5.3k

Summary: You hate Harry more than you’ve ever hated anyone else, and he feels the same (or does he?). The people around you see the interactions that the two of you have and believe that you’re a match made in heaven, but you can’t see it, and you doubt he can either. When he’s the last option to help you with a project that you’re working on, things are either going to go very well, or they're going to crash and burn.

Warning(s): alcohol, cursing, kink talk, angst, sadness, innuendos, tension, a set of lovers trying to convince two people that they’re meant for one another, fluff

A/N: this was originally a piece written for a writing challenge but that’s been cancelled (i love u liv take your time i will still participate in any and every wc you ever do bb) so this is now just another piece haha!! Thank you to @tbslenthusiast​ and @harrysclementines​ for letting me know that this piece wasn’t as bad as i thought it was (literally forever ago like.... i wrote this a long time ago lmao)!!! Also thank you to @kiwismoon​ for letting me send you parts of the fic and scream about how much i hate myself for writing things like i did!!!

Masterlist | Taglist | Request | Come Talk To Me | Patreon

REBLOG the fics that you like before there aren’t any more fics for you to enjoy!!!

*

Relaxing.

That’s what you were supposed to be doing tonight. You’ve been stressed out about the article that was due in less than a week and you were in need of a night out with your friends. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t find the inspiration to write the piece. Plus, you had been completely swamped with your school work. Even though you were still in college, you had gotten a job as a writer and chosen to take online classes. 

Sarah had suggested that you and her go out and have a few drinks. That had quickly developed into you, her, and Mitch. Then your ‘friend’ Michelle was added into the mix.

Now, you’re standing at the bar, waiting for your next shot of tequila and wondering how you let Sarah talk you into this. You hate bars. In all honesty, you only hate them because someone always seemed to mess up your nights when they were drunk. Luckily, that someone isn’t here tonight. You had made it abundantly clear to Sarah that if she were to invite anyone, it better not include him. 

As the bartender hands you your shot, you down it and place the glass down on the bar. You wait for him to retrieve it before turning to walk back to the table that Sarah, Mitch, and Michelle are occupying. Right before you sit down next to Sarah, you catch a glimpse of a very particular head of curls. Your stomach drops at the sight, and you immediately feel the urge to exit the building. There’s no way that you could mistake that for anyone else but Harry. He’s the only person that has curls as seemingly perfect as that. Plus, he’s the only broad shouldered, muscular, tattooed man that you’d ever seen around here with hair that’s grown out to the point where it passes his shoulders. 

Fighting the instinct to be as far away from him as possible, you sit down next to Sarah and do your best to ignore his presence.

That lasts all of three seconds. It’s as if something is pulling your focus towards him, and you can’t stand that, so you quickly tell Sarah that you’re going to head out. Grabbing your coat, you give her a story about suddenly having inspiration and not wanting to lose it before offering to take her almost empty cup back to the bar. She nods, wishing you a farewell.

As you’re making your way over to the bar, someone knocks into you and the small amount of liquid left in Sarah’s cup splashes onto your chest. You scoff, turning to tell whoever bumped into you to watch where they’re going. You’re met with a pair of piercing green eyes, and suddenly your words get caught in your throat. All you manage is a scoff and a quick “fuck you” before handing him the cup and walking out. 

You stand outside of the bar, leaning up against the brick wall of the building as you order an Uber for the ride home. The stench of alcohol is radiating from your shirt, and you almost gag at the smell. Beer has never been your favorite, and you have absolutely no clue how Sarah can drink it.

You place the order and go to stand on the sidewalk to wait for the car to pull up. 

“Fancy seeing you here.” The voice seems to carry through the entire street.

“What the fuck do you want, Harry?” you snap. The chuckle that he releases at your words makes your blood boil.

“Just wondering why you’re avoiding me, love.” You don’t have to turn to know that he has a smirk plastered on his face.

“Do you have a degradation kink or something?” Your words have their desired effect as he all but chokes on the air. 

“Um, no. Why? You trying to turn me on, darling?” You roll your eyes.

“Absolutely not.” How can he be so fucking annoying all the time? “I’m just wondering why you continuously pester me after I tell you how much of a dick you are and that I absolutely cannot fucking stand you.”

“Because normally when you do that, you find some way to compliment me. And I think it’s funny how flustered you get when you realize what you said.” You hear him walk closer to you, but you keep your eyes locked straight ahead of you.

“So you have a praise kink.”

When he speaks, his breath hits your ear. Fuck, you didn’t know he had gotten that close. You have to fight the shiver that’s threatening to run down your spine. You can’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that he’s having any kind of effect on you. “Do you want to test it out?”

You scoff, stepping away from him. “You fucking wish, Harry.”

He hums. “Maybe, maybe not.”

You finally turn to him. After seeing him, though, you begin to regret your decision. Seeing him like this, in a white t-shirt and black skinny jeans, hair forming his face in the most perfect way, isn’t doing you any good.

“I’m not going to be your temporary fix, Harry. Go find someone else to give you a good time.” He puts on an exaggerated pout. “I don’t even like you as a friend, so stop fucking around like that. It pisses me off.”

Before he can say anything else, your Uber arrives and you check the plates before getting in the backseat and shutting the door, effectively blocking him out.

What he would have said if your Uber hadn’t pulled up, though, is something that Harry decides you’ll never get to know. Because just when he was about to say, “I’d want you to be more than temporary,” you found a way to break his heart yet again.

*

The Uber driver has continuously given you looks since you got into the car. His nose scrunched up the moment that you closed the door, and honestly, you can’t blame him. You smell like cheap beer and probably look like an absolute mess. He’s most likely just checking to make sure that you don’t look like you’re about to throw up all over his backseat. 

You roll your eyes, trying your best to ignore him. It’s not even your fault that you’re like this right now, it’s Harry’s.

Harry, who you absolutely despise with every bit of your being. He’s been an arrogant, selfish dick since the very day that you met. He only cares about things when they include them,  constantly dropping comments about his success, and always finding a way to insert himself into any and every situation. You can’t seem to get away from him. He seems to be around no matter what you try (at first, you thought it was a coincidence, but now you’re convinced that he just does it to get on your nerves).

Harry, who’s so fucking annoying and unbearable but also so hot that he makes your mouth all but water. He can draw a reaction from you without even trying. Harry, who you’re so fucking attracted to despite hating him, and that fact makes you hate him even more.

It shouldn’t be like this. You shouldn’t be attracted to someone that makes your blood boil. 

I’m just drunk, you repeat to yourself as you push the thought of Harry as far out of your mind as you possibly can.

*

You groan as you walk out of the kitchen. 

“Y/N you know I’m right!” Sarah yells after you. “Stop trying to avoid it.”

Plopping down on Sarah’s black faux leather couch, you roll your eyes even though she can’t see it. “You’re delusional, Sarah!”

She doesn’t say anything until she comes into the living room and sits on the couch next to you. She has a bowl of chips in her hands. When you go to grab one, she pulls the bowl from your reach. 

“Admit it, you and Harry would be absolutely great together.” You could scream. She’s so adamant about the idea, but there’s no way that she could be right.

“Dude, we hate each other. What do you mean? What do you expect from us in a relationship if we can’t even be in the same room together for more than a few minutes without arguing.” She sighs, running a hand through her hair.

“I know, I know! But Y/N, come on. The two of you are so compatible.” You laugh at her words. How could she possibly think that when she sees the way the two of you interact.

“How so?” you ask, just to entertain her theory and let her get her thoughts out.

“Okay, hear me out. You both like music, right? He sings, you write songs. That’s literally perfect right there, even if you were just friends.” You nod, not saying anything. “You’re always talking about how you want to do hair and nails and stuff for your friends and I know that he’d let you paint his nails and play with his hair.” You had in fact been telling her these things, but you weren’t aware that she would choose to use them to try and set you up with Harry. “You’re both really funny and smart. You guys talk about a lot of the same things, too. It’s just never when you’re around each other.”

“Alright, yeah, that makes some sense.” She perks up slightly but you hold a finger up, motioning for her to wait a moment before getting her hopes up. “It makes sense, but you’re forgetting a few things. I couldn’t write songs for, or even with, Harry. He’d find something wrong with him just like he does now. He’d nitpick them until there was nothing that I could find about the song that he didn’t hate.” You sigh, thinking back to what she had just said. “We’d have to be too close to each other for me to mess around with his hair or nails and you know that every time we get within a few feet of each other, there’s some kind of fight that always gets started,” you trail off, giving her a chance to speak.

“Are you going to give me a reason why the last example of why you’re perfect for each other is incorrect?” She groans when you nod.

“Yeah, actually. We may like the same things and be funny and smart or whatever, but there’s no way that we’d be able to talk to each other.” 

“Why?” 

“His communication issues.” She throws her head back and obnoxiously groans.

“He doesn’t have communication issues.”

You burst out laughing. “He’s an Aquarius. Of course he does, right on top of those commitment issues.”

She rolls her eyes at you. “Whatever, Y/N. One of these days you’re going to understand that the two of you are quite literally a match made in Heaven.”

“Not likely,” you mumble before reaching for the remote and finding a movie to put on.

*

“Wait, what?” Mitch is looking at Harry like he’s grown a second head.

“You guys were right. Always have been, really, I just couldn’t say it before now.” Harry gulps, waiting for the ‘I told you so.’ It doesn’t come, though.

“Fuck, dude, I’m so sorry.” Harry shrugs it off.

“Not letting it get to me anymore. I’m tired of letting her break my heart.” He curses himself when tears begin to line his eyes.

“If I had known you really felt that way I would have backed off.” Harry nods at his words. “Sarah would’ve too.”

“It’s fine, Mitch, really. I just, I’m just tired, you know? It’s like there’s a magnetic force pulling me to her but every time I try to get close she shows me, yet again, that she can’t stand me.” He’s never been ashamed to show his feelings, and right now isn’t when he’s going to start. He lets his tears fall down his face as he leans back against the chair he’s sitting in.

“I really didn’t know, H. Normally I can tell when you like someone but it wasn’t like that this time.” Harry nods at him.

“You get pretty good at hiding your feelings when you’re hiding heartbreak after heartbreak.” He’s silent for a moment. “Should I cut off my hair?”

“If you want. But don’t do it just because you’re sad or you’ll regret it.” Harry closes his eyes as he debates the decision. A part of him wants to do it anyway, make the sadness go away for a moment as the exhilaration of a new haircut sinks in, but the rational part of him knows that Mitch is right.

As he sits there with tear stained cheeks, new droplets wetting his face every few seconds, he really wishes that he could hate you. He wishes that he could find anything to hate about you. But when he searches his brain for a reason to dislike you, he comes up empty. It’s frustrating, really. You seem to hate everything about him while he can’t hate a single thing when it comes to you.

He hears Mitch get up, presumably to go get something to eat, but he doesn’t open his eyes. There are a million memories with you flashing through his mind and it hurts him even more to know that every single one of them have been bad.

*

“What do you mean you can’t do it?” Your voice is high pitched, some would even say a little whiny. “Sarah, you promised me that you’d sing the song for me.”

“I know, Y/N. But something urgent came up with Mitch’s family and I have to be there.” Even over the phone, you can hear how worried that she is, so you can’t really bring yourself to be upset with her.

“It’s fine, Sarah. Really, I understand.” You hear her sigh of relief and a small smile graces your face, glad that she now has one less thing to worry about. “I’ll just find someone else to do it.”

“Ask Harry.” She suggests.

“Why would I do that?” The way your mood changed was immediate and it’s almost sad, how fast he gets you worked up.

“Because, Y/N, this project is due in like two days and he’s available.” She says in her duh voice. “Plus, he can sing really well, so just ask him. The worst thing he can say is no.”

“That’s a lie. The worst thing he can say is yes.” Sarah laughs before wishing you good luck and hanging up.

You groan, thinking about what Sarah said. She’s right, honestly. There’s nobody else that you’re going to find on such short notice, especially not one that can sing as good as Harry can. Admitting to yourself that you need him (which is something you never thought you’d say), you pick up your phone and click on his contact.

“Y/N?” His voice sounds deeper than usual, a little raspier, too. Almost like he just got out of bed. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t have an effect on you, the way your name sounds coming out of his mouth when he sounds like that.

“I need your help.” You grimace at the words.

“Alright. What do you need.” Your mind races, trying to figure out why he didn’t have a sarcastic comment or a snarky remark to throw at you. You ignore it for now, though.

“I need you to sing a song that I wrote for a project.” He hums, and you can picture him pulling his bottom lip between his fingers and then running his hand through his curls.

“Okay, when do you need me?” 

“Does tomorrow work? Around noon?” You hold your breath as you hope for the best.

“Yeah, I’ll be at your place then.”

You thank him and hang up, letting your phone fall from your hand down onto the couch. Harry Styles, the man that you swear you hate, is coming to your house tomorrow. 

*

When he arrives the next day, you almost immediately hand him the song and let him read over it, not necessarily wanting to spend any more time with him than needed. When he says he has a few suggestions, you’re terrified that he’s going to tell you how awful he is, but he actually only has a few suggestions to help with the flow of things. Besides that, he promises that it’s a really good song. 

You go to grab your camera and set it up while he strums on the guitar that he brought. Once you’re ready to begin filming, he sets the paper with the lyrics on it to the side and nods.

He begins singing after the camera has started recording and you get entranced by him almost immediately. His eyes close as soon as the first word leaves him mouth and with them shut you feel much more comfortable while looking at him. His hair is flowing all around him and you have the intense urge to tuck the strands behind his ears. There’s a small crease between his brows, that of which she wants to smooth out with a kiss to his forehead. He seems so concentrated, and something about it pulls at her heartstrings.

You shake your head. He’s your enemy, remember? you think to yourself as you divert your eyes to somewhere else in the room. 

After you’ve looked away you find yourself wondering why. Why do you hate Harry so much, really? Yeah he can be arrogant and cocky and rude but who isn’t? Yeah he talks about his famous life and his awards and chart placements a lot, but you would do the same in his shoes.

Plus, he really is pretty funny now that you stop to really think about it. He’s all the things that Sarah had told you over the past few months, and you can’t believe that you didn’t realize until now. You don’t hate Harry, you’ve been convincing yourself that you do to hide the way that you really feel about him.

You’re broken from your thoughts when he clears his throat. Once you turn to him, there’s a smirk on his face. “Could feel you watching me, love.”

Your cheeks burn at the statement. Regardless of the truth in it, you’re still not very keen on admitting that you were ogling him only minutes prior. 

“It’s alright, I find myself looking at you sometimes, too.” You don’t say anything to that, and the room falls quiet. 

With that stupid smirk, that’s way too hot for it to natural and fair, he picks up his keys and his coat and walks to your front door. “See you later, sweetheart.”

You raise your hand in a pathetic half wave goodbye and try your best to smile. As he opens the door, cold air sweeps through the room and you can see the snowflakes falling outside. “Great, there’s a storm.” He groans, but still continues to walk out the door.

“Harry, wait!” He stops, turning to face you. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Um… leaving?” He gestures towards his car that’s most likely covered in snow by now.

“Not in this weather you’re not.” Your voice grows hard as you glare at him. You know that he’d most likely rather not be around you, but there’s not a chance in hell that you’re going to allow him to risk his life by driving home.

Surprisingly, he doesn’t put up a fight, he just shuts the door and shrugs his coat back off. He hesitantly comes back over to take a seat on the couch. You stay silent, struggling to find the words to say.

“So, um, do you want to watch something?” He asks after a few minutes of nearly unbearable silence.

“Yeah, I’ve been watching Lucifer on Netflix, but if you don’t want to watch that, we can watch a movie or something.” You offer, looking over at him.

“Yeah, we can watch that.” You grab the remote from the table and walk over to sit next to him on the couch. 

Pulling up Netflix and starting Lucifer, you let your eyes wander to Harry for a split second before noticing that he’s already looking at you. You immediately divert your gaze. Your cheeks begin to heat up, but you try your best to ignore it.

*

After watching almost an entire season of Lucifer, you’re just about ready to go to bed. You’ve gotten increasingly more comfortable beside Harry and you’ve even started to lean into him slightly. Not a single part of your body is touching yours, but you can tell that you’ve gotten closer.

You’re about to get up and brush your teeth when the lights go out. You groan, throwing your head back against the back of the couch. “Great, power’s out.”

He doesn’t say anything, just hums in response. 

“Stay where you are. I know where the candles and the flashlight is, and I don’t want you to hurt yourself trying to get around.” You stand up, feeling your way through the living room towards the kitchen. Opening the cabinet closest to the wall, you pull out the three candles and the flashlight. Fuck, you forgot that there are only two candles. That’s not enough for there to be one in the hallway on the table, in the bathroom, and in the living room for Harry. And fuck, your extra blankets are in the washer.

You shake your head, lighting the candles and walking to the bathroom to place one down, and then through to the hallway to do the same. Making your way back to the kitchen, you pick up the flashlight and switch it on.

Once you reach the living room again, you clear your throat. “Okay, bad news. There were only two candles, and they need to be in the hallway and the bathroom.” You cough awkwardly. “Also, my extra blankets are dirty and I don’t want you to lay out here in the dark and freeze to death so,” your voice gets quieter, “do you maybe wanna come lay with me?”

He chokes on his spit and then clears his throat. “Um, yeah, yeah, sure. If that’s okay with you, of course. Remember, I can always go home.” You shake your head as his words.

“Nonsense, come on.”

Once the two of you are in your room, you climb into your bed and wait for Harry to do the same. Neither of you say a word as you get comfortable as you try to get to sleep. Without the heater working and there only being one blanket, though, it’s a little hard to stay warm and comfortable. “Um, Harry, I- can I- you- can we maybe… fuck I don’t know.”

You feel him turn towards you. “Are you cold, love?”

“Yeah.”

He wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him, letting you lay your head on his chest and wrap yourself up in his embrace. His arms come to wrap around you and one hand finds its way to your hair as the other rests on your hip.

As you bask in his warmth, you try your best to not let yourself think about the way that you feel so perfectly comfortable in his arms. About how he smells so divine and he’s so warm that you’d be content with never leaving his embrace. About how, without even realizing it, you’ve been letting yourself believe that you hate Harry when really you’re in love with him. However, you’ll never tell him that. Not a chance. If there’s one thing that you absolutely will not do, it’s let Harry Styles break your heart.

*

When you open your eyes the next morning, you’re still in Harry’s arms. He isn’t awake yet, so you let yourself appreciate the way that his hair is tickling your face and the way that his arms are holding you tightly to his body. You let yourself enjoy the way that he’s got ahold of you like he can’t bear to lose you. 

You know that when he opens his eyes, everything is going to go back to normal. You’ll have to hate him again and he’ll pretend that none of this ever happened. That thought shouldn’t hurt you as much as it does.

You’re broken out of your thoughts by his voice. “Mornin’, love. Did you sleep well?”

You nod, all but entranced in the way that his voice is so much raspier when he first wakes up. “Sorry for being all over you, it was cold last night.” 

You go to move away from him, but he keeps you hugged to him. “Don’t apologize, like having you here, dove.” The words confuse you, but you don’t question them. Instead, you let yourself relax back into him.

Everything is silent for a few minutes, but the air is comfortable this time. “Do you wanna go get some coffee if the roads aren’t bad?” Harry whispers.

“Yeah, sure.”

The two of you climb out of bed and get ready for the day. You let him use an extra toothbrush and once you brush through your hair, you hand the tool to him. He gives a small “thanks” and gets to work on taming his hair as you walk out of the bathroom.

A few minutes later, he’s walking towards the living room with his keys and then he’s leading you out the door to his car.

The ride to the coffee shop is silent besides the hum of the radio, neither of you really knowing what to say.

Once the two of you slide into a booth at the little diner that he drove you to, you order a coffee and something as he does the same.

“So, tell me about yourself, Y/N. I don’t really know much about you.”

You hesitate for a moment, trying to figure out what to tell him.

“I write. My job is to write articles for this company. But I’m still in school technically, so I’m taking online classes to finish getting my degree. I like songwriting. Um, I think that’s about it.” Your cheeks heat up as you tell him about yourself, although none of the things that you’re listing are embarrassing.

“Why haven’t you ever talked about your songwriting before?” He ponders, placing his elbow on the table and resting his chin on his hand.

“Um, you hate me. Or.. hated me? I don’t know. I don’t want you to tear it apart just because you’re some hotshot writer. Or because you hate me.”

He pulls back, looking down. “Never hated you.”

“What?” You had to have heard that wrong.

“Ever stop to think why I was only rude when you got rude first?”

Your jaw drops as you think it over. “No, um, I didn’t.”

“Yeah, well. I never hated you.”

“So, you’re telling me that I hated you and you just… never hated me?” He grimaces.

“Yeah.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry.”

He offers you a soft smile. “It’s fine.”

Throughout the next few hours, you sit there with Harry and talk about any and everything that comes to your mind. He pays for the bill, although you insist on letting you help. As you’re walking out to his car and he’s about to drive you home, he stops. “Um, hey would you maybe want to hang out some more?”

The question takes you by surprise, but you agree nonetheless. “Yeah, I actually would really like that.”

He nods, climbing into the car as you smile to yourself.

*

It’s been six months since you made Harry stay over at your house because of that pesky snowstorm, and you’ve never been more thankful for the weather.

You’ve spent the majority of your time together, going out to eat when possible and staying over at your house most nights. His is too big, as you’ve always said, so for the simple sleepovers, you insisted that he came over to yours. You’ve grown closer and closer to him, and now you can confidently say that he’s your best friend.

Along with the growing friendship, your feelings have gotten deeper. There’s not a single part of you can deny that you’re absolutely, head over heels in love with Harry. And you don’t want to anymore. You still don’t want to tell him, but you’re no longer lying to yourself in the slightest.

Today is the only day thus far that you’ve even slightly regretted how close that you’ve become with Harry. And that’s because you’re currently standing at the airport, head buried into his chest as you try to find a way to say goodbye for the next six months. 

“Don’t want you to go.” You whine as you hold him as close as you possibly can.

He murmurs a “fuck it” before pulling away from you.

“Come with me.” Your eyebrows raise in surprise. “I know, it sounds crazy. Absolutely ridiculous. But listen, we’ll go home, back to your place and we’ll pack your bags and then we’ll go. I’ll reschedule my flight. I- I can’t do this without you, Y/N.” He reaches up and runs a hand through his curls (which you’d begged him to let you braid, but he said it was easier to have it down for flights). “Listen, you’re my rock. I- I feel like I can breathe when you’re around me. Fuck, Y/N, I’m in love with you.” 

You freeze, completely shocked by the words that fell from his mouth.

“Fuck, I didn’t mean to say that. That was stupid. Forget I ever said anything.” He’s rambling because he thinks there’s no way that you can feel the same but you do.

“I’m in love with you, H. Have been for a long time.” Before he can respond, you surge forward and grab his face in your hands. Bringing his face closer, you slot your lips with his and allow the kiss to envelop you. After a few moments, you pull back. “Let’s go home and get my bags packed.”

*

[titan-fodder]

Prima Vista Part V

[ previous ]  Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x Reader, Zeke Jaeger x Reader wc: ~ 8.8k Warnings: pining, testosterone, Zeke being a dick (who woulda thought), subtle manipulation (both on Zeke’s part that goes unchecked and accidentally on Mike’s part) A/N: Well, we’re gettin’ there. We’re truckin’ along. I’m sorry for the last chapter. And, I’m sorry for this one. But, I do still hope you enjoy it. I think we’re at the halfway mark here. 

Mike gets a text from you at nine PM three days before he’s supposed to go back to campus. It’s just a few words, a question that makes his heart drop to his stomach because you’ve never asked it before.

 Can we talk for a sec?

 He waits for a few minutes, tries to get rid of the panicked feeling rising in his chest, but he can’t get it to go away entirely, so he just bites the bullet and calls you. 

 “Heyyy,” you greet. Mike can already tell a difference in your tone. Something is definitely going on.

 “Hey, what’s up?”

 “I just, uh…” He hears you suck on your front teeth, a nervous habit he’s well versed in now, then you tell him, “I just wanted to give you a heads up before you get back here.”

 Mike swallows. “Heads up about what?” 

 Are you leaving? Did you fail your summer classes despite all his help? Did you get into some kind of accident?

 You let out a long breath that Mike wishes he could feel on his skin. He wishes he could see your expression, wishes he could hold your face in his hands and tell you that whatever it is, it’ll be okay. Seems like he’s always wishing for things.

 “Um, I—uh… I’m kind of seeing someone.”

 The floor falls out from beneath him, and Mike drops with it, sitting down on the edge of his bed. He grits his teeth, trying to breathe normally—in through the nose, out through the mouth. This is about the last thing he expected you to confess.

 It’s apparently taking too long for him to gather himself, because you say his name, “Miche?” and he has to squeeze his eyes shut.

 “I’m here. It’s, uh, fine,” he lies. “It’s fine.”

 “Is it?” You sound worried, as you should because while Mike isn’t mad, he’s extremely disappointed, probably the most he’s ever been. 

 Taking a page out of your book, he tries to play it cool, act like he doesn’t care. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

 “Well, you—...” Met your mom? Learned your secrets? Tried to tell you that he loved you? All valid responses, but you just dismiss it with a quiet, “Nevermind.”

 Mike hums, lets the line go silent for a while, then musters the courage to question, “Do I know him?”

 “Yeah, I think so.”

 “What do you mean ‘you think so’?”

 “I mean he’s mentioned you, so I figure you’ve had at least a few conversations.” You’re getting that sassy tone, the one that signals you want to drop the subject, but you can’t this time. You’ve already warned Mike that you’re off the god damn market. You might as well tell him who exactly he’s gonna see you holding hands and sucking face with. It’s the merciful thing to do. 

 “It’s not one of the Pike guys, is it?”

 “No, no,” you laugh and it makes Mike want to scream because he doesn’t find this amusing at all, and it only gets worse when you finally answer, “It’s Zeke Jaeger.”

 Mike nearly hangs up then and there, but he somehow fights the urge. He does hold his phone away from his ear, though, stares up at his ceiling for a few seconds and stretches his arm out, then brings the device back. “Cool. He’s a… Talented dude.”

 “Yeah, but I mean, I’m not exactly starstruck or anything. Not after hangin’ out with you all of last year.”

 Mike rolls his eyes so hard he thinks they might fall out of his skull. “You don’t have to make this about me, ba—...” He catches himself before finishing the pet name. He can’t do that anymore. He can’t call you what he wants to. He can’t flirt or smooth hair out of your face. He can’t pick you up and hold you against the walls of the house. He can’t show you how much he cares for you. 

 “I know. I just feel kinda bad,” you mumble. 

 “You shouldn’t. It’s cool.” His flat tone is anything but cool, and you can probably tell, but there’s not much Mike can do about that.

 You’re pouting when you question, “You’ll still be my friend?” Mike can see the expression without actually seeing it, the doe eyed look you’d be giving him if he were in front of you right now. He can also imagine looping his arms around you and smiling crookedly and kissing your forehead, and fuck, he feels broken. 

 “Yeah,” he sighs. “Shouldn’t even be a question.”

 “Good.”

 You lapse into another silence, just breathing and waiting for the other to break. It’s you who does. You clear your throat and state one more time, “I just wanted you to know.”

 “Thanks.”

 “See you in a few days.”

 “Yeah,” Mike is barely listening at this point, just looks at the poster on the wall and lets it fall out of focus. “See ya’.”

 You don’t hang up immediately, like you’re waiting for him to say something else, but Mike saves you the trouble and presses the ‘end’ button on his phone then tosses it on his pillow and falls back onto the mattress. 

 He just doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand any of it. You’ve gone an entire year denying him, keeping yourself closed off and never once bringing up the possibility of actually being together. After all the time spent together, after all the date parties, all the sex, staying at each others’ houses. He feels like he knows you better than anyone else probably does. You let him in. You let yourself be vulnerable in front of him. You acted like you trusted him.

 So, why isn’t he your first choice? As soon as you realized you were ready to make a fucking commitment to someone, why wasn’t it him?

 Mike doubts he’ll ever get the closure. He’ll just have to cope with seeing you around campus with Zeke god damn Jaeger, have to pretend like everything is fine, like you haven’t ripped his heart out of his fucking chest. 

 Unbearable. It’s going to be absolutely unbearable. 

 *

 Moving somewhere new always blows. It takes so much energy that Mike doesn’t have, yet here he is, hauling bags and boxes up to his new apartment unit. Honestly, he would almost prefer to stay in the frat house instead of having to make all the trips up and down these god damn concrete stairs, but at least now he’ll finally be away from all the parties. That will definitely come in handy this year considering he’s not gonna want to go to a single fucking one of them. 

 Once all of his belongings are stacked in his fairly small living room, Mike glances around his new haven, already thinking about how empty it feels without all the guys milling about and dicking around. He doubts he’ll miss the constant noise, but it’s still something that will take some getting used to.

 What he will miss is seeing you all the time, waking up in his old room to see you still fast asleep on his pillows, sitting in the main room with the others, heckling them as they play various games. He’s been focusing on the small things for the last couple of days, the things he never took the time to really enjoy. It feels like he didn’t stare long enough or laugh hard enough when he had the chance, and now he doesn’t know when his next opportunity to do either of those with you will be.

 Mike scrubs a hand down his face, scratches the hair he’s let grow out a little too much, then slowly begins to unpack his things. He’s being melodramatic, he knows, but he can’t help it. He can either let himself feel sad, or he can let the unbridled fucking rage take over, and out of the two, he prefers the former. 

 Mike’s class schedule gets pinned to the wall in his bedroom. His laptop gets set up. Textbooks are tossed into a corner. He really doesn’t care to do much more than that, but he figures he should make the place at least a little presentable. Who knows? Maybe he’ll find someone to entertain.

 The thought makes him a little sick to his stomach, but it’s a sensation he’s slowly getting used to as more time passes.

 Mike knows he needs to pull himself together, needs to put on a brave face. Pretty soon all the frats will be dealing with the dirty rushers, all the kids who weren’t able or didn’t think to suck up to the brothers during the spring. Then there’s inductions and hazing… Fuck, fall semesters are so tedious even without living in the house. He’s never been a huge fan of it all, but he’s had this image to uphold since he became a pledge.

 Now, Mike isn’t so sure he can keep that image in place.

 He stays locked away for as long as he possibly can, but eventually there’s a knock on his front door—Erwin who shoots Mike a broad grin and wriggles his ridiculous eyebrows. “You ready, bro? Got a place all your own with no one to bother you—”

 “You’re bothering me.”

 “Can do whatever you want,” Erwin powers on, completely unfazed. “Bring back whoever you want, no pesky frat boys to get in your way ‘cause fuck those guys, right?” He goes to grab Mike’s shoulders while laughing at his own joke, but Mike swats him away. 

 It makes Erwin scoff, and then he’s pushing past Mike to get into his new home, looking around for just a second and breathing out a little, “Eesh,” before turning back and giving Mike a look of condescension. “Don’t tell me this bad mood is because of your little toy finding someone else.”

 “Okay, firstly, fuck off,” Mike squints at him. “And, secondly, how do you already know about that?”

 Erwin examines his manicured nails, buffs them on his shirt and tells Mike, “Saw her and Jaeger walking out of the bookstore earlier. They looked pretty cozy. Pretty giddy, too, all smiles and—”

 “Shut. The fuck up.”

 The other man snorts. “Calm down, dude. I’m sure you can get her back or whatever you’re trying to do. Zeke’s an assole. Won’t take her long to figure it out.”

 “We’ll see.”

 This time Mike lets Erwin clap a hand on his shoulder before he walks out but not without suggesting, “You really should brighten things up a little in here. Hang some fairy lights or something. Girls love fairy lights.”

 Mike rolls his eyes, not bothering to remind his friend that he only started unpacking half an hour ago, then physically shoves Erwin out of his apartment.

 So, you’re already walking around campus flaunting your new little fling, he thinks. Perfect. He’s really looking forward to seeing that everywhere. 

 Mike eventually has to go by the PKA house for a meeting. Some of the members are already discussing plans for rush week and parties. Should they have lists or just keep them open and direct everyone to the yard? Are they gonna stick to their regular forms of hazing or should they change things up this year? Did anyone stick out from spring? Mike doesn’t pay much attention, just scrolls through his phone skimming through the same three social media apps over and over. He reads through the text thread he shares with you, the one he’s never deleted, and thumbs all the way up to a few months ago just to see if anything had been different back then, if he had said or done something wrong. 

 But, he’s gone through it a dozen times already, and he never finds anything. Maybe you just grew while he was away, experienced some kind of self-actualization that prepared you for an actual relationship. 

 Or, maybe Zeke just has something that Mike doesn’t. 

 *

 Mike runs into you on the second day of classes. Thankfully, you’re alone, and as soon as you catch sight of him, you grin widely and launch yourself at him. It comes as a surprise, your full weight hitting him square in the chest when you jump, and he has to catch you like you’re an excited child.

 It’s too close. You’re too close. Body against his as you slide down to your actual height and rest your head on his chest.

 “I missed you, Zacharias.”

 He wants to lift you up again, lock your thighs around his waist and kiss you like he used to. Instead, Mike pats the top of your head and gently untangles you from himself. He makes sure to smile when you look up at him, and he’s glad you aren’t pouting or frowning, your expression soft when he tells you, “Yeah, I missed you too.”

 He asks how your summer classes went. You ask what his course load is like this semester. It’s just small talk, and Mike hates it. 

 “How’re your parents?” You question like you’re interested, but he can’t imagine you actually are.

 “They’re good,” he shrugs. “Dad got a promotion at work a few weeks ago. Mom is doing the same shit she always does.” Like, making his favorite meals to heal his poor little broken heart. Mike hadn’t even told her about the conversation he’d had with you, and yet, as soon as he came out of his room the following morning, she just knew. 

 “Glad to hear it,” you nod. “Hey, do you wanna grab lunch or something? My next class isn’t til two, so I’m tryin’ to kill some time.”

 “Actually, I told Erwin I’d meet him,” Mike lies through his teeth. He’ll be using excuses like that for as long as he can. “Sorry.”

 “No, it’s cool,” you wave him off. “I’ll just grab Hitch or—”

 “There you are.” Mike stiffens at the vaguely familiar voice ringing out from behind him, hand flexing by his side as the school’s golden boy walks right past him and to you. “I was looking all over for you.”

 “Well, here I am,” you laugh, but Mike notes how forced it sounds. It’s a laugh that stems from nerves, he thinks. But why? Is it because Mike is here? Are you afraid of how he’ll act? Or, is it that you’re still in the phase of this “relationship” with Zeke  that you’re still anxious around him?

 The other man doesn’t even acknowledge Mike for a full twenty seconds. He heavily considers just walking away without a word, but the blond does eventually turn around to look at him and shows a smile that Mike would describe as slimy but you would probably call charming.

 “Zacharias,” Zeke greets and holds out a hand. “It’s been a minute.”

 Mike doesn’t like the way he says his last name. He only likes the way his friends say it. How you say it. Even if it started off as a way to keep your distance, he grew fond of it. Not as fond as his given name, of course, but hearing those four syllables from your mouth, always laced with attitude, never fails to make him smile.

 “Yeah, it has,” Mike agrees, clasping hands with him.

 He immediately feels Zeke stick his index finger out over his wrist, an attempt of taking control of the shake. Mike has seen it too many times to count, the petty attempt to flip hands so that one man’s is on top of the other. It’s a terrible way to flaunt one’s masculinity or power, and it’s never worked on Mike. 

 His hand is quite a bit larger than most people’s, after all. It’s definitely larger than Zeke’s, so when he tries to turn it, Mike doesn’t have a problem keeping his wrist straight. 

 The blond has to look up at him, actually tilt his head back because Mike has a good five inches on him, and after a couple more seconds, Zeke gives up on the pathetic display of dominance. That doesn’t stop Mike from squeezing his palm just a little too hard, though, just enough to see the muscles in Zeke’s jaw twitch. 

 When he lets go he chances a glance at you, finding you rubbing your temples. You mumble something Mike can’t hear, probably about men being stupid because there’s no way that little show escaped your notice. 

 Zeke steps over to you once again and asks the same question you had asked Mike—”You wanna get lunch, babe?” 

 Hearing him calling you that causes Mike’s blood to bubble in his veins, blistering from the inside out. It’s time for him to leave.

 “Yeah, sure,” you nod. Eyes flicking back to Mike, you force another smile and tell him, “See you around.”

 The two of you walk off, and Mike watches for just a little too long as Zeke laces his fingers with yours. Once you’re both a safe distance away, the fucker looks back at Mike from over his shoulder and smirks at him.

 Mike has long legs. He could easily catch up to you and punch Zeke square in the jaw, make his head snap to the side so that he drops to the ground. 

 But, what would you think of that? There’s no way you’d be happy with him, and if there’s one thing that would  be worse than Mike having to see you parade around with someone who isn’t him, it would be you ignoring him completely.

 *

 The first couple of weeks are honestly a blur. Too much is happening for Mike to focus on. The only thing that seems real to him is the ache in his chest. It distracts him day in and day out, through the late rushers and all the sucking up, through the first couple of parties, bid day and the first rounds of hazing. It’s just always there. 

 He is notably quieter when in the house, and it seems like everyone knows why. While Erwin pokes fun at him for his moodiness, Nile takes a more adult approach and simply asks how he’s doing, if he needs anything, going as far as offering, “You need me to punch that dude in the throat? Plant drugs in his bag? I’m pretty sure Gelgar has coke on his person at all times.” 

 He’s a good guy. Mike is glad he got voted in as PKA President this year despite Erwin giving him a run for his money. Nile is just personable enough to bring members in and have a good time at events, and just controlling enough to make sure things in the house are taken care of. Plus, Erwin doesn’t seem too broken up about getting Vice instead.

 It’s a relief when lacrosse starts back up, finally gives him a way to get some of his frustration out. The other teams have never been luckier to be wearing helmets otherwise Mike would have broken several noses within the first game alone. 

 The season has some overlap with baseball, games scheduled on the same day, sometimes at the same time. Mike keeps himself from looking into the stands to try to find you, scared that you’ll be there or scared that you won’t be, he isn’t sure.

 And, of course, Zeke’s face is plastered everywhere after he pitches a perfect fucking game. Mike wants to be angry, wants to spit on the flyers and punch every computer that’s displaying the college’s home screen, but if he’s being honest with himself, he knows that if it were anyone else, Mike would be impressed. Pitching a perfect game is pretty fucking cool, and the school is lucky to have a player as talented as Zeke, but god, what Mike wouldn’t do to just curbstomp him.

 Your name still lights up on his phone fairly often to ask how games went or how his classes are going. You’ve asked for help with homework on one occasion and lunch on another, but after Mike lies about only being able to walk you through the material over the phone and shoots you down for lunch, you seem to get the picture. 

 He doesn’t want it to be awkward between you, but he doesn’t know how to act now. His entire relationship with you started off as a drunken fuck, and it’s been mostly physical since then. How is he supposed to be able to spend time with you without touching you? Even the semester you refused to hook up with him, there were still times when you were both actively fighting the temptation. Mike can remember seeing it in your eyes all the time, probably just as often as you’d see it in his. You’d sit with a leg pressed against his, fall asleep on his arm every once in a while, and he wants that back now, but there’s no way the two of you can do that anymore. He doesn’t possess the same self-control.

 Over the weekend, you end up cracking and trying again, asking for help with studying for a quiz, and Mike has to contemplate it for at least fifteen minutes before he gives in.

 Coffee shop on 7th? you text him, and Mike chuckles to himself. The only places you’ve ever studied together is at the library or in his room, and while he could only get as far as a hand between your legs in the school building, he would usually end up in bed with you whenever going over something behind closed doors. 

 It makes sense that you want to go to a busier place, more eyes to watch you. It’s irritating, but he understands.

 Mike grabs one of his own textbooks from the previous year, the one he actually bought so that he could highlight and take notes in the margins, then makes his way to the little cafe.

 He’s been to this particular shop many times before, with you as well as the girls who came before—the ones that never mattered. Mike easily spots you at a little table by the window, your own book and several papers spread out around you. When you see him, you grin then hurry to clear a space for him, organizing what Mike recognizes as reading guides. 

 “Hey, stranger," you greet.

 Mike nods, eyes landing on the green hoodie you’re wearing, the one that covers too much of you, that spills over the tops of your legging clad thighs and hides your little hands. It’s his, but it’s always looked better on you. The fact that you still wear it makes Mike’s heart swell a tiny bit as he takes his seat. The sun is hitting you just right and making your face glow, making your eyes twinkle, and he doesn’t know if he can do this.

 “So, what d’you need help with?” He prompts before he can make up his mind to turn right back around. 

 You slide one of the guides over to him and point out several circled questions. The blanks are filled in, but you ask him, “Why?” dramatically. “None of that makes sense to me.”

 Mike laughs through his nose and glances at the page your textbook is flipped to so he can open his own.

 “Why’d you keep your book from last year?”

 He glances up before turning it to show the highlighted lines, the starred passages, the little annotations for better understanding. 

 “One, because I worked hard on making it better, and two,” he feels his mouth curl up, the teasing coming naturally when he tells you, “I figured you’d probably benefit from it.”

 You squint at him, scrunching your nose up, and Mike takes a mental snapshot to tuck away. 

 “Rude,” you utter.

 He raises his eyebrows and leans back in his chair. “I think ‘thank you’ is the term you’re looking for.”

 “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just explain this to me if you’re so smart.”

 “You know I’m smart.”

 Mike doesn’t understand where the casual back-and-forth is coming from. Is it easy because he's done it so many times before? Words tumble from his mouth before they actually cross his mind, and he’s both grateful (it’s better than the awkward small talk he thought he’d have to make) and worried. If he’s speaking without actually thinking things through, what else might he do before his brain catches up? Will he smooth hair out of your eyes? Will he brush his hand over yours? Will he stare at your lips for too long? All of those are habits he hasn’t managed to break yet, but he will break if he accidentally offends you by crossing any of these lines.

 He sits with his hands tucked between his legs, only moving to flip a page or point something out with his pinky finger. He's reading upside down, and you're leaning over the tabe, staring at the book then staring at him. Mike tries to look through you instead of at you, but it's hard as you let out a little oh! when something clicks or pouting when it doesn't. 

 "I still don't get it."

 So, Mike finds different ways of explaining things because he knows this information very well now. It's still pretty fresh in his brain, and he may or may not have reviewed some of it when he saw how many of your classes matched up with his. 

 "Okay, I feel a lot better," you sigh once Mike has gone through every page. 

 Mike is more or less sitting on his hands at this point, gritting his teeth behind the grin plastered on his face because this is the part where he asks if you wanna go back to the house. This is the part where you wind down together, watching dumb TV shows or pawing at each other, rolling in his bed and laughing and moaning. That's what's supposed to happen. 

 "Alright, well, if that's it, I should get going," Mike tries, stretching his arms out and nearly smacking the person sitting behind him right in the head. 

 You snort, cover your mouth, and look away. It's what you always do. You can't look at him when you start laughing or you'll just laugh harder and harder, and while Mike adores it, the general public usually does not. 

 But, then Mike is snickering because he can feel the stranger trying to burn holes in the back of his skull, has to bite his fist to keep himself quiet, and when you chance a glance and see, you slam your head down on the table, whole body shaking with giggles. 

 It's always the little things that get you. On one of the walks with Scout over Spring Break, Mike had tripped over a stick on the trail. He managed to catch himself, but Jesus Christ, you didn't stop laughing for ten minutes. 

 "God fucking—" he's starting to lose it too as he stands and gathers your supplies from the table, tucking them all under one arm then using his other to pull you out of your seat. "We have to leave before they make us." 

 You hide your face in your hands, trusting Mike to guide you by the shoulders, and once you're both outside, you belly laugh until you wave your arms and gasp, "I can't—I can't breathe—I can't breathe!" Your voice is all high pitched and hysterical, and all Mike can do is bring you to his chest so that you can let your giggles die off in the privacy of his t-shirt. 

 He can feel your breath through the material as you calm down, eventually looking up and wiping tears from your eyes as you continue to grin. 

 Mike tilts his face down to stare at you, aware that all of his affections are shining right through his eyes, but he doesn't care because you don't seem to. 

 “You’re a fucking dork,” he hums, has a fully conscious thought of touching your face—no accident, no impulse, a complete, coherent, thought, so he does it. He just does it. Palm over your cheek, thumb gently tracing to wipe away another tear from your little fit. 

 You let out a long exhale, close your eyes and hum, then reach up to cover Mike's hand with yours. 

 Your fingers lock into the spaces between his, and you hold on for a few seconds before letting your hand fall, taking his with it. And, just like that, all the good feelings that had grown inside of him over the course of the study session disappear.

 "Miche," you sigh, still holding onto two of his fingers. 

 He smiles in a way that makes you frown, then mumbles, "Yeah, I know."

 After handing your supplies back, Mike kisses you on the top of the head before you can stop him, then turns and starts walking toward the street his apartment is on. 

 *

"Why are you always wearing that hoodie?" 

 You look up from your laptop just as Zeke steps out of his room freshly showered and shirtless. It's a sight that should probably make your mouth water, but instead it's gone dry at his question. 

 "Oh, uh, I don't really know," you bullshit. "It's just big and comfortable, I guess."

 Zeke uses the towel around his neck to dry his hair a little better, questions, "Well, whose is it?" while his face is slightly obscured. 

 If you pause, he'll probably be suspicious. If you answer, he will also be suspicious. And, you can't really blame him. People know you on campus as Mike Zacharias' friend or girlfriend or plaything or whatever. You assume Zeke having to walk around with that hanging over his head is pretty annoying.  

 "Oh, wait," he starts before you can answer. Squinting without his glasses, he grumbles, "That's one of the lacrosse hoodies, isn't it?" 

 You look down at the cracked logo and try not to smile at it. "Yeah. It's one of Mike's old ones."

 "Right." He pads over to you and takes your laptop from your legs despite your protests of being in the middle of an online assignment, setting it on the coffee table behind him. Then, using one arm to brace himself on the back of the couch, Zeke holds himself above you and takes your chin between two fingers so that he can tilt your face and kiss you. 

 It makes you melt. It always does. Your heart beats like a drum in your chest for about two seconds before it relaxes into a subtle thrumming, a white noise that drowns out everything else. 

 You straighten your back in an attempt to get closer, but Zeke pulls away ever so slightly, makes you chase after his lips and you do. You do because you want more, want him. 

 It's been weeks now and the farthest you've gotten with him, the farthest he's let you get with him, was the series of harsh kisses he'd ladened you with up against his front door a few days ago. He'd pushed your shirt up and shoved a knee between your legs, giving you something to grind against, but it never progressed to anything more. 

 You don't understand. It's not like he's never had sex. You've heard girls talk about him on campus, how he'd been seeing so-and-so for a couple months in freshman year, fucked some other chick at a party, etc., etc. 

 Then you'd met his actual ex the other day, one he dated officially for a semester last year before breaking things off. Her name is Rhi. She's very pretty. And, she had pulled Zeke into a full blown conversation without looking at you once. The way she batted her eyes and smiled at him, twisting her hair and shoving at him playfully—Oh yeah. She's definitely seen him naked. 

 You didn't say anything about it for a while, just stewed in silence until Zeke finally sighed and asked, "What would you like to know?" 

 He'd given you the vague outline—met her in class, studied together, decided to date, left her to focus on baseball. That excuse hit a little too close to home, but you'd let it roll off your shoulders. 

 The point is Zeke has fucked other girls, but he won't fuck you, and you need to know why because you're starting to get desperate. It's not a good look. It's one you never wanted to wear, but the way he stares at you and the way he talks to you, always pointing out your strengths, encouraging you, complimenting you is intoxicating.

 When Zeke's eyes are on you, it’s like you're the most important person in the room. He has some ability to make you feel that way, to make everyone feel that way you realized one night after a game. People flock to him. They want to listen to what he has to say. They want to agree with him where he can see. 

 It's hard to explain to anyone who hasn't met him, but the best way you can describe it (a way only a few people will understand) is that he has a twenty for charisma. He's talented and smart and engaging, can convince anyone of anything the same way he's convinced you that he wants you. 

 Hand slipping behind your arching back, Zeke presses you against him for just a moment, then drops onto the couch next to you only to tug you on top of him. 

 You're already breathing too heavily, clutching his face in both your hands as you grind your hips against his. He squeezes your ass, smirking against your mouth when you whimper, then moves his hands to push both the hoodie and your shirt off. 

 You lift your arms, letting Zeke strip you as your mind grows hazy. He mutters more to himself than to you, a low, "Get this shit off," then carelessly tosses your clothes over the armrest. 

 Fingers climb up your ribs, almost tickling, making you squirm in his lap. You can feel that he's getting hard, thank god. This just might be the night, please fucking let it be. 

 You've never been a big fan of terms like ‘blue-balls’ or ‘blue-bean’, never even thought it existed, and it really doesn't; it's just a form of manipulation, of guilting your partner into sex, and you know this because you've had an entire rant about it prepared since high school, but right now, in this particular moment, you're aching. Your insides ache. Your clit aches. You just want—

 Zeke pinches one of your nipples hard enough to clear your head for a second, causes you to cry out and pull back. He lets go, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he watches you and flicks over the sore bud with a fingertip. 

 "Zeke," you breathe, body trembling. 

 "What is it, baby?" He coos. 

 "I—"

 He snakes a hand between the two of you, ridding you of any and all thoughts as he rubs over your covered pussy. You're almost positive that if he keeps doing it, you'll start to leak through your leggings, right into his hand. 

 Panting, an old track plays in the back of your head, a deep voice, breathy and promising, gonna fuck you dry tonight.

 You lean forward to kiss Zeke again, letting him suck and bite hard enough to make the frown on your face look natural, like he put it there. 

 Flames are licking up and down your legs, then your arms, but even though it's Zeke's lap you're sitting in and Zeke's tongue in your mouth and Zeke's fingers massaging your pussy, it's suddenly Mike you're thinking about, and well… That can't be good. 

 You tangle your hands in Zeke's hair, the different texture bringing you back to reality. His thick beard is scratching against your face. His bare torso is wiry with muscle and pressed to yours. He moves his hand and raises his hips to meet yours, a groan catching in his throat. It looks like he's finally losing his composure, cheeks flushed, eyes are foggy. When you break away, he licks away the string of spit holding you together, tongue running over his lip seductively.

 "Can we—" you start, but Zeke speaks at the same time. 

 "It's getting late."

 Blinking at him, you find yourself experiencing too many emotions to actually identify a single one. You feel your eyebrows knit together, but it’s more from your confusion than it is your frustration. 

 But, you don’t want to be frustrated. You don’t want to be or look upset about not getting sex. That would make you a terrible person, and you’re not about to make him feel bad for not being ready to take that step with you. You’ve been on the receiving end of that, and it doesn’t feel good.

 The amount of times you’ve had to masturbate in the last few weeks is a little fucking ridiculous, though. 

 Nodding mostly to yourself to get your thoughts back in line, you slide off of Zeke to stand up. Your hand is trembling when you reach for your clothes, heat still coursing through you, but you manage to gently grab them from the couch rather than snatch them. 

 Shirt and hoodie back in place, you gather your things, feeling Zeke’s gaze on you the entire time. You don’t say anything, just nibble on your bottom lip as you run over all the events that took place over the night, what you possibly did wrong, what turned him off or just failed to turn him on in the first place. 

 After slipping everything back into your bag, Zeke finally gets to his feet and takes it from you, walking with you outside to your car. 

 “I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” he tells you, the picture of calm and collected while your body remains buzzing.

 “Okay, yeah.” 

 He puts your stuff in the front passenger seat, shuts the door, and gives you a sweet little peck that you wish lasted longer.

 Zeke says good night, begins walking back to the building, but stops and calls to you right before you shrink into the car. 

 Even from this distance, you can tell he’s looking you dead in the eye, face suddenly very serious when he tells you, “You can go ahead and stop wearing that hoodie.”

* For the first time since the semester started, lacrosse and baseball games do not overlap one another, and you're able to spend the warm afternoon in the stands, cheering on the friends you made over the last year. 

 The home team is dominating, Mike and Erwin are too fucking quick for their opponents to get in the way of. The way the ball just flies back and forth between them, like a game of keep-away, shows just how on-the-same-page they are. The other guys are good too, doing a spectacular job of staying one leg ahead, defending their star players and assisting in the offensive effort. 

 The last goal is made by Mike who launches the ball from the center of the field right into the goal, and both the crowd and the teams lose their fucking minds. 

 You're up on your feet screaming and clapping, voice breaking as your shrill cry tears your throat. You know you're being drowned out by everyone around you, but as Mike gets lauded for being the god he is—putting up with backslaps and hugs and a headlock from Erwin—he still manages to find you in the second row, grinning in that crooked way you love so much. 

 You don't know exactly when that started happening, probably sometime after Spring break. Or, maybe it was there since the beginning, just laying dormant at the back of your head so that you could focus on denying him. 

 It doesn't really matter now since you're actually with someone. That someone isn't around right now, but he's in your thoughts as your chest fills with affection and pride for your friend. 

 Erwin is shouting about another open party, and your mind is made up to not attend because Zeke wouldn't appreciate it, but then Mike is suddenly lifting himself onto the raised, concrete stands and pointing at you, and before you know it, you're hopping down the next bleacher without a care for the fans who have to lean out of the way. 

 He's incredibly sweaty as you wrap your arms around his neck, but you don't mind. You were so convinced he would be mad at you or try to avoid you. 

 You're very aware that you had hurt him by getting with Zeke, and while he had been pretty guarded for the first few weeks, he's opened up some since that day in the coffee shop, when you'd nearly giggled yourself to death. You hadn't expected that to be what cracked his walls, especially considering how that visit had ended, but you're glad that it did. 

 "Haven't seen you cheering for me in a while," Mike laughs next to your ear. 

 He's dizzy with adrenaline, swaying back and forth as he squeezes you, and you tell him, "If you make us fall, I will beat you up, I swear." 

 "Okay," he says in a stupid voice of obvious disbelief, "Whatever you say." 

 You've been texting more, going over homework together, though you haven't needed his help in-person since he had switched books with you that day. It had been so smooth and subtle, you didn't realize until you opened it to study the following day, immediately noticing all the notes and highlights. 

 It had made you cry like a little bitch in the middle of your dorm, and you called Mike to thank him without bothering to hide your tears and hiccups. 

 "Come to the party tonight," he demands, but it's so soft, like he's still giving you a chance to say no. 

 The crowd is still yelling, so you have to keep speaking into each other's ears, and you ask, "Why? All the Pike parties are sticky and gross."

 "'Cause we haven't gotten drunk together in a while," Mike states in the form of a whine. 

 You snort, feeling his hair dripping onto your shoulder. You should probably be disgusted, but it's not the first time you've gotten sweaty with him, and it's definitely not the worst bodily fluid he's made a mess on you with. 

 "You know what happens when we get drunk together," you remind him with a smile he can't see. "Can't do that anymore."

 "I promise I'll behave."

 That's not the problem. You don't know if you can behave. You've been wound up for over a month now, and it is driving you insane. No matter how many times you get off alone in your room at night, you still ache as if you're being edged. 

 So, getting fucked up with someone you know for a fact can fuck you stupid… probably not the best idea. 

 "Miche," you protest, drawing his name out. 

 "Just think about it."

 He leaves you with that, hopping down and walking away with his arms in the air as everyone surrounding you cheers for him until he disappears. You just stand there amidst the noise, shirt now wet as you contemplate the pros and cons of going to another PKA party. 

 As always, Zeke asks what your plans are for the night, but for the first time since you met him, you lie. * King's Cup and Rage Cage and Beer Pong galore. Party-goers are pooling onto the lawn, and you're just waiting for campus police to show because of the chaos, but you're not necessarily scared of it. So you go to jail for a couple days. Worse things could happen. 

 Currently, you and Mike are sitting on the sidewalk nursing beers and giggling at the new pledges who keep running around the house in less and less clothes. 

 "Honestly, this isn't that bad," Mike tells you. "Erwin suggested we make them all watch snuff together."

 You give him an incredulous look as you raise the glass bottle to your mouth. "Erwin is a god damn psychopath, what the fuck."

 "We had to do it and didn't turn out too bad."

 "And, just like that, I'm scared of you."

 Mike laughs before sticking two fingers in his mouth and whistling as a brawny blond speeds past in nothing but boxers—Reiner, you think his name is. 

 There are only a few new guys who stick out to you—that one, a long-faced kid named Jean, freckle boy Marco, and, naturally, Zeke's younger brother, Eren. He sorta skeeves you out, so you've been doing your best to stay out of his sight despite never formally meeting him before. 

 "Kid's kind of a prick, a little too cocky. Always talking about how he's related to Zeke, or should I say your lo-ver," Mike chuckles, sounding amused, but he still downs the rest of his beer afterward. 

 You let out a little growl, just drunk enough to be too honest, and grumble, "Not my lover. Also, I would never use that term. So cringey."

 "What do you mean?"

 "I mean it's weird and dramat—"

 "No," Mike cuts you off, "What do you mean about him not being that?"

 You fall back on the concrete, bumping the back of your head a little too hard and scrunching your face up. 

 "We haven't had sex. The dude just will not fuck me for some reason."

 "Are you serious?" 

 You glance at Mike and find his eyes wide in alarm. 

 "As a heart attack. I have never been so frustrated in my entire life." 

 You probably shouldn't be talking about this with him, one, because you assume it's like twisting a knife right in Mike's gut and two, because the more you drink, the less self-control you have. 

 He grunts then tosses his bottle into the yard for some poor pledge to slip on. 

 "His loss."

 "Whatever. I'm sure he'll come around eventually," you sigh then sit back up. "And, until then, I guess I'm practicing celibacy or some shit."

 Mike laughs hard at that, and it makes you smack him on the arm. "Yeah, good luck with that."

 "Shut up."

 "I'm just saying," he raises his hands. "You're, like, the neediest person I know."

 "Excuse the fuck outta me?" 

 "In the bedroom, dummy. Obviously not all the time."

 This is not at all where you wanted this conversation to go. The more you think about it, the more you feel that ache, the more you want to quell it. 

 "We should change the subject."

 Mike looks at you, flipping hair out of his eyes and smiling like the cocky frat boy he pretends to be. 

 "Why? Gettin' all worked up."

 "You are literally the worst."

 You stand and finish your drink, throwing it a few feet away from Mike's as you tell him, "I need to get a little more fucked up if I'm gonna deal with your ass all night."

 "Uh huh."

 He follows you back inside, but while you make your way into the kitchen, Mike stops to talk with Erwin about one thing or another. It means he has to entertain the masses, talk about the game, and you post up against a wall to watch him. 

 You should leave. Mike is looking a little too attractive in his stupid fucking pastel polo, and you're supposed to meet Zeke for lunch tomorrow anyway. Zeke, your boyfriend. 

 Or, well, he hasn't said it explicitly, but you hold hands in public and ignore other people, just make it obvious that both of you aren't interested in anyone else. 

 Except when Mike sidles up to you with foggy eyes and a smirk he hasn't worn around you in a long time, you groan at the thought that you are interested in someone else. Even if it's just one night, god, you need it so bad. And, you know Mike can give it to you. Exactly the way you want it. 

 It's Zeke's fault, really. You know he knows how desperate you're getting. If he'd just explain why he doesn't want to have sex, you could deal with it much better than you are now, but he continues to leave you in the dark. It makes you think you're doing something wrong. 

 Then, there's the problem of feeling like the shittiest person alive every time you get frustrated. You've spent nights trying to rationalize it, but it's hard to think straight when you're so, undeniably horny. 

 "Don't look at me like that," you tell Mike with a scoff. 

 "Why not?" 

 "'Cause you said you'd behave tonight."

 He cocks his head to the side and makes a face. "Did I? That doesn't sound like something I'd say to you."

 "Oh my god, you're impossible. And, drunk."

 "I'm not really that drunk," he waves you off. "It takes more than a few beers to get me fucked up, remember? Downfall of being this large."

 Jesus, he really is rubbing it in your face now. Wide with muscle and so fucking tall. Not to mention his—

 "I really cannot do this, Miche," you try again, gritting your teeth when his pupils dilate. "Zeke would be so pissed."

 "So? Come on, just one more time. I didn't know the last time would be the last time."

 You hadn't either. You don't know what you would have done differently had you known—maybe just taken the time to appreciate his incredible body more—but it doesn't matter now. 

 You try to sound firm and irritated when you snap, "You know you're being kinda manipulative, right?" 

 Mike tilts his head back as if you just shoved it, blinks a couple times, then swears out loud. "Oh, fuck." He takes a step away, eyes clear for the first time in several minutes. "I'm sorry. I didn't even—"

 "It's fine," you wave. "I just wanted you to know. I'm drunk and you're hot, and I don't wanna fuck things up with Zeke."

 "Yeah, I get it. Fuck. If you, like, wanna leave, I won't stop you. It was a joke, and then it wasn’t a joke and—That was a shit thing to do."

 "Little bit, but you get a pass this time," you laugh through your nose. "Just don't go pulling that bullshit on some unsuspecting freshman or anything." 

 He runs a hand through his hair, red with embarrassment, and you think to yourself, Mike is a good guy. One of the best. You don't know of many who would take that kind of criticism to heart—how many would feel genuinely guilty. It is college, and every girl knows the trend of fratty sports players getting off scot-free after being charged with sexual assault. Given his status at the school, Mike could definitely do something like that and get away with it.

 But, he would never. 

 You push him gently to show you aren't mad, tell him, "I still wanna hang out with you. We don't get to as much as we used to."

 Mike's small smile looks relieved as he takes a deep breath. "This isn't exactly the best place to just chill, but—"

 "I haven't seen your new apartment yet." 

 You regret it as soon as it comes out of your mouth, your little tune changing ridiculously quickly, but you can't deny that you're curious. He's still your best friend, and you want to know what he's done with his new place. Is it bland like his old room in the house, or did he let his real personality show through? 

 "You sure?" He questions. 

 "Yeah. We can just, like, play video games or something."

 "Are you sure?" 

 He must feel terrible. You can relate.

 "If you don't want me over, just say so," you snort. 

 "No, no, of course I do. I just don't want you to feel weird about being alone or anything."

 "Nah, like you said, you're not really drunk. I'll sober up with water. We'll be fine."

 You don't know if you're trying to convince him or yourself. Without the presence of alcohol, you should be able to keep it together, and the distraction of Zelda or Mario will surely help. 

 "Okay, yeah," Mike nods. "Let's go then."

You don't even bother finishing your drink, just set it on a countertop and follow him out to his Wrangler. It's been a while since you've ridden in it. It's been a while since you've ridden him, your brain helpfully supplies, and as you pull up to the unfamiliar apartment complex, you once again begin to think that this was a bad idea.

[ next ]

[sassycassie-s-writing]

Diplomatic Daemati

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): A Court of Thorns and Roses Series/Rhysand

Rating: PG/K+

Original Idea: A writing prompt on Pinterest about screaming in your mind to catch mind readers

Notes: (Masterlist)(By Character)(About Me) Clocking in at 3,712 words... this one really ran away from me. I kinda wanted to make this a full blown thing. Maybe I will but I haven’t decided yet. This is supposed to take place like way before Amarantha.

^^^^^

I stood in the High Lord’s meeting, a member of Thesan’s entourage, and stared at each and every High Fae and faerie. Most of them didn’t notice. Not Rhysand of the Night Court, who was coldly making stiff conversation with Helion of the Day Court, who didn’t notice me either.

But I could feel it. The presence. Someone else in this room was daemati. Like me. The wards keeping everyone from fighting made it hard to pinpoint the direction that presence was coming from. No matter which way I faced, I only ever felt the other daemati with my right ear, like a fly buzzing around my head at the same speed I turned it. Thesan hadn’t noticed I was jittery. Probably because, as a Peregryn and a warrior trained to always be on alert, I was always flighty.

Also because he didn’t know I was daemati. A secret I’d never been sure why I kept.

My own mental shields were up, but they were designed to be subtle. Another daemati might look at my mind and not sense they were up. Depending on how good they were.

I reached out with my mind, letting nothing more than a breeze caress the shields of everyone who had one. Every High Lord had one; as did many members of their entourages. Not all.

No one stiffened as my breeze touched their shields. I wasn’t sure if a non-daemati would even be able to feel the wisp of magic, but I doubted it.

I poked a little harder at Tamlin and Nostrus’ shields where they were discussing their shared border with the bored tones of those looking for things in common. Not a breeze, but a brush of a flower stem as one walked. Neither acknowledged anything. I tried Beron’s. Nothing. Helion’s. Nothing. Rhysand. Nothing.

Except—did his eye twitch? Or was I shaking so much that I imagined it? Was it wishful thinking that his blue-violet eyes might have flicked away from Helion and looked around for the source of the magic against his shield?

I wasn’t sure if I dared poke harder. Though I was distracted from the thought by movement.

The High Lord of the Winter Court—whose name escaped me—stood. “I’d like to call this meeting to order,” he said. His voice was brittle like ice cracking as growing spring weather thawed it out.

The High Lords and their retinues all found their way to their seats. Myself included, at the far end of Thesan’s left side. The least important, lowest ranked soldier among the Dawn Court group. I was still highly ranked back home, but among every important, powerful commander High Lord Thesan had brought, I was the lowest. I considered myself honored I’d even been selected to come.

Maybe Thesan did know I was daemati after all. Or, at least, guessed as much.

Though, if he’d guessed, wouldn’t he have confronted me about it? Asked me to break into whoever’s minds I could? Just to fact check their honesty?

I tuned out the meeting completely. A low-pitched hum was filling the mental space between everyone’s minds. Reverberating off shields. No one seemed to notice. I certainly wasn’t doing it—but no one’s face betrayed any hint of effort. Not a trace of split focus.

The pitch of the hum got higher. A bead of sweat ran down my spine between my wings. I felt like I was going to vibrate out of my feathers at the effort of keeping still. I pushed against that hum, built another layer around my shields, deciding to forget the subtlety I’d planned in the event of another daemati peeking at me. I didn’t dare form words beyond that shield. Didn’t dare let the other daemati have the chance to recognize my voice. Not that I’d said anything during the opening mingle that would give someone the chance to learn my voice. But I didn’t dare risk it.

Every ounce of concentration went toward sitting still and appearing relaxed, and building up more layers of my mental shield, trying desperately to block out the humming.

I doubted anyone else—besides the originator—could even notice or feel it. I doubted they had any presence in the mindscape beyond the maintaining of their own shields. They were all tucked safely in their own minds, not noticing the hum as it got louder and higher. Loud and high enough that I was almost surprised it hadn’t become real sound, echoing around the chamber of the sacred mountain—the neutral zone where High Lords met.

That hum turned into the drone of an oboe. Holding steady and perfectly in tune.

Another drop of sweat slid down my spine, brushing where feather met skin.

Everyone’s faces were perfect masks of calm indifference.

“—furthermore, when taken into consideration—” the High Lord of the Winter Court dragged on. The only words that had broken through my own internal war with my own body and whoever was making the droning.

The pitch built again. I felt like it was going to shear my feathers off.

I glanced at the Illyrian warriors Rhysand had brought with him. It would be a literal one-of-a-kind chance for the shadowsinger to also be daemati.

But it would be just like Rhysand—with his games and his plans and his power plays—to have allied himself with the two most powerful Illyrians in history that also were a shadowsinger and a daemati.

The bigger of the two—taller than even Rhysand by several inches—with his glowing scarlet Siphons and powerful build didn’t seem to fit, though. I quickly lashed a tendril of my presence at his shield. I felt it wobble. Just a bit. It was there and it was strong, but it didn’t have the intricacies of someone who knew from the experience of attacking a shield how to defend against daemati.

Not him then.

A quick test at the shadowsinger revealed the same. Though I kept my eyes on the High Lord of the Winter Court, I could have sworn the shadowsinger’s eyes flicked around.

Shadowsingers can hear and feel things no one else can, I reminded myself. He’s still probably not daemati on top of it.

The drone was now a high-pitched ringing. It was all I could do to hold still.

No one looked strained by the effort of holding this noise for the several minutes it had been building.

I tested everyone’s shields around the room in a quick wave. They didn’t seem to notice. Not me, and not the ringing.

My mind felt like it was going to shatter from the noise before my shield did.

Almost unwittingly, I cracked open a small slit in my shield—

And screamed.

Not physically. Just mentally. A high-pitched, bloodcurdling scream. The kind I’d released when I’d had to have a wing relocated after a particularly nasty training day and my captain’s scrimmage resulted in dislocating the joint where my wing met my back.

Rhysand flinched.

No one else noticed it. No one else would have. They weren’t looking for it. They were all still focused on the Winter Court High Lord. The flinch was small and barely more than a twitch of his right hand.

But I saw.

Rhysand. High Lord of the Night Court. The wicked, dangerous, calculating, cold, manipulative, admittedly handsome, extremely powerful High Lord of the Night Court.

Who now knew there was another daemati in the room.

And was most likely smart and strong enough to pinpoint that it was me.

I slammed the sliver in my shield closed and reinforced the whole thing a few times over. If he had games to play with my mind, I could at least keep him busy for a while. I tested my shield for weak points and built them up.

The high-pitched ringing stopped. I forced my wings not to shiver at the relief.

No probes. Not a single scuff of another’s presence against my shield. No claws. Not even a breeze. It was almost more unnerving than if he did attack.

I was curious about the intricacies of his shield. Curious if I could learn something from someone older and more experienced by trying to tunnel through.

But I didn’t dare. He was far too strong for me to go up against and win.

And I wasn’t willing to get into his mind and risk him trapping me there. To be an unwitting and unwilling slave and spy in the Dawn Court.

So I kept myself to myself for the rest of the meeting. Not daring to reach out to anyone’s minds.

—

The end of the meeting brought a bit more mingling. Less from the High Lords and more from the retinues. The Night Court kept to themselves, but that didn’t surprise me. Every party had brought wine and were taking the chance to drink and talk.

I hung near a wall and said nothing to no one. I allowed my body—my wings—to shudder every time I took a sip of my drink. Acting as though the elderberry wine was the cause of the shudder, not the pent-up energy of holding still through that droning. My hearing still felt fuzzy hours after it had stopped.

“You know,” a lazy voice drawled behind me, “breaking into other people’s minds is rude.”

I whirled. Rhysand stood there. Unnervingly close. His eyes were blue, but so dark and so deep they appeared violet.

My grip tightened on the stem of my glass.

“So I’d imagine,” I said, tone tightly controlled and managing not to tremble.

He leaned down—I was shorter than him—and whispered, “I won’t tell anyone you’re daemati.”

“I assume you’ll want something in exchange.” My words weren’t quite as flat and fearless as I wanted them to be, but I hoped it was enough to fool him. Doubtful. He was centuries older than me.

He gave me a roguish smirk. “Information.”

“I would rather be outed as daemati than give up court secrets to you.”

Rhysand waved a hand dismissively, swirling his wine. I reinforced my shields, but he didn’t touch them. “Not about your court. We’re on decent terms with each other, Night and Dawn. Comparatively, anyway. No, no. I want information about you. It’s so rare to meet another daemati. I should think you’d be interested in comparing notes.” He spoke with a tone that was undoubtedly supposed to be sweet, but so laced with poison that my feathers bristled.

I should have been scared. I knew I should have been scared. Terrified out of my mind, probably.

For whatever reason, I wasn’t.

Nervous, of course. Tentative, of course. But there was no real fear.

“What do you want to know?” I asked.

“Who taught you?”

“No one. I taught myself.”

“Liar,” he snapped.

“It’s the truth. No one—not even my parents—know what I am.” I spoke quietly so the other mingling High Fae and faeries didn’t hear in a room of predator’s hearing.

“And why not? You’d quickly become a very prized member of Thesan’s court if you told him. He would value you and your opinion quite highly.” I wasn’t sure if he was being genuine or if his saccharine smile was meant to intimidate me.

I lifted my chin. “If you must know, I made a grave mistake with my powers when I was a child and vowed that I would never tell anyone what I was. So I taught myself.”

Rhysand’s playful sarcasm vanished on a wisp of smoke. “You hurt someone?”

“No. I wasn’t strong enough for that. But I looked into my father’s mind without permission. Without knowing, really. I just… slipped in. And I saw a lot of ugly truths in there that a child had no right to see. Including the fact that he was having an affair with another female. I never told my mother. Never told anyone, actually. I kept myself to myself and honed my abilities on my own. No one ever asked if I was daemati when I joined the legion, so I never said anything.”

“So why not reveal it now?”

I scoffed. “Because that would lose the trust of everyone I know, if they found out I lied to them for decades.”

Rhysand smiled. The same wickedly amused one he’d sported occasionally during the meeting and during the first part of our conversation. “I like you,” he purred, leaning closer. My feathers fluffed and bristled.

His lips brushed the edge of my ear as he whispered, “If you’re interested, I’d be interested in training you further.”

“I’m fine as I am, thank you,” I replied, colder and sharper than I meant.

His face betrayed nothing, still that mask of collected, sarcastic boredom. “You don’t want to be seen as a traitor to your court, is that it?”

My wings extended just slightly and I lifted my chin. None of my instinctual attempts at intimidation would work on him. I knew that. But my wings often acted like a second facial expression, and one that was harder to control than my actual face. “No. I don’t. And I would be if I was caught anywhere near your vicinity.”

Rhys picked at a speck of dust on his lapel that wasn’t there. “I’m sure I could find some way to spin it to Thesan to let you come play with me without being seen as a traitor.” Shadows rippled around him, almost the same way they swirled around his shadowsinger.

“Why?”

“Because an under-trained daemati is dangerous. Potentially more dangerous than a fully-trained one. You could crush and shred minds without meaning to. And I may be a monster, but even I don’t delight in the unintentional destruction of innocent minds and lives,” Rhysand said. “But you gave me information about you—so I will also hold to my end and not tell anyone what you are.” He tilted his head to the side. “Unless you wish me to.”

“No,” I said, too fast to not sound desperate.

I cast my mind around the High Fae and faeries nearby. None of them were paying us any mind.

I realized why as I brushed against several tendrils of dark power. Effortlessly puncturing their shields. He was keeping their attention off of us. None of them even seemed to notice he was there.

His lips curled in a predatory smile. “So? What do you say? Let me train you, hone your gifts, make sure you have full control?”

“And in return?” I repeated.

“Clever girl. In return, you give me three fallen feathers from your next molting.”

My feathers bristled. “Why?”

“The why is not part of the deal,” he said. “What do you say?”

“One condition: no tattoo. I know it’s customary in your court to mark a bargain on the skin, but I want this to remain a secret. Which a tattoo will not help with.”

That predator’s grin widened. “Fine. No tattoo. But it’s a deal?” He extended a hand to me.

I hesitated. “Deal,” I agreed. I grabbed his hand and shook it.

Pain slashed on the inside of my left elbow. I gasped and looked down.

A faint scar, surgically precise, grazed the bottom of the crease in my skin. Rhysand rolled up his jacket sleeve to show off a matching one in the same place. “No tattoo,” he said. Giving me a cheeky wink and rolling his sleeve back down into place, he strolled off. Straight toward Thesan, despite what his unhurried amble would suggest.

I decided I didn’t want to know how he planned on spinning a way to get the chance to train me without my defecting to the Night Court or betraying the Dawn Court. I stayed where I was, nursing my drink. Looking at no one, not even Rhysand and Thesan, for longer than a casual glance. My wings shuddered with every sip of my drink. I really didn’t like wine—elderberry or otherwise—but didn’t want to seem out of place by not drinking. The truce in this sacred mountain always felt like it was balancing on a knife’s edge. One soldier not drinking would imply a lack of trust in everyone assembled and then everything would go sideways as the High Lords shouted at each other and escalated the situation.

Rhysand and Thesan left the chamber, both motioning to their entourages not to join. Rhysand’s Illyrian warriors watched them go, the same way I did.

Why were Night Court males so handsome? How was that fair to the rest of us?

One of my fellow Peregryn soldiers sidled up to me. “Some meeting, huh?” he asked. I grunted agreement.

“Always is, with the High Lords, I’d imagine.”

My cohort shuddered. “All that power, all in one room. It was like the air itself was turning into magic. Especially High Lord Rhysand. My feathers bristled just getting within half a wing-length of him.”

“No kidding,” I agreed. “I know he’s supposedly the most powerful, but I get the feeling that sometimes he’s more than just a cut above the rest. I feel like he might be several cuts above the other High Lords.”

My cohort nodded. “You’re probably right,” he said. “It’s unnerving.” His feathers shivered. I reached back and straightened one of my own. “Did you see where he went with High Lord Thesan?”

“Just out into one of the passages.”

“Any guesses why?”

I shrugged, my feathers swishing through the air with the motion. “Probably High Lord business not meant for the ears of the rest of us. You know Rhysand’s reputation as well as I do. He’s a schemer. He’s always got something up his sleeve. He’s always one step ahead of everyone else. High Lord Thesan has complained that Rhysand is difficult to work with at the best of times. Has plans he tells no one about until they’ve been completed. Always gets what he wants. Undoubtedly he’s pulling the strings of one of those plans now.”

My cohort sat thoughtfully for a while. “You ever flown over the Night Court?”

“No. And I don’t plan to. Have you?”

“No. I don’t want to either,” he said. “Especially not with those Illyrians in the skies.” His eyes slid over to Rhysand’s Illyrians, who stood beside each other and spoke to no one else. The bigger one with the red gems was speaking to the other, the shadowsinger, who didn’t appear to reply at all.

Thesan and Rhysand reentered the chamber. Rhysand inspected me, my cohort, and the other members of Thesan’s entourage. Then waved a hand lazily at me. Thesan gaped for a moment, but nodded.

I bowed as my High Lord approached, Rhysand a step behind. “A word in private, please?” Thesan asked. My cohort bowed in acknowledgement and scurried away. Thesan gestured to Rhysand. “This is High Lord Rhysand of the Night Court.” The introduction was unnecessary even if we hadn’t already spoken, but I gave Rhysand a bow of respect anyway. “He and I have been discussing improving diplomatic relations between our courts for a while now, and he’s requested that you be the emissary from the Dawn Court to the Night Court.”

Push back, don’t be too eager, Rhysand’s voice said in my head, punching past my shield. I almost jolted. Instead, I kept that crack in my shield open. If he was going to guide me through this conversation, it’d be easier just to let him in. Just a little.

“I’m a soldier, my lord, not a diplomat,” I said. True enough.

“Yes, but Rhysand here has decided that you are the only one he will trust. For reasons of his own.” He shot a sharp look to the Lord of Night. One that Rhysand pretended he didn’t see—instead picking a speck of dust off his lapel. A speck that wasn’t there. He swept his hands over his lapels and gave me and Thesan a saccharine smile.

Push back a bit, but relent, Rhysand thought at me.

“I’m not sure I’m qualified, my lord. But… if it is what my duty requires, I will gladly serve,” I said.

Nice. You sure you’re not a diplomat?

Please don’t. I’m not accomplished at having two conversations at once while pretending one isn’t happening.

I felt his laughter rumbling through my head like thunder. Yet, he teased, tone sounding like he found something delicious.

High Lord Thesan smiled at me. “Thank you. Would a visit to the Night Court next week be alright?”

“My lord, whenever works best for you. I am at your service.”

Rhysand waved a hand. “Next week fits into my business well, actually.”

“Then we’ll plan on the initial visit for next week,” Thesan agreed.

Rhysand smirked. “Excellent.” He looked at me. “I look forward to your company.”

I bowed. “My lord,” I said.

He retreated. Good job, soldier. Welcome to a diplomat’s world.

Thesan gave me a serious look. “Be careful,” he said quietly. “And keep sensitive information to yourself.”

“Of course, my lord.”

Thesan left me alone too.

High Lord Rhysand? I reached out tentatively.

Call me Rhys. Please. I hate the over-the-top formality with friends. He was talking with his Illyrian warriors, wine in hand, never indicating he was having a secondary conversation.

Okay. Rhys… you do realize I’m going to have to report back actual diplomatic relations, right?

Of course. I already have plans for you to relay to Thesan. We actually have been talking about improving the relations between our courts. I’m killing two birds with one stone. No reason not to.

I wasn’t sure what to say to that. Thank you for offering to train me.

I’m doing it for your sake as well as mine—and everyone else’s here. Thank me after your training is finished, because you certainly won’t thank me during it.

I take it that it won’t be pleasant?

Working your mind like this never is.

I blinked. See you next week then?

He chuckled in my head. Until then.

I looked back over at him. He lifted his wine glass at me in a toast and gave me an over-exaggerated wink.

[chenziee]

Cool your back.

I have a very cute LawLu prompt

Where Law is still a pirate some how becomes (little doses he know)the Fiance of the Goda kingdom's Cat God of freedom named Luffy(much to the world nobles dismay) and all of the high jinx that come along with it. And Luffy keeps popping up whenever Law doesn't/needs him. Good thing he's cute.

Thank youuu! Glad to be back :D though still super slow I’m sorry

I might have taken some liberties there with Luffy but I hope you like it! :)

----------

A Divine ball of fluff

[Read on AO3 | Request info | Ko-fi]

Law startled awake at the sound of gunfire and cannons somewhere above his head. Stepping over the lamp on the floor, he only briefly wondered just how it had managed to fall from his nightstand before he forced himself to focus. He only grabbed Kikoku, then ran out of his room to join his crew on deck, ready to murder whoever had come to disturb his sorely needed nap.

“Hand over Luffy and I might just let you go alive, Trafalgar Law!”

With the angry shout being the first thing Law had heard upon opening the door leading to the Tang’s deck, Law could only groan. Not again. “I keep telling you, old man—” Law slammed the door shut behind himself maybe more aggressively than strictly necessary before quickly striding over to the side of the ship to glare at Vice Admiral Garp—  “none of this was my choice! And your stupid grandson isn’t even here!”  

“Uhm, about that, Captain…” Bepo trailed off, quiet and apologetic.

Law took in a sharp breath, closing his eyes momentarily and praying for patience. “Don’t say it. I don’t want to hear it.”

“Sorry,” Bepo mumbled, dropping his head as if it was somehow his fault their regular ‘guest’ had invited himself over without any warning again.

Shaking his head, Law slowly looked at Garp again. The old man was fuming and not for the first time, Law marveled at the stubbornness of this entire family. No matter how many times he said ‘no’ to either one of them, they just kept coming back like a bad rash. Sometimes, Law couldn’t believe neither of the three brothers or their grandfather were related by blood. Hell, one of them wasn’t even human. But well… when it came down to it, Law couldn’t say he cared.

“Fine, take him,” he said finally, smirking at the loud crash from behind him that immediately followed.

“Torao~” someone whined before arms wrapped around Law’s waist

On reflex, one of Law’s legs shot forward as he braced for the impact of the entire body crashing into him a split second later. Why, just why did this man insist on lunging at people constantly? Law would never understand. He was lucky Law had managed to train his reactions well enough by now to not face plant into the railing anymore. “What?” he asked, smirk still shamelessly in place as he turned to look at the person who was hanging off of him.

The person—or rather, the god—in question was staring back at him with an unhappy frown and a pout on his lips. Law hated to admit he looked outright adorable then, and not just because of the cat ears sitting proudly on top of his head, alert and facing forward in agitation. Ears which were also covered in black, incredibly soft fur that Law would never get tired of petting.

Giving Law something that was probably supposed to be a glare, Luffy finally huffed before continuing, voice sounding incredibly sulky, “How could you just sell me out to gramps like this?”

“Because he could absolute keep you on his ship even if he did take you.      Sure,” Law replied in a tone dripping in sacrasm while he rolled his eyes at the dramatic complaints of the literal embodiement of freedom, the person who could and absolutely did materialize out of nowhere on the Polar Tang whenever he fucking felt like it, without any warning, for the sole purpose of driving Law absolutely crazy with his ideas, only to then disappear into thin air again once he got bored. While on the open sea, with the nearest land two days of sailing away.

“That’s not the point!” Luffy cried, his grip on Law’s waist tightening.

Before Law could say anything back, a canon ball landed a bit too close to the ship, causing a wave of seawater to wash over the both of them. Law cursed loudly at the unexpected and fully unwelcome shower, just as Luffy also hissed loudly; if he was in his full monster cat form, Law could just imagine his fur raising until he looked like a huge, black ball of pure fluff.

…Now Law wanted to see it. He made a mental note to find an opportunity to scare the shit out of him at some point later, when he was in his true form.

“What was that for?!” Luffy demanded when he recovered from the shock.

“A warning shot!” Garp retorted, sounding just as angry as Luffy did. “You get off that pirate ship before I drag you off myself!”

“I’m not going back to Goa! It’s stuffy and tiny and they keep burning down my shrines, I hate it there!”

Garp growled as he grabbed another cannon ball. “As if I care about the idiot king’s orders, I’m not going to give you to those scumbags and I don’t care where you go—” he paused to aim his cannon ball at them threateningly before he continued— “but you’re not becoming a pirate on my watch, you brat!”

Law heard Luffy taking a deep breath behind him, no doubt in preparation to go off on his adoptive grandfather, and he sighed. Before either of these idiots could say anything, Law snapped, “If you’re just going to keep screaming at each other, can I go?”

“No,” Luffy said immediately, digging his claws into Law’s stomach painfully.

At the same time, Garp said, “You stay right where you are, I’m not done with you either!”

Law sighed. Every goddamn time.

“Prepare to submerge,” Law said to Bepo tiredly before raising his hand. “Room. Shambles.”

Appearing back in his room a split second later, Law took a deep breath, giving himself a moment to appreciate the blessed silence—or the alternative of, which meant only muffled rage instead of people screaming right in his ear. Not ideal but he would take it anyway. Honestly, why couldn’t these two ever do anything quietly? This whole thing could be so easily resolved if they had just sat down and talked but no, they just had to go yelling at each other while throwing cannon balls and scratching the other’s face off. And Law never had a say in getting caught in the middle of it every damn time either.

Sometimes, he cursed the day the Tang landed on Dawn Island, the place where all his problems started. But really, he couldn’t with clear conscience say that if he were to relive that day, that he wouldn’t do exactly the same thing; that he wouldn’t stop at the tiny, ancient looking shrine to talk to the young man sitting in front of it. That he wouldn’t answer every question Luffy had about the world beyond his small domain, that he wouldn’t look into those large, excited eyes and invite him to leave with him.

But, as stupid as it was regardless, if he could do it over, at the very least, would now actually know he was accidentally proposing to a literal god; one that was incredibly stuborn, selfish, and bright enough to be the actual sun. A god who also came in a package with a crazy grandfather, two over protective brothers, and the softest, warmest fur Law had ever had the pleasure of touching.

“Thanks for getting me away,” Luffy said after he made himself comfortable on Law’s bed, the anger and raw power that had been radiating off of him only moments ago replaced by his usual happy and carefree attitude.

Law clicked his tongue. “I was getting myself away. Not my fault you were clinging to me like a child.”

“Same thing.” Luffy waved him off.

Law didn’t have the energy to argue. Simply shaking his head at him, he instead bent down to put the lamp he had ignored earlier back on his nightstand.

“Weird how this was on the floor. I distinctly remember it was screwed on tight just yesterday,” Law noted, giving Luffy a pointed stare. Now that he knew this giant, ridiculously strong cat was on the ship, Law had no doubt just how the lamp got knocked off. Briefly, Law wondered whether there was even a point putting it back until Luffy left; he was probably going to knock it off again while staring at it with morbid fascination as it crashed to the floor again and again.

Law watched as Luffy’s eyes veered off to the side, his lips pursing as he mumbled, “Yeah, that’s super weird.”

Huffing out a small laugh, Law crossed the short distance between them, reaching out to ruffle Luffy’s hair. It was almost as soft as his fur was. “I know. A complete mystery,” he said with a smirk before he leaned down, pressing his lips to Luffy’s briefly.

The kiss was easily returned, a wide grin spreading on Luffy’s lips as soon as they separated, and despite himself, Law felt himself smile back. That damn smile would be the death of him. No matter how maddening this man could be, how loud and selfish, the moment he smiled like that, it was like all Law’s problems and frustrations were melting away. Luffy was simply beautiful; adorable and bright, yet absolutely terrifying and Law loved every little bit of it.

It was funny, actually. If someone had told him he would ever say ‘Luffy’ and ‘love’ in the same sentence just half a year ago, Law would have laughed in their face. Back then, Luffy was only some incredibly annoying giant cat who just wouldn’t leave him alone, someone who popped up on the Tang or wherever Law currently was just to ruin any and all of his painstakingly created plans. But now…

Now Law couldn’t remember what life was before him. He had learned to build his plans around Luffy recklessly charging forward, didn’t even bother trying to explain anything to him. He had long since stopped fighting the pull, the warm aura of power and charisma that drew people in and didn’t let go. It took a while but Law had finally accepted that he was not any different from all the other people Luffy had managed to charm without even realizing he was doing it ever since Law had gotten him out of the Goa Kingdom.

There was just something in the stupid divine cat that made people want to join and support him. Maybe it was the sense of absolute freedom that followed him everywhere; be it his own freedom, or the one of whoever Luffy thought deserved it.

“What’s wrong?” Luffy asked after a long while of them just looking at each other.

Law smiled, shaking his head at the cute, worried frown on his face. “Just hoping your grandfather won’t hit us before we sink far enough.”

“He’d never actually hit the ship, he’s a big softie,” Luffy announced, that grin back on his face.

“Good to know.” Law chuckled, finally sitting down on the bed with Luffy. “You know, I was sleeping before you two started fighting,” Law said offhandedly, glancing at Luffy and nearly snorting at the way his ears perked up in excitement.

“Wanna?” the other asked immediately, nearly vibrating in place.

Raising an eyebrow, Law gave Luffy a look. “I was going to say yes but seeing how excited you are, I’m not sure it’s such a good idea.”

“Nah, it’s all good,” Luffy decided, nodding to himself as he hopped off the bed, walking two steps towards the door to Law’s cabin before shifting into his monster cat form, then lied down slowly, watchful as to not break anything while he tried to fit his huge body into the tiny room.

Once Luffy looked back at him expectantly and Law was sure he was fully settled, Law went to join his boyfriend on the floor, careful not to step on any of his limbs or either of his two tails on the way. As he leaned back against the giant cat’s chest, he let his eyes slide shut, already feeling the exhaustion from earlier in the day settling back in. It was just so warm and soft and fluffy and Law would sooner die than admit out loud how much he loved it. It wasn’t like everyone didn’t already know by then anyway. What could he say, Luffy’s fur was impossible to resist. It was worse than Bepo’s in this aspect.

“No licking,” Law reminded, cracking one eye open to shoot Luffy a half-hearted glare when he felt his face come close to his body.

“You’re no fun,” Luffy whined.

Law could only sigh. “I’d just like to keep my skin where it is, thanks.”

“Fine.” Luffy huffed, thankfully keeping his sand-paper tongue where it should be, before he simply nudged Law with his forehead.

A smile pulled on Law’s lips, his hand raising to rest against the side of his little monster’s head. To anyone else, this position would seem incredibly dangerous, yet to Law, it was so very comforting. He had never felt safer than when he lay snuggled into into this god’s side, with the jaw which could fit his entire head inside twice over and then some positioned just inches away from his face.

Right here, Law knew he was home.

And while he gently stroked Luffy’s fur, Law’s eyelids slowly slid shut again.

 ~ Meanwhile ~

“What do we do?!” Shachi cried in panic, staring with wide eyes at the neptunian who looked like it was about to eat the Tang for an afternoon snack.

“We have to call the captain and Luffy, we can’t do this,” Ikkaku shouted back, trying to shoo away another two of these giant sea kings away together with Jean Bart.

A frustrated groan came from Clione in response, “I tried but they won’t answer and the door won’t open!”

“Why do they always have to sleep with Luffy’s giant furry ass blocking the stupid door! How are we supposed to get them out here?!” Shachi whined, mind slowly slipping into despair. Honestly, these lovesick idiots. What use was having a literal god around when he was never there to actually help when they actually needed him to?

This was why Shachi preferred dogs over cats.

----------

Dedicated to my cat who has the softest fur and also forces me to keep everything on the fucking floor.

[Request info | Ko-fi]

[gale-gentlepenguin]

ML Fic: Soulmate Survey Part 32

Happy Halloween to everyone! I hope that you enjoy this treat. Sorry this took so long to write out. This one took a few rewrites to get it where I wanted it to be.

Plus, Real life stuff got in the way So hopefully this will be a nice little treat for you all.

(Master Post)

__________________________________________________________________

Marinette watched in horror as she watched her best friend struggle on the floor.

She dashed to her side, and tried to help Alya get that weird mask off her face.

“By all means go right ahead. Its already too late.” Masquerade laughed as she watched Marinette struggle. “Soon enough she will be helping me take you down.”

The designer pushed the words of the psychotic akuma out of her mind. She refused to let her friend get turned into a mindless drone like before.

“It wont come off!” Marinette grunted as she tried so hard to remove it.

Masquerade watched her bracelet, waiting for a change to occur.

Alya’s muffled screams and frantic movements stopped.

“Alya?”

Marinette jumped up as she watched her friend transform, her casual clothes transformed into a familiar black and white costume. The Wi-Fi symbol on her chest. Lady Wifi has returned.

Masquerade’s bracelet gained a new charm, one looking reminiscent of a cell phone.

“And now she is my friend.” The villain stated as she watched Marinette start stepping away from the enslaved akuma.

“Alya… you need to fight it. You can’t let her control you.”

“Sorry Marinette, but Alya is unable to answer.” Masquerade mocked. “But I can take a message for you.”

Lady wifi stood silent, like an inactive robot, awaiting orders from its master. The inner machinations of the mind are not shown with the emotionless white mask covering her face.

Marinette turned her eyes toward the mask themed akuma, anger burning in her pupils.

“Let her go Lila. Let them all go before things get serious. Your plan will fail, Ladybug and Chat noir will arrive and beat the akuma out of you. Then you will have to answer for this too.”

Masquerade’s smile faded when she saw the fierce look. Marinette was not a sniveling mess, she actually looked even more defiant then before!

“Acting all high and mighty. I think I will enjoy turning you into my helpless puppet next.”

Masquerade lifted her hand towards Marinette, waiting to unmask her deepest secrets, and break her down.

“When I get a peek at what is hiding behind all of that fake courage, it will all come crashing down. Now let’s see your greatest secrets.”

Marinette looked around, trying to think of something. If Lila figured out her big secret, it was over. Ladybug would be exposed. She needed a way out, until she noticed something. Masquerade wasn’t doing anything.

“Huh?”

Marinette was perplexed by the akuma simply standing there.

“Ummm... are you going to do it now or...”

“Why can’t I see your secrets? My powers should allow me to see what you’re hiding and allow me to exploit it. It worked on everyone else I used it on, why not you?”

“Maybe I just don’t have any secrets to hide.” Marinette commented, watching with a bit of satisfaction as the akuma’s smug look shift.

Masquerade felt her frustration and anger boil at the comment. Something wasn’t adding up.

“Hawkmoth!” She cried out in rage.

A purple butterfly outline popped out.

“What is it?” The dark voice connected in her head.

“Why can’t I read Marinette’s secrets?” Masquerade angrily questioned.

“What?”

“Her secrets! I was able to zero in on everyone else I’ve used the ability on. Why does it not work on her!? Of all people I want this power to work on!”

Marinette felt both concerned and a bit flattered that she was the one Lila wanted to defeat the most. It was sort of mutual.

“Your power works on anyone I’ve akumatized, regardless of who it is.” The butterfly villain communicated. 

“So… your saying you didn’t akumatize her before? How is that possible?”

“I haven’t gotten to every single person in Paris.”

“You’ve akumatized that stupid pigeon man 26 times! How have you not gotten everyone!?”

“Paris is a big city, even if I akumatized someone every day, I doubt I would have hit 1/10th of the population. Besides, it takes strong negative emotions for me to send out an akuma. And that man seems to just be the easiest target for it. “ Hawkmoth defended himself. “Its not like I WANT to akumatize him every other day.”

“Unbelievable!”

“Just get the miraculous. That is your focus, the girl can wait for later.”

Masquerade’s butterfly outline dispelled as hawkmoth was finished with that conversation.

“Well that sucks. I guess I can just go back to plan A. Having you watch as I turn everyone against you... aren't here. What!”

Masquerade frantically looked around for the teen she had been antagonizing and found that she was no longer in the same spot. In fact, she was no longer in the office!

Marinette had decided to slip away from the akuma while she was having her little tantrum to the evil butterfly man.

“Why didn't you do something!” She shouted at Lady Wifi.

“You did not give me an order.” Lady Wifi answered robotically. 

Masquerade glared at the akuma servant. She would almost think it was rebelling against her.

“Even as a mindless servant you still find a way to ruin things.”

She looked around and noticed the other akuma in the room that was still on the floor.

“Dark Owl get up!”

The owl themed akuma got up from the floor. Removing parts of the broken pot from his costume.

Masquerade snapped her fingers. Catching the attention of Dark Owl and Lady Wifi. 

“Both of you, I want Marinette brought back to me right now! I want to make sure she stays quiet and sees everything we have set up. I don’t need her causing trouble.”

______________________________________________________________________

“…and that is everything.” A young woman said with a mixture of relief and excitement. She had finally finished setting everything up in the school infirmary. She had organized the files, restocked the bandages, changed the sheets on the resting cots, and put her personal decals on the desk. She was starting her first day as the school nurse, and things have been going up.

She put herself back out there and started dating Curtis, the sweet guy she met last week despite what would’ve normally been a deal breaking misunderstanding, she got into the med school program she wanted to get into and will be attending part time, and she managed to get a job at the school she went to when she went to Lycee.

She heard a ding from the front of the nurse’s office just as she was about to sit down.

“First student of the day. I better see what they need.”

She exited the small office area in the infirmary to see a blonde student who was clearly impatient

“What is taking so long!?” The teen shouted.

“Hello there. How can I help you?”

The blonde looked up a bit to see the nurses smile, she rolled her eyes.

“Who the hell are you? Isnt there supposed to be a different woman here?”

“If you are referring to the previous school nurse, she retired officially last week. I am the new school nurse. You can call me Nurse Angela.”

Angela never really liked using her last name, it made her sound old. So, she would be fine with the kids calling by her first name. It also helps with psychology, allowing more for a social dynamic based on mutual respect rather than authority.

“Whatever.”

Angela felt a twinge of frustration at the girl’s dismissal. But she kept her smile.

“And you are?”

The teen smirked.

“Chloé Bourgeous. And before you ask, yes, the daughter of the mayor.”

Angela felt a shiver go down her spine. She remembered from what the previous nurse told her. That Chloé was the mayor’s bratty daughter who would use her father’s influence to get anyone fired if she got angry enough.

‘That at least explains her rude attitude. She is a spoiled Brat.’

Angela was not going to let this bother her. She was going to take it in stride. She would be kind and courteous as she planned to be with any student at the Dupont.

“So, Chloé. What brings you here?”

Chloé walks in.

“My chair broke because someone sabotaged my chair. I ended up bruising my… anyway I need some ice, and anything to numb the pain.”

“My goodness! That sounds terrible. Who would do such a thing?”

“It was probably Marinette, that nasty little rat. Adding insult to injury now that she is dating Adrien.”

Nurse Angela moved to get some ice from the freezer for the bruised bottom of the Mayor’s daughter, listening to the girl vent. She was sure that whoever this Marinette girl was, probably didn’t do it. And if somehow, she did, it was likely because the annoying blonde deserved it. But that was not something Angela felt was worth mentioning. She kept that bit to herself.

“She is probably blackmailing my adrikins with something. There is no way he would be dating her without some sort of reason.”

“Is it possible that maybe he just likes her?” Angela inquired as she presented the bag of ice to Chloé.

Chloé looked at the nurse as if she had just told her that she had 3 eyes and a scorpion tail.

“Adrien liking Marinette?! That is ridiculous, Utterly ridiculous! There is no way that Adrien would…”

Chloé felt her mind flash through moments. Adrien and Marinette about to kiss for that movie, Adrien and Marinette dancing at her party? The photos she found of them running from fans, that kiss at the picnic during heroes’ day. Adrien taking Marinette to that interview instead of her… The stubborn blonde felt as if everything clicked into place.

“Chloé? Is everything okay?” The nurse called out, trying to get the spaced-out teen’s attention.

“He might actually LIKE her!”

Chloé felt her own skin crawl as she made her realization.

Angela didn’t know how to respond to this situation.

“I am going to straighten Adrien out right now! I am not going to let him make such a foolish mistake!”

The nurse could tell this could be bad if the mayor’s daughter was so heated, what if she got this innocent girl expelled? If she stood by and did nothing then her time at the school would be internally marked with the regret of not stopping such a potential disaster.

“Wait, Miss Bourgeois.”

Chloé stopped.

“What is it?”

“I… I just noticed that you’re limping. The injury might be more serious than you think. Let me have a look at it closer before you leave.”

The mayor’s daughter would simply have left without a second thought. But having a limp would make her walk much less dignified and lacking the power she needs to intimidate, but mainly that she would look lame with a limp.

“Alright, just make it quick.”

______________________________________________________________________________

“I don’t get why you felt the need to leave.” The cat kwami rolled his eyes. “If you want to be rebellious Adrien, we could leave the school and head to the movies. Though if we do, you should invite your girlfriend.”

“Plagg, this isn’t about rebellion or future date ideas. Something isn’t right with this whole situation. I just want to sneak a peek in the office, make sure Marinette and Alya get their story out, and then I am headed right back to class. No problem.” Adrien summarized as they kept walking.

Plagg noticed someone headed their way and went to hide in Adrien’s pocket.

Adrien took notice that it was his homeroom teacher. Perhaps he could ask her.

“Hey Ms.Bustier. Can I ask you a quick question?”

The red headed teacher walked past the teen without acknowledging his question. Her eyes focused on what was ahead.

“That’s weird… She would always stop to help a student.”

Adrien could feel that his favorite teacher may have been affected by something sinister.

“Ms.Bustier, can you hear me out for a second?” He asked as he touched her shoulder to try and get her attention.

The mirage of her appearance shifted from the homeroom teacher to the stylized patchwork costume of a familiar akuma enemy.

Adrien was surprised to see the true form of the imposter. The kiss zombie maker, Zombizou.

The akuma turned to show the face mask that hid her face. Her attention was now firmly on the boy, whether he wanted it or not.

Adrien backed away, nervously keeping his eyes on the teacher as he carefully backed up.

“You know, I think I will just ask someone else.”

Adrien took down the next hall running.

______________________________________________________________________

Masquerade reclined in her chair, her frustration was growing as she wondered what was taking those two minions she sent out to capture Marinette so long.

“They shouldn’t be having that much difficulty. She is just one person!”

She heard a ring, and knew her sentimonster was trying to contact her.

“What is it Simulare?”

“The illusion I had on Zombizou was broken. Someone is on to us, and the minion is in pursuit.”

Masquerade felt a headache forming. She didn’t have time for a wild goose chase. She needed to move on to phase two of her plan, making her army of akuma.

“Track down Marinette and this other  person that found out about Zombizou, keep them busy as long as possible. I am going to move on to phase two. Make sure no one is on to us.”

“Understood. I’ll get them back in the office and make sure neither of them escape.”

“Good”

Masquerade ended the call and felt her head ease a bit. The sentimonster she was given was obedient and competent. It was based on her mindset, so it would make sense that it would be capable of handling this problem.

“Now, let’s get that army.”

______________________________________________________________________________

“Give me a break.” Marinette muttered to herself.

She thought she would have time to transform once she escaped the office, but the two akuma were right out of the office before she had time to make sure everything was clear.

In her rush she cut a corner down a hallway and ended up colliding with another person.

“Ouch.” They cry out in unison, both looking to realize who they bumped into. Their faces turned to relief.

“Marinette!” “Adrien!”

The two called out in unison.

“Why are you running?” “Why are you running?”

“An akuma!” “An akuma!”

“An akuma?” “An akuma?”

They both look behind the other to notice the incoming akumas approaching them.

“As cute as this is, we need to go.”

Adrien Grabs Marinette’s Hand and they both head to the open area and try to get to the main entrance.

‘I need to get Adrien somewhere safe, then I can go transform into Ladybug.’ Marinette thought to herself, unaware that Adrien was thinking the same thing.

They make quick movements down hallway, moving up and down staircases to confuse their pursuers. They managed to give them the slip as the controlled akuma seemed to not be able of basic reasoning and quick fake outs and movements.

The two make their way down to what appeared to be the front of the school.

“The entrance!” Marinette called out. “Okay, we split up at the entrance and try to get help. They can’t catch us both.”

The run to the entrance only for them to stop short, colliding with some invisible wall.

It was only after making contact did the front entrance of the school shift back into a wall. The layout of the entire school seemed to shift instantly. The school had been put under an illusion to trick them into thinking they were escaping.

“It’s an illusion. Which means Lila must be involved with that group of akumas.” Adrien exclaimed.

“More like she is the cause. She is the one controlling the akumatized mask wearers. She got the Principal and Alya.”

“Wait, does this mean that Lila’s power is to make akuma!?”

“From what I saw, she can only akumatize people that have been akumatized before using her face masks. You haven’t been akumatized right?” Marinette questioned.

“No, and since she didn't get you, you haven't either right?”

“Yea, though I have had a few close calls.”

“So, if Lila’s power is akumatizing people, what akuma made this illusion on the school?”

“That would be me.” A third voice calls out.

The two turned to look and see a familiar fox themed villain smiling confidently.

“Volpina!”

“Not exactly.”

The Volpina impersonator looked around to see if the other akumatized servents were going to arrive.

“Seems you both are quite clever when it comes to annoying Mistress Masquerade.”

“Masquerade?”

“That’s what Lila’s calling herself.”

“Oh... cause of the masks.”

The villain rolls her eyes, encapsulating the personality of the arrogant volpina that it was pretending to be.

“Masquerade realizes that you two are both quite difficult to snag with mindless servants, so she requested I handle this.”

“No, you won’t.” Marinette grabs Adrien’s Hand and tries to run away only for the Faux Fox to flip in front of them

“Yea, I am not letting you out of my sight. Now be good and come along peacefully.”

Adrien moves in front of Marinette.

“Go, I’ll hold her off.”

“But…”

“Go. I trust you.” Adrien smiles as he looks to her for a moment.

Marinette wanted to stay and fight with him, but she knew that she needed to go and transform. Ladybug will be needed before this blows up.

“I’ll get help.”

Marinette runs away from the two as fast as she can. Adrien making sure to block the way should their foe get any ideas.

“She won’t get far, she will get captured before she even gets a chance.”

Adrien shook his head.

“You would be surprised with how just how amazing Marinette is.”

Marinette rushed out of sight and into the closest bathroom, quickly making sure it was a safe place to transform.

“Coast is clear. Time for Ladybug to step in.”

“Let’s hope we can get to Adrien in time before things get worse.” Tikki commented.

“Don't worry, I trust he’ll be okay. Tikki! Spots on!”

______________________________________________________________________________

“Can you believe it Juleka?” The peppy perfume enthusiast squealed. “Marinette and Adrien are finally an item.”

“Yes, I was there rose.” Juleka commented with an eye roll and a smile.

“I know! I am just so happy for them both.” Rose calms herself a bit. “Though… how will your brother take it?”

The purple haired teen reflected on the comment.

“It will be an adjustment, but I am sure Lulu will be fine once he gets a couple songs out of it.”

“I’ll be sure to be supportive.”

Juleka patted Rose’s head, smiling sweetly at the blonde’s caring attitude. She decided now would be a good time to spring that surprise on her. She was planning on showing her during lunch, but since Ms.Bustier wasn’t in class. Now would be the perfect time to show Rose the earrings she got her.

She casually reached into her bag, sliding her hand into her lunch bag, trying to find the earring box, only to notice it not there. Her hand moved frantically searching.

“Is something wrong?” Rose inquired, a bit of concern on her face.

“No, nothing. Nothing is wrong, just…” Juleka dismissed as she kept searching only to know for certain that her gift was not in there.

“Are you sure?”

“I just need do something really quick.”

She quickly grabbed her phone and calmly while hoping that her brother would see her text.

In her quick movement, she failed to notice the door of the classroom opening.

_______________________________________________________________________

“Psst, Luka. Luka!” A dark-haired teen whispered, trying to get the attention of the teal-tipped hair guitarist that was hiding his sleeping face with an open science book.”

“Hmm?” The tired teen responded with his eyes still closed. He was barely awake. He had been up all night working on that new song that was stuck in his head. He could still hear it playing in his thoughts as he tried to shake himself awake.

“Your phone vibrated, seemed important.”

“Oh, thanks Theo.” He moved his hand to take a look at his phone.

The science teacher was rambling on about molecules or something, clearly unaware of how disinterested everyone in the class was with his boring lecture.

Luka looked through to see a few text messages from his sister.

‘Hey, can you check your lunch to see if there is a jewelry box in there? Rose’s gift is in there.’

‘If you find it, can you swing by around your free period to bring it to me?’

Luka quickly snuck his hand into his backpack and sure enough he felt the small box. He was about to text a response. But stopped when he read the last two texts.

‘Sh*t there is an akuma in the class!’

Luka’s eyes shot open, his sister was in danger. Which also meant his band was also in danger. He needed to get there.

He shot up from his chair. And started making his way to the door.

“Mr.Couffaine, where do you think you’re going?”

“Family emergency.”

The science teacher was about to tell the young boy to wait until his parent calls, but he remembered who is mother was and what she did the last time he held up her kid when Anarke wanted to pick him up early. The teacher proceeded to held back his response.

“Proceed. Just be sure to get the notes from today’s lesson.”

Luka was out the door before the teacher could finish.

______________________________________________________________________

A car speeds down the road, the driver cursing to herself as she tries to move faster.

‘Get in, get Adrien, and get out before everything hits the fan.’

Nathalie mentally repeated to herself. She knows that pushing herself too hard was also dangerous. She couldn't risk feeling weak right now.

The driver slammed the break as she arrived at the school. She needed to hurry. She parked the car and opened the door.

“Lets hope that this akuma hasn't gotten to Adrien yet.”

_______________________________________________________________________

Ms. Bustier’s class had diverted all their attention to the costumed individual in the front of the classroom. The eerie masks that adorned her costume seemed to unsettle everyone.

Juleka put her phone away and joined in on what everyone was staring at

Alix was the one to say what was on everyone’s mind.

“Who the f*** are you?”

The akuma smirked.

“Excellent, a volunteer.”

Raising her hand and pointing towards Alix, her charm bracelet began to glow.

“Interesting, seems that you have quite a soft spot for cute things.”

The class turned to look at Alix with confusion.

Alix kept her cool.

“And? Is there a point?” Alix rolled her eyes, ignoring the akuma’s attempt to get under her skin. It would take more than that to actually do anything to her.

“You pretend you have this ‘Devil may care’ attitude, that you are too cool to care about what people think, but really you are more obsessed with how people perceive you than anyone else in here.”

Alix felt her smirk falter for a second.

“You are really sensitive about your height and anytime someone brings it up you are in a bad mood for the rest of the day. But what really gets to you is your ‘Family’. You hate how your brother is a laughing stock because of his crackpot theories and your greatest fear is that no matter how much you try to be this punk rebel, you will always be cast as ‘The Conspiracy nut’s sister’.”

“Shut up! You don’t know my life!” Alix yelled.

“Not so fun getting exposed, is it?”

The class realized immediately who this mysterious akuma was.

Masquerade smiled as she flung a mask right at the pink haired teen. Causing her to fall down. And struggle to get the mask off, but before anyone could help her. It was too late.

The class could only watch in horror as their classmate transformed into their Akuma persona. Before standing up.

The class tried to make a break for it. They knew full well the dangers of this new akuma.

“Timebreaker, guard the door.”

The akuma skated to the door and everyone jumped back. They knew that touching Timebreaker was not a good idea.

“Lila, this isn’t cool. Let Alix go.” Nino called out.

The Mask akuma shook her head.

“Lila is not a thing anymore. She was unmasked and dismissed. But now I have a new mask, I’m Masquerade. Soon enough, you will all be unmasked and given a new mask that better suits you. Alya knows that very well.”

Nino’s his eyes flared at the statement.

“What did you do to my girl?”

Masquerade pointed her hand at him just as her charm bracelet glowed, now with a rollerblade charm added to it.

“The same thing I am about to do to all of you.”

______________________________________________________________________

Will the rest of the class fall victim to Masquerade’s evil plan? Will Ladybug be able to save Adrien from the Sentimonster? Will Nathalie get to Adrien before its too late? Will I ever update consistently?

Fine out all these questions and more in the next part.

Thank you all for reading the most recent addition to Soulmate Survey.

Please let me know your thoughts on this chapter and if you really liked it. Reblog it. (Sharing is the only way my story actually gets out.) Plus, tagging has been kind of glitchy for me, so until that gets straightened out, I can't tag people for the story at the moment.

[thebigbadbatswife]

One Single Thread Of Gold Tied Me To You

Summary - Everyone is tied to their soulmate with a red thread tied to their wrist. All except Y/N’s, who’s thread is gold. Tired of waiting for her soulmate to come and find her, she decides to go and find them. It doesn’t go quite how she expected it to.

Warnings - A little angst

[A/N] - This is a soulmate au where you and your soulmate are attached by an unbreakable red thread (or, in this case, gold), tied to your wrist. This was inspired by the song 'Invisible String' by Taylor Swift.

Word Count - 4k

As the early morning sun slowly filtered into your room, through your blinds, you carefully examined the thread attached to your wrist. Everyone had one; it was your link to your soulmate. Yours was different to everyone else though. While everyone had red, yours was gold. As you turned your wrist, it caught the sunlight and glistened a little.

Everyone you knew had always been fascinated by it. As was nearly every stranger you met. Why was it gold? What exactly made you and your soulmate so different to everyone else’s? Questions you had often asked yourself as well. Why were you two so different?

Your family had a theory that whoever it was, they were rich. Very rich. That was surely the reason it was gold. Nothing else made sense to them. Meanwhile your friends were completely convinced that your soulmate was some kind of God.

“Come on, Y/N! It’s the only thing that makes sense!” Tracey said before taking another sip of her third glass of wine. Her usually bright emerald eyes were glazed over from all of the alcohol. “Why else would it be gold?”

“You gotta admit, Tracey might be drunk right now, but she has a good point!” Skylar joined in. She took her brown eyes off the blonde and looked over at you before continuing. “Oh! What if your soulmate is like Wonder Woman or Superman or something! How cool would that be?”

You rolled your eyes and took a sip of your own glass of wine. “Stop it. You’re both being ridiculous,” you had told them because they really were being ridiculous. There was no way your soulmate was a member of the Justice League, let alone an Amazonian Princess or the Man of Steel.

You were, of course, curious of your soulmate yourself. Who wouldn’t be curious of the person they’re destined to end up with? But you didn’t think up the crazy theories your friends and family liked to come up with. Instead you wondered things like, what kind of hobbies do they have? What’s their favourite colour? What type of music do they listen to? Were they a cat person or a dog person? And other things like that.

Another thing about the thread that tied you to your soulmate was that, while everyone could see the thread around your wrist, only you and soulmate could see where it led. While you had always wanted to follow it, you had decided that it would be better to focus on having a decent job and place to live first.

During that time a small part of you had hoped that maybe your soulmate would come looking for you, but since they clearly weren’t, maybe you should? After all, you had a well paying job and a great apartment, so why not? Every job was legally required to allow people time off to go search, so that wouldn’t be an issue. It was paid time off as well so you didn’t have to worry about money. You also had a car so you wouldn’t have to spend a shit ton of money on travel. At least, you hoped you wouldn’t. In truth, for all you knew, your soulmate could be in a completely different country. Now that would certainly complicate things.

Shaking that thought away (because there was no way fate could be that cruel), you got out of bed and set about putting the wheels in motion that would allow you to start following your thread

‘ Welcome to Gotham City! ’ the sign read as you drove past it. When you had told those close to you, your plan, they had been super supportive. Now, if they knew where your thread had lead you, you doubted they’d be as supportive. Hell, even you were rethinking things now. Out of all the cities for your soulmate to be in, it just had to be this one.

How did you know it was this city that they resided in and it wasn’t just another stop along the way? It was hard to explain, but you had a feeling deep within your gut, almost like a sixth sense that just yelled “Yep! This is the place!”.

You felt extremely uneasy as you drove through the city. It was night-time as well which did absolutely nothing to help. Honestly, of all the times to arrive in Gotham, night-time was definitely the worst. Well, there was nothing you could do about that now, you just had to keep on going, so you did.

The golden thread snaked through the gothic city and went from the “posh” part of the city all the way to the worst part of the city. The buildings were run down and most of the windows were boarded up. Each turn you took there were shiftier and shiftier characters on every corner. You started to get the feeling that you really shouldn’t be here. Plus you were starting to wonder if you really wanted to know who your soulmate was if they were hanging out in neighbourhoods like this.

You brought your car to a stop in front of a particularly dark and sinister looking alleyway. A particularly dark and sinister looking alleyway that your golden thread lead straight into. Coming to this part of this city was already a bad idea. Continuing to follow that thread to what had to be your certain doom was even worse. Yet, at this point in your mission, you were pretty much committed.

You couldn’t help out a quiet and very nervous laugh as you climbed out of your car. ‘ This is fucking insane ,’ you thought as you stepped out of your car. Before shutting and locking it (though you doubt that would do much to protect it in this area), you grabbed your pepper spray. ‘ I really hope your worth all this .’

As you followed the thread down the alleyway, you heard a sudden loud bang. A gunshot. You stopped in your tracks and you could feel your heart pick up its pace. Your thread lead in the direction the shot had come from. ‘ I really hope you weren’t involved with that .’ Taking a deep breath, you continued down the alleyway.

The alleyway lead out onto another street. There was a small crunching sound as you stepped out onto the street. Taking a step back, you looked to the ground to see what you had just stepped on. The ground was littered with small shards of glass. Looking up, you figured the shards of glass were from the bulbs from the streetlamps. Something had broken them. It didn’t take you long to figure out what, or rather who ,was responsible.

Further down the street, taking on group of ten men, was none other than Gotham’s Caped Crusader. The Batman.

You quickly ducked back into the alley you had just left. You then carefully peered around the wall, so you could watch the fight. You were well aware of the fact that your thread was leading straight toward the fight. Which meant that your soulmate was involved.

You watched the fight intensely, both intrigued and terrified to figured which one of the men was on the end of your thread. There was a voice in the back of your head praying hardcore that it was the hero in the centre of the fight.

Batman was a blur of black and dark grey as he rapidly made his way through the group of men. With a variety of different punches, kicks and gadgets, he made short work of them. During his combat flow, you followed your thread with your eyes and a small gasp left you as you realised who the other end was attached to.

Holy fuck. You’re friends had, kind of, been right. While your soulmate wasn’t Wonder Woman or Superman, like they had suggested, he was apart of the Justice League’s ‘Big Three’. Your soulmate was Batman . At least now you knew why he hadn’t come looking for you. He’d been busy saving the world.

Now you had to figure out how to approach him before he ended up disappearing into the night.

Exiting your cover, you took your thread between your finger and thumb and gently tugged on it a couple of times.

Batman looked at his end of the thread curiously as your tugs had gotten his attention. Then his head drifted upwards, following where it lead till his eyes settled on you.

If he was shocked, he didn’t show it. He just stood there, his eyes never leaving you. Part of you wanted to cower away from the intense stare, but you willed yourself not to. He was your soulmate, and you weren’t a criminal,  you had no reason to be afraid.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, finally ending the silence between you. His voice was deep and almost robotic sounding. Probably some sort of voice modulator to help hide his identity, you figured.

“In Gotham? Yeah, this place really sucks,” you replied, thinking about all the things you had heard about this city, “but I came here to find my soulmate; to find you.”

“You shouldn’t have.” His voice was sharp and serious as he spoke. He also sounded irritated at your sudden appearance, which caused you to frown. That couldn’t be right… could it?

“What?” You hated how meek and pathetic your voice sounded, but you couldn’t help it. Wasn’t this supposed to be a happy moment? One of the happiest in your life in fact. Instead you felt like you were being scolded rather than meeting the person who was supposed to be your other half.

“I didn’t want to meet you. Now I suggest you go home. It’s not safe here.”

What? You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. There was pressure behind your eyes and your throat tightened. You took a shaky breath as you took a step backwards away from him. It quickly sunk in that the man you’d been destined to be with, the man you had thought about since you were old enough to understand the concept of a soulmate, wanted nothing to do with you.

“I-I’m sorry I disturbed you.” Your voice broke as you fought back the tears that threatened to fall. You weren’t going to give him that satisfaction. You then turned around and ran back toward where you had left your car.

As fast as you could, you started your car up and made your way to a safer part of the city. It didn’t take you long to find a somewhat empty parking lot to park in. Once the engine was off, you screamed and aggressively slammed against the wheel as you let the tears freely fall.

You felt like a complete and utter fucking idiot. Of course he didn’t want you. You’d probably just get in the way of him saving the world or something like that. Besides, what was that article you had seen a few months ago? Something about Catwoman and a relationship between the two? While it happened very rarely, some people in the world had been known to reject their soulmate because they had found someone they deemed better. Is that what had happened? Whatever the reason, you could feel your heart breaking.

You had used to think that, out of all the members of the Justice League, Batman had been one of the cooler members. Now all you could think was that he was a massive jerk.

Maybe it was your own fault for romanticising the whole thing and thinking that your meeting would be something out of a fairytale. Apparently fate was far crueller than you could have ever thought it to be.

Bruce watched as she ran away from him, back down the alleyway she had come from. A small voice in the back of his head told him to go after her. To grab her, hold her close and apologise, tell her that he hadn’t meant it. He ignored it and headed off in the opposite direction, back to where he had left the batmobile.

Over his comms, he heard a barely audible sigh and he could easily picture his butler and lifelong friend shaking his head in disappointment. No doubt he was going to get an earful once he got back to the batcave. Well it certainly wasn’t the first time.

As the batmobile pulled up in the batcave, he could see Alfred waiting for him. ‘ Here we go ,’ he thought as he got out of his car and removed his cowl.

“I don’t want to hear it,” he stated as he walked past him and toward the batcomputer. He set his cowl down on the desk. Even as the words left his mouth he knew he had wasted his breath. If there was one thing that Alfred had done consistently since Bruce had started down this path, it was letting him know when he disagreed with something he did.

“Was that really necessary Master Bruce? She’s come all of this way…” Alfred started, but ended up trailing off. There was a small moment of silence before he continued. “You know, I remember a small boy who couldn’t wait to go out there and find…” Before he could finish what he was saying, Bruce promptly cut him off.  

“What would you have me do, Alfred?!” His voice echoed off of the cave’s walls and disturbed some of the bats still hanging on the ceiling. Bruce gestured toward his equipment and the display cases that held some rather badly damaged batsuits. All of them testaments to injuries that had come far too close to killing him. “Would you really have me force this life on to her? The dangers, the no guarantee I’ll come home…” He took a deep breath and rested both his hands on the surface of his desk. “She deserves so much better.” His voice was quiet, but still easily heard in the, almost, silent cave.

“With all due respect, sir, I believe she should be allowed to make that decision, not you,” Alfred replied before leaving the batcave, not giving Bruce a chance to respond.

He looked in the direction of the stairs that lead up into the manor. The direction that Alfred had headed in. Was he right? Should he be leaving it up to her to decide what she wanted? But with all the dangers he faced nightly… No, it was better for him to stay far away from her.

Over the following week Bruce found himself distracted. It didn’t matter where he was, what he was doing, he couldn’t focus. And considering what he did once night fell over Gotham, to say being unfocused really wasn’t good was a complete understatement of the situation. He had been having far too many close calls recently.

He couldn’t get it out of his head. The way she had looked at him as he told her he didn’t want to meet her, that she should leave. Alfred’s words echoed in his mind and he found himself questioning the decisions he had made that night. Something that Bruce rarely, if ever, did. Everything he did was meticulously planned and there was never any doubt when he made a decision. Was this what happened once you met your soulmate and rejected them?

Bruce was sure that the rest of the Justice League had taken notice. With how off beat and slow to react to certain things, it would be hard not to. Of course, if they had, none of them had mentioned it to him. Apparently they knew better. For the time being, at least. He was sure it wouldn’t be long before they did try to pry into his personal life.

Which lead him here. On the roof of the building opposite of Y/N’s apartment building. He hadn’t needed to do any extensive research to find her, or learn her name, because he had been in this exact spot a couple of years ago.

Two years ago Bruce’s own curiosity had gotten the better of him. He blamed Clark and his soulmate, a reporter by the name of Lois Lane, for it. He had seen them one too many times in the Watchtower together and had found himself wondering who exactly his soulmate was and what they was like. As a result, he had gone looking for them. Not because he wished to finally meet them, but so he could make sure his soulmate was safe and happy. And she was, so he had left. Only ever checking up on her every now and then to make sure she had stayed that way.

He looked down at the golden thread that came out of his gauntlet and lead down toward the apartment he’d been watching. Both as Bruce Wayne and Batman he had made sure to keep it well hidden. With its unique colouring he couldn’t allow anyone to see it. It would be all too easy for his enemies to find her if they did see it.

He knew that by being here he was easily undoing everything he had done to keep her safe, but, then again, had she not done exactly that when she had tracked him down in Gotham? Besides, and while he would never say it out loud, Alfred had been right. It should be up to Y/N to decide whenever or not she wanted all the baggage that came with him being in her life. Baggage that had driven more than one person from his life…

He shook that thought from his head and got up from his crouched position on the roof. Bruce then leapt from the roof and allowed himself to fall for a couple of seconds before opening up his cape and let it catch the wind that was rushing past him. He silently glided over to her apartment’s balcony.

Y/N was in her apartment alone. She was sat on her sofa, the light from the tv was the only thing illuminating the room.

Bruce was unsure of how exactly to go about this. Back in Gotham he had originally thought of approaching her as Bruce Wayne, but quickly discarded it. Bruce Wayne showing up at an out of the way apartment building was sure to garner attention. As would Batman using the front door, so the balcony had seemed to be the best option. But now that he was here, he wasn’t entirely sure it was.

Should he just knock? That seemed like the best way to go about this. It was going to scare the everloving daylights out of her, but he could deal with that.

He gently rapped the glass of the balcony door with his knuckles. As he had expected, Y/N leapt up from her seat. A bowl and the contents of the bowl followed her and scattered across her carpeted floor. She spun around and when she saw him, the look of shock on her face quickly turned to anger. Her eyes narrowed and he swore that glare would be enough to make even the toughest of Gotham’s thugs would cower at its intensity. Maybe she would deal with his life better than he thought.

After a minute of glaring at him, she turned around and walked toward the lightswitch. At the same time, she gestured for him to enter.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing here?” she demanded as soon as he had entered the apartment and shut the door behind him. The rage in her voice was evident and Bruce was sure he could cut the tension in the room with a batarang.

“I came to apologise,” he said, his voice gentle despite how distorted his modulator made it sound. Y/N scoffed immediately. He didn’t blame her. If he was in her shoes, he wouldn’t believe him either. After all ‘Batman’ wasn’t exactly known for making apologies.

“Yeah right.” She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest.

“I’m being truthful. I… I shouldn’t have said what I said. It wasn’t right.”

“Then why did you say it?” A fair question and one he had an answer to. Before he even said it, Bruce was aware how cliché it sounded.

“I wanted to keep you safe. This life isn’t for everyone.”

“So without even meeting me, you decided that it wasn’t for me.” She shook her head. “That’s not your decision to make!” she yelled at him.

“I know. It’s been pointed out to me before.” In fact that night in the cave wasn’t the first time Alfred had told him that. “But that’s why I’m here now. To give you all the information you need to make that decision.”

You listened intently as Batman explained the dangers of the life he was leading. The dangers that effected the people in his life in one way or another. He also made it a point to reiterate the fact that when he left at night or was summoned by the Justice League there was no guarantee he would return. You asked the occasional question, but for the most part you just listened to him to talk and let his words sink in.

You got it. You understood the very clear concerns that Batman had about this whole thing, they concerned you as well, but you weren’t about to let it deter you. You wanted to know your soulmate. Even if it ended horribly, like he was saying it would, you felt it in your core that you would regret not knowing him, especially if the worst truly did happen. And you told him so.

“Even if you’re not wearing a mask, this life is dangerous. Anything can happen.”

“Anything could happen to me when I leave my apartment each day.”

The superhero life wasn’t special in that regard. As you spoke, your voice was a lot calmer than it had been earlier. In fact, as he had spoke and explained you had found your anger slowly fading. You still wanted to slap the jerk superhero before you, but that was a considerable downgrade from your overwhelming need to deck him when you first saw him standing on your balcony.

“It won’t be easy.”

“I’ve never backed down from a challenge before.”  

You admired his commitment to deter you, but it wasn’t going to work. You were too stubborn to let it. Something you were positive he was learning very quickly.

“There’s nothing I can say to convince you that this is a bad idea, is there?”  

“Nope.” You made sure to pop the ‘p’.

Batman sighed deeply. You watched as he looked away from you and toward the golden thread that linked the two of you together. You could almost hear the gears in his brain turning as he thought. Then he was looking back up at you.

“In that case then.”

You watched as Batman brought his hands up to his cowl. Your eyes widened and you couldn’t help the small gasp that left you as he removed the cowl and revealed his identity to you. Bruce Wayne. While you didn’t live in Gotham City, you were well aware of Gotham’s favoured son. You would’ve had to have lived underneath a rock to not know who he was.

And apparently your family had been right on the money, literally. Not that you cared about the money, you weren’t superficial like that. Personality was far more important than the material items someone may or may not have. In your eyes, at least.

You both stood in silence, his blue eyes studying you, probably trying to gauge how you were going to react. To be truthful, you weren’t entirely sure how to react. Except maybe…

“Well, it’s… it’s nice to meet you Bruce Wayne. I guess this is the part where we forget about what happened and start over?”

“If that’s what you want.”

“It is.”

Yeah, sure, this was probably going to end horribly, but you were looking forward to the adventure that lie ahead.

[fruitcoops]

Hey I was wondering if you could write something kinda angsty but with a pretty ending with the cubs, I’m trynna project getting stood up and turning it into something nice and good, even if it’s just in my head. No pressure but I just wanna smile for a bit and your work always makes me do so :)))

Hello lovely! I’m so sorry that you were stood up--that feels awful and whoever did it missed out on a wonderful person. I’ve combined this with some other asks in the same vein (y’all wanted my boys to hurt) so I hope you don’t mind. Sending love and hugs your way! Sweater Weather credit goes to @lumosinlove​ <3

1. Bad mental health day for Finn + pushing himself too hard + passing out (ft. Bee anon!)

2. O’Knutzy boiling over with a fluffy ending

3. Insecure Leo

TW for internalized guilt, vaguely implied self-harm (pushing himself too hard at practice), and relationship arguments

Finn had a few bad habits. He left dirty dishes in the sink, could never remember which setting the laundry was supposed to go on, and barely wiped his shoes on the doormat before entering the house. He wasn’t proud of his flaws, but he acknowledged that everyone had some—as long as they didn’t hurt anybody, it wasn’t the end of the world.

This one…this one was different. Even Finn knew that.

He gritted his teeth for the next set of squats, ignoring the ringing in his ears and the climbing nausea in his gut. The chart only said to do three reps, but he had been beating himself up for slacking a set earlier in the week and decided to do five to make up for it.

That, it seemed, was a poor decision.

His thighs were shaking when he finally put the weight down and he leaned on the wall to stabilize himself. “Fish? You okay?” Logan asked from the yoga mat to his right, staring up at him in concern.

“I’m fine,” Finn lied. “Just straightened up too fast.”

“D’accord.” He could feel Logan’s eyes on his back as he left the gym and headed toward the showers.

Finn’s worst habit was taking care of himself, and it wasn’t something that could be explained away as “oh, silly Harzy” like the washing machine. He made a mental note to take some ibuprofen before driving home so he would be marginally less sore in the morning, but he had the sinking feeling it would be a rough practice the next day.

Remus and Talker were playing some sort of volleyball with an old balloon between their stalls when he entered; he missed getting nailed in the head by a narrow margin and waved off their apologies with a forced smile.

A hand closed around his bicep as he passed, snapping him back to reality as Leo’s bright eyes came into focus. “Hey, lovey, is Lo with you?”

“He’s finishing up.”

A small furrow appeared between Leo’s brows. “Is something wrong?”

“Nope.” Finn faked a yawn and stretched his arm over Leo’s shoulder, dragging him down for a kiss on the cheek. “Cap’s workout just kicked my ass today.”

“That’s what they’re supposed to do,” Sirius said, rolling his eyes playfully as he passed. “You’re not a rookie anymore, O’Hara.”

“Yeah, yeah, alright.”

Logan entered the locker room a few minutes later; Finn closed his eyes and breathed in the thick steam of the shower until the fog in his head cleared a bit and he couldn’t feel the skin on his shoulders. It billowed off him as he dressed again and tossed the keys to Leo, who raised his eyebrows. “Me?”

“You. There’s a little bit of slush left, and you still need to learn how to drive in it.” And I feel like I’m going to pass out at any minute. He swallowed down the last thought and pasted a teasing grin on his face—what Leo and Logan didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. It was his own fault for being lazy in the past.

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

What Leo and Logan didn’t know apparently did hurt them. In hindsight, Finn should have seen that coming before he passed out in the middle of a scrimmage.

The lights of the coach’s office made his headache even worse. “Care to explain?” Arthur asked in a voice like frost. To his left, Sirius was glowering.

“I already told Hestia—”

“Yeah, I know what you told Hestia,” Arthur interrupted. “I want to hear it directly from you.”

Finn sighed through his nose and picked at a stray thread on his jersey. “I…I pushed myself a little too hard at yesterday’s practice and didn’t say anything when I started feeling bad.”

“Why.” Sirius’ eyes were hard as flint.

“Because I didn’t want to be a pain in the ass! I can handle some aching muscles, it’s not a big deal!”

“Not a—”

Arthur put his hand on Sirius’ shoulder. “That’s enough, Black. O’Hara, I want you to look me in the eyes.” Finn raised his head. “This was a dumbass mistake and all of us expected better from you. Your safety and health come before any workout routine, and it is your responsibility to speak up before you scare the shit out of us by dropping like a rock.”

“I’m sorry, Coach.”

“Apology accepted. I also want you to call Heather when you get home and schedule an appointment with her.” Some of Arthur’s frustration melted into genuine concern and guilt crawled up Finn’s throat. “Doing that to yourself isn’t healthy, Finn. You’re a good man, smart, and I know you know better.”

“Can we talk for a second?” Sirius asked quietly, glancing at Arthur. He nodded and left the room.

“I’m sorry.”

“What the fuck, Finn?” Sirius ran a hand down his face, suddenly pale. “What the fuck was that?”

“It was stupid.”

“Yeah, no, I got that part.”

“I slacked off a set on Monday.”

“Wow, nobody’s ever done that before,” he said sarcastically, sitting down in the chair by the wall as Finn resumed messing with his hem. “You scared the hell out of all of us.”

“I know.”

“You know I’m not mad at you, right? I’m upset that you thought you had to do that at all.”

Tears prickled the backs of Finn’s eyes. “I know.”

“I’m sure as hell not your coach or your dad, but I’m going to say this as your friend, okay?” Sirius leaned over into Finn’s field of view. “Whatever you need, I’m here for you. This team wouldn’t be the same without you. I wouldn’t be the same without you. We need you to take care of yourself, Harzy.”

Finn nodded silently and Sirius gave his hand a quick squeeze, which he returned. “Does everyone know?”

“I told them you were under the weather, nothing more.”

“Classic media answer.” He tried and failed to crack a smile. “Thanks for not telling on me.”

“That’s not my job. My job is herding cats on ice skates for five hours a day.”

Finn’s smile was real that time and he managed a light laugh as he swiped away the dampness on his cheeks. “Love you, man.”

“Love you, too.” Sirius helped him stand up and hugged him tight for a second before letting go. “Speaking as someone who used to do the exact same thing, talking to Heather makes a world of difference.”

“I’ll give her a call.”

The cold feeling returned to Finn’s gut when they stepped out of the office; Leo and Logan were waiting by the opposite wall, looking angrier than Finn had ever seen. Sirius patted his shoulder once before walking off down the hallway toward the locker room, where he would no doubt deflect even more questions.

“Hey,” Finn said, barely above a whisper. Logan continued to stare at the ground.

“You lied to us,” Leo said bluntly. “Several times. Both of us asked if you were alright and you told us you were fine.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I accept your apology, but I don’t understand.” He ran a hand through his hair with a sigh. “Finn, this isn’t how we deal with things. We agreed to be a team.”

Finn bit his lip. I fucked this one up. “We did. I am so sorry for scaring you—”

“We’re not mad that you scared us,” Logan snapped, still looking anywhere but his face. “We’re upset that you refuse to take care of yourself and then lied to us about it.”

Leo nudged Logan’s shoulder before turning back. “Why did you do that, Finn?”

“I didn’t want to fall behind. I was just trying to make up for the set I skipped on Monday.”

“What? Twenty squats and some pushups? That’s not worth your health, honey.” The pet name soothed the terror clutching Finn’s heart and he took a deep breath. They still loved him. This wasn’t the end.

“It was a stupid thing to do and it won’t happen again.”

“Good. Let’s go home.” Logan grabbed his duffel bag off the ground and started walking toward the door; Leo looked like he was going to say something, but Finn gently took his elbow.

“He’s going to need a minute,” he said under his breath. Logan was a hothead about many things, but lying was in the top three. Finn knew he hurt him deep.

“Did you…” Leo trailed off and pressed his lips together as they followed Logan into the parking lot. “Did you feel like you couldn’t tell me?”

Finn shook his head. “No. This was all on me.”

“It’s just that I know I’m younger than both of you and I’m new to the hockey lifestyle, but I never want you to think you can’t trust me—”

“Leo.” Finn stopped walking and tugged on Leo’s hand, turning him around. Worry was painted all over his face and it sliced to Finn’s core. “I trust you and Logan with everything, but I got into my head about this and I wasn’t thinking about how it would hurt you. Please believe that.”

Leo sighed. “I do. I just don’t get it.”

“Neither do I, to be honest.” Logan was already sitting in the car with his headphones on as they crossed the lot. “It’s going to take him a while to talk to me, isn’t it?”

“He was really upset.”

“We’ll figure this out.” He tightened his grip on Leo’s hand. “We’ve made it through worse.”

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

The apartment crackled with tension until Finn literally had to stick his head out the open window to get a breath of fresh air. Waves of frustration and hurt rolled off Logan, though he still refused to look Finn in the eyes.

After dinner, Leo slid into the armchair before Logan could get there, leaving only the couch available. They carefully sat on opposite sides—Finn stole glances at Logan out of the corner of his eye for the entire first half of the movie. Ninety minutes of action later, he felt something chilly poking at his calf.

Logan kept his gaze trained on the TV as he scooted his freezing toes under Finn’s legs. Relief flooded Finn’s veins; he felt a little like crying, but instead schooled his expression into a small smile and rested his hand on Logan’s ankle, where it stayed until the movie ended.

Leo had fallen asleep by that time, splayed out sideways on the cushion with his face smushed against the armrest. “Il est mignon,” Logan said softly. There was a beat of silence and he looked over at Finn. “He’s cute.”

“He is.” Finn cleared his throat and met his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Lo. I never meant to hurt you, but I did, and I’m sorry.”

“Promise me you won’t do that again.”

“I won’t.”

Finn had a few bad habits, but backing out on his promises would never be one of them.

[silkling]

And Birdie Makes Three

Earth was a magnet for anything Cybertronian. Wheeljack would swear by that for the rest of his life. He’d only intended to visit Earth for a few days. Help Team Prime kick some ‘Con tailpipe, catch up with Bulkhead, have fun messing with the Doc-bot. Yet, here he was, roped into some sort of recon/retrieval mission. This wasn’t exactly his idea of a fun time. But, he had offered to help when he’d come to this little mudball, so he supposed he couldn’t complain too much.

Apparently, Ratchet had caught a Cybertronian signal headed for some remote Earth desert. From what he’d been able to tell, the good doctor had said that the signal was strange. It wasn’t the type of signal that would come off of a proper ship, so it was something else, something smaller. Personally, Wheeljack didn’t care what it was. All he cared about was the second part of the report: that the signal indicated another bot was on board whatever vessel was set to crash planet-side.

So, Prime had sent Bulkhead and the little scout to check it out, and asked Wheeljack if he’d be up for going along. How could he have said no? Besides, if it turned out to be a fight then of course he’d want to be there! Unfortunately for him, a fight was not to be had. The ground bridge had malfunctioned and dropped them a few miles off, and they’d had to drive the rest of the way to the predicted crash site. When they’d finally arrived, the vessel, which Wheeljack could now see was an escape pod, had already crashed. Apparently, whoever had been inside had also already been greeted by ‘Cons, because the terrain around the pod spoke of a rather violent battle.

The sand was soaked with energon, and the ground was strewn with vehicon and eradicon bodies. A large, thin piece of metal from the pod had been ripped off and used as a makeshift weapon; Wheeljack could see how, whoever had been in that pod, they had used to to gouge and hack at several of the dead drones. A few paces away, the offending piece of metal was stuck through an eradicon’s face. Beyond that, many of the bodies looked like they’d been killed by some sort of blaster or gun. Many more looked like something had ripped at their throats and left them to bleed out. A few were missing their helms altogether. Nearby, what had once been a large rock formation was now rubble, and the largest surviving boulder had deep gouge marks in the stone. On a few of the corpses, the edges of the escape pod, and the boulder, Wheeljack could see faint blue paint transfers.

“Primus,” Bulkhead said. “Whoever was in that pod, they sure did a lot of damage. Think the ‘Cons got them?”

Wheeljack crossed his arms, optics narrowed. Something about this was….eerily familiar. But from where? “Maybe.” he said after a moment. “Doubt it though.”

“Yeah? How do you figure that?”

“Dunno.” He shrugged. “Just a feeling.”

“Uh, guys?” Bumblebee beeped. “Hate to break this up, but you know what this means, right?”

Bulkhead blinked. “What do you mean, Bee?”

“If the ‘Cons came to get this bot, and the bot reacted like this to them,” he answered, gesturing at the scene around them. “Then whoever was in that pod is probably one of ours.”

Wheeljack perked up. “You known, kid, I think you’re right.” he grinned. Oh, now this was going to be fun.

He wondered who it was. The Terror Twins? Maybe, but the pod looked like it’d be cramped for two. Jazz? This was definitely within his ability to pull off, but something this violent wasn’t really his style. Ironhide? He definitely had the skill set to pull off carnage like this, and he would actually commit such a level of violence if he was pushed far enough. Pits, it could be a lot of mechs. It could even be one of the femmes! There was no real way to tell. Wheeljack did want to meet them and shake their hand, though. This level of chaos and destruction was honestly impressive.

“Alright.” Bulkhead spoke up. “So it’s one of ours. But the question now is, where are they?”

Oh, he just had to ruin to mood with his pertinent questions, didn’t he?

“There’s no way to tell.” Bumblebee beeped. “We just have to wait and see if more clues pop up, I guess. I hope we find them soon, though.”

That, Wheeljack could agree with.

——————————

Bulkhead was distracted. Miko knew the other humans couldn’t pick up on it, but Bulk was her best friend and she knew him. So when she said he was distracted, she meant it. It wasn’t bad. It wasn’t like he wasn’t doing his job, or was getting in trouble in the field because of his distraction, but it was definitely affecting his life at base. He was so…quiet. Ever since that mission in the desert, where they’d come back without the mystery bot, he hadn’t been able to focus on anything he did with her. Miko was starting to get very annoyed with it, actually.

Which meant it was time to get to the root of the problem. And, luckily for her, no one was in the secondary chamber of the base today, which she and Bulkhead had taken over to use to practice their music when they got kicked out of the main room. Which meant now was the perfect time to brooch the subject with her giant metal pal.

“Hey, Bulk!”

He startled at her call, blue eyes darting down to fix on her. “Miko? Do you need something?”

“Yeah!” she put her hands on her hips. “You’ve been distracted ever since the desert. What’s the deal, big guy?”

He blinked slowly, then sighed. “That obvious?”

“Just to me!” she said cheerily, clambering up to perch on his knee. “So, what’s the deal? Spill!”

“It’s something Wheeljack said. At crash site, there was, uh, a lot of carnage.” he said. She could tell he was picking his words carefully to avoid going into too much detail. That was no fun! “And, well, Jackie mentioned some of the damage looked familiar, but he couldn’t figure out from where. And he’s right. It was familiar, but I just can’t put my finger on it.”

“Well,” Miko kicked her legs. “You guys said it was probably a ‘Bot, right?” At his nod, she continued. “Then maybe it’s familiar cause it’s the damage caused by a specific ‘Bot?”

Bulkhead made a noise of frustration. “We kind of figured that. But that’s the problem. We just don’t know who.”

“So, you know they’re a ‘Bot, and the damage they did was really familiar to you and Wheeljack, but you can’t figure out which ‘Bot and from where the damage is familiar?”

“Yeah, that’s pretty much it.”

“Hmmm…” Miko tapped her chin. “Yeah, okay. Now I see why you’re distracted.”

He chuckled, lightly tapping her head with a finger. “Thanks anyway, Miko.”

“Yeah yeah, no problem.” she said, distracted herself now. Now she was lost in thought, and over the same conundrum as Bulkhead!

Just who was this mystery Autobot?

——————————

The day had started out peaceful. Frankly, Wheeljack had been bored. Which was why he was quite thrilled with where it had gone, in the end. Ratchet had found an energon mine, and Optimus had asked him, Bulkhead, and Arcee to go check it out and collect what they could. They’d come, and they’d managed to get quite a bit of energon piled up by the time the action had started.

There has been the sound of a ground bridge, and then Breakdown had stepped out from it, followed by a gaggle of vehicons and eradicons. And then, of course, the clash began. Breakdown had gone straight for Bulkhead, and that left Wheeljack and Arcee to take on the drones. For a while, he’d let his processor blank, his frame moving on reflexes alone as he struck down an ‘Con who came into range of his blades. He didn’t notice anything around him as he fought, his swords cutting through armor and limbs and throats alike.

When he next looked up, Bulkhead had backed Breakdown into a corner. So much so that the former Wrecker had been forced to call for a ground bridge and retreat. But, of course, these were Decepticons they were dealing with, so nothing could ever be easy. Less than a minute after Breakdown had been forced to flee, another ground bridge opened and spilled out a horde of vehicons and eradicons.

“Scrap.” Wheeljack hissed.

This wasn’t good. True, the drones are easy to take down, but in large enough numbers they started to wear a mech down. They’d probably get out of this fine, but it’d be cutting it close. Arcee gave a fierce cry as she dove back into the fray, and Wheeljack exchanged a nod with Bulkhead before both Wreckers joined her. Working together, they managed to thin the horde down until there were few left.

And that, of course, was when things went wrong. Arcee had gotten too close to the edge of a nearby cliff edge, and one lucky shot her her stumbling back and over. Bulkhead reacted quickly, lunging forward and shooting out his wrecking ball for his teammate to catch. Wheeljack, meanwhile, roared and lunged forward to take out the rest of the vehicons so they couldn’t offline his friend while the big green lug was distracted.

Too late, he realized he’d forgotten about the eradicons in flight above him. In fact, he didn’t even realize they’d been there until he heard the sound of blades rapidly slicing through the air and the snarl of a powerful engine. Then there was the sound of blaster fire, and eradicons dropped to the ground around him.

Before he could look up or turn around, Wheeljack heard the sound of a transformation sequence above him, and then a heavy metal form dropped to the earth at his back. He whirled around, bringing his blades to bare, ready to slice the helm off whatever ‘Con had tried get the drop on him.

He froze, his swords mere micrometers from slicing into the throat of the offending bot, and then he slid his battle mask aside and grinned fiercely.

“Well well well, look what the turbo-fox dragged in!”

——————————

Will was not having a good day. The higher ups were getting uppity about the ‘Bots. About Wheeljack in particular, actually. They kept throwing a fit that the Wrecker wasn’t a permanent addition to Team Prime, and that he came and left as he pleased. Apparently, their displeasure was rooted in the fact that having another Autobot on the team more permanently might make them end their war a little earlier. The pencil pushers up in Washington just didn’t understand that matters were a little more complicated than that. Of course, they also refused to listen when he tried to explain that he, nor they, had any say over how the alien military handled its individual soldiers. And when Wheeljack kept leaving, they kept getting angry. Then they took that irritation out on him. Hence, he wasn’t having a good day.

He had come down to the Autobot’s base to talk to Prime about some of their more recent missions. Including the one in the desert. None of the bots had actually cleaned up the mess left behind there, and some humans had recently stumbled across it. It had been….fun, to explain that away. So, he was here to remind Prime to be a bit more careful about leaving messes on battlefields where humans might stumble across it. Will had also been ordered to try and convince Wheeljack to stay, though he wasn’t holding his breath on that one.

As he leaned against the railing, talking with Prime, he heard noise from Ratchet’s direction. The medic was talking to someone, probably one of the bots who were out, and then he was opening the ground bridge. Arcee, Bulkhead, and Wheeljack came through, carrying cubes of energon, and they set it all in the corner. When Ratchet went to turn off the ground bridge, Bulkhead stopped him.

“Just a second, Ratchet. We have a guest coming in.” he said, seeming cheerful.

“A guest?” Prime spoke up, frowning.

“Yep!” Wheeljack grinned. “He’s one of ours! It’s the ‘Bot from the escape pods!” he gestured at the ground bridge, and all eyes turned to it.

Will heard the metallic sound of Cybertronian footsteps, and then a form appeared, silhouetted against the light of the ground bridge. The bot walked forward, and as the ground bridge powered off Will got his first good look at Earth’s newest Autobot.

“Optimus, everyone, this is Whirl.” Bulkhead said, grinning. “He’s a Wrecker, like me and Jackie.”

Whirl certainly looked like he’d fit in as an elite soldier. The blue Autobot was tall, with digitigrade legs, and pincer-like claws in place of hands. His arms were a little odd, and Will was quick to realize he seemed to have some sort of rotors in each arm. His most startling feature, however, was his head. He had a cylindrical head, and no face to speak of. Instead, he had a singular, large golden eye set into the center of his head. He also had thin, sharp protrusions coming off his back, which Will swore looked like helicopter blades. Hell, even the bot’s feet were strange, looking like someone had bound the front claws of a bird’s talons and left the back claw alone.

For a second, the Autobot base was silent. Then Nakadai broke it.

“Another Wrecker?” she gasped, racing down the stairs of the entertainment nook and running up to the new bot. “That’s so cool! You look awesome! It’s really great to meet another bot, especially another Wrecker like Bulk and Wheeljack! Your claws look sharp, I bet you can do a lot of damage with them! Tell me, how many ‘Cons have you taken on with them?” she asked, excited.

Whirl startled, blinking down at her. “Oh, hey.” he spoke. “You’re one of those little organics. I didn’t know you guys kept some of the locals around.” he said, directing the last statement at Bulkhead.

“We don’t.” the green bot replied. “These guys are…a special case.”

Whirl shrugged, then turned back to the excited human at his feet. “Fine by me.” he chirped, crouching down. “Hiya!” he greeted Nakadai. “You’re very energetic! I like that!”

Nakadai cackled, clearly thrilled that the large bot was matching her energy. “I’m Miko!” she thrust her hand out.

Whirl blinked again, and then his eye was curving into a thin arch that Will swore was his approximation of a smile. “Oooh, I’ve seen this with you lot!” God, the new guy sounded giddy. “It’s how you say hello!”

Whirl held out his own hand, letting Nakadai grasp the tip of a single claw in hand before waving his hand up and down slightly. She laughed, her whole body pulled along with the movement, and let go once he stopped. Once she was stable on her feet, he reached out and very carefully tapped the tip of one claw against the top of her head.

“I like you!” he announced. “Any tiny organic brave enough to run up to the Whirlybird gets an okay in my book!”

Wheeljack laughed, walking over to his former teammate as the blue bot stood back up. He slapped Whirl’s back with a grin. “Well that’s good, because the humans are kinda a fixture here, so if you wanna stay you gotta get used to them!”

Whirl responded to the slap by punching his claws against Wheeljack’s shoulder. “Rough as always, Wheelie?” he said, the edge of a growl under his voice.

“No!” Bulkhead cut in before Wheeljack could respond. “No brawls in here.” he scolded.

Both the other bots pouted. Or, well, Will thought Whirl was pouting. It was hard to tell. “You’re no fun.” they said together.

Off to the side, Prime made a sound that Will knew to be the Cybertronian equivalent of clearing his throat. “Whirl.”

Immediately, that odd head snapped in his direction. Prime continued. “I am pleased that you have safely found your way to us. I must ask, however. How did you come to find yourself on Earth?”

“Is that what this fun little mudball is called?” Whirl made an odd clicking noise. “Neat.”

“Whirl.” Prime prompted again.

“Right.” he said. “See, I was actually a few star systems over. Had my own ship, ‘cept I crashed it. Managed to make it on my own, but then the ‘Cons found me. Was running low on fuel and not in the best shape, so they managed to nab me. Took me to this big ship, I think they were planning on sending me to old Megatron cause of our history.” Here, he waved his hand and clicked his claws in a gesture Will could only call dismissive. “Managed to get out, and I hijacked an escape pod. Next thing I know, I’m crashing on this planet and waking up to a ‘Con welcome party! I dealt with them, of course, and then went to figure out where I was! I scanned a new alt-mode, then lay low and tried to figure out the whole deal with Cybertronians here. Then I stumbled on Bulky and Wheelie, and here I am!” he finished, throwing his arms up partway as if in celebration.

Prime blinked, clearly trying to sort through the information. “…you have history with Megatron?”

“Unfortunately! Megzy hates me! I’m positive he wants to see me die very painfully!”

Will really didn’t understand how he could say that so cheerfully.

“I…see.” Prime clearly did not. Nonetheless, he continued. “You have had a long journey to come here, Whirl. I regret to inform you that Megatron is also on this planet, but if you would care to stay and join the fight then my team will welcome you.”

Whirl blinked, lifting a claw to tap at his chin. Did he have a chin? Hell if Will knew.

“Megzy’s here, eh? Well, it’s not like I was trying to avoid him anyway.” Whirl shrugged, then his eye curved in that grinning arch again. “What the Pit, I’m in! I’d be happy to join your little crew, Prime!” he chirped, his arm coming up to snap a salute.

Except as he did, it caused the armor plates under his arm to shift and reveal a wound leaking energon near his armpit. The blue of the energon was similar enough to his paint that it hadn’t been noticed in the excitement, but now as a drop of it fell to the ground, the wound was definitely noticed.

Ratchet in particular was honed in on it. “You’re injured?” he demanded, taking a step towards the new arrival. “Why didn’t you say anything? Let me take a look at that, I can repair it.” he grunted.

Whirl stepped away from the medic, his eye narrowing. “You’re a medic, yeah? I’ve heard a lot about the famous Ratchet.”

“Yes, I’m a medic.” Ratchet snapped. “Now stay still and let me look at you!” He made to get closer.

“No need, Doc! Just point me in the direction of the medical stuff and I can take care of it! I’ve treated myself plenty of times before!” Whirl said cheerily.

“Oh no you will not!” Ratchet growled, reaching for the other bot.

Whirl made an odd noise then, one that made every bot in the base go still and stare at him. His engine seemed to snarl, and his armor shifted and flared, making him look significantly larger. The rotors in his arms spun to life, a high pitched humming filling the silence. His eye focused on Ratchet, the protrusions at his back twitching.

Slowly, Ratchet backed off, raising his hands and taking a few steps away. He pointed down the hall to where the makeshift medbay had been set up. “Down that way.” he said calmly.

After a beat of silence, Whirl relaxed, the harsh glow of his eye fading as he nodded and trotted off. Once he was gone, Will spoke up.

“What in the name of Sam Hill was that?”

“A threat display.” Arcee supplied helpfully.

“Threat display?! Are you saying he threatened Ratchet? Prime, did you just invite a bot onto your team who’s a danger to the people here?” Will demanded.

“No!” Bulkhead yelped. “It’s not like that! Ratchet pushed too far.”

“How?!”

“I did.” Ratchet agreed. “He was clearly uncomfortable around me. I should have backed off when he first gave signs of discomfort.”

“He still threatened you!” Will yelled.

“I would like to know why as well, Bulkhead.” Prime said seriously.

“Whirl’s not a danger to anyone here.” Wheeljack said, sounding dead serious.

“Then what was that?” Wil demanded.

“Whirl…doesn’t really like medics.” Bulkhead said, sounding hesitant. “I think he might even have a fear of ‘em.”

“What? Why?”

Wheeljack snorted. “You all saw him. Why do you think?”

Will didn’t know what that meant. But there was silence for a moment, and it seemed like the other bots did know what that meant.

“Oh.” Ratchet was quiet. “That’s….yes. I should have predicted that.” he sounded almost faint.

“I see.” Prime murmured, tone somber.

“Oh, Pits. I didn’t even think of that.” Arcee seemed deeply uncomfortable.

In the corner, Bumblebee beeped something and shifted, refusing to look at anyone.

Will exchanged a look with the kids, who were clearly as confused as he was. Then he turned back to the bots. “Prime! What’s the deal?”

“It is not my place to say, Agent Fowler.” he said grimly. “I do apologize for causing confusion, but that information is Whirl’s alone to share.”

“But he’s not a threat?” Will said carefully. He didn’t understand what was going on, but he was smart. He could read between the lines. Whatever Whirl’s deal with medics was, it was related to some sort of trauma. He wouldn’t pry, he knew better.

“No, he is not.”

“Then I guess I should go inform the powers that be that there’s a new bot in town.” Will sighed, stepping back and heading to the elevator.

Oh, this was going to be fun to explain to higher ups, he could tell already.

—————————-

Whirl found the makeshift medbay easily. After that, it didn’t take him long to weld the gash under his arm. He used a rag to mop up the mess of energon on his armor, then tossed it aside and looked around. He couldn’t help but feel out of place. He’d seen the rest of Prime’s team. They were all Normal, were all Good and Unbroken. Whirl…wasn’t. He was Wrong, was Shattered and Twisted and Bad. But he had to keep going, didn’t he? It wasn’t like there was much else he could do. Not with the War raging on.

The copter bot sighed, his optic shuttering as he sagged where he stood. He was tired, okay? He’d been fighting for so long. He’d left the Aerial Corps because he hadn’t wanted to fight, he hadn’t wanted his life to be defined by violence. He’d been Good and Whole, back then. Back when he’d still had his hands and his shop and his watches and clocks. Back before the Senate stole it all from him.

The memory of his loss burned through him, white-hot and raging. His engine snarled, and before he realized what he was doing he raked his claws along the wall, drawing deep gouges into the metal. He stared at the damage, his engine growling with pent up aggression. He had to fight. It was all he knew. Ever since he’d lost his watches, all he’d known was violence, violence, and more violence. Now, it was the only language he knew, the only thing he understood. He lived and breathed violence, and with every passing day the storm raging in his helm grew worse.

Whirl wasn’t sane. He was well aware of that fact. But what was he supposed to do about it? There were no psychologists, not among the Autobots or Decepticons. Even if there were, he wouldn’t go. His thoughts were his own. He wasn’t about to bare his spark to some soft little processor-doctor in the vain hope it might help. It wouldn’t. He knew that. Medics, of the psychiatric kind or otherwise, never wanted to help him. Even when they had to treat him to save his life, it was always the bare minimum he needed before they kicked him out of their medbay. Medics weren’t good. Not to him, never for him.

He stared at the damaged wall for another beat, then turned his helm away and walked out of the room. He stopped, surprised when his exit was met with the sight of Bulkhead. Immediately, he forced his EM field to project cheer and humor, forcing down the exhaustion and melancholy that he knew had been wrapped in it before. No one could know. Everyone already knew ol’ Whirlybird was insane and prone to fits of violence. He wouldn’t let them know how bad off his processor actually was. It would make his end goal for the end of the War easier to get away with. He didn’t want to be helped. “Help” was usually just another excuse other bots used to hurt him anyway.

“Bulky!” Whirl chirped. “Fancy meeting you here! To what do I owe the pleasure of your company? Don’t tell me the Prime asked you to escort little ol’ me?”

Bulkhead seemed mildly confused but mostly amused. “You’re still the same Whirl, aren’t you?” he grinned. “No, but Jackie and I got one of the spare rooms here set up for you. It’s only got a berth in it right now, but if you’re staying on Team Prime you’ll need your own space.”

Whirl blinked, cocking his helm. His winglets fluttered at his back. “Awe!” he cooed. “You shouldn’t have! I’m flattered!”

He chuckled, then gestured with one large hand. “This way. I’ll show you were it is. Optimus said you can rest and regain your strength for the rest of the day, but tomorrow he’d like to talk to you and explain our situation here.”

Whirl set off to follow the big green bot as he walked off. “Fine by me! It’ll be nice to recharge in a berth again! Lemme tell ya, the ground on this mudball isn’t comfortable at all!” he complained. “I made the mistake of recharging in some of that organic plant matter once, and I’m still picking out organic bits from my seams!”

Bulkhead chuckled, grinning over his shoulder. “Yeah, Earth can be pretty messy sometimes. It’s a pretty neat planet, though. I think you’ll like it, especially the humans!”

“Well, if the rest of the tinies are anything like that Miko one, then I probably will!”

“Miko’s a class all on her own.” Primus bless him, Bulkhead seemed proud of that. “She’s my ward. Optimus assigned her and the other two children to three of us when they accidentally discovered our secret.”

“Awe, you’re like a proud creator. That’s adorable, Bulky.”

“Wha-no!” he sputtered, field flaring with embarrassment. “It’s not like that! I just take care of her while she’s here! She’s a good kid.”

“You’re not helping your case, buddy.”

Bulkhead groaned, coming to a stop in front of a door. “Oh, just shut it, Whirl.” Despite the harsh words, there was no true anger in his voice. “Anyway, this is your room. I’m going to go join the others. You’re free to do what you want.” he said, then spun on his heel and hurried off, likely to escape further teasing.

Whirl stared after him in amusement, then opened the door and slipped in, letting it slide shut behind him. As Bulkhead had said, there was only a berth in the room, but he could add to it as time went on. Besides, right now he only needed the berth anyway. He padded over to it, and let himself fall face-first into it. He kicked his legs and flopped around to get his whole body into the berth, then rolled and twisted until he’d gotten himself wrapped in the mesh blanket that had been left on it.

He was tired. He’d been traveling for a long time without proper recharge. He could deal with the things to come in the morning. Right now, he just wanted rest. Whirl sighed, optic slipping shut as he relaxed. In the silence of the room, he let his processor wander, slipping from thought to thought until recharge took him.

And as day turned to night and and rest of the base bedded down, Whirl slept on, dreaming dreams of all the things he had been, and all the things he could be.

———————————————————————————————————

So, I don’t really have an excuse for this. I like Whirl. He was fun in Cyberverse, and when I realized he existed in other media I got excited. Full disclosure, I didn’t read the comics. But! I do know a bit about him from other sources. So this was my interpretation of Alligned Continuity Whirl. Idk if I’ll continue this. I might, it was all very self-indulgent.

But, anyway, let me know what you think! I hope y’all liked it. Whirl is fun to write. He’s going to be a horrible influence on Miko, just know that in advance.

Until next time, folks!

[downwiththemutantnjnjaturtles]

We Met Within This Screen [chapt. 6]

[Donnie x reader]

sfw, chapter 5 here

Come on, save it, save it, Donnie chanted to himself later that night, at home and tucked away in his room trying to figure out how to neutralize the situation. He paced along his bed back and forth, phone in hand as he wracked his brain thinking about how he'd get her to let it go. He could tell her that she was...overtired? Go the stereotypical route and say it was just her eyes playing tricks on her? Try to play it off as human teenagers messing around on the roof?

She'd gone to bed already. He hated that he couldn't pursue the subject until morning, her morning, but by then, he'd be tired. When she woke, he slept. But he needed to get it resolved as quickly as possible, so he reckoned it was time to pull an all nighter. Luckily, that wasn't anything he wasn't used to.

He figured he'd get the preliminaries out of the way so he could get right to it when she eventually texted back.

"Good morning

I know you're not awake yet but I figured I'd get an early start today.

I want to know, what exactly did you see last night?"

He shut his phone off and set it down on the bed, fingers rubbing his temples. Depending on her answer, this would either be difficult, or near impossible.

The rest of his time was spent just waiting around for her to finally wake up, dodging all his brothers and trying to occupy himself with something. He was fiddling with the radio he kept on the floor next to his bed when his phone notified him of a message. Turning the volume up, some old-school rock played softly. He didn't always keep music on when he worked, which was what he was doing felt like, but something needed to fill the silence. It also made it feel more casual to have the radio on, for both himself and for whoever might stop by his room.

"Good morning to you too

That was...sudden??"

How nice it was to read those words coming from someone who wasn't his family. Not that they said it like that often anyway, but the small gesture hit differently.

"I'm just really curious about what you said you saw."

Curious? Not quite. More like dying to know, and not because he fancied himself some cryptid hunting.

"That's fair I guess

But don't laugh, ok?"

"I'd never, [y/n]"

"Well

Okay

They were big

But no like not the overweight kinf, not even just 'tall guy' kind of big

kind*

You know?"

Yeah, I aware. I'm 6'8" and have a giant shell on my back.

"They?"

He was hoping she'd only seen one of them. Maybe it would have been easier, but, of course, that wasn't the case.

"I think there were two

Idk it just looked really weird, it was dark but the silhouette from the light made them look bulky, I don't know what it was"

Lips pursed tight, he looked up from his phone, and all of a sudden that music in the background was suffocating. He quickly reached over and shut it off. He needed to be able to divert all of his attention to one thing. Except, even though he should have been spazzing over her spotting them (even if just for a split second), a concern crept up in the back of his mind that made him scoff at himself. The need to know was too great.

His eyes fell on his scaled, three-fingered hand as he typed.

"Did it scare you?"

Perhaps it wasn't what he should have been focusing on. But he was. He knew she hadn't seen much, but what if she quipped that it was frightening, or gross, or…?

"I don't know, Bo

I guess it was kind of freaky

Uh, do you actually believe me? That I saw something?"

"'Freaky?'" he repeated to himself in a whisper, brow ridge furrowed. What was I expecting?

He had to shake himself of whatever was going on in his head at the moment, because there were more pressing matters at hand. Like what he was going to answer her question with. Theoretically, he could go two routes; one, invalidate the experience and try to walk on the line of telling her that it was not real without making her feel crazy. And then probably get mad at him. Or two, go along with it, if he didn't have the heart to do that to her. The answer was already here; he let out a deep sigh. Two, it is.

Nothing could make him want to make her feel that way, even if it meant he'd have to put in a little extra effort in fixing his mistake.

"I wouldn't doubt your judgement, [y/n]."

"Thanks

That makes me feel a lot better

You're a really good guy, Bo :)"

Freezing, he sat and stared at the screen before slowly taking the phone away from his face, lips moving, but no sound coming out. He had no idea what to say; all he could focus on was the fact that the girl he undeniably liked thought he was a good guy. And that, presumably, it meant she might have liked him as well. Big on the "might", he realized as the logical part of his mind took over once again. Regardless, he licked his lips and got to preparing a worthy response. He didn't want to come off as flustered as he felt. Donnie was aware he was not particularly suave—he took solace in the fact that she couldn't see his face or hear his voice. He contemplated on acting a bit more "cool guy" than he actually was, but wanted her to like him for him, not a facade. Which was a major contradiction to all that he had done up to that point, but the least he could do was be the person he was on the inside!

"You there?"

"Sorry, I got distracted…

You really think so?"

"That I think you're a great guy?"

"Well...yes."

"Totally. 100%"

His heart was going, he was stammering to himself, and a new feeling enveloped him. He was no stranger to the different emotions; he'd gotten familiar with many of them. Because though he didn't always show it, he had a lot of feelings. These, he felt most viscerally. But he had to get back on track. If he could push last night's incident under the rug, all would be well. More well than it already was, considering.

"Thank you, [y/n]

To be honest, I've never had a friend like you

So, do you want to talk more about what you saw? I know I'm switching tracks quickly, it's just very….interesting."

It was a jarring and awkward subject change, he knew that, but he desperately wanted to get it out of the way. The sooner, the better.

"I suppose

You seem pretty interested in it"

Maybe she wasn't hanging onto the experience like he'd thought she would. There were so many tales of people seeing inexplicable things and becoming enraptured by the experience that he guessed he should only expect the worst, but it appeared that she was not so obsessed. Crisis averted?

"Not too much, I was just wondering

We can forget about it."

"Oh, I'm not going to forget about it, Bo"

There it is, he thought, not surprised.

After thirty minutes of attempting to throw her off without coming off as suspicious himself, he had to take a breather, reorganize his mind. Only to come back and find that she had to go take care of things, and that she'd talk to him later. He'd done as much fixing as he could; at that point, it was as good as it was going to get. The thought of being looked for by his unknowing friend loomed about in the coming weeks as they did their patrols, when they would pass by her residence, and the times that he snuck off to stop by himself. Sometimes accompanied by Mikey, but he tried to keep it as solitary as possible. Soon, watching her on her balcony from that roof became part of his routine. He vaguely thought sometimes that watching her like that could be considered creepy, but that ship had already sailed.

For the third time in the last month he was there yet again, on the same roof, watching the same balcony, watching the same girl. Sometimes they texted, sometimes they didn't. The times he wasn't talking to her as he sat there were the times he daringly crossed the threshold onto the fire escape. There were only a few instances of that. But did he still feel out of his mind doing so? Yes. The window only looked into part of the living room and kitchen, but he felt scandalous to do it. Most of his time there was spent only with his shell against the wall next to the window, just out of sight. He could always hear her faint but noticeable footsteps coming and could easily vault the railing and climb up or drop down. She couldn't get past his keen hearing unless she knew to tread lightly.

Mikey was with him once again, this time out to look for scrap rather than patrol. He'd been buddied up with his younger brother more often ever since their talk that night in Donnie's room. They only stopped by because they were already out and had a viable excuse.

"Does she know about us? Like, me, Leo, Raph..." rambled Mikey, curious, as he practiced one of his new moves with his skateboard. He kicked up onto the ledge of the roof and skidded before hopping off, tucking the board under his arm. "You guys have been together like, what, two months? And she doesn't even know your name."

Fiddling with the strap reaching around his shoulder, Donnie replied matter-of-factly to hide the embarrassment that was ailing him at the thought, "Okay, for starters, we're not 'together'. And secondly, she hasn't mentioned voice chatting in a while."

"And?" He got back on his board, zooming by Donnie.

"My name? It just hasn't come up," Donnie shrugged.

"Call her, then!" Mikey smiled, still preoccupied with his board and trying out his new tricks. Donnie gave a light scoff and shook his head. His brother passed behind him where he sat leaned against the water tower.

"I don't want to just call her out of nowhere, Mikey, she might be asleep."

He also didn't want his brother there when he did.

"You gotta not be so shy!...oh, look, in the window. Right there. See? She's up," he quipped with a small smirk. The curtain was drawn, but the light had turned on at some point, and they could see her silhouette moving past. Donnie looked over his shoulder to say something but felt a hand slip into his pocket on the other side, stealing his phone right off of him. He was fast, but Mikey was faster in jumping into his board and gliding all the way to the other side of the roof with the fussy turtle hot on his trail.

"Mikey, quit it!" Donnie barked, lunging toward him for the phone.

"You'll thank me later!"

The two wrestled for the phone, Mikey holding it just out of reach as he tried to navigate the screen without dropping it.

"Come on," grunted Donnie as the tussle led them near the edge, where Mikey held it precariously over the alley below. His glasses were jostled off his face when a stray hand bumped them, causing them to fall amongst their feet. Squinting, he partially knelt down and searched for the pair while still looking at his brother and his phone, trying to stretch his arm long enough to snatch it. "Really?" he groaned, "just give me the phone!"

Donnie slung out his staff and used the other end to whack his wrist from underneath just as he pulled away from the edge, losing his grip on the phone. Mikey tried to catch it but it bounced off his hand, going right over the side of the roof and plummeting down into the alley.

Mikey froze. Donnie finally found his glasses.

Laughing nervously, Mikey turned back to him, "Whoops…"

When he didn't immediately find the phone on the ground, Donnie knew what happened. He looked over the edge, and there it was, sitting on the pavement in the alleyway. The building wasn't incredibly tall, but enough to do some major damage. He'd have to switch for one of his spares if he didn't want to deal with a busted-up screen.

"I don't need your 'help', Mikey, so leave it alone next time," Donnie said and gave him a narrow-eyed look, huffing as he leaped down to retrieve it.

Mikey may have been insistent, but he knew then it was time to stop. All he wanted to do was help. For his shy, flakey brother to come out of his shell (no pun intended). Donnie, at that time, had the biggest shot out of all of them for something unique and good. He hadn't yet worked out the logistics of how to bridge the gap between the two, but it was a calling of his to help him along.

Donnie watched for people from behind a corner before creeping out to get the phone, which was face down on the concrete. No doubt cracked to all hell if not completely shattered, though it did have a case.

But as he got closer, he heard a voice. From the phone.

He picked up the phone timidly and shot a glance up at the roof, where Mikey was peeking over the edge in apprehension. Without a word, Donnie activated the taser in his staff, pointing it at his brother and zapping it briefly. He flinched and retreated out of sight.

"Hello?"

"Hello? Bo?" she asked again, tone riddled with confusion. "What was that?"

"Uh, yes—hol—hold on, please," stammered out donnie, flying around the corner and pressing flat against the wall as a group of laughing people passed by the alley. "Just one second," he said nervously. Above him, Mikey was rapidly motioning for him to get up there, eyes wide and body trying to stay low. Baffled, Donnie gestured back at him, mouthing at him to keep his pants on for one more minute while he made his way up.

"Hey, what's going on there?" she inquired, concerned.

A street cat abruptly skittered out from between his legs from the dumpster he stood next to, and he had to stifle a startled yelp. He hopped up onto the nearest fire escape, trying to control his breathing. "Hey, hello…[y/n]," he half-chuckled, distracted by working up the building one-armed as he kept as quiet as possible.

"What was all that? And who's 'Mikey'?"

There was suddenly a shout—Mikey's shout—and his stomach did a jump. He sputtered as fast as he could, "I'm sorry [y/n] but this really isn't a good time, and I mean it really isn't," he pulled himself up onto the roof, and there was Mikey, fending off men clad in black, "so I have to go, but—"

"Don, dude! I need help over here!" cried his brother, sliding out of the way as a sword was jabbed towards him. He countered with a harsh uppercut to the man's chin, sending him stumbling backwards. The blade fell to the concrete with a clank.

"'Don'? Bo, what the hell?! Who is with you? And—"

Donnie jumped into the battle, a mix of nine or ten armed men with swords other weapons, and Mikey trying to stave them off, swinging his chucks with nothing short of reckless abandon. But he still didn't hit himself with them.

Ending the call, he secured the phone in his pocket. He wailed the guy closest to him in the side of the head with the heavy staff, then kicked him in the chest. The man fell to the blow, and Mikey ducked underneath the length of Donnie's weapon just in time as the two came together. Stray bullets flew past them, some colliding with their shells as they spun around for protection.

"How was it?!" Mikey yelled over the clamor, breathless. Donnie sidestepped from the rapid hit he sent towards the human to his left.

"What are you talking about?!" Donnie loudly questioned, flummoxed of what could have been going on in his brain during a fight. "We're kind of in the middle of something here!"

"Your phone call!"

"Yeah, the hell's the talkin' about, Don?" a gruff voice cut through the jumble.

Both of the boys whirled around to see their older brothers there, weapons drawn.

"Oh, right. As soon as I saw those bad guys coming, I let them know," said Mikey casually to Donnie, throwing his fist into the face of the man coming up behind him. "You know, standard biz."

With the rest of the team there, the fight was over twice as fast. Some groaning in pain and some unconscious bodies littering the area, along with their weapons. Leo finished the last one and sheathed his swords, eyes on their tallest brother while Raph kept watch around them. Donnie swallowed as Leo approached him.

"Don, you said you were going out for scrap metal," Leo stated.

In the background, Mikey grabbed his skateboard and was going to try to kickflip over one of the knocked out guys, but Raph yanked the board from him, growling. He checked all of the men to make sure they were down and would stay down.

"We were...just on our way back?" Donnie answered. Nearby, there was a small pile of scrap he'd collected, though definitely not enough to justify being out that long.

"So you stopped at your friend's place?" Leo deadpanned, crossing his arms. "Didn't you think that this could get her in trouble, too? Her apartment's right there, dude!"

Mikey budded in and corrected him, "Ah, we stopped by [y/n]'s. And nah! It's all good."

Donnie's face twitched. "Of course I thought about it! That's why I've only come here three times since, and only thirty minute intervals!" he bit back, throwing his hands up. The rest of his brothers all looked at him and his specificity. "I'm not naive, Leo."

The leader pushed past the both of them, signalling that it was time to leave, and they followed. Not before Donnie got what little metal he had collected and put away his staff, tucking the stuff under his arm. Raph joined alongside Donnie as they ran. "What's with all the secret' stuff, Don? First, ya hide it to begin with, then, ya make out like you were done, and now you get jumped by Foot guys by her place when you shoulda been gettin' scrap!" he said. "How were we supposed to cover for ya if you're lyin' even after we let you off?"

"Technically, I did get some!" Donnie remarked. He held up a piece of the scrap for him to see, and Raph snorted. "But..."

Well, his question would be a little harder to answer.

Next block was the nearest manhole, where each turtle swiftly jumped in, knowing by heart (and years of wandering) most of the sewers and the way back home. In some tunnels was Mikey's telltale graffiti, but it was scattered throughout the place enough to not be a giant arrow to their hideout. In the last portion of the run was the tunnel they always slid down, and once they were actually home, Donnie knew what was coming. Master Splinter was already waiting for them by the time they arrived.

"Uh-oh," Mikey said upon seeing him, sinking behind his brothers. Raph pushed him back up front.

Dropping the scrap in his arms, Donnie squeaked, "That's not good." He quietly cursed how high pitched his voice became when he was nervous.

"Yeah…" Leo cleared his throat, looking down at his hands clasped in front of him. The situation had an awkward tension for everyone in it, save for Raph, who was immune to it by then and Splinter himself. "We took care of the soldiers," he added more seriously. "Got out of there before too much attention was drawn.

"The police may be able to handle them from here, but it will not make a dent in the Shredder's forces," explained Splinter, grave as he paced along the line of brothers. "He owns the city. Until I say so, there will be no venturing to the surface. You are all lucky to be unharmed."

"That ain't it," Raph piped up. "But they'll be bringin' the big guns, next time."

"Oh, I am well aware."

"Um...of which thing?" the nervous turtle questioned, exchanging glances to Raph and then Mikey.

Splinter raised his brows knowingly, and that was all it took for Donnie. The floodgates of his signature anxious chatter opened. He grabbed the edge of Mikey's shell and pulled him over into the spotlight with him, "I met someone over an online game and we started texting after a few weeks, and—and Leo found out and I said I would stop, but we never told you," he gestured toward their brother in blue, who refused to make eye contact, "so I told her that it was through and then Mikey somehow convinced me to go back on it," he sucked in a breath, and Mikey grinned uncomfortably, "and then we started talking again and I don't know why, but I went back there to her apartment building and it was just…stupid."

There was a cumbrous pause. Donnie was stiff as a board, Mikey couldn't look at any one thing too long, Leo stood in his polite but awkward stance, and Raph started to whistle.

As poised as ever, Splinter spoke. "I know."

All four pairs of eyes shot to their father.

"What?"

"Uh..."

"Huh?"

"Wait."

They expressed their collective confusion at the same time, and Splinter chuckled. Donnie wanted nothing more than to be able to retreat into his shell, but that was physically impossible. "Nothing gets past me, especially not you and your nervous habits, Donatello. You are scratching that spot on your neck again, son."

Flinching, Donnie pulled his hand away. He'd be damned; Splinter was right.

But unbeknownst to them, there had been spectator of their fight on the roof that night.

————————————————————————————————

shh do not think too deeply about this my children

a/n: haha plot device go brrrr

i need to finish this cursed fanfiction

[kuroopaisen]

tiny love || v

➵ as tooru’s younger sister, falling in love with iwaizumi hajime was easy. iwaizumi ultimately decided to rebuff you. but that was a year ago - things are different now. and you have other things to worry about. things like moving halfway across the world for university; and moving in with the very boy who’d broken your heart. 

warnings: f!reader

wc: 4.3k

m.list | ch. 4 ↞ ch. 5↠ ch. 6

Life moved too quickly.

That was the only logical conclusion you could come to after the past few weeks. One minute you’re finding out you’ve got a scholarship to a university overseas, the next you’re spending as much time with your friends as you can without burning out, and then suddenly you’re standing at the airport, suitcase in hand and loved ones lined up in front of you like this is some fantasy RPG and you’re about to go into the final battle.

Your family had said goodbye before, but that didn’t seem to make it any easier. You’re the youngest, after all. The baby.

“Remember to call if you need anything, okay?” Your mother said, smoothing a hand over your hair.

“I know, mum,” you smiled. “I love you.”

She sighed, pulling you into a hug. She said nothing more, letting the slight tremble in her arms say all that was in her heart.

Your father was next, ruffling your hair with a certain melancholy. “Be good, you hear?” He chastised. “Don’t talk to boys.”

You rolled your eyes, grinning. “Dad…”

“I’m just saying, there are more important things to focus on,” he nodded sagely. “And don’t go causing any trouble.”

“I won’t,” you nodded. “Promise.”

Kaori was next, a certain mischievous glint in her eyes.

“Send me a photo of every pigeon you come across,” Kaori said.

You grinned at her. “Really?”

“Mhm,” she nodded. “That way I’ll know you’re alive every day.”

You stuck your tongue out at her. “That’s a terrible plan.”

“Is it so wrong for me to want to check up on my little sister?” She teased. “I just want to make sure you won’t forget about me.”

“I won’t,” you laughed. “I’m sure you won’t let me.”

“Too right,” she grinned.

She gave you one good, tight hug. She, more than anyone else in your family, seemed to be the best at swallowing this whole situation. It was a relief to know that someone would be there to console your parents.

Finally, Amaya. She pouted at you, pulling you into a rough hug.

“Don’t forget to text me, okay?” Amaya mumbled, her arms tight around her shoulders. “Or I’ll knife you.”

“I know,” you chuckled, squeezing your grip on her waist. “I’ll keep you updated on everything, don’t worry.”

“You better,” she huffed, pulling away slowly.

Once, you might’ve dreamed of going to the same university together. But life had a funny way of taking your plans and crumbling them to dust in the palm of its hand.

But you were sure that no matter what, your friendship would hold steadfast. Amaya wasn’t the type of person to let things die so easily.

You couldn’t delay any longer.

As you walked through the gate, you wondered if Tooru had felt like this. If he’d been hounded by this unrelenting fear, doubt, and anxiety. If he’d also felt like throwing up. If he had, he’d covered it up well.

That thought didn’t do much to quell the lurching in your stomach.

Tokyo had once felt unbelievably far away. But California? That was a different beast.

✧ ✧ ✧

After a twenty-hour plane ride and two stop offs later, you’d come to the conclusion that airports, in fact, were the most unholy places known to man. Whose fault was it that airports were labyrinthine hellholes which were impossible to navigate?

By the grace of God, or perhaps as an apology for the godforsaken pilgrimage that was your flight, you managed to find the luggage pickup area with relative ease. By the time you managed to haul your suitcase off the baggage carousel you were ready to take a nap for the next three months.

You sighed, looking up at the clock hung high on the wall. 5:21 AM. Ew.

You felt a touch of pity for all the workers rostered on at such an ungodly hour.

Oh, and whoever was responsible for escorting you to your new ‘home’.

As you trundled through that godforsaken place, suitcase trailing behind you and carry-on slung over your shoulder, you were too tired to think and too tired to worry about who might be waiting for you.

That clawing anxiety had gripped you for the first hour or so of your flight, but it’d been completely replaced with other worries.

There’s only fiberglass separating you and an absurdly high fall… what happens if the plane goes down? What happens if one of the wings caught fire? What if one of the doors inexplicably ripped off mid-flight and sucked you out through a vacuum?

Regardless, you’d landed with your soul very much attached to your body – although that in itself presented you with a host of new problems.

You glared at the signs pointing in every conceivable direction, praying that your English was good enough to decrypt this mess for you.

Arrivals. That sounded right.

You dragged your feet in that direction with a big yawn, decorum be damned.

A thin crowd was gathered at the gate, waiting to greet the ragtag group of travellers who filtered through. Mothers, daughters, beloved friends, lovers…

You scanned the crowd with narrowed eyes and the hope that you’d catch sight of some familiarity.

Oh.

There was your name on a placard, written in hiragana.

And holding it…

Shit.

Iwaizumi Hajime. He was glancing around the airport, seemingly a little bleary-eyed.

Your flight-or-fight response was well and truly activated. Had he really shown up at the airport at five in the morning just to pick you up?

Oh no. Oh God. That’s… not what you were expecting. Sure, you’d been told you’d be “picked up” from the airport, but you’d just expected some taxi service or something. Your mum had sorted that all out anyway – she’d insisted that you let her do that, at least, to give her some peace of mind.  

But she hadn’t told you it would be Iwaizumi picking you up. Were you supposed to have assumed that? Fuck.

With the inside of your cheek trapped between your teeth and a sinking feeling in your gut, you dragged yourself towards him.

Each step you took towards him just seemed to make him look even hotter. He was wearing a loose white shirt, but you could tell that he was built. Even more built than he’d been when he left. He hadn’t done his hair in that spiky Godzilla style he used to, and it’s longer than when you’d last seen him. He’s gotten a tan, too – an unfairly flattering golden tan.

And he was wearing a pair of fucking grey sweatpants.

I’m going to die, you thought. It’s official. I am the world’s biggest idiot, and Iwaizumi Hajime will be the cause of my death via cardiac arrest.

Was it too presumptuous to text your family your goodbyes?

He caught sight of you.

You made eye contact for the first time in a year.

What do I do? Your thought, cursing yourself out for being so… so like this.

But Iwaizumi just waved at you with a small smile on his face.

You closed the distance between the two of you with trepidation, scouring your mind for what to say to him.

Hi? How are you? It’s good to see you?

None of those felt quite right. You were much too tired for this. And he was much too hot—

“Hey,” he smiled, dropping his hand to his side.

“Hi,” you nodded, resisting the urge to bow. Should you bow? He is your senior… but this isn’t Japan. But that didn’t change the rules of etiquette, did it?  

“I can carry that, if you need,” he said, nodding towards your luggage.

Under normal circumstances, you probably would have refused on the basis of pride alone. But you’d just flown halfway around the world, and you were doing your best not to drool at the bloody Adonis standing before you.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, handing him your carry-on. You managed to finish the hand off without your fingers brushing, much to your relief.

Iwaizumi observed you for a second, a touch of concern in his eyes. “You okay?”

“Just tired,” you smiled at him weakly. Surprisingly, it wasn’t a lie.

“Understandably,” he chuckled, pulling a set of keys out of his pocket.

You frowned as he jangled them around one finger. “You drive?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “I got my license back in Japan. Managed to transfer it over.”

“Huh,” you said. When had he learned to drive? That’d been happening right next door and you’d had no idea?  

“You ready?” He asked, looking at you over his shoulder as he turned around.

You nodded, tugging on the handle on your suitcase.

The two of you made your way to his car, which turned out to be a dingy-looking thing cobbled together with dull navy metal and rubber.

You said nothing as you packed the luggage into the boot, Iwaizumi doing most of the grunt work. Part of you felt bad, but you knew full-well that he had more strength in his right middle finger than you could ever dream of having.

He strolled around to your side of the car before you had time to remember which side of the road Americans drove on.

“Here you go,” he said. The asshole just had to open your door for you too, didn’t he?

You nodded your thanks, settling into your seat with a little more frustration than feasible.

He’d slipped into the driver’s seat as you finished buckling yourself in, and before you had time to take much of anything in, he was backing out of his parking lot.

You watched him from the corner of your eye.

He looked so… casual, doing this. The Iwaizumi you knew had never been behind the wheel of a car. And yet now, he’s moving like it’s second nature.

How much had you missed? So much must’ve happened while you were out of contact.

“Hey, uh… Iwaizumi?” You mumbled, clenching your fists in your lap.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for picking me up,” you said, chewing on your cheek. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“No problem,” he chuckled.

You felt like you should say something else. But you’re weren’t sure what. He seemed relatively calm, given the situation. Saying the wrong thing could potentially fuck that up.

“How was your flight?” He asked, gently making his way through the car park.

“Uh…” Was there a polite word for ‘awful’? “It was fine.” You shrugged. “I made it here in one piece, so…”

Iwaizumi chuckled. The sound made your stomach flip.

You leant back in your chair, closing your eyes with a sigh. You didn’t know how far away your apartment was. Fifteen minutes? Ten? An hour?

Your brain reeled with potential small-talk topics. There might be a lot of time to fill.

“Take a nap if you need to,” Iwaizumi said.

“Thanks,” you hummed.

Maybe he was aware that he was giving you an out. Maybe he had no idea.

But you were more than happy to take it regardless.

✧ ✧ ✧

A pre-made bed was waiting for you in your room. You blinked at it a few times, the brain-fog of a long flight still clouding your mind.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Iwaizumi said, leaning against your doorframe. “I just got you some sheets because I didn’t think you’ have the energy to sort all that out today.”

You’re going to cry. Cry, and then die.

“Do you need help unpacking?” He asked.

You turned around sharply at those words, waving your hands about. “Oh no, no… I’m fine.”

He looked at you for a moment longer, as if he was appraising you. He simply nodded. “Well, call out if you need me.”

“Yep!” You offered him an unbearably stretched smile.

“Alright,” he said. With that, he was gone.

You sighed, turning to your suitcase. It was laid on the floor, unopened.

Shit. This really was a big move, wasn’t it?

And, you’d moved in with Iwaizumi. Something you’d never expected – not like this, anyway.

Shaking that thought out of your head, you kneeled in front of your suitcase. Something about it felt more reverent than it had any right to. You unzipped it slowly, pushing back the battered red lid to reveal your belongings.

You bit the inside of your cheek, starting with the first layer. You’d packed your pyjamas on the top – a move you’d like to thank younger you for.

As you placed it in your lap, you gazed at the rest of your belongings crammed into your suitcase.

You hadn’t brought all that much. Mostly clothes that you thought would be appropriate for the Californian weather, a few knick-knacks and keepsakes that you felt particularly attached to, a handful of your favourite books, your polaroid camera…

So much had been left behind. You didn’t mind that, for the most part; but it still felt like you were abandoning a part of yourself. Everything you’d accumulated over the past nineteen years, just…

Maybe your parents would hold onto all your things. But it wouldn’t be remiss for them to throw them away.

It’s all just part of growing up. That’s what you told yourself – you had to change, move on and get over it.

If Tooru could do it, you could to. You had to.  

But now it felt like his shadow was hanging over you darker than ever. Part of your own journey had been dictated by him; if he hadn’t recommended you live with Iwaizumi, where would you be?

What was Iwaizumi even like now? Was he a good person? He’d been very nice and polite ever since you’d seen him at the airport, but…

Was he trying to be warm? Or was he keeping you at an arm’s length? Could your ‘friendship’ ever recover from… that?

You swallowed, running a hand over one of your dresses.

Honestly, you just wanted to go to sleep.

You didn’t want to leave the room because that meant you might bump into Iwaizumi. You didn’t want to unpack because you had the sneaking suspicion that it was going to make you feel like crying. You didn’t want to call anyone because you knew you didn’t have the energy to do so.

There was only one thing to do, then.

You managed to drag yourself towards your bed, hoisting yourself onto it with a grunt. You curled up on top of the sheets, wrapping your arms around your knees.

The ache in your eyes didn’t subside as your closed them, but there was nothing else to do.

Attempting to rest was better than nothing.

✧ ✧ ✧

A knock on your door.

You bolted upright, startled out of your uneasy slumber.

“Hey.” Iwaizumi’s voice was distant but distinctive.

“Hm?” You didn’t trust your own voice to hold up.

“You okay?”

You bit your lip. “Uh, yeah. I’m fine.”

It wasn’t your best lie,

A long pause followed.

“No, you’re not.” His voice was soft, gentle. Not like what you’d expected.

Although, you weren’t even sure what that was.

“Can I come in?” He asked.

“Uh…” You swallowed roughly, crossing your legs. “Yeah. Sure.”

He needed no more prompting, letting himself in and leaning himself against the wall.

There was good distance between the two of you. You’re grateful for it.

“What’s wrong?” He looked genuinely concerned. Why, you didn’t know.

Nor did you know if you should actually tell him. There was admittedly no reason to; at this point in your life, he was just a roommate.

“It’s just…” You sighed, your mouth moving before your brain. “It’s a big move, you know? I don’t think I’m ready for it.”

You’d had this conversation over and over again, both with Tooru and with Amaya. I’m not ready. I’m not ready. I’m not ready. It was the one thought you couldn’t escape, no matter how hard you tried to justify this whole thing to yourself.

“You’re more ready than you know,” he said softly. “You’re here, aren’t you?”

You bit the inside of your cheek. “I guess…”

“It’s not easy, but you can do it.” His tone was resolute, not harsh but firm. It almost makes you feel like he’s right. Almost.

“And…” He swallowed, his gaze flicking to the ground. “I’ll look out for you. You’re not alone.”

You weren’t quite sure what those words made you feel.

“Thank you, Iwaizumi.” Your voice is quiet enough to go unheard, but he smiled. It was only a little smile – one someone who hadn’t known him for so long might’ve missed – but it was genuine. You couldn’t tell if that was a good omen or a grim portent.

“You shouldn’t be thinking about this tonight,” he nodded, standing up straight. “You’re already exhausted, so you’ll only make it harder for yourself.”

You pouted at him, much to your own surprise. Unfortunately, he was right.

“Give me a moment,” he said suddenly, disappearing.

You sighed, lying back on your bed and closing your eyes.

It felt like you’d entered the Twilight Zone.

Maybe things would improve when you started uni. Then you’d have something else to think about that wasn’t just ‘oh God, I moved in with Iwaizumi Hajime and that was stupid, dumb, and a colossal mistake.’

Your instincts were begging you to book a flight and go straight home to Japan. Surely, you might be able to get into some university – sure, you missed the entrance exams, but perhaps…

Were you already chickening out? Tooru had moved halfway across the world entirely on his own, but he’d never once thought about turning back. And yet here you were, lying in your bed feeling like you were about to disintegrate just because your roommate happened to be someone you used to have feelings for.

God, that was pathetic. It was only day one.

“Here you go.”

You flinched, sitting up suddenly.

Iwaizumi stood at the side of your bed, holding a mug out to you. You hadn’t even heard him come in.

“Oh, thanks,” you nodded. As you took it from him, you peeked at the tea bag.

Your favourite. He’d made you your favourite tea. You took a tentative sip.

Shit.

“I hope you still like it that way,” he said, a touch of pink to his cheeks.

It reminded you of winter back home.

“I do.” You looked up at him, giving him a genuine smile.

He smiled right back, his face softening in that rare but stunning way you remembered.

You were a little proud of yourself for keeping it together.

“I, ah…” Iwaizumi cleared his throat, taking a few slow steps away from the bed. “I’m going to go to bed. I’ve got practice early tomorrow, so…”

You nodded.

As you watched him leave, closing your bedroom door on the way, you wondered if you should’ve asked him what his training was for.

But you just sipped your tea.

This really was going to be difficult, wasn’t it?

✧ ✧ ✧

By the time you woke up in the morning, Iwaizumi was out. That was something of a relief. Iwaizumi not being around meant you could explore the apartment without the fear of bumping into him.

So, you took the opportunity, sneaking out of your room and taking stock of the layout of your apartment. Two bedrooms, one bathroom, a living room attached to a kitchen… it wasn’t big, but you weren’t about to complain.

It’s quite a change from the family home you grew up in, but the change is a little exciting. It’s certainly liveable, and you know your parents are grateful for the fact rent was affordable enough.

The apartment was well-tended and clean. You weren’t sure if he’d cleaned it up before you’d arrived – which wasn’t unlikely – or if he usually kept it this neat – which also wasn’t unlikely.

A few photos hung on the wall, some with people you knew, some you didn’t. There were a few photos of the Seijoh team, exhibiting various degrees of chaos. Some others included people that you recognized as his friends from high school, and there were several of himself, Tooru, Hanamaki and Matsukawa. 

Other photos were a total mystery, though. Probably friends from university, a mix of men and women you didn’t recognize.

You didn’t let yourself look at them for too long; your mind was concocting too many questions, too many narratives that made your gut feel all funny.

The only other thing of particular interest was the television and the DVD stand next to it, stuffed full of both Japanese and English movies. Most people streamed these days, but Iwaizumi had always been a bit of a traditionalist when it came to technology.

Regardless, the small size of the apartment meant there wasn’t all that much to explore.

You slunk back to your room after a close inspection of the bathroom, which you decreed as ‘clean enough’.

By the time you passed through the threshold of your room, a quiet blanket of exhaustion settling over you. Jetlag really was a piece of shit.

You tossed yourself on your bed, staring up at the ceiling.

Maybe you could call someone. But you weren’t sure how the time zones lined up. Your parents wouldn’t be happy with you if you woke them up at some ungodly hour, and Kaori needed the rest. Amaya might be up, but you didn’t want to stress her out…

Tooru was an option. He wasn’t that far away in the grand scheme of things, and he might’ve been able to offer some advice…

But he was probably busy. And you’d already bothered him enough.

God, why were you so frustrated? Was it exhaustion? Anxiety? How difficult it was to wrap your head around the situation? You just wanted to sleep for a week.

Before you knew it, your eyes fluttered closed, and you drifted into an uneasy nap.

✧ ✧ ✧

A firm, steady knock cut through your barely conscious mind.

You blinked rapidly, frowning. Shit, did you have another nap? That better not become a habit.

With a groan (and a great deal of strain) you managed to get off your bed, dragging yourself to your door.

You opened it with trepidation.

Iwaizumi stood on the other side with a glass of water in one hand and a bowl of yakisoba with chopsticks poking out of it in the other.

“Uh,” he cleared his throat, eyes flicking to the ground, “you didn’t come out to eat, and I didn’t see any dishes in the sink, so…”

“Ah,” you swallowed. “Right.”

You hadn’t eaten yet. All day.

“Thanks,” you nodded, taking the bowl from him. To his credit, it looked good; plenty of vegetables, and nothing seemed to be burnt. That might be a low bar, but you digressed.

“Would you like to eat at the table?” He asked.

You resisted the urge to stare at him.

Eat at the table? Like… like… a family? Did roommates do that?

“Sure,” you nodded. You’re not really sure why – some fear of hurting his feelings, probably.

But you tottered after him, hoping to God that your stomach would settle enough to allow you to eat.

Iwaizumi settled himself down at the table, his seat already prepared with a glass of water, a bowl, and a pair of chopsticks.

He set the glass of water in his hand down opposite from him, in what seemed to be your designated spot.

You slipped yourself into the seat, taking note of just how uncomfortable it was. Affordability over comfort – a student mantra, apparently.

“How was practice?” You asked. You just wanted to fill the silence. Once upon a time, silence between the two of you wouldn’t have made you feel like crawling out of your own skin.

“It was good,” he nodded. He didn’t seem like he was trying to be terse of anything – Iwaizumi was just a man of succinct, short sentences.

“I’m assuming it’s volleyball?”

He chuckled. “Yeah.”

You took a small bite of your yakisoba. It reminded you of home. “Are you still a wing spiker?” You asked.

“Mhm,” Iwaizumi nodded. “Although there’s a fair bit of competition for the spot.”

“Really?” You asked. You couldn’t imagine a volleyball team where Iwaizumi wasn’t heralded as a magnificent player.

“A lotta guys wanna be the ace,” he grinned.

You smiled. That made sense.

Silence fell over the two of you for a moment as you both focused on your meals. Your appetite was voracious, now – you hadn’t even realised how hungry you were until you’d started eating.

“Did you leave the apartment today?” Iwaizumi asked, making you jump.

“Ah, no,” you shook your head. “I was worried about getting lost.”

“Fair.”

Another silence settled over you, a more pensive expression taking over Iwaizumi’s face.

He was completely unreadable. Probably because you knew nothing about him. Not anymore.

“Would you like me to show you around tomorrow?” He asked.

You blinked at him, completely blindsided.

“We could get lunch,” he offered.

You stared at him for a long moment, trying to process the muddle of feelings inside you.

What on earth was going on? Perhaps he was just reaching out a friendly hand. And, chances were, he felt some kind of duty to protect you.

“Sure,” you smiled. “Sounds great.”

You weren’t stupid enough to push away the only ally you had in this strange new world. Hopefully, other friends would come. But for now, it was just you and Iwaizumi in this little apartment, trying to make this arrangement work.

You had to make it work.

You’d find a way.

✧ ✧ ✧

a/n: aaaa thank you for your support so far! sorry this one’s a bit choppy, but i think you’ll enjoy chapter 6 (i hope sfdlkdfj)

[anfie-in-the-box]

Fragments of Shattered Dreams Hurt So Much (But You’re the Only One I Need to Heal)

Fragment Nine, Where the Price Is of Least Concern

They have to find Nightmare. They are running out of time.

These two thoughts have been Cross’ ever-present companions for a while now — he’d say more precisely, right up to minutes and seconds, if only time worked in the void like anywhere else. It still works, Cross supposes, in its own peculiar, void-y ways beyond their understanding.

All this nonsense shouldn’t even matter. And it wouldn’t, yet there they are, not in the slightest ready to move forward. Dream seems hesitant, afraid almost, and Cross doesn’t ask, gathering all his patience to wait until Dream talks first. If ever. Sometimes it truly is one’s cross to bear, theirs and theirs only, so nobody would be able to relieve their struggles and suffering. The closest thing Cross can do, though, is being there when his beloved overcomes his doubts and fears. When, Cross thinks, firmly. Not if. Never if. He believes in Dream. They both need it to work out. It has to. Something is finally changing for the better. It cannot be in vain, calm before the storm. Cross won’t accept such a possibility — he’s determined to fight tooth and nail for their happiness, especially now when it’s so real, as shining as the ring on Dream’s finger.

Although, to be fair, it’s not only Dream who needs time. While his conflict lies in his mind and his feelings are conflicted and confusing, Cross’ problem is his body. Dream really is strong, after all, and the damage has been done, somehow more than his broken code can heal right away. He can move, of course he can, but would he be able to fight, if it comes to it? He’s not sure, and there is too much at stake to risk it. He can’t loose Dream. Not now, and not ever. Please.

Waiting is downright maddening. They don’t talk much, trying to fight their inner demons, they need time to heal — as much as possible in their circumstances, that is. Cross gets that.

Also, he gets how little time they’ve got left. It moves forward, uncaring of their needs, flows by with no turning back. Yet their readiness is not something they can reset, save, or overwrite… Although that would be nice, a fleeting thought at the back of Cross’ mind, one he tries not to focus on. They are walking on oh so very thin ice as it is, no need for even more too unfair, too complicated games that lead nowhere in the end. They’ll just have to find their way, somehow. They will.

They will, Cross thinks whenever Dream looks at him, smile small but present, and so, so gentle. At least he isn’t waiting alone, not like before, and, well, some time is better than none. If positive feelings hurt Dream, Cross merely has to hope for them both. He can do that, he’s sure. He’s already doing that.

Cross’ body is healing, slower than he’d like, but the process goes on. Perhaps he doesn’t know what battles Dream fights in the mind of his, what memories of the past and fears of the future hold him in place; nonetheless, Cross will be right here when it’s over — maybe not completely, only enough for Dream to go forward. Look for his brother and meet him, at last.

No matter what the price would be, Dream isn’t walking down this path alone. Of that Cross is sure.

。。。

Credits:

Undertale © Toby Fox

Dreamtale © jokublog

Cross © jakei95 / xtaleunderverse

Shattered!Dream © shattereddreamsau

Dark Cream © zu-is-here

Read it on ao3

Read Russian version on ficbook or fanficus

。。。

Notes

On this fine day, out of the blue, this little thing of mine is back. References are still there, the title being the main one (let me remind you, the ninth chapter of the comic is called The Price of Happiness), and miraculously I've got enough energy to post this, but pointing out all the references I have to leave for later. Have fun looking for them yourself. Or don't, that's okay as well.

Dissappearing into my inner void once again. Hope you're doing better than me, whoever you are.

Thanks for reading, and take care 🌻

。。。

Navigation

First | Previous | Next