#and then all of this will work fine ... but the chance seems super slim

[silver-horse]

weird to think that 5-7 days after bg3 release the speedrunners were reporting on things and I listened with curiosity. But speedrunners are not the best at noticing story related things. this is understandable. if they skip things on purpose then they can't notice what's missing. so they said "oh act 3 is a bit bugged" and we thought it's because that part hasn't been tested in early access.

BUT the game isn't even bugged. not technically. these aren't bugs but missing content still trying to trigger in the game.😭and that is so fucking sad. because functionally the game is kinda perfect. the game is even trying to do its job with the content that is missing. lmao

I just wish Larian would say something about the upper city that they were so proud of during the final panel from hell. what was the problem? what happened last minute? and what's next? if they don't plan on adding any of the cut content into the game then the karlach questline at the very least requires a new solution, a rewrite

[1d1195]

Tuesday

I’m a sucker for protective Harry and exes to lovers sort of vibes.

Harry forgot that after they broke up he started sleeping on the side she did...for a while it smelled like her and as good as the break up was, he missed her and longed for her. Sleeping on her side made him feel closer to her. After a while, he forgot it wasn’t where he usually slept.

She was sitting in the coffee shop looking at her phone. Scrolling through the contacts was making her more anxious. It wasn’t super late—only nine. But it was dark out in the dead of winter and on Tuesday no less. She had class in the morning, and she didn’t want to bother anyone because she knew they had classes in the morning too.

When she closed this evening, she got a weird vibe from the guy hovering in the corner of the shop who kept asking her when she got off her shift and if she wanted to hang out afterwards. At the time she wasn’t alone, but she assured her coworker she would be fine—and was now regretting it. Something in the pit of her stomach was making her nervous. She didn’t want to go outside to her car, but it seemed a little dramatic.

So, she was scrolling through her (admittedly, not so very many) contacts deciding mentally if anyone was close enough that she was willing to bother. She was scrolling her way back to the top after her initial run through getting increasingly nervous as she crept back toward the A’s. If she made it back to the top, she wasn’t sure what she’d do at that point.

But it was the H’s that caught her attention.

“Fuck,” she whispered to literally no one but herself. Putting her hand on her forehead, she sighed. She didn’t want to call him. It had been two years since she last spoke to him. The chances of him even inhabiting the same apartment, a mere five-minute drive away, let alone the same town after he graduated and got a real job were slim to none. Plus, the idea he would answer her phone call at nine on a Tuesday night seemed downright laughable.

Honestly though, he was her only hope.

Biting her lip, she clicked on his name. It almost felt foreign. But something deep within her found it felt so familiar it was impossible to not feel at ease just listening to the sound of the phone ringing knowing he would be at the other end (if he would answer).

“Hello?” He asked. His voice sounded confused. She wasn’t surprised at his tone. It was insane for her to call him.

“Harry,” she said simply.

“Uh...hi, love,” it sounded loud wherever he was. She should have known Harry would be with people and living his life.

“Hi,” she said softly.

It was quiet for a moment other than the sound of whatever Harry was doing in the background. She thought about the last time they spoke. It had to have been right about when things ended. It wasn’t a bad breakup, but they didn’t really stay in touch. She saw pictures and updates on social media but Harry wasn’t all that active. She had no way of knowing a whole lot about his personal life—if he was seeing anyone...or anything like that.

“Love?” He said and the noise seemed to fade in the background of his concerned voice. “Y’okay?” He asked.

“Um...” she shook her head trying to remain focused and remember why she called her ex-boyfriend. “Er...yeah. M’fine...it’s just...” she sighed. “M’sorry. I shouldn’t have called. I’m just...I’m at work and...well I’m trying to leave but there was this guy and I got a weird feeling. But it’s stupid...and I just...there’s no one I know nearby, and I thought if you were still at your place close by then...” she shook her head hearing how ridiculous this all sounded. Bothering Harry on a Tuesday night for something that might not even happen. Her heart was fluttering. This was ridiculous. “Harry, I’m so sorry. This was a stupid phone call. There’s nothing wrong. I didn’t mean to bother you. I’ll be fine,” she said firmly gathering her belongings in her arms and steeling herself for the cold walk outside to her car.

“Oh...hey...” he frowned as he held the phone to his ear. “S’alright love. You’re not a bother,” he promised. “Are...are you inside still?” He asked. She could hear a flurry of movement on his end. There was a rustling of keys, and a few calls in the distance were yelled but she couldn’t make out the words.

“Yeah...but really, it’s fine. It’s late and I’m being ridiculous. I’m just going to—”

“M’still nearby,” he said quickly interrupting her. “Jus’...wait five minutes. I’ll be right there.”

For a moment she stilled and silenced her rationale and the convoluted reasoning in her head. “Really?” She asked, feeling relief course through her body. She didn’t even realize how stressed she was about the situation. The brave front for Harry slowly seemed to dissipate. There was no way she could know that Harry also recognized the worry in her voice.

“’Course, love,” he said easily. They were both quiet for a moment and she could hear the jingling of Harry’s keys, the unlocking of his car. “D’you want me t’stay on the phone with you?” He wondered.

She nodded, feeling comforted by Harry just breathing. Someone was coming to her rescue, even if she was being ridiculous. She didn’t even realize she nodded. But Harry didn’t get off the phone despite not knowing her answer. It was weird to be so content with Harry silently coming to her. With her eyes closed, she could almost picture Harry’s route. Hearing his blinker, the sound of the road...it was almost too much for her. Him just coming to her without so much as a real reason—just a feeling—was heartwarming. It made her miss him all over again.

When they dated, Harry was nothing less than perfect. He did everything with the utmost respect and chivalry. He was an amazing boyfriend and she adored him more than any other boyfriend she ever had. It broke her heart when they ended their relationship, truly. She reminded herself it wasn’t a bad break up. It was mature. They grew apart and Harry graduated, and things were ending. But she was still in school. Granted, now she was on the last of her classes and graduating the coming spring. Harry was out in the real world these last two years being perfect for whoever he worked for and for whoever he was dating.

“Hey love?” He asked gently. Her thoughts pulled back to the present. “M’parking right now. M’gonna come to the front, yeah? I’ll knock, okay?”

She nodded again, making her way from the back of the shop toward the front door. She could see Harry, phone pressed to his ear, looking just as she remembered him. Tall, lanky, and handsome as could be. Always. If she wasn’t so nervous, she would have ogled him for longer. She unlocked the door and let Harry in. “Hi,” she said softly.

“Hi,” he replied. “You alright, love?” He asked.

She nodded. “Yeah,” she didn’t sound alright, though.

He glanced out the doorway and his brow creased in the middle. He looked highly annoyed. “M’glad you called,” he said quietly.

“Thank you,” her voice was so small and quiet. She looked nervously through the front window seeing Harry’s car closest to the shop. “Would you mind walking me to my car?”

He nodded. “Course, love,” he promised easily.

“You really didn’t have to come,” she said. It was a phrase that sounded like she should be annoyed—even though she was the one that asked him here, in so many words. But Harry knew her. He knew she wasn’t annoyed. He knew she was scared and didn’t want to be a bother. She was annoyed that she bothered him, if anything.

He shook his head. “Nonsense, love. Don’t mind at all,” he kept glancing out the window then he turned his attention back to her. “M’gonna...” he rolled his lips into his mouth and then sighed. “Kitten, m’gonna hold you, alright?” He said softly. She glanced out the window again, trying to see around Harry, but he stepped in her view. It wasn’t good. He must have been out there. A shiver ran up her back and she let out a small, nervous noise that came from deep in her soul. “Don’t worry,” he shook his head quickly and kept her from seeing. He took her bag off her shoulder and put it on his own. She had her keys in her hand and she swallowed. “M’here,” he promised. “M’not going anywhere.”

*

Harry wrapped his arm around her waist, pressing his side fully to hers as they walked toward his car parked right next to hers. They were silent except for Harry quietly whispering directions toward her. “Are you alright t’drive?” She nodded silently. Harry opened her driver’s door. He waited for her to sit, and he physically blocked her view outside the door. “Are y’sure y’can drive?” She nodded. “Are y’still at the same place?” She nodded again.

Harry reached past her to settle her bag on her passenger seat.

“Love?” He questioned again. He was hesitant to ask his next question but the way she looked so nervous and scared had him reeling.

It also didn’t help there was a creep a mere 30 meters away from them waiting for her like she was bait. She turned to look at him, her breath shaky, her hands kept shaking too as they reached for her steering wheel.

“Y-yeah?”

“I want you t’come t’my place, yeah?”

She felt scared so she just nodded. “Okay.”

“Kitten, m’not gonna let anything happen t’you, okay? I promise.”

“Okay,” she nodded again but it felt a lot more right this time.

Pressing the lock button on her door, he gave her arm a gentle squeeze as she turned her car on. “M’gonna follow you so wait until m’in the car,” he said softly. She nodded once more.

*

Harry was fuming about all of it. Seeing her name pop up on his phone made him confused and worried. But nothing prepared him for the feeling of helplessness and worry he actually felt when he went to the coffee shop and saw her car and a one other car waiting for her to exit work. He hadn’t spoken to her in two years, but he didn’t want to think about what he would do if he found out something terrible happened to her. As he started his car looking toward her waiting to go Harry waved to her to indicate he was good to go.

Harry would murder him if he followed them.

Harry spoke to his phone. “Call Niall.”

The phone rang twice before he answered. “Harry, where did y’go?” Niall asked curiously.

“Everyone needs to leave,” Harry said.

“Harry, what are—”

“I don’t care what y’tell them, everyone needs t’be gone in the next three minutes.”

“Harry—”

“Niall! Jus’ get them out!”

“Okay, okay,” Niall said with a tone of defensiveness in his voice. “I’ll get them out.”

“Thank you, I’ll explain when I get there.”

Harry glanced in his rearview mirror and didn’t see anyone following him. But now Harry was paranoid, and he wouldn’t let anything happen to her. He called her again. “Hello?” She asked tentatively.

“Hey love. When y’park, I don’t want y’to get out. I’ll come around t’you, okay?”

“Okay,” she said softly. “Harry?” She whispered.

“Yeah, love?”

“Thank you,” the gratefulness was so thick on her voice Harry could have cried. What if he didn’t see her call? Or what if he decided not to answer? He was worried about things that weren’t but the idea of something happening to her made him feel sick.

“M’really glad you called,” he promised.

She didn’t say anything again. He felt so bad she was so nervous and worked up. She wasn’t one to need saving. She usually did most of the saving her friend group. She was the one with an extra hair tie or a stain stick at restaurants. She never let anyone be hungry or thirsty. If someone didn’t have medicine handy, they could ask her. She was the one that did the saving. She wasn’t the one that needed it. Rarely did she ever ask for help. Asking Harry was not only huge for her, but it meant she really needed it.

When she started downplaying how nervous she was on the phone, Harry thought how terrifying it was that she never needed anyone. Especially for a situation like this. He thought for two seconds what would have happened if her instincts were right, if Harry did ignore her worries, or if she convinced him that she was alright.

Harry quickly brushed those thoughts aside. “Do y’want me t’stay on the phone?” He asked her this earlier. Just like before there was no answer, but he knew she nodded. So, he stayed quietly on the phone listening to her breathing, the sound of her directional, and the road.

There were several cars passing as they pulled up toward Harry and Niall’s place. Harry was grateful Niall got everyone out. “Okay, love, stay put,” he said hanging up as he hurried out of his parked car to her driver’s seat.

Niall was standing on the front stoop waiting to see what Harry was so worked up about. When Harry opened the driver’s door and ushered her out Niall finally understood. “Must have skipped my last eye appointment, is that you princess?” Niall said cheerfully and hurried to give her a hug. It was a bit awkward though because Harry wouldn’t release one of her hands.

“D’you need anything else?” He asked ignoring Niall’s greeting.

“Uh...there’s a bag in my trunk,” she said softly. “I can get it in a minute—” Harry finally released her hand and headed back for her car.

“What brings you here this evening?” Niall asked.

“Oh...uh...” she swallowed. “It was nothing really,” she said shyly. Niall glanced at Harry’s embittered expression. He could see it halfway across their yard while she looked at the ground before looking back at Niall. “I actually think I overreacted and I didn’t know who else to call—”

“She did not overreact,” Harry said simply closing her car up and then coming to her to put a hand on her lower back. He ushered her toward the door. “She’s gonna stay tonight,” Harry told Niall.

Niall blinked then raised his eyebrows in surprise. “What about—”

“No,” he said simply, shaking his head and pushing her more toward the front.

“Harry, that’s not necessary...I think I can—”

“No,” he repeated.

There wasn’t room to argue.

*

She said goodnight to Niall and Harry continued ushering her into his room. It was the same as before except he moved the bed to the middle of the wall and changed the position of the dresser and the desk in his room. “D’you have clothes or d’you need clothes?”

“I don’t have uh...clothes to wear to bed—”

“Here,” he said quickly and opened the drawer. “Think y’left these here,” he said handing her a pair of leggings that she had lost years ago. It made her feel confused that he kept them folded neatly in a drawer readily available. She wondered if he let other women wear them. She honestly didn’t care. She was glad they were getting some use.

Harry assumed she was questioning the fact he kept her leggings in a drawer folded neatly. He offered them to a girl staying over every now and again. Gem even wore them on occasion. Harry didn’t need to read her mind, to know she was probably happy to help some stranger when they were over and needed something comfy to sleep in. “And y’can wear this,” he said and tossed her a long sleeve shirt that had a logo on it she hadn’t seen before.

“What’s this?” She asked curiously looking at the logo. It wasn’t really the time, but she was potentially in shock and Harry wasn’t going to let that happen, so he just answered her.

“The company I work for,” he shrugged and pulled his shirt over her head.

She dated Harry for two years, so she was used to seeing Harry naked. But not seeing him for two years and for him to casually pull his shirt over his head...well, she missed seeing him. “You got new tattoos,” she said suddenly.

Harry smirked for the first time all night and he paused with his arms in his shirt, but he held off on tugging the shirt over his head. “Uh...jus’ a few,” he said quietly. “One for m’godson, another one for Gem, one ‘cause I drank a little too much one night,” he said shyly.

Harry looked at her gentle smile and thought he would melt. She was all stressed and worked up and so was Harry, but she was beautiful. There were no ifs, ands, or buts about it. If Harry wasn’t so nervous about her safety, he would have reveled a bit longer in how much he missed her voice and suddenly hearing it woke some part of him that he thought was long gone. The part of him that was hers.

Harry opened the door again. “Hey Ni,” he called. “You still do her skincare routine?”

She let out a huffed little laugh thinking about the night she showed Niall and Harry all the steps to having a clean face before bed making sure to prevent wrinkles and damage to the only skin they had. Harry thought it was too many steps, but Niall was smitten with the routine and asked her no less than fifty questions about what he needed to do to have baby soft skin. Harry was grateful now that it was going to pay in tenfold, because he could make her feel at home and have Niall comfort her for a few moments while he fixed up his room. “Yeah! Princess, you want to share?” He called.

Harry looked at her and then opened the door wider. “All yours,” he said softly.

She took the borrowed clothes and nodded. “Thank you,” she whispered again.

Harry watched her walk to the shared bathroom and Niall followed in behind her to show where he kept everything, but he caught Harry’s eye as he entered quirking one eyebrow at him. Harry shook his head and left the pair to their spa treatment.

Harry’s phone vibrated as he propped up the pillows and got a few more blankets for the sweet girl from his closet. For someone that always ran much too hot, she always wanted more blankets to sleep in at night. He was planning on offering to sleep on the floor or the couch, but he knew she would deny it immediately and probably offer to do it herself. Of course, Harry wasn’t about to let that happen so they would have to settle for sharing. He glanced at the name on his phone and sighed.

Do you want me to come over? Harry felt guilty but he shouldn’t have. It was an arrangement they had agreed upon, and they both knew it.

Not tonight.

Oh. Okay.

Sorry.

No, it’s fine. Just surprised. Everything alright?

Yeah.

Okay.

Harry stopped answering. She deserved more...and if Harry had a little bit better self-esteem maybe he would realize he deserved more too.

There was a knock outside his room. “Y’don’t need t’knock, kitten,” he said with an eye roll as he pulled the covers back for the two of them. Harry heard his door click shut.

“Well...it’s sort of ridiculous that I’m even here, and I feel bad intruding and making you even—”

“Love,” he said turning toward her. She was in his shirt and her leggings now. She settled the clothes she was wearing with her stuff, and she looked toward Harry with so much trust in her eyes Harry wanted to cry. He was so thankful she called him. So thankful she trusted her gut and glad he could help her. “I am so glad y’called me,” he said softly. “You’re not intruding or anything,” he promised. “M’glad you’re here.”

She bit her lip and nodded. “Okay,” she said softly. “Thank you,” she repeated again.

Harry gestured to the bed. “I was gonna offer t’sleep on the floor or the couch—”

“Absolutely not.”

He continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “—But I already knew y’wouldn’t care for that, and I won’t let y’do that either so...” he said and gestured to the bed again.

She couldn’t argue with him so she grabbed her bag and pulled it toward the side of the bed she was used to sleeping on. However, Harry forgot that after they broke up he started sleeping on the side she did...for a while it smelled like her and as good as the break up was, he missed her and longed for her. Sleeping on her side made him feel closer to her. After a while, he forgot it wasn’t where he usually slept. But for tonight, he would have to go back to his side. Harry settled into his bed, pulling the blankets up over him as he scrolled on his phone. It was eerie how comfortable they could get into a routine that was very much the same as the one they used to have.

“Do you mind if I just...finish my essay really quick?” She asked softly.

“Take your time, love,” he nodded easily. “How is school?” He inquired.

She nodded. Harry watched her as she pulled her laptop from her bag and opened it. “It’s good. I’m almost done...I have an internship a couple days a week and they’ve offered me a job when I officially graduate.”

“Kitten, that’s awesome,” he smiled. “Congratulations,” it was so heartfelt it made her stomach flutter.

“How is this place?” She asked, pointing to the logo on her shirt. “Have you been there this whole time?”

“Yeah, I have. It’s a great place. I like it. It’s quiet. I get t’keep t’myself mostly. M’told I’m better than the last guy they had,” Harry chuckled.

She smiled and nodded. “That doesn’t surprise me.”

Harry felt his face warm. “What are you working on now?” He wondered.

“It’s for my history of psychology class,” she said. Harry was always dumbfounded she wanted to be a psychologist but rarely looked at how her own behavior was maddening every now and again. Like tonight when she was willingly about to put her life in danger for some creep because she didn’t want to bother Harry. “Just relating different philosophies to a disorder over time and how the founders of these philosophies would have approached it.”

“Cool,” Harry smiled. “Do you like it still?”

“Very much,” she nodded. “Except,” she sighed. “This keeps happening,” she showed him her computer. “I’m sorry,” she said. She hated asking Harry about tech. It never bothered him. He was happy to help her, and he gave her tips to better the lifespan of her devices. She knew he would probably still look at it for her, even after all these years.

He tilted his head and sat up more and looked at the blue crash screen analyzing the codes it presented. “Hold on,” he mumbled turning into his IT self and googling the code from his phone. “How often does it do this?”

“Err...like once a day.”

“Kitten,” he admonished. She knew better than that after all of his tips and tricks. “May I?” He asked. She handed it to him.

“I can’t really afford a new laptop right now. My dad said he would get me one when I graduated in a month,” she shrugged.

“How is your family?” He asked while he fiddled with her computer.

“Good,” she nodded. “How’s yours?”

“They’re good. Gemma visits frequently,” he smirked.

“That’s nice, tell her I said hello.”

He was busy clicking through her screens and checking settings on her computers that she didn’t know existed. “Y’should really clean this,” he murmured.

“Er...m’not sure how...you always did it for me,” she reminded him.

He chuckled. “Fair enough, I can do it in the morning if y’have time.”

“I have class at eight,” she told him.

He shrugged. “S’okay...m’usually up at five.”

“Five?” She asked in surprise. “Harry, it’s so late, you should be asleep,” she said with concern in her voice.

He shrugged. “S’okay. Niall and I usually have movie night with friends on Tuesdays,” he said. “S’pretty early t’be in bed right now, on a regular Tuesday night, for me.”

“I interrupted movie night?” She asked quietly.

“That’s what y’took from that?” He smirked.

She was silent for a few moments. “He was out there, wasn’t he? Waiting for me?” She whispered.

Harry didn’t want to answer her question. “Yes.” She nodded and swallowed around a lump in her throat. Biting the inside of her cheek she looked at her hands while Harry took his gaze from her computer to look back at her. “Kitten,” he said softly. “It’s okay.”

“What if you couldn’t have—”

“Love, don’t. I was there. S’okay,” he promised.

“But you might not have been able to...and you shouldn’t have—”

“Baby,” he said softly and put her laptop on the floor beside him. He turned to face her, and he reached for her cheek. He rubbed his thumb over her soft skin. He could feel her melting into the touch and it reminded him of every time he ever touched her and how much he missed that. They were so different now. Older, wiser. Harry still adored her so very much, seeing her name was the first time he thought of her in months and months. Hearing her voice was like hearing a song he forgot about, and it sounded like hearing it for the first time and it sounded so much like angels he was wondering if tripped down the steps of his house and died. Touching her, even if he felt she was in danger, was like magic. It changed something in him. It was familiar and new and all at once. Holding her was warmth and light, something he had forgotten about until that moment. Even in a situation he didn’t want to be in. “I would do anything for you.”

“Still?” She asked with a snort before she could stop it.

Harry rolled his eyes. He brushed his thumb over her cheek again; he would do it all night rather than sleep and then work a full week. If this was the last time he saw her, touched her, smelled her, he would do it for just another minute. “If y’need me, love...that’s...a big deal. Yeah...I would do anything for you.”

“We’re not even together,” she whispered. “Actually...I think you have a girlfriend.”

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” he shook his head.

“You’re seeing someone?”

He sighed. “Kitten, I don’t care about anyone but you, right now.”

“I can’t in good conscience—”

“Love, m’not seeing anyone. That’s it,” he said with a touch of frustration in his voice. She was quiet another moment.

“Harry?” She whispered.

“What, kitten?”

“I think I’m going to cry.”

“Oh, love,” he cooed and pulled her toward him. She started to cry and Harry held her against his chest and while he hated the way her tears soaked his shirt, he was so glad he was there to comfort her.

*

She was anxiously walking into the coffee shop the next day. She knew the chances of him being there again after he was clearly rejected were slim. It didn’t quell her nerves though, as she walked into the shop.

As she settled her things in the back and came to the front to clock in on the register and begin taking orders, she finally noticed the curly brunet locks cozied up in the corner of the shop in an armchair with a book in hand and computer bag at his feet. She blinked. Doing a double take between the customer waiting to place his order and Harry, sitting quietly in the corner, focused on his book and unaware it seemed that she was at work.

As she made the drink requested, she looked at Harry and then her coworker. “Did you see Harry come in?” She asked.

She glanced over at the corner. “Yes.”

There was no more discussion.

*

At the end of her shift, she went over to Harry in the corner halfway through his book. “Why are you here?”

“I told you I’d do anything for you, love,” he said gently, earmarking his page and closing the book. “Ready t’go?”

She bit her lip and nodded. He stood up, gathering his things and headed for the door.

*

When Harry came to her shifts over the next week, she thought that this was over the top. He didn’t say anything, didn’t offer any explanation, he was just there. When they left he tucked her neatly into her car and followed her home before she entered her apartment and waved goodbye from the front entrance.

On Sunday, she anticipated seeing Harry in the corner at some point in her morning shift, but instead she was slightly disappointed by not seeing him. She got used to seeing him and more than that wanted to see him.

So when she got into her car and locked her doors before she pulled her phone out.

“’Lo?”

“Are you mad at me?” She asked.

“Kitten?” He responded. It sounded like he was suddenly awake out of nowhere.

“You didn’t come to—”

“Are y’alright? Did he come back?”

“No!” She shook her head as she answered hurriedly. “I’m fine...I just...”

“Love, m’sorry. I...I had something t’do this morning, I figured—”

All at once she felt like the biggest idiot in the world. “Oh my God,” she whispered and covered her eyes. Thank God she didn’t video chat Harry. Thank God she was alone in her car and no one could see the bright red cheeks she was sporting. “Oh my God. Harry. I’m so sorry. I...oh my God,” she shook her head.

Hearing her worried tone, Harry hurried away from his morning plans. “Angel, are you okay?” He repeated. “I can come be there in ten minutes, love. M’worried that—"

“No, m’fine. Really. Please this is mortifying. You're very obviously with someone...and...I’m fine,” she told him. “I feel like—”

"Love, m'not with anyone. Haven't been since we started talking again. Kitten, I want t’see y’too,” he promised. “I’ll be home in ‘bout an hour. Does that work for you?” She nodded, feeling ridiculous as ever. Harry couldn’t see her nodding. But he knew she was. “An hour,” he promised. “I’ll see you then, love.”

*

She felt stupid once more as she pulled up to Harry’s place and noted Niall’s car wasn’t there, fortunately. At the very least her humiliation would remain just between herself and Harry. Harry met her in the yard almost as soon as he saw her pull up. “I was worried y’were lying,” he admitted and stuffed his hands in his pockets looking at her as she walked toward him.

“I wouldn’t lie to you,” she promised crossing her arms in front of her.

“Good,” he smiled gently. “Then...is everything alright?”

“I missed you,” she whispered quietly.

“Yeah?” He murmured.

“Yeah,” she nodded not making eye contact.

Harry tilted her chin up and rubbed the pad of his thumb over her lip. “I missed you more,” he said so cutely she could have turned into a puddle of love and mush on his front yard.

“Yeah?” She asked.

“Yeah,” he nodded and smiled at her. It was so adorable, so utterly Harry, and made her want to throw herself at him and never let him go.

So she did.

[bylightofdawn]

WIP Sunday

Going to post a snippet of the Reeve/Rufus fanfic I've been working on the past couple of days. It's coming along pretty quickly, which is an ongoing relief. For context, Reeve has come to Rufus and is trying to tender his resignation and Rufus being Rufus of course makes it into one ridiculous powerplay with a lot of manipulation.

Reeve is tired and over the bullshit. I feel like I'm writing a little...harsher than I've seen people write him in fanfic but I figure after everything that has happened and the fact Rufus is practically still in the enemy column in Reeve's books...well, lets say it's going to take a while to get to the lovers part of this enemies to lovers tropefest.

As always, this is super rough and not really edited, it is liable to change yadda yadda.

Whenever Rufus Shinra looked at his most harmless, that was when he was at his deadliest.

“You know, I could have you executed for the traitorous actions you took in aiding AVALANCE and undermining my authority.”

“You won’t do that.” The engineer stated, voice surprising even despite the way heart rabbited in his chest at a wild pace.

That earned him a raised brow and an ironic look from the blond. “I won’t, will I? Tell me, Tuesti, are you a betting man?”

“You won’t kill me because you still need me and my skills.” Reeve had learned to bluff with the best of them and he could only pray that Rufus didn’t scrutinize him too closely for fear he might see beneath the paper-thin veneer of his bluff and read just how privately terrified he was.

“It seems to me I could just refuse to let you leave and then you’ll have no choice but to provide those skills to me. I made no promises you'd be allowed to leave here.” Rufus countered lazily.

“You really want an architect with an axe to grind against you personally working on a building project for you? Isn’t having a building fall on your head once in a lifetime enough for you?” That was a spiteful, mean-spirited comment, and Reeve immediately felt guilty for uttering it, but Rufus’s attitude was getting under his skin.

Rufus flinched in a subtle, almost imperceptible manner, making the guilt even worse. He hated that the blond brat had managed to drag him down to his level of trading barbed comments.

“My apologies, that was uncalled for.”

“I’m not sure I like your new claws, Tuesti. But I’m willing to entertain this ridiculous idea of yours. What exactly do you think you can do with the support of Shinra at your back? You do realize you need money to fund your high-minded projects.”

“I’m aware,” Reeve said tightly but found himself hesitant to mention the donors and money-raising efforts they’d already gotten in order to help make Edge a little more livable.

“Fine, keep your secrets. You never answered me before. Are you a betting man, Reeve?”

He found himself gaping at the other man because honestly, had he never met Cait Sith? Dancing on the razor-edged blade of chance was half of Cait’s battle style. And where had the animatronic cat gotten that penchant for fortune telling and rolls of the dice but from his creator himself?

Reeve had projected a lot of his innermost self into the creation of Cait Sith. In many ways, the animatronic cat was the best parts of Reeve Tuesti. Or at least, the parts of himself he wished he could openly express and reveal to the world.

“Depends on the bet.” The older man finally stated cautiously.

A thin smile broke out on that flawless face as Rufus leaned forward ever so slightly.

“If you can last six months under your own power and prove you can pull these lofty plans off alone, I will fund your organization for an entire year. If you fail, you return to me and put this nonsense about leaving to bed once and for all.”

Reeve recognized the collar that was being offered plainly for what it was.

Anxiety curdled in his stomach at the thought of shackling himself to Shinra potentially for life.

But the chance….

The slim hope he might actually be able to do some good and hopefully wash some of the blood on his hands away. Even a lifetime of servitude to the likes of Rufus Shinra seemed like a worthy trade-off if he could actually bring some good into the world.

And the more pragmatic part of his mind pointed out what his alternative was. He could refuse, and then what? Have Rufus Shinra as an enemy? He joked about imprisoning him, but that was just the sort of page out of his father’s playbook that he might use.

Either that, or he might wind up dead, disappeared somewhere where his body would never be found.

Just another object lesson of what happened to those who thought to cross the SEPC.

“Fine, you have yourself a bet.” Reeve finally conceded and the brief flash of triumph that flickered across Rufus’s face was genuinely worrisome.

[mythicaldemigoddess-of-deltarune]

Cuphead Theory: Are The DLC-Angel & Demon, Sons Of Devil...?!!

[Note: Don't Reblog This Without My Permission.]

okay I wasn't going to talk about this theory, but after checking out Casino Cups AU once again, well...the whole topic of Devil and well...

at some point after leaving a comment, I then had the weird thought pop into my head when remembering about that Blue-Angel and Red-Demon from the DLC of Cuphead...

and well it makes me wonder if, maybe...could they be his sons...?

they could be twin brothers, the one that is suppose to be Demon, could be called "Damien" and the other that is the Angel, could be called "Angelo" or something else that starts with a "A"...

I was thinking about calling those two "Cain" and "Abel" but maybe calling one of them Damien and the other Angelo or any other name that starts with "A" will work better.

so yeah, after checking out a part where Devil from the Casino Cups AU, is asked about his past and why he did it...and after I left a comment, the whole weird theory pop into my head...

so I can't help but wonder if those two, the Angel and Demon that appears in the DLC, could be Devil's Twin Sons, like having been one soul before but split into twin souls.

like can you picture if they did make another season of Cuphead, and those two ended up being that version of The Devil's Sons.

and the Angel one ends up befriending Cuphead, Mugman and Chalice...?

and yes my weird thoughts ended up having that weird theory pop into my head, that those two could be Devil's Sons in the Cuphead Universe...

if I'm weird enough to call dibs on Mammon, I'm even more weird for having that strange theory pop into my head, but I do love that theory but it's okay that not everyone agrees with it or likes the idea.

well from the info about the Angel one, he seems like a Precious Cinnamon Roll that must be protected who only goes along with what the Demon one wants to do, maybe because the Demon one is the older twin and is like the big brother, while the Angel is the younger brother.

so this weird theory that pop into my head, I'm also going to view it as Fan Headcanon, at least until it gets debunked, and if it does get debunk it can always work in the Fanon Timelines.

speaking of fan theories, need to make part 2 of the theory that has to do with Blitzo from Helluva Boss. I would go Feral Earth Angel for Blitz, I mean if I got really REALLY mad...I'm weird and I'm gonna call the times when I get super mad or even a little bit that is almost going full mad, as me going "Feral Earth Angel Mode"

I'm not 100% sure what else to say about the theory about that Angel and Demon from Cuphead Game's DLC being Devil's possible sons.

not everyone has to like the theory, but those two do kinda resemble him...maybe just a little.

not all fan theories or fan headcanons need to be correct and when they do get debunked, it's fine to put them in the Fanon.

not sure if Cuphead and Mugman in most of the Cuphead AU, have met those twin Angel and Demon yet...but chances are, it would be Cuphead who ends up asking Devil if those two are his sons.

but the chances of Devil from the Cuphead Game Universe, being The Father of those two from the DLC, is likely very VERY slim...

[solstinky]

TW: SA and ptsd related rant below the cut. mostly venting into the void so please skip unless you Really want to take a peek into my broken psyche. probably really rambling and sloppy too

base context for anyone unaware reading this, i was in a weird "situationship" with a best friend for years, starting at the end of high school and through college. to make it short, she was manipulative and sexually assaulted me a few times, and i didn't really see it for what it was until a new friend gave me a massive wake up call and snapped me out of it. my perception of reality was so skewed i didn't even recognize that id been raped, it just seemed normal and like i was being difficult. and aside from one moment of hyper sexuality to poorly cope after, i haven't even kissed anyone in like 6(?) years because of the damage. context done on to the current rant:

i've been listening to audio roleplays and smut for a while, partly to make up for a lack of affection and partly for sexual reasons (especially because it's fairly niche and self produced, so it feels a lot more ethical than shit like porn). but i've noticed the stuff that i 'enjoy' the most is like... cnc, rape, being taken advantage of, that kind of stuff. and not like,,, fully aggressive and violent, but more so manipulative and pushing boundaries. which i know isn't inherently a bad thing, sexual fantasies and kinks aren't inherently wrong and there's nothing wrong with exploring those in healthy and consensual ways. but there's a part of me that feels wrong for it? almost like i should know better than be into something like that after going through the harsh and traumatizing reality of abuse. but at the same time it's kind of empowering? like im doing it on my terms, im the one who wants it and is actively seeking it out. plus i have a lot of fear of re-attempting intimacy, because im afraid of the small chance i might break down in the moment and freak out. and imagining a scenario where someone is taking the lead entirely, its kind of reassuring in a weird way? i know the obvious conclusion is that there's nothing wrong me with for these kinks, and that i need to just keep working through my ptsd to get past the guilt. but i can't help but feel like im a bad victim in a way? like i shouldn't deserve to be considered a victim the same way someone else is, because im being a gross little pervert who likes a controlled and safe version of something so horrible. like i said i know this is all part of the healing process and that i need to shed this guilt complex, but its just hard. my rational brain knows it's okay and potentially even good for me (taking control over my trauma, rather than letting it control me), but its just hard to actually be normal about it

anyways ptsd sucks, i've been celibate out of fear for years, and i will likely never be the same again. but that's okay, eventually i'll be good enough. and odds are i'll just have to learn the hard way that im fine. like i might be too afraid to actively try to date or have sex, but if something ever happens organically i probably won't freak out at all and will realize i've been worried about nothing. idk. odds are slim since i would have to hit it off really well with a stranger to trust them, or id have to have a friend suddenly be cool with casual sex, neither of which seem super likely, but who knows. i mean knowing me, the fucked up thing is ill probably have the best odds of being comfortable enough to try something if i'm really drunk or something, which is a pretty messy grey area. idk life fucking sucks but we push through and we make the best of it, despite the horrors

[justsome-di]

Nobody Ends Up Dead in a Bathtub, Everyone Keeps Their Organs (a very rough draft)

Without spoiling much, it's about the relationship between an escort and a secretary who accidentally meets up with him for an appointment. There is nothing graphic in this draft!

-----

Alex hadn’t been on a date since he was 18, and it had ended with Marry Ellen pouring her slushie over his shirt in the middle of the mall. He wasn’t sure what he had done wrong, but he figured right then and there that maybe dating wasn’t for him. And he had lived by that for the next 17 years.

When the day came that his co-workers told him that they had set him up with a friend, he thought maybe it was worth a chance. Andrew, Martin, and Stu were the only guys who had ever tried to talk to him, and Alex appreciated that a little bit. Even if the three of them were dicks. Even if Alex did secretly dub them The Office Douche Bags.

Beggars couldn’t be choosers when it came to friends, though. And even if they could, Alex didn’t know how to tell them to leave him alone.

“He’s so sweet and super cute,” Andrew said. “I mean, look at him.”

He leaned over Alex’s desk and showed him a single picture of the date in question. It looked like a semi-professional portrait. He was posing in front of a window in what looked like a bare apartment.

The man had short, curly hair. He had teeth that were unnaturally white, but they were straight. He showed them all in a wide smile. His clothes were tight, and his body was slim. Skinny, really. Alex thought he was pretty cute and assumed he was probably some aspiring actor—so, he was living a much more exciting life than Alex was at the moment.

Andrew insisted it was all taken care of. He apparently knew a waitress who had taken care of a dinner reservation. Andrew had even left his own credit card on file, saying he owed Marcus a favor from a while back so this was his repayment. Alex felt bad at first, but Andrew insisted. He really owed Marcus big time.

Setting him up with a guy was one half of the deal. Paying for the date was the other half. Really, it was all fine. The reservation was at Friday at 6 at some semi-bougie restaurant. Marcus would be expecting him, and it was important that Alex didn’t talk about work. There were other things to talk about.  

Alex didn’t argue any further. He went home that Friday with his stomach in knots.

He tried making his hair look nice in the mirror. He tried using mousses and combs and pomade, but it just ended up looking like his normal flat hair. Eve leaned in the doorway of the bathroom and watched.

“How do I look?” he asked.

“I don’t care. I need to pee.”

She shoved him out of the way and into the living room of their minuscule one bedroom apartment.

“You look fine,” she yelled through the closed door.

Alex wished she wouldn’t talk to him while she peed, but there was nothing he could do about it. Her voice could be heard no matter where he was in the apartment.

“Thank you,” he shouted back.

“Who is this guy again?”

“His name is Marcus. I don’t know anything else.”

The toilet flushed, and the sink ran. Eve pulled the door open and stared him down. She had such a serious face for such a young woman. She always had. Even when she was a baby, she always looked at Alex with an expression that seemed to say she was tired of his bullshit. Her new undercut made her look all the more intimidating.

“He’s going to steal your kidney,” she said.

“What?”

“You can’t meet up with a total stranger at some restaurant. I was listening to this podcast the other day where this guy went on all these blind dates, but he would drug all the women once they starting to hook up, and he sold their kidneys on the black market.”

“First of all, he’s not a stranger. He’s a friend of a friend. And second of all, it won’t be like that. We’re just getting dinner. And no one actually steals kidneys.”

“Dude, I literally just listened to a podcast about it. You’re going to end up waking up in a bathtub full of ice.”

“I’m begging you to stop.”

“Share your location with me before you leave.”

Alex huffed about it, but he did pull out his phone and sent her a link to track him.

“If this works out, are you going to take him to that wedding?” she asked.

“I’m not thinking about that right now.” He had been planning on going solo, and he really didn’t want to put more thought into it than he had to. It was a long way away. “Wedding dates are serious.”

“The Halloween party at least?”

The Halloween party would be easy. He usually didn’t think about taking anyone because every year he showed up in a low-effort costume, took a handful of candy corn, drank a martini, and left without saying much of anything to anyone. Maybe it would be nice to go with someone for once.

“I’ll think about it,” Alex said. “Are you staying in tonight?”

“Don’t I always?”

“Sometimes you see friends.”

Eve flopped herself onto the beaten down pull-out couch that also served as her bed. There was a mason jar across the room that pocket change and spare dollars got shoved into every few weeks, intending to be savings to get her a new pull-out couch to sleep on. They had a total of $53.24 according to a sticky note on the side. Though, Alex was sure Eve had pulled a wad of dollars out to get pizza the night before, so it was hard to tell if that was an accurate number.

“I go to meetings,” she said. “I don’t think my fellow club members really consider me a friend.”

“They could be friends. You just have to, sort of, open up. Ask them to the dining hall or something after a meeting.”

“Eh. I’d rather not.”

“Then die alone. I was just going to remind you to lock the door if you go out.”  

“Fuck off.”

Alex couldn’t really lecture her about making college friends. He never had college friends. He didn’t even really have friends at all. Just the Office Douche Bags.

But meeting with Marcus was making him a little optimistic. He might have finally been getting somewhere. If things went well with Marcus, who knew where it could lead? At the very least, Alex could have a new friend. At the very best, a boyfriend.

He donned his best jacket which was a 5-year-old pea coat that was pilling in the back and was no longer the dark black it had been when Alex’s mother bought it for him. It was a little too heavy for the weather. New York hadn’t plunged into the bitter cold winter yet, but it was just beginning to get a bit chilly. Regardless, it was Alex’s best coat, and he thought the occasion called for something a little dressy.

Leaving Eve alone with a video game, Alex walked to the restaurant early and sat at the reserved table alone.

Alex ordered two glasses of wine and right as they came, right when he began to worry that he would be sitting at the table alone all night, Marcus was led in by the hostess.

He was just as cute as he was in his picture. He wore a nice, burgundy sweater and tight jeans. Alex felt self-conscious about his slacks and button down. He could have chosen something a little more creative. Something that didn’t look like his usual work outfits.

Marcus smiled with his too-white teeth. He raised his shoulders as he sat like he was sheepish about the whole thing. All of his movements—the way he had grabbed the back of his chair to pull it out, the way he swept his hair back from his face, how he laid his chin in his hand to look at Alex—were so delicate and calculated.

Immediately, Alex knew that Marcus was out of his league. Marcus looked so great and was so graceful. He was put-together, and Alex was frumpy. And awkward.

But Marcus began talking to him like he definitely wasn’t out of his league, and that made Alex feel good about himself. And more importantly, he didn’t seem the type to steal a kidney. Unless the charisma was part of the kidney-stealing plan.

There was no kidney-stealing plan, Alex told himself. Eve was just getting in his head.

“Tell me about yourself.” Marcus swirled his wine around in his glass. Alex hoped he had made a good choice going with the cheapest option on the menu. He had hoped Marcus was also the type to drink cheap wine. “What do you like to do for fun?”

“Oh. Uh.” Alex didn’t do much. “Why don’t you tell me what you like to do?”

“Okay!” Marcus seemed all too happy to talk about himself. “I like going to shows when I can—musicals, I mean. And other plays. But mostly musicals. But I don’t get to do it all that much because it’s so expensive, you know?”

“Yeah.” Alex didn’t really know. He wasn’t a big fan of theater.

“So, usually I just do little things around the city,” Marcus went on. “I get coffee, I feed pigeons, I binge Netflix.”

Binging Netflix was a conversation Alex could handle. “What are you binging right now?”

“I am a Killer which is that one where they interview all those death row inmates about their crimes. And that Night Stalker documentary. I think it’s just called Night Stalker. Whatever it is, I’m like three episodes into it.”

“Ooh.” Maybe Alex wasn’t leaving with his kidneys. “Do you usually watch a lot shows about killers?”

“Yeah, I love them. I also listen to a lot of true crime podcasts.”

“Oh no.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I meant. Like. Oh no. Me too. Like in a good way. Like we’ll be here all night if we both start talking about it.”

Marcus smiled and delicately laid his chin on top of his laced fingers. Alex laughed uncomfortably. He was already ruining the night. Well-adjusted people could watch true crime. It was a billion-dollar business after all. Even Eve listened to murder podcasts on her walks to class.

“What do you like about true crime?” Alex asked.

“I like learning how to kill people.” Marcus laughed. “I’m just kidding!”

“I hope so! I really, really hope that you’re kidding!”

Alex rubbed his sweaty palms on his pants. He re-thought the well-adjusted thing as the waiter laid their plates in front of them. He liked both of his kidneys a lot. He wanted to keep them.

“If you really want to know.” Marcus cut a slice of grilled chicken on top of his salad to make it a daintier, bite-sized piece. He was great with knives it seemed. “I like true crime because I think there’s a lot of advocacy involved in it. You know, when the victims get a chance to have their stories told. Especially when the victims are women or people of color. Or when they talk about how the police are incompetent. And yeah, there’s some true crime that gets exploitive. But I think a lot of it is coming from a good place.”

“Yeah.” Alex nodded. His kidneys felt safe again. “I get that.”

“And you know, it’s important to be aware of who gets targeted and who doesn’t get investigated by police. Cause a lot of the time, police won’t really care if someone, like,” Marcus waved his hands in front of his face, “a Latino gay guy gets killed.”

“Right. Right. My sister always goes on about the whole Jeffrey Dahmer thing. Where the police just handed one of his victims back to him.”

Marcus threw his head back. “Don’t get me started on that one.”

But it was too late, and Marcus jumped into a spiel about how the police were willing to look the other way for white men, how it went back centuries, and how Ted Bundy wasn’t even that charismatic. Alex listened with more interest than he thought he would have. Usually when Eve went on her rants, Alex barely listened. He didn’t doubt anything she said, but she picked the worst times for her amateur TED Talks.

There was something about the way that Marcus talked about it all. His delicate hands emphasized his points, his face went through a dozen expressions that were all so handsome. He was so passionate about it, and it was so refreshing to hear someone talk about something other than fucking women or selling whatever to a record number of clients.

Marcus cut himself off rather abruptly. He finished his comment on how Jack the Ripper would have been caught if he hadn’t targeted sex workers, and then sighed. “I am talking way too much. You said you have a sister?”

“Yeah. Eve.”

“Aw. Eve’s such a cute name. Is she older?”

“Younger. She’s a sophomore in college.”

“Good for her. What’s her major?”

It was amazing how Marcus knew how to keep the conversation going when Alex let his side of it fizzle out like a dead firework.

“Computer science,” Alex said. “She’s really good at it. She got all of these awards her first year at school, and now her professors are trying to get into all of these nice internships next year.”

“That’s amazing!”

“She is flunking math right now, though.”

Marcus frowned. “Not amazing.”

“It’s a calculus class. It’s a whole thing. She says it’s not even all that important for her major—which I have no idea if that’s’ true or not—but it’s still a requirement, and she’s worried it’s going to tank her GPA.”

Marcus ran the tip of his finger over his wine glass. “What even is calculus?”

“No idea. I just know it makes her cry.”

“Poor thing. Can she get a tutor?”

“She’s tried, but the academic support center or whatever is only open when she’s in class or working. Her only free time is in the evenings.”

“That’s so unfair! They can’t do night tutoring?”

“Apparently not.” Alex drank the last of his wine. “But she’s smart. She’ll figure something out.”

“I’m sure she will. And it’s sweet that you’re so involved.”

“Eh, we share an apartment. I get to hear about all of her crises whether I want to or not.”

Something in Marcus’ face softened. He looked almost distracted. “You share an apartment?”

“Yeah, it’s cheaper for her to commute than to live on campus, and my apartment is close enough to her college that she can walk there. It just made sense for her to move in with me.”

“It does.”

“Do you have siblings?”

Marcus composed himself. He pulled his hands into his lap and straightened in his chair. “No. I’m an only child.”

“Sometimes I wish I was an only child.”

“Don’t say that. Eve sounds nice.”

Alex didn’t know how to find a way out of the dead-end response. Their meals were finished, and there was no check coming to give them a definitive end to dinner.

Marcus stretched his hand across the table, palm up. He smiled easily at Alex. Alex laid his hand in Marcus’, hoping it wasn’t sweaty or warm.

“Want to head upstairs for another drink?” Marcus asked.

Alex didn’t know what “upstairs” meant, but he agreed. There could have been a bar on the higher level of the hotel. Maybe a rooftop thing.

Marcus led him through the crowd of new guests being seated and nodded to the hostess at the front of the restaurant. He took Alex down the hall and into an elevator. The entire time, Marcus held his hand, rubbing his thumb over his knuckles.

It was the most touching Alex had had in years. It was a little pathetic, but he felt so relieved. He had finally met someone nice. He had finally found someone who seemed interested in him. Someone willing to touch him. The little touches meant so much whether or not Marcus knew it or not.

The elevator doors opened and revealed a row of doors. Alex followed Marcus out, a little fear creeping up in his stomach. He realized, as Marcus pulled out a key card from his pocket, that “upstairs” meant a hotel room.

But maybe it wouldn’t be all bad. Alex supposed he didn’t know if Marcus was from the city or not. He could have just been visiting and was staying in that hotel. It didn’t necessarily mean he had just gotten a room for a hook up.

The room smelled like a mix of cheap air freshener and laundry detergent. It was icy cold, and Marcus wished he could have slid his jacket on. When Marcus flipped on the lights, and when Alex’s eyes adjusted, he saw the room was small with one bed and a bathroom close by.

The door settled heavily into its frame and locked. Alex stayed close to it, his fingers touching the thick wood behind his back.

Marcus laid his hand on Alex’s hip, right under his belt. He kept smiling even as he leaned in and kissed Alex.

It was all so forward. Alex should have mentioned something earlier.

Marcus pulled him away from the door and towards the bed. It was only a few steps, and then they were sitting together, Marcus getting handsier with every second. Alex sat frozen.

Marcus must have noticed how stiff he was because he leaned back and moved his hands from Alex’s legs and waist to his hair.

“Nervous?” he asked. He sounded so sweet still. Alex didn’t want to ruin anything for him.

“I’m just not used to this, I think.”

Marcus nodded. “It’s okay. How do you want to do this?”

“Um. I don’t. I don’t know.”

“I can lead if you want.”

“I don’t think I know what’s happening.”

Marcus stroked Alex’s hair with one hand and looked at his watch. He sighed. “I don’t want to rush you or kill the mood, but you only have about an hour left, and I don’t give refunds.”

“Wait. Wait. Wait.” Alex swept Marcus’ hands aside. “What do you mean?”

The sweet, caring look Marcus had was gone. He looked equally confused. “You paid for two hours? And I explicitly told you there’s a no-refund policy. You are Alex, right? I’m not with the wrong client?”

“Client?”

And all of a sudden, it hit Alex like a brick to the face. There was no luggage in the room. Marcus was very eager to get Alex in bed. No-refund policies.

Alex screamed, “Oh my god!” and shot up off the bed and backed himself up in a corner.

Marcus also began screaming and pulled his legs onto the bed.

“What?” Marcus yelled. “What is it?”

“Are you a prostitute?”

“I’m—“ Marcus lowered his voice. “I’m an escort. Aren’t you my client?”

“No!”

Marcus’ face turned grey, and his body deflated. His eyes turned from Alex to the floor in horror.

“I mean.” Alex held out a shaking hand. He tried speaking quietly. “I was set up to go on a date for you, but I didn’t pay for it. My friend told me you were a friend of his, and this was just supposed to be a date. Like a real date. I didn’t know it was—a—a business transaction.”

“Oh my god. Okay. I got a message from you saying you wanted an appointment, and now that I’m sitting here I’m realizing I really need a better screening process for my clients. I thought you were acting really weird, and I just thought it was part of the experience you wanted.”

Alex was in full panic mode. He had unknowingly played a part in soliciting a prostitute. He could get fired. He could get arrested. He was most definitely not talking to the Douche Bags ever again.

He really thought he had made a real connection with someone, and it turned out that it was all fake. Marcus had been paid. He wasn’t real. Never mind getting arrested, Alex hadn’t been on a date at all. The charming, nice man he thought liked him was just part of an act. His chest ached. His stomach sunk.

But more importantly, Marcus was staring at him like a deer in headlights. And Alex thought about how scary the situation must have been for him.

“I’m going to leave,” Marcus said.

“Wait. Hold on.” Marcus hadn’t even begun to move. “I just want you know that I won’t tell anyone.”

“Okay.”

“Like, I support legalizing sex work and all that.”

“Uh.”

“Everything you were saying at dinner about sex workers being pushed aside in society and ignored, I agree with all that. It’s awful. I think you deserve rights.”

“Are you just going to keep telling me how progressive you are?”

“Yes.” Alex held up a finger. “Because I want you to know that you’re safe.”

“Insisting that I’m safe while you’re backed into a dark corner doesn’t make me feel all that safe. You should know people know where I am, and they know your name and where you work—I mean, if any of that was real. I don’t know anymore.”

“I’m sorry. But really, I don’t want to get you arrested or anything. Can I just ask a few questions? Like who’s impersonating me to solicit prostitutes? And how do I stop that from happening again?”

Marcus perched himself on the very edge of the bed. He looked Alex up and down and nodded.

“Only if you stop calling me a prostitute,” Marcus said.

“Yeah! What do you prefer to be called?”

Marcus held his shoulders high and lifted his chin. “I’m an escort and a sex worker.”

“Okay. Can we figure out, together, what happened that someone hired an escort as me? Because I genuinely had no idea you were an escort. I really did think this was a real date. And I have a hunch about who impersonated me.”

Marcus nodded again. “Things like this happen more often than you might think.”

“I can only imagine.” Alex slowly approached Marcus again and, not wanting to loom over him, sat on the bed, leaving plenty of space between them. He pulled out his phone. “These are the texts I got from my friend Andrew. He said he set up the date between us.”

The reservation is at 6. My card is already on file. Don’t worry about paying.

Don’t forget what he looks like ;)

And below was the picture of Marcus.

“Yeah, that’s me,” Marcus said. “That’s my picture on my profile.”

He pulled out his own phone and opened an app Alex had never seen before.

“This is supposed to be you,” he said.

He showed Alex a series of messages. They were all very professional. Back and forth about meeting, reservations, and a Venmo transaction. There was a picture of Alex, taken straight from his LinkedIn profile which was also linked in the messages. There was even a picture of Alex’s state ID, probably taken from files somewhere at work. Stu, after all, worked in human resources. It would have been easy to get any information needed.

It was horrifying how easily the Douche Bags had impersonated him. It was violating and humiliating and scary. It was illegal! Alex could have reported them, and they would lose their jobs. But that would be potentially dangerous for Marcus, and Alex didn’t want Marcus mixed up in anything that could get him in trouble. If he did snitch, his bosses could report it, and Marcus could be found, and he’d get arrested.

“So, there are these guys I work with,” Alex said, feeling so shocked and scared now that his skin was numb. “And they said they were setting me up on a blind date with someone they knew. But it was all a prank, and they set me up with a pros—an escort. Without you knowing about it either. But all that information they gave you is real. That’s where I work and where I live.”

“Okay, listen.” Marcus locked his phone and shoved back into his tight jeans. “I can’t say something like this happened before. Your friends were thorough. I’m just glad we got everything sorted out before anything more serious happened. And I’m glad you didn’t flip out—okay, you kind of flipped out. But it could have been worse.”

And Marcus smiled, and Alex couldn’t help the wave of heartbreak that washed over him. Marcus wasn’t real. All the smiles had been paid for. His date hadn’t been real. He was still alone and date-less, and to make it all worse, he knew the Douche Bags were probably laughing at him right about now.

He was pissed. He was mourning. He was feeling every emotion possible.

He couldn’t help it. He started crying. He pressed his palms into his eyes and tried so hard to not make a scene. But his nose started running, and his breath was getting short and gaspy.

“Oh no,” Marcus cooed.

Alex felt him stand and heard him move across the carpet. When Alex felt the bed dip again with his weight, he looked up. Marcus offered him a box of thin, scratchy hotel tissues. His hands shook while he held out the box. Alex wanted to steady them, lay his own hands over them until the last of the fear was out of him.

“I’m sorry,” Marcus said. “I’m sorry they did this to you.”

Alex pulled a few tissues out of the box and wiped his eyes and nose as discreetly and politely as he could.

“I feel dumb,” Alex said.

“No! Don’t! If anyone is dumb, it’s me. I should have made sure the account was legit. I should have asked for a picture of you holding a newspaper. Like what hostage victims do.”

Alex laughed a little. Just a little. “They could have asked me to pose for it, and I would have.”

“Okay, well, then I’ll have to think of something else.”

Marcus put his hand on Alex’s back, and Alex wished he wouldn’t. It felt so nice.

“I don’t think escorts are supposed to comfort people like this,” Alex said.

“I’ve actually comforted a lot of crying clients before. It’s my job. I’m a professional companion. And you still have me for an hour.”

“I’ll try to pull myself together within an hour.”

“You better. If not, I’m still leaving. I don’t do overtime.”

Alex laughed again.

“And I do have plans at 9. My brother and I have a very serious night of Netflix binging planned.”

“Brother? You said you were an only child.”

“I lied. I lie about everything to clients. Just in case someone ends up being crazy and follows me home or something.”

“Oh god.” Alex wiped his nose. “I’m just curious. How dangerous is it being an escort?”

Marcus sighed. “Pretty dangerous? It depends. Sometimes nights end like this. They’re fine. Sometimes, I get nervous.”

He didn’t elaborate, and Alex didn’t push.

“But more often than not, people are just looking for someone to spend a night with,” Marcus said. “And it ends pretty well. Sometimes there’s sex, sometimes we just go out. And there’s been plenty of crying.”

“Are you just trying to make me feel better?”

Marcus rubbed Alex’s back. It was very soothing.

“A couple of years ago,” Marcus said, “I had an older client. I think he was in his late 60s. And his wife had died that same week.”

“Oh my god.”

“He just wanted someone to sit with him. His house was so empty, he said. He just wanted someone to eat dinner with and watch the news with. And he told me all about her. She was a teacher, they had traveled together, they had volunteered at an animal shelter when they both retired. He cried a lot telling me about her.

“They didn’t have any kids, so it was just him left. He was lonely. The funeral had been earlier that day, and he didn’t want to cry alone that night. And I just sat with him. I made him tea. I offered him tissues.”

“That’s really nice of you.”

Marcus shrugged. “Sometimes I get clients like that.”

“But you must have helped him.”

“I guess. Maybe. When I left, I said I hoped he would be okay. But I never heard from him again.”

Alex was feeling a little better. At least he wasn’t a widower.

“You’re like a therapist,” Alex said.

“Not at all. I’m just a companion.” Marcus took a fresh tissue from the box and dabbed below Alex’s eyes. “I take care of people’s social needs, that’s all.”

Alex smiled, genuinely. He did feel like he was being taken care of. Marcus smiled back. It seemed like Marcus had calmed down. His hands had steadied.

“There we go.” Marcus wadded up the tissue and left it on the duvet. “Feeling better?”

“Not a lot.”

“Well, you still have a little under an hour, and your co-worker isn’t getting that money back. And we have wine that’s already been paid for.”

Marcus poured two glasses of wine while Alex tried drying up the rest of his tears and snot and throwing the tissues away so the unfortunate housekeepers wouldn’t have to pull them off the bed and floor the next morning.

Alex watched Marcus’ delicate hands offer him a wine glass, fingers wrapped around the stem.

“It really is okay,” Marcus said. “You can keep crying.”

“I don’t want to cry. It feels like it’d give them too much satisfaction.”

“Do you mind me asking why you even trusted them enough in the first place? They don’t seem like they’re your friends.”

“They’re the closest things I have to friends.”

“Aww. They really took advantage of you.”

“Yeah. Maybe I’m just too naive.”

“I don’t think this makes you naive. I just think you were letting yourself be vulnerable and open to a first date. It’s admirable. They just fucked you over.”

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to look at them on Monday. They’re probably expecting me to come in absolutely mortified.”

Marcus laughed a little. “You could be like, ‘It was such a nice night. Thanks for arranging it. Give Marcus a nice review for me. Hope you tipped him well.’”

“God, no.”

“Or just plead ignorance. Tell them you had a great date and you think you want to see me again. Pretend like you never picked up on the fact I was an escort.”

“They would shit themselves.”

“Then do it! Don’t let them think they’ve won this.”

Maybe it was two glasses of wine talking, but Alex didn’t think that was a half-bad idea. They didn’t deserve the satisfaction of knowing how poorly Alex felt that night.

“What if,” he said, “I do tell them that.”

“Do it.”

“And I maybe hire you again some night? But make it look like it’s a real date?”

“You want to hire me to pretend to be your boyfriend for people who know I’m an escort?”

“Think it’ll work?”

“I have no idea. I’ve never been asked that before.”

“It would be one more date.”

“As long as you pay, I don’t care what you have planned.”

“It doesn’t go against any moral code to trick people?”

Marcus raised his eyes to the ceiling and pressed his lips together. “I guess,” he said, “if no one is getting hurt, it’s okay. It wouldn’t be any different than me showing up to banquets pretending to be someone’s partner, would it? You’re not going to plan something malicious?”

“No.” Alex laid his wine glass down on the nightstand. He stood and began pacing, wrapping his arms around himself. “I think if we could do one believable date, they’d buy it. And then I say it didn’t work out for some totally normal reason.”

“But how are they even going to know about the date?”

“Good point.”

Marcus put his chin in his hands and leaned on his knees. He watched Alex’s short walk from one side of the hotel room to the next. He had such large, beautiful eyes, Alex thought. Such a shame.

“Do you have any parties?” Marcus asked.

“Not any coming up.”

“Not even an office party?”

Alex turned on his heel toward Marcus. “There’s a Halloween party in two weeks. Think you can pencil me in?”

“Is it on Halloween?”

“Yes. It starts at, like, 7.”

“I’ll have to double-check, but I think it’ll work. I try not to schedule anything on Halloween because it’s my brother’s and I’s favorite holiday, but I’ll make an exception this year.”

“Oh. Well, thank you. You don’t really have to do that.”

“No, it’s fine. I have a feeling Leo isn’t going to be up for much this year.”

“Leo’s your brother?”

The soft look he momentarily had over dinner returned. “Yeah.”

Alex sat back down. “Younger?”

“Yeah. He’s a senior in college. He’s applying to a lot of grad schools, and deadlines are coming up.” When Marcus talked about Leo, his voice was gentle, and he tucked his body into itself. “He might want me out of the apartment anyway so he can get work done.”

“You guys live together?”

“Yeah. Same deal with you and your sister. He can commute if he lives with me.” Marcus gently jabbed Alex in the side with his elbow. “Guess we have some things in common.”

They poured another glass of wine for each of them and relaxed a little into the bed. Marcus rested on his side, propping himself up on his elbow.

“Leo’s really smart,” he said.

He began telling stories of Leo, how he was always great at solving problems when he was a kid. He was in his high school’s honor society, he graduated with honors, he got a great scholarship to college. And now he had an astounding GRE score but was worried about finding a way to pay for his masters and all of the application fees.

It was unfair that someone so smart and who worked so hard was afraid of being able to afford school. Any school would be lucky to have him, but there was trying to pick up extra hours at work so he could at least let the schools know he existed.

Of course, Marcus said, he was trying to help him pay for everything. He had covered the cost of the GRE for him as a birthday gift, and he was hoping Leo would let him pay for at least a few applications. Marcus was picking up extra clients whenever he could to try to get enough money together. He was always trying to take care of Leo.

He didn’t let Leo pay any rent. Alex sheepishly admitted he had asked Eve to pitch in for some of the bills. Marcus told him different strokes for different folks. The city was expensive, and it was hard to make rent on one’s own.

Alex told Marcus all about how Eve worked in a bookstore and loved it, but she was also looking to do a little freelance with computer science. There were lots of little projects people needed help with, and she could do a lot from the apartment. It would bring in a lot more money than working as a cashier.

It wasn’t like they weren’t in the middle of the largest city in the country. Marcus pointed out the kids would have better opportunities in the future. Alex agreed. There was a lot for them out there.

Marcus loved Leo dearly, Alex could tell. And he felt bad about thinking that Marcus was going to steal a kidney. Marcus was clearly a sweet man. He could have stayed all night in that hotel room, just talking about siblings and the city. He wished the date had been real. He was sure he would have taken Marcus somewhere for a talk. Maybe coffee. Maybe it could have been very romantic. And the potential for that romance would eat away at Alex forever.

He wanted to stay up all night with Marcus.

But he only had that one hour. How much was even left? The bedside table clock was unplugged, and Alex dreaded checking his phone for the time.

“Shit,” Alex said. “I’m sorry. It’s 8:45. Shouldn’t this have ended 45 minutes ago?”

Marcus shrugged. “You didn’t get the full service tonight, so I think it’s fair you got an extra 45 minutes. I don’t have any other clients tonight.”

“Yeah, but you have that Netflix binge.”

“Oh. Right.” Marcus pulled out of his phone. “Leo will probably be wondering what’s happening if I stay at this hotel any longer.”

“Does he track your location?”

“’Course. If I end up dead, he’ll know exactly what bathtub my body was dumped in.”

“My sister made me turn on my location in case you stole my kidneys.”

“Smart girl. I listened to a podcast about that.”

“God. You two would get along well.”

Alex didn’t want to stand up from the bed, but Marcus got to his feet. He raised his arms above his head and arched his back in a satisfying stretch. His sweater and dress-shirt lifted, and Alex saw a little sliver of his stomach. There was a little trail of dark hair above his belt. Alex loved little happy trails on men, but he had never seen one in person.

“Here.” Marcus took the hotel’s pad and pen off the nightstand. “I don’t do this for a lot of clients, but since I apparently have a security issue on the app, I’m giving you one of my phone numbers.”

“One of?”

“Yeah, I use one of those messaging apps that gives you a number that’s different than your actual number.”

“Clever.”

“Thank you.” Marcus tore off the paper and handed it to Alex. “Text me when you want to make plans for that party. I’ll send you prices, and I’m going to make you go through my whole security process again. No offense, but since you technically haven’t been through it yet, I’d like to make sure I have all your real information.”

“Yeah. Sure.”

They left their empty wine glasses on a dresser. Alex’s head was a little light, a little fuzzy. He followed Marcus through the cramped room, watching the back of his head. Marcus ruffled the curls, letting them come a little loose after pulling at them.

Marcus opened the door for Alex. He paused in the hallway for Marcus to make sure the door had locked behind them before taking the dreaded steps away from the room.

“If it counts for anything,” Marcus said, “I had a very nice night.”

“Even though I cried?”

“I told you.” Marcus lowered his voice. “People cry. It’s fine.”

“If you’re sure.”

Marcus called an elevator but didn’t move when the doors opened. He gestured for Alex to enter. Alex figured that they were parting there, that their night together was over. Finally.

“I’ll text you with the details,” he said.

“Sounds good.”

Alex stepped into the elevator. When the doors began to close, Marcus threw his hand out to stop them.

“Some of my clients know,” he said, “my name’s not Marcus. It’s Damián. That’s my honest-to-god name.”  

“Damián. That’s a nice name.”

“I’m trusting you with it, Alex.”

“You can trust me.”

After all, Damián hadn’t taken his kidneys. Alex could return the favor and keep his name close to his chest.

Damián smiled one last time, showing his too-white teeth. The doors closed between them.

[litgwritersroom]

REAP WHAT YOU SOW

Elijah - 2000+ words - @i-boop-you

It's the Stick or Twist recoupling, and Elijah is in for a shock.

🎵 you didn't cheat, but you're still a traitor🎵

“So, Gary, you can see that Chelsea has decided to stick with you,” the host announced, smiling between the pair after Gary came strutting out from inside the Villa and down to the firepit, all on his own. He already looked confident before he even laid eyes on Chelsea, but when he saw her on her own, waiting for him apparently, that smile brightened right up to his eyes. “How are you feeling?”

Gary let out a contented sigh as he waited beside the host, eyes pinned on Chelsea, their shared stare glistening with happiness. “Yeah, I am happy. Real happy. Honestly, this couldn’t have worked out any better.”

With a small smith of her own, the host turned to Chelsea, standing at the firepit dead centre around the other girls. Her hands were to her face, clasped over her mouth like she was keeping herself from squealing. “Chelsea, anything to add?”

With a giggle that would come off as dorky had anyone else snorted it out, Chelsea bent double at her own fortunes, her giddiness overcoming her. “No, no, I am so happy! Like Gary said, it couldn’t have worked out any better! Casa Amor was fun, but it wasn’t home!”

Elijah stood there, in the line up of the other boys who hadn’t been selected yet either. His head was bowed down, taking it all in. Since those words poured out of Chelsea’s mouth, it was like led being poured into his ears. Her words kept spinning around in his head.

“It was like a little holiday within my holiday. So much fun, but I’m super glad to be back, and get back into the swing of things here … and that means with Gary, too. We had something special before I left, and I don’t want to jeopardise that. So, for that reason, I’m going to stick with Gary.”

Jeopardise? She didn’t want to jeopardise her relationship with Gary? Some guy she’d known barely longer than she’d known Elijah, yet somehow - his gaze trailed up from the ground to shoot daggers into the back of Gary’s head - Elijah knew he wasn’t the only mug used by the bubbly blonde.

Gary engulfed Chelsea in a hug as everyone applauded them. Elijah was the only one to hold back, watching on silently and still as Chelsea jumped up into Gary’s arms, acting every bit like someone who hadn’t just spent night after night in bed with another man, kissing him and getting up to all sorts.

Elijah couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so heated.

The ceremony went on, and Elijah was left behind, losing even Arjun. He was the one person Elijah had struck a connection with outside of Chelsea. He, Arjun, Chelsea, and Minnie had formed their own little bond, becoming their own little group within the group. The four of them had been nigh inseparable during Casa Amor, only drifting off to spend time in their couples or their genders (which was just them gossiping about their couples). God, the anger was burning him up inside.

Elijah held his tongue until the end of the ceremony. He stood among the rejects, the boys who had known they had never done enough, who knew going into tonight that their chances of being picked were slim to none. Carl, Felix, and Kassam were all as shocked as he was at the turn of events. Arjun, Elijah, and Graham getting into the main Villa had seemed like such a sure thing.

As the four rejected girls came out to join them, the eight Casa Losers stood, ready to say their goodbyes.

“Well, it’s fair to say that while none of you will be sticking around, it was good to have you here for as long as we did,” the host cooed, trying to lessen the blow, but it wasn’t working for Elijah. “How are you all feeling?”

As the murmurs of ‘good’ and ‘fine’ echoed out the mouths of the others, Elijah straightened up, making himself look nothing but assured. He wasn’t about to mirror the others in trying to dull this blow. This was shit. It shouldn’t have happened this way.

Elijah wasn’t going to be quiet anymore.

“Pretty angry, to be honest,” he said, making sure he spoke loud enough to be heard over the quelling mutters.

Silence. Everyone was absolutely silent. Elijah could only hear his heart pounding in his ears and the chirping of the cicadas in the bushes.

Breaking the heavy silence, the host tried to clarify this sudden shift, asking him, “Angry, Elijah, how come?”

Licking his lips, Elijah stared at the flames flickering out of the fire pit, thinking very carefully about how he was going to word this.

“I guess,” he said, working to keep his voice steady, to not let it waver like the melody of his heart, “because I feel like I’ve just spent my entire time here being lied to.”

Only briefly did he let his eyes wander over the safe Islander’s, taking in their shocked expressions; eyes were wide, mouths hung open, the men were rubbing their chins while the women were covering their faces with their perfectly manicured fingers.

“Lied to? How so?” The host asked, like she had no idea what he was talking about, like she hadn’t been avidly watching the antics going on during Casa Amor like the rest of the nation, like she couldn’t understand how Elijah might be feeling right now, almost making him feel like this anger and his betrayal wasn’t justified. “Would you care to explain some more?”

He breathed deep, steadying himself. “Yeah, sure … so,” he looked around the Islander’s once more, catching Chelsea’s eye. She looked as puzzled as the rest, like she was completely oblivious as to what he was going through and how she might have played a part in it all. “Basically, from the get go, from day one, me and this girl … we had a connection. There was no question that we would be sharing a bed together, and when we did, there was no holding back. Even outside of the challenges, she was all over me, no hesitation in kissing me. There was no chance for me to get to know the other girls because, like I said, from day one this girl was all over me. I’m not the only one of the lads here that are shocked that I’m still standing.”

The Islanders were dead silent, waiting on bated breath. The boys were glancing about, eyeing up the girls, clearly trying to work out if it was their girl who had betrayed them, that if what they’ve said is true, that if they’ve been getting into bed with a player this whole time.

Well, for one of them, that was certainly true.

“So, you had a good connection with this girl, and you were basically set to come back in after Casa Amor?” The host clarified, sounding far more sympathetic this time around. Elijah could hear the dramatic music that would no doubt be playing over this moment when the episode aired later.

Elijah nodded.

“And … which girl was it that you had a connection with?”

The money question.

Elijah faced forward, no regrets at all, and locked eyes with her. She was staring back at him with her angelic looking doe-eyes, like a little lost puppy. Once that would have got him, but right now Elijah did not feel sorry for her in the slightest.

“It was Chelsea.”

The gasps went ringing from the guys. Noah sucked in a breath as Ibrahim screwed his face up. Bobby whistled low, and Henrik reached over to squeeze Gary’s shoulder.

Chelsea just looked back at Elijah like she couldn’t believe he would betray her this way. Elijah was moving on though, just as fast as she had. His eyes were now resting on Gary, watching as the crane operator took it all in.

He was sitting still, one arm around Chelsea, staring ahead at the flickering flames like they held the answers he needed, like he would find the truth of the matter within the radiating heat.

“Gary, mate…” Ibrahim said, leaning over his new girl, some tall girl with ginger hair that Elijah hadn’t cared to catch the name of.

The host seized control of the situation. She turned to the safe Islander’s and prodded Chelsea, asking her, “So, Chelsea, do you have anything to say to what Elijah’s just told us?”

She bumbled her words, her lip quivering, searching the girls to back her up, to offer her solace, to rescue her after she's realised she’d gone overboard with no life line.

“I - I … I mean,” she said, sitting up straight, hands in her lap like she was being told off in school, “I mean … I never once said I would take Elijah back, I don’t know where this is coming from … Did I do something wrong? I was just trying to get to know you, Elijah.”

Elijah wasn’t budging from his stance.

“You should have known how I’d feel about you running back to Gary, then. Who was it that consoled you when that video came through and you went into hysterics about him saying he could bring one girl home to his nan? It was me. And didn’t we spend every night staying up chatting? Didn’t you kiss me every single day we were there? It was you who had told me that you hadn’t even kissed Gary yet, either. How strong is that connection, you tell me.”

Minnie stared off, eyes wide, blanching and pale. Next to her, Arjun held up his fist in solidarity with him, assuring Elijah he was doing the right thing.

“And, Gary, do you want to tell us how you’re feeling now?” The host went on, making sure to squeeze this moment for every drop of juice the show could get.

Well, if Elijah wasn’t getting into the Villa then at least he would have one of the most memorable moments of the series. He’d certainly made himself more noteworthy than the other seven people standing in line with him, waiting patiently to leave the Vill and see how much they could get out of one Instagram endorsement after three days on Love Island.

Gary blinked away the shock. He was silent for several moments more as he took in their host, as he took in Elijah, his mates, and then finally Chelsea. The shook his head, and said, “Chelsea’s a nice girl and … I don’t know, mate, I think you might have got the wrong end of the stick here.”

Chelsea nods at his side. “Yeah, sorry, Elijah, hun! I never said I would be bringing you back! We were just having fun!”

He swallowed back the vitriol he wanted to spew, knowing he had to hold back and be careful in case it ended up reflecting badly on him. “Well, Chelsea I hope it was worth it for how you’ve made me feel now. It may have been fun for you, and you might not have made any promises about taking me back so you could keep getting to know me, but you never said that you wouldn’t take me back or that I shouldn’t get my hopes up. Is it because you didn’t want to risk me acting differently? Who would you have had fun with then, right?”

Priya was staring at the ground as she let out a low, “Wooft.”

The only one looking at all unabashed was Lottie, who was grinning gleefully, rejoicing in this attempt at Chelsea’s downfall.

Felix reached out for him, putting a hand on his shoulder, letting him know that it was over, that it was done. The damage had been exposed, the truth was out.

“Well, congratulations to the new couples,” the host said, a forced smile returning to her face. “And Casa Islanders,” she turned to the rejects, “sadly, it wasn’t your time, so you have thirty minutes to say your goodbyes. See you all very soon!”

She turned to disappear into the Villa as the Islanders, dumped and safe, were left to pick up the pieces of the latest Love Island ploy.

Arjun was the first over to Elijah, swallowing him up whole in a comforting hug. Minnie and the other girls were quick to come over too, to assure him he hadn’t done anything wrong by speaking his truth, and even Graham had an approving nod for him. There was an odd moment with Gary, where they acknowledged one another. All Elijah had to say to him was, "Be careful with that one."

And finally it was time; Chelsea was waiting for him.

A look on her face like a little lost lamb in a dark and scary forest, she let out a sympathetic, “Babe.” She stood before him with her hand on her heart. “I never realised I was hurting you so bad! Like, honestly, I never imagined you were actually catching feelings.”

He snapped back, “I never imagined you weren’t.”

“Elijah, I’m so sorry, can we -?”

Whatever pleads and promises were about to crawl out her mouth, he wasn’t interested. Elijah held up one hand to bring silence. “Save it,” he said. “Maybe in a couple of days, there won’t be any bad blood, but until then, you reap what you sow, Chelsea. Put that one on a cushion.”

[machinegunbun]

concept: so i know we think of colson as this really rough guy when it comes to sex, but what about soft!dom col where he's strict but caring, and maybe the reader even has a bit of a praise kink. ❤❤

Omg yess

word count: 1.3k

A/N: sorry theres not a lot of smut, my brain got to wandering and I didn't feel the horniest so maybe pt.2? tons of fluff tho and its good to be back :)

Okay, so.

I'm thinking maybe reader has a past that left them uncomfortable with intimacy, whether from a relationship or otherwise. They're still super into freaky shit, but they need to feel comfortable first.

Does that make sense? Like, they need that safety blanket there first.

So obviously at first meeting Colson was scary, because to an outsider (especially early kells) he's this chaotic, sex machine.

It's clear to everyone that Reader is obviously attracted to him, and they are. They love the idea of doing all this kinky stuff with him, and at first Colson being Colson comes on kinda strong with the flirting, which makes them a little nervous to pursue anything.

But, one day, reader is hanging out with the gang (I imagine she's friends with Ashley [ that is his assistants name, right? God, it's been so long ] ) Maybe they're at a restaurant, nothing fancy just something where you seat yourself, and everyone squeezes into a booth, deliberately leaving no room for Colson and Reader, pointing to a two seater across the way.

You sit just far enough away from the group that you're out of earshot, and you can see them peeking the heads up and around the booth to try and catch a glimpse of what you're saying.

It's awkward at first, you're expecting him to drop some flirtatious joke that makes you choke on your drink, but instead he asks you how you met (whoever you're connected to in the group.) You tell him the story and return the question. He opens up about the fact that they're a day one, and even tells you about some of the stuff they went through together, good and bad. It's the first time you'd seen Colson not crazy or off something. He wasn't kicking out a windshield or hanging from the roof by a metal beam, he just was.

It was then that you realized the difference between MGK and Colson baker, and that before today at this restaurant you'd never met the latter.

Colson was able to express himself a lot better than MGK ever seemed to, at least when it came to you. He inquired a lot about you as a person, but the moment was ruined when you were in the midst of exchanging deep personal stories and Rook shot his straw wrapper at Colson and it bounced off his forehead and into his drink. Colson stood to return the favor, his story completely abandoned.

You didn't get a chance to speak to him like that again until two weeks later, when you met up once again in his hotel room. You were both sat on his bed watching spongebob, waiting for Rook, Slim and Baze to return with the bucket of ice. It wasn't a secret to anyone what they were doing, it didn't take three grown men to find an ice machine.

You didn't mind though.

Colson made you a little less nervous now that you'd seen him as someone other than the party animal you'd come accustomed to on stage. He was actually pretty cool, and really funny when he wasn't stressing you out with his antics.

When you asked him if he would finish his story for you he looked surprised.

"Oh, wow. You remember that?"

"Yeah, of course I do. It feels like the first time I ever really got to talk to you." He seemed uncomfortable at first, but continued with his story nonetheless.

The conversation flowed effortlessly until you began talking about how you always found Colson so interesting. He did things that terrified you like they were nothing. You admired his grab life by the balls attitude, and somewhere along the way of your ranting you opened up about how nervous intimacy made you. How most of the time the only way you could ever get off was by masturbating.

You hadn't even brought it up with him in mind, but the relation clicked immediately for him.

"Oh my god. I'm so sorry."

"No, it's really nothing," you laugh nervously "I think it's just anxiety, I dunno. I'm paranoid."

"No, no. I'm sorry for the way I always talk about you— To you." he corrected "I never realized it made you uncomfortable. You always seemed into it, but I should've been more considerate and I'm sorry. I never would have— If i'd known I was making you uncomfortable—" He rambled

"Colson, it's fine." You cut him off "I mean, I am into a lot of the same stuff as you, It's just... I tend to like the concept a lot more than the reality because I am worried, and I need to feel safe before I can even consider something like that."

Colson must've really taken the conversation to heart, because he treated you a lot differently after that. When he'd heard that his loud onstage personality made you a little nervous he was sure to cool it when he was around you. He made sure to address you directly more often when you hung out in groups, whether to joke with you or as a conversation starter. He hadn't realized how uncomfortable and ostracized you'd been feeling in the group aside from your connection to it, but he was determined to change that.

It took a little bit, but eventually you really were comfortable with him, even when he was acting wild. You realized that being an anxious person and being around someone loud like him that you didn't really know was a little off-putting. Large crowds were hard enough for you, but with constant abrupt movement and noise it only worked to make you more anxious. Once you knew Colson a little better it didn't bother you as much, and he even helped you to become a little more comfortable and a little less anxious.

So when you found yourself in his hotel room once again, finishing the tail end of a family guy episode, you decided to make your move.

You weren't really sure how to start. Not with Colson.

You managed to awkwardly snuggle your way into his side, to which he gladly obliged, but you both remained silent apartment from the episode flashing on the tv. Glancing up at Colson, he stared blankly at the TV, glimpsing down to you momentarily to see what you were looking at him for. Your eyes returned to the TV soon after, your hand finding its resting spot just above his XXX tat.

You could feel Colson's chest shake softly with laughter. You tried to remember what had just happened in the show, but you were so busy anxiously devising your master plan to seduce him that you completely blanked. You could feel your heart beating in your chest. All you wanted was for him to blindfold and tie you to the bed and fucking own you. Everything about him drove you crazy. From his voice to his tats to his eyes to that fucking hair. God, you wanted nothing more than to have him between your legs while you tugged at those beautiful curls.

Your hand drifted lower, your nails scraping softly across his skin. This time he audibly chuckled.

"Are you tryna fuck me?" he asks, causing you to blush. It wasn't that you thought you were being sly, but you didn't expect to be confronted like that.

"I-"

"You're good, it's cute that you're shy, I just don't fuck with that teasing shit so, unless you wanna get yourself in trouble..." Although the words were harsh, his tone was soft. Things progressed quickly after that, your lips meeting in a heated kiss to your hands pinned above your head, his mouth moving to your neck as he whispers in your ear

"What's your safe word, princess?"

~*~*~*~

taglist

@kidtheekid

@cclynn88

@lonerlee

@madisonmgklover22

@bakedcolson

@triplexdoublex

@chokemeshaw

@myfatbottomedgirls

@friedwangsss

@rumoured-whispers

@sunflowerbebe07

@nichmeddar

[falloutjay]

Hello! I felt the inspiration to write something university related (my semester starts today and I might be finally allowed to go back on campus! Woho!) so have this.

I'm working on the requests, so no worries there. I also wanna open them up again soon, so keep your brilliant ideas ready if you want me to wrote them!

Love y'all!

___________________

Kyle x Reader x Butters - First Day

You didn’t know a building could make you this scared. But here you were with shaking knees and thinking about skipping this thing altogether. But you really couldn’t do that. The orientation week seemed so nice and you even talked to some people but you know the chance of having courses with them were slim.

Checking your phone you looked up where you had to go for your first university course. You had no idea where the building A05 was and looking around you couldn’t find a sign or a map between the big crowd of people.

(E/C) eyes darted around, hoping to single someone out that you could ask for directions, but you felt nowhere courageous enough to actually interrupt any of the people waling around.

“Ah fuck.” You silently cursed and nervously began walking around. You only had like half an hour left to find the building so you really had to figure out how to find that dumb A05 part of this huge ass campus.

Luckily to you, you didn’t have to think about it much longer, as someone bumped into you. You were about to berate the inattentive asshole, but once you stared into some really pretty emerald eyes, you couldn’t help but just stand there awkwardly.

“Hey, sorry, didn’t see you and I hope I didn’t hurt you or broke anything?” He questioned and you giggled. The young man had pretty red hair and wore an orange shirt with green dad jeans.

It took you a second before you managed to answer. “Oh, it’s all fine. I wasn’t paying attention either.” You smiled warmly, as did the guy. “Let me guess, first semester, first day?” He laughed and you nodded.

“Yeah, how did you figure?” “Just a good guess. And you still look like you have a will to live left.” You chuckled at his joke, and he quickly spoke up again. “I’m Kyle, I study law and I’m in my third semester. And you are?”

“I’m (Y/N). I study art and like you guessed it’s my first semester. So, law? Do you plan on being a lawyer?” “Actually, yes. My dad is one and he gave me a pretty decent insight and I like what he does, so I decided I wanna be a lawyer too.”  

“Sounds interesting!” You said with genuine interest, which Kyle easily noticed.

“I would love to chat with you, but sadly I have to go to class. If you don’t mind, I could give you my number if you’re interested in talking some more. Maybe over a coffee at the campus coffee shop?” You couldn’t believe your ears. This super cute guy just offered you his number? Was this a dream? “Th-That would be amazing!” You quickly gave Kyle your phone and he saved his number in your contacts.

“It was really nice talking to you, but I sadly have to listen to my prof ramble about boring shit. See you around (Y/N)!” He was about to continue with his way, when you remembered that you desperately needed help.

“Hey, Kyle, please wait!” To your luck, he stopped and turned to you once more. “I need to find this dumb A05 building and have no idea where it is.” You sheepishly admitted and hoped that he knew where it was.

“Ah, it’s the big one with the red bricks and wall paintings over there!” Kyle pointed behind you on your left and you spotted it thanks to the giant painting on the buildings wall.

“Oh! Thank you! Have fun with your law classes!” You waved at the redhead, who laughed before he hurried to his own classes. Inside the building you so desperately searched finding the right room was much easier. All doors were labeled and soon enough you sat in the right class.

Other students began filling the class and soon enough you had someone sitting next to you. He had a bright blue button up shirt on and beautiful blonde hair that was a bit longer on top. Nervously you got your supplies out and let your eyes wander around.

Just a few minutes later, your teacher strolled in and asked for silence. What followed was the standard organizing stuff, like what you will learn in the semester, what’s important to know, what you will have to do for your grade.

Once that was over, you thanked God it was over, the teacher had a really boring way of talking, he asked for everyone to get a partner and start sketching something you pick out together.

Nervously your eyes darted around. Everyone seemed to have found someone immediately and you feared you’d be left until the boy next to you asked for your attention.

“Hey, so. I have no partner and I’m guessing you don’t have one either, so do you wanna do this together?” He had beautiful baby blue eyes and a long vertical scar on his left eye.

“Y-yeah sure. Thank you for asking. I’m (Y/N).” The boy grabbed his sketchbook before answering with a bright smile on his lips.

“I’m Butters. Any idea what we wanna sketch?” You thought about it for a moment before you proposed the idea of a vase with flowers. “That’s a wonderful idea.” Butters agreed and picked out one of his pencils. You grabbed your stuff too and you two began drawing the first few lines.

“Are you a first semester too?” You asked the blond, and he nodded. “Yeah. What an adventurous first day. Everything is so new.” He laughed and you agreed.

“Tell me about it. I had trouble finding this building until someone accidentally bumped into me and told me where I could find it.” Butters chuckled. “Damn, sounds like an amazing story.”

You too two started chatting about anything that came to mind. When it was near time that the class was over, you compared your sketches, did the few tasks the teacher gave you and soon enough you stood outside with Butters, laughing together about a story he told you.

“Well, I have another class soon but maybe you’d like to eat in the cafeteria later?” He asked you, and you couldn’t help but smile.

“Sounds good to me. Can I offer you my number so we can make out the details?” You asked him and he happily nodded. You quickly scribbled your number onto a piece of paper from your sketchbook and swiftly ripped it out before giving it to him.

“Thank you (Y/N). Ill quickly shoot you a message when I sit in the other class. See you late!” Butters waved goodbye, as so did you and you couldn’t help but feel upper giddy inside. Just like in the beginning of the day your knees were shaking but this time it was because you basically scored two numbers. The numbers of two super cute boys.

What a lucky first day.

[hyuckssunchip]

Blooming Pt. 2

Pairings: Jisung x Reader, ft. nct dream, lucas (honorary member of dream)

Words: 5.5K

Warnings: Language (there is almost always language in my writings), angst, fluff

Synopsis:

Love isn’t as easy as it seems, Park Jisung is an advocate of that. A blooming relationship that has prematurely ceased can be re-sparked years later, or can it? Will Jisung be able to overcome his fears in order to succeed in what he deems love?

Part 1 | Part 2

“What’s this?” Renjun picked up the textbook on the kitchen table.

Jeno looked up from his laptop briefly, shrugging before returning to the screen. “Jisung threw it there earlier today.”

Renjun picked up the book, getting a good look at the cover, “The Introduction to the female reproductive system? What’s Jisung doing with a book like this?” He pulled the receipt from the back cover, glancing at it.

Jeno finally stood up from his seat, peeking over his shoulder and shaking his head with a frown.

“Jisung said not to touch it.” Jaemin entered the rooming, sitting across from the boys, munching on a snack. “He’s got to return it later.”

“Why?” Renjun asked, sending a look at Jaemin who was spreading crumbs. “The receipt says he bought it today.”

Jaemin grinned sheepishly, getting the message, and he wiped the crumbs into the palm of his hands. 

“I don’t know. Probably the wrong version or something.” Jaemin stood up, dumping his handful into the trash.

“But Jisung’s not even taking a class remotely related to this. Why would he buy it in the first place?” Renjun pushed. 

“I don’t know.” Jaemin shook his head at him, “Why don’t you ask him?”

“Ask who what?” Chenle asked, entering the kitchen to grab an apple.

“Jisung bought a weird book.” Jeno spouted whilst typing away.

Chenle laughed, “Of course he did, no wonder he’s been in such a happy mood.”

“What?” Renjun asked.

“Yeah, he’s had the dumbest smile all over his face since he got back.” Chenle took a large bite out of the apple.

“Where did he go?” Jaemin cocked his head, wandering around the kitchen for another snack.

“I don’t know, probably the bookstore.” 

Jisung emerged from his room, wearing a grin that very similarly resembled Chenle’s expression. He hummed a tune that soon overtook the rest of the hushed chatter, the other boys simply stared at him. Even Jeno stopped his typing, watching Jisung intently.

“What’s got you so happy?” Jaemin asked leaning in close to the unsuspecting boy.

“Hmmm? Oh. Nothing.” Jisung just grinned back.

“Right. Nothing.” Renjun squinted his eyes at him, with a sarcastic tone.

Jisung couldn’t help the smile that seemed to grow. “Actually I-”

“Guess who?” The door slammed shut.

“Haechan, seriously. Just text us before you come over. One of these days you’re gonna give someone a heart attack.” Renjun scolded.

“Really Renjun? You’re not eighty, I’m not going to scare you to death.” Haechan brushed past the muttering boy.

“I wouldn’t put it past you.”

Haechan chose to ignore it if he had heard. “So what are we talking about today?”

Chenle perked up, being the first to offer information. “Jisung bought a weird book, and he’s super happy about it.”

Mark frowned at Jisung, “What?”

In return Jisung spared him a glance before correcting the previous statement, “I have a date.”

“Dude no way.” Mark clapped Jisung on the back, which consequently had him stumbling forward a few steps.

“With who?” Jaemin creeped forward with interest.

“Guess.” There was a cheeky grin that brightened his features.

“No fucking way.” Haechan let out unintentionally. “I mean, congrats Jisung.”

“When?” Renjun asked, more than slightly intrigued. 

“Friday.” He smiled at his feet, “I asked her today after we got back from the bookstore. Also, that guy? Not her boyfriend.”

Jeno spoke up, his curiosity getting the better of him. “What’s the book for though?”

“Oh.” Jisung turned red, “I told her I had to buy a textbook too, and I just grabbed a random book. I didn’t mean to grab that one.” He scratched the back of his neck, in embarrassment.

Chenle snorted, “Wow, some luck.”

But Jisung didn’t feel the same sentiment, as he was still over the moon about your date. He didn’t mind the embarrassment for a moment, the ending result was well worth the sacrifice.

“So where are you guys going?” Haechan asked, wicked thoughts already entering his head.

“No. The answer is no.” Jisung’s smile dropped for the first time. “I’m not stupid, and I don’t want you showing up.”

Haechan playfully scowled, “I’m just trying to help, just give you a little push is all.”

“I don’t need a push. I got a date just fine without you.” Jisung retorted, stealing a cookie from Jaemin as he left to return to his room.

“Do any of you know?” Haechan immediately turned to ask the others.

They all shook their heads, even if they did know they wouldn’t tell Haechan. After all they were rather hoping Jisung and you would get together, and the chances would significantly slim if Haechan were to get involved.

“So Jake told me Lucas has been raving about you since your last date? What’d you do? Sleep with him?” Alex snickered at the thought.

“Yeah.” You deadpanned, not taking your eyes off your book.

There was a loud thud from behind you and you tried your hardest not to laugh. 

“What?!” You turned just in time to see Alex bound over to you, skidding across the floor.

A smile betrayed you, “I’m just kidding. I don’t know, we just had a good time.”

“Bitch.” She muttered under breath, obviously annoyed by your lie. “I was really excited. You didn’t have to do that.”

You giggled, “Is my love life really that interesting?”

“Yes.” She crossed her arms, “I’m bored because I’ve already got a boyfriend. I need to live vicariously through someone.”

You frowned at her before returning to your book, “Well, just because I feel kinda bad for lying to you, I’m gonna let you in on a little secret.”

You didn’t have to look up to know she was leaning in intensely, “What?”. It came out as a whisper and you could see how badly she wanted to hear it.

“I’ve got a date.” 

Alex leaned back with a sigh, evidently unimpressed. “That’s your secret? I mean I already assumed Lucas was gonna ask again. I wanted something more juicy.”

You bit your lip with a smile, “It’s not with Lucas.”

That had her. “Holy shit. Who?”

You glanced at the wall that separated you and your neighbors, and she immediately understood. “Jisung?”

For a moment it was unusually silent. Then she let out an ear-deafening squeal. “Oh my god! He finally asked you? Or did you ask him? When did this happen? Why didn’t you tell me?”

The frenzy of questions had you laughing at her excitement. “He asked me just a few hours ago.” You couldn’t hide the smile any longer, teeth now on full view.

She scooted closer to you, grabbing a hold of your arm, “Tell me everything.”

And so you did. For the most part it was you recanting your story, and every once in a while Alex would squeal and smack you in excitement.

Eventually her excitement died down, after all the girl only has so much energy.

“What about Lucas?” She asked softly, glancing at your profile.

You picked at the page nervously, hissing when you got a paper cut. Immediately you stuck your finger in your mouth, a habit you had since you were a child.

Although Jisung asking you out was something you had wished for since the moment you met him, you knew it wasn’t right to just drop Lucas like that. Besides you liked the guy, he made you feel comfortable, and not to mention he really knew how to lay it on thick. He was a natural flirt. 

Of course you liked being flirted with, doted on. And Lucas really was a great guy. But in all honesty you couldn’t really see a future with him. He just didn’t send flutters in your stomach the way that Jisung did. 

You pursed your lips in thought, mulling over how you were going to go about the situation. 

“I don’t know. We’re supposed to meet for lunch tomorrow. I guess I’ll tell him then.” You sighed, not liking how you were suddenly thrust into this situation. Why did two great guys have to come at the same time?

Alex nodded, understanding your predicament. She also understood the way that you felt about Jisung.

Feelings that didn’t go away after two years, meant something, didn’t they? 

“I’m really sorry. I think you’re a great guy, really.” You paused, watching his reaction. You had just dumped everything on to Lucas, and you couldn’t tell what he was feeling. Resentment? Anger? Disappointment?

But he just nodded with a tight smile. It clearly wasn’t genuine. 

“I hate it when people say this, but it isn’t you it’s me. Really. You’re a fantastic guy, and I think anybody would be lucky to have you as a partner. But… I just can’t ignore my feelings, you know?”

You bit your lip with a frown, looking up from under your lashes. 

He laid his hand on top of yours, just holding it for a moment. 

“I understand. And there’s absolutely no hard feelings.” This time the smile seemed less forced. “I wished things could’ve worked out, but things don’t always go the way we want right?”

You sent him a soft smile, guilt still plaguing you.

“And just so you know, if you ever want to hit me up, I’m all for it.” He paused, glancing at you, “Whether you want a friend or something more.”

In silence, the two of you looked at each other for a moment.

“Y/N?” A voice interrupted you, making you widen your eyes.

Why did he always seem to catch you in compromising situations?

“Jisung.” You froze, unable to move or find the words to explain yourself. This obviously didn’t look good, here you were on what looked to be a ‘date’ just after accepting Jisung.

But he did know the situation, he did know that you were seeing Lucas. But it didn’t mean that he was keen on seeing you with him.

It seemed like everyone was left speechless, including a very wide-eyed Haechan, who you would’ve thought never could happen.

Jisung’s eyes flickered to the way Lucas’s hand enveloped yours, and you immediately pulled away, brushing your hair behind your ear out of nerves.

Looking between the two of you, Lucas seemed to get a pretty good idea of what was going on. He stood up and sent you a soft smile, before turning back to the group. 

“I’m gonna pay for it,” he cut you off as you tried to protest. “I’ll see you around sometime.” And with one last glance at the boys he shouldered past them.

The silence lasted for quite a while. 

“Guys, there’s a table- Oh, hi Y/N.” Jaemin had walked in belatedly, missing the situation, and was way too bright for the circumstance.

Renjun elbowed him in the side, earning a wide-eyed look of confusion.

You waited, hoping for Jisung to say something, because for some reason your mouth wouldn’t move. Words you had to say, dying in the back of your throat. 

But Jisung didn’t have anything to say. So he left.

You sent a shy smile to the boy next door, but he quickly ducked past his door, leaving you with the sound of the slamming.

You bit your lip. You didn’t blame him for being upset at what he saw. You would be too. You just thought that he would at least talk or look at you by now. 

Even your random run ins with Jaemin seemed to have an awkward air, like he would get in trouble if he talked to you.

“This is exactly what I didn’t want.” You ranted frustratedly to your roommate. “Our neighbors are avoiding me like the plague, and I can’t even get a smile out of Jaemin. Jaemin! The dude doesn’t know what it means to not smile, and now suddenly he’s a pro at it.”

You huffed, glaring at Alex. At this she put her hands up as if to say she wasn’t the one who didn’t smile at you.

You collapsed into the chair, shoving your head into your crossed arms. 

“Why don’t you just try to talk to him then? Clear things up.” She asked gently, as though she was worried this suggestion might set you off again.

“You don’t think I want to? He avoids me at all costs. If I can’t even get him to look at me, how’m I supposed to have a conversation with him?”

Alex shrugged, thinking the better of meddling again, choosing to retreat to her room to leave you with your own thoughts.

However, unbeknownst to you, the same chaos was occurring right next door.

“Should we talk to him?” Jaemin whispered while staring at the hallway, as if suddenly Jisung would pop out and let him have it.

“Does it look like he wants to be talked to?” Chenle asked sarcastically, “I don’t know about you, but I like my limbs intact.”

Jeno nodded, “I’ve never seen him this upset before. We should just let him cool off.”

“Cool off? He’s been cooling off for the past week, that’s not helping.” Renjun muttered angrily. He had unfortunately been a victim of Jisung’s wrath the night after the incident. 

“He’s just upset. I mean can you blame him? The girl he’s been in love with for the last two years was holding hands and obviously on a date with the dude, even after Jisung asked her out.” Chenle whisper-shouted. Even he wasn’t going to risk Jisung hearing this. 

“But he knew.” Renjun said, “He knew she was going on dates with this other guy. I mean what does he expect, she’d just drop him like that?”

Although Renjun had logic in his statement, none of the guys seemed to back him up.

“But I mean, the day after? And Jisung was over the moon when she accepted.” Chenle argued back.

“It’s not like she wanted Jisung to see them together.” Renjun hissed.

“Oh that makes it so much better?” Chenle wasn’t one to back down easily, and his voice was starting to rise.

“That’s not what I’m saying.” Renjun huffed out, “It’s not like she wanted to hurt him by having him see that. Besides she may have already planned the date, or have a reason. He should at least talk to her-”

“Shhh.” Jaemin threw a hand over Renjun’s mouth at the sight of Jisung leaving his room.

“Thanks. I really appreciate you guys talking about me behind my back.” Jisung glared at the group. “Why don’t you go over and talk shit about me with Y/N? I’m sure you’d get along nicely.”

“Well it’s not like we can talk to your face, can we?” Renjun shouted, fed up with Jisung’s mood.

Jisung scowled once more before slamming the front door behind him.

“Well that went well.” Jaemin mumbled, trying to lighten the mood.

“Jisung!” You stumbled down the stairs, trying to catch up with the blonde haired boy before he escaped.

But he didn’t even turn at the sound of your voice, and he seemed to hurry up as if avoiding you at all costs. 

Eventually you got the hint and stopped in your tracks. This had been going on for too long now, and you were fed up with the fact that no matter how hard you tried, he just chose to ignore you. 

So you plucked up your last ounce of courage, yelling at him from behind, with clenched fists.

“If you’re not going to even pretend like you’re interested, why did you ask me out?” You asked angrily, feeling a choking feeling rise in your throat. 

This caught his attention and he turned to face you with a frown, not quite understanding what you meant.

You were embarrassed and angry, feeling humiliated at the thought of Jisung not actually liking you. But he just stood and stared at you, no emotion even remotely hinting at the fact that he wanted to try, or that he cared. You had passed up on Lucas for this? You passed up on a great guy for someone who refused to even talk to you?

“I can’t believe that I picked you over Lucas.” You mumbled out, hand angrily wiping at the tears that had already escaped. “You know what, forget our date. If you were even planning on showing up.” You knew this was harsh, but to be fair, he wasn’t exactly being the nicest person right now.

Jisung’s eyebrows flew up towards his hairline, hand shyly trying to comfort you, but he didn’t have the courage to actually do it. He just watched.

You were pissed. You had tried multiple times to reach out to Jisung and try to reconcile, but you were met with no cooperation.

It felt as if you were reliving the time when you were texting with each other. He felt unresponsive, uninterested.

Of course, you knew that your actions could’ve been misconstrued or misinterpreted, but he hadn’t even let you explain.

Now the agenda of avoiding one another was mutual. You didn’t go out of your way to evade him, but you certainly didn’t try to see him.

It wasn’t until a week and a half later that you had your first interaction with Jaemin again.

“Hey Y/N.” He smiled at you, not as big as usual, but a smile nonetheless.

“Jaemin? So we’re talking now?” You couldn’t help but be snarky, something that you instantly regretted at the sight of his fallen face. “Wait, sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

When you sighed, you noticed that familiar look on his face, guilt.

But you chose to ignore it and move on, “What’s up?” 

You gripped the strap of your bag, grounding yourself for the moment.

“Nothing. I just wanted to say hi.” But the smile was fading fast.

He continued down the stairs, taking a left at the bottom.

“Jaemin?” He turned to face you. “Are you busy?”

His eyes widened and he grinned whilst shaking his head. You rushed down the stairs finding yourself less than a foot from him. “I was going to the park to study. Do you maybe wanna hang out?”

“Where were you?” Chenle asked with watchful eyes as Jaemin entered the apartment.

“At the park.” It was nonchalant, but Chenle noticed his shifty eyes.

“Why?”

Jaemin frowned, still avoiding eye contact. “Can I not just go to the park?”

Chenle narrowed his eyes, but ignored the statement as Renjun entered the room. Almost immediately there was a heavy tension over the room. 

Renjun ignored his presence and Chenle scoffed, promptly leaving the room. 

“What was that?” Renjun asked, filling up a cup of water.

Jaemin hesitated to respond, but knowing Renjun he figured he would find out soon enough.

“I went to the park… with Y/N today.” He whispered the last part, glancing at Renjun’s reaction. At this the latter raised his eyebrows, interested at the confession.

“I’m surprised there wasn’t more yelling.” He muttered, turning to face a very guilty looking Jaemin.

“I didn’t exactly tell him I went with her, he was just suspicious.” Jaemin bit his lip nervously, and eventually broke down, “I just wanted to talk with her. Is it wrong if we hang out? She’s a good person… I like her.”

Renjun’s eyes widened.

“Not like that. I just like her as a person, she’s easy to talk to.” Jaemin backtracked, understanding what the look in his eyes meant.

Renjun nodded, looking slightly relieved for a moment before covering it up with a stony look. He drained his glass quickly before turning to leave.

Just as he was about to exit the room he paused, “I don’t see what’s so heinous about hanging out with your neighbor. Honestly, they didn’t even date.”

After this Jaemin felt slightly better about his ‘betrayal’. Just because his roommates couldn’t be civil with you, didn’t mean that he couldn’t. After all no one really knew the whole story, right?

“Why do you look like that?” 

Jaemin looked up from his spot in the middle of the kitchen to find Jeno with his arms hugging his laptop.

“Huh?”

“You look like you’re out of it… Did something happen?” Jaemin could trust and confide in Jeno with many things, this was one of them.

Jeno sat at the table, softly laying his computer on the surface. Jeno wasn’t really one to freely show his emotions, even with his best friends, but here he began to look nervous. He bit his lip, glancing at Jaemin, wanting to reassure him, but not giving him false assurance. 

“I’m a horrible friend aren’t I?” Jaemin mumbled, digging his palms into his face. 

“No.” Jeno breathed out, “I just wouldn’t let Jisung find out. Or Chenle for that matter.”

Jaemin looked up, wincing at Jeno’s words. “So you don’t think it was so wrong of me?”

“I’m not saying it’s wrong, but it’s not right either.” Jeno sighed, watching his friend’s face fall. “Jisung and Y/N are in a weird situation. Honestly I’d rather just stay out of it, I don’t need to be picking sides.”

Jeno stood up suddenly, retrieving his laptop and leaving the room as abruptly as he came in. There was no sign of why Jeno even entered in the first place. 

This didn’t make Jaemin feel any better. But he heeded Jeno’s words, he didn’t want to choose sides. But he really liked you, why can’t he just enjoy your company?

“Jaemin? Y/N?” Renjun blinked twice at the scene, glancing between the two of you.

He wasn’t going to lie, there was a part of him that knew he could run into you both here. Maybe subconsciously he wanted to find you.

“Renjun.” You breathed out, a worried look casting over your face. “It’s not what it looks like really.”

The last thing you wanted was Jaemin to get in trouble. 

Renjun just nodded, cutting you off. “I know.” His lips formed a tight line, “Mind if I join you?”

Both Jaemin and yourself were shocked, but immediately gesturing for him to join you. He flopped onto the blanket exhaustedly, closing his eyes and just feeling the breeze.

After a moment of silence he reopened his eyes, sighing deeply, “I’m so tired of being in that apartment. I just feel so frustrated and closed in there, like I can’t breathe.”

You looked at your lap, feeling guilty for that. If it weren’t for you, neither Jaemin or Renjun would be here right now. Neither of them would be feeling this rivet between their friends.

You mumbled out a faint apology.

There was a sigh from his direction. “I wasn’t digging for an apology. I was just venting. Honestly, I don’t even blame you.”

Glancing up at him, you noticed he had his eyes clenched shut, head tilted towards the sky.

“I’m still sorry though.” You rushed your next words to stop his protests. “Let’s be real, if it weren’t for me, this all never would’ve happened between you guys. This is exactly why I didn’t want to start anything again.”

Jaemin frowned, shaking his head. “But you couldn’t have known, what if something really great came out of it? What if something really great can still come out of it?”

Renjun glanced at your distraught expression, he didn’t mean to upset you with his rant. 

“But it’s not going to. I mean,” You paused, hesitating to say the next words, “I don’t know if you guys know the whole story between us, but it feels the exact same as when we were texting before. I just get the feeling that he doesn’t actually like me like that, maybe he just likes the thought of it.” 

You trailed off at the sight of their faces. 

“Are you kidding me? That boy, and he’s going to kill me for saying this, but he’s been in love with you for the past two years. Like, no joke, there was a time when he had nothing to talk about, except for you. Trust me when I say he likes you.”

Frustration boiled up inside of you, “Then why doesn’t he try? I tried so hard to talk to him and explain what he saw, but he just avoids me. It’s the same as before, if he doesn’t think I’m worth at least that much, then why should I put in all that effort?” 

You were starting to get worked up with Renjun interrupted. “Because that’s Jisung. I hate to say it, but that’s the way he’s wired. He’s really shy, and cautious when it comes to this sort of stuff. I don’t want to use the word insecure, but he really doesn’t think he’s good enough sometimes. I think that when he even comes across the thought or the chance that he’s not good enough for you, he just shuts you out, you know? It’s like a defense mechanism. It’s not that he doesn’t want to try, just that he’s afraid.”

Jaemin nodded softly in agreement. At this point you were beginning to see why they were all such good friends. Even at a time like this they were still trying to help him, and never once did they put him down. 

That made you feel even worse. 

You sighed, leaning back on your forearms and staring up at the clouds, head swirling with new thoughts.

“Oh, so you can tell me to my face that you weren’t just with Y/N? What kind of friend are you?” Chenle raised his voice, glaring at the two of them.

Jisung stared at the wall beside them, silently brooding over the situation.

Haechan stood up from his seat on the couch and turned, shocked at the sight before him. Mark was wide-eyed staring over the back of the couch. 

“What are you-”

“Can you even call yourself a friend?” The words were spat out, making everyone in the room flinch, including Jisung.

Jisung closed his eyes, blocking out the situation. He never wanted things to go this far. 

“It’s not-”

“How are you even able to be in the same room and not feel guilty? Huh?!” At this point Chenle was losing control.

Haechan moved to Chenle’s side, tugging at his arm to make him stop. But Chenle only threw his hand off him in anger. 

“Taking sides with that-”

“Stop it.” 

With those two words it seemed like the world stopped with it. 

“What?” Chenle all but whispered out. He was not alone in the confusion.

“Stop it.” Jisung finally took a look around the room, frowning at what he saw in front of him. “This is ridiculous, fighting over this. I don’t care if you hang out with her or not.”

“But-”

“This whole thing was blown way out of proportion. I was stupid and immature to not even talk to her. Honestly I’m more mad at myself than at her.” To say that everyone was shocked was an understatement. 

“I’m so sick of this. This is why I didn’t want to do this in the first place.” He sighed standing up. “I’m done being mad without an explanation.”

Jisung treaded heavily towards his room, making up his mind that this was going to be the last time they fought over you. Tomorrow he would clear things up.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

“Just a minute!” You rubbed your eyes blearily, glancing at your phone. 7 am, on a Saturday?

You flattened your hair the best you could, throwing on a sweatshirt hastily as you opened the door. 

You sucked your breath, heart dropping at the sight of Jisung in front of you.

“Jisung?” Suddenly you felt very bare, standing in front of him with a sweatshirt and your pajamas. But you pushed away the embarrassment, caving to the pent up anger and humiliation that you still felt. 

You frowned at him, “What do you want?”

He visibly winced at the tone, biting his lip anxiously. “Could- can we talk?”

But to be honest, you didn’t really want to talk with him at the moment. “Now’s not a good time.”

To be fair you did have an appointment soon. Not ridiculously soon that you couldn’t manage to squeeze in a talk, but you weren’t going to try very hard.

“Oh.” He ruffled his hair nervously. “Um… when do you have time?” He asked, this time not willing to let go so easily.

For a moment you thought about telling him that you simply didn’t want to face him, that you wouldn’t ever have time for him. But even you knew that was far too cruel. And to be honest, a talk was what you wanted in the first place. 

“Lunch?” You mumbled out, “I can do noon.”

He was quick to agree, and soon enough you were left alone in your apartment again. Empty and quiet on a Saturday morning, as it should be, but for some reason you felt uneasy.

It seemed that Jisung was keeping a very keen eye out for you, because the moment you walked through the door, his eyes locked with yours. 

He waved you over as enthusiastically as he could, which wasn’t very much. He could feel the heavy air already as you averted your eyes.

You felt a twinge of flutters in your stomach, but you pushed them down. This was the first time, since you had gone to the bookstore, that you had spent time together, just the two of you.

It felt like a date, but it was far from it.

Jisung cleared his throat awkwardly, “I heard the pasta is really good here.”

You raised your eyebrows at the suggestion, choosing to be as civil as you could. You weren’t here to cause another fight, or whatever happened between the two of you, you were here to reconcile.

“Really, then I’ll try the Carbonara.” A small smile was tacked on at the end of your sentence as you noticed Jisung eyeing you nervously.

He smiled back.

Then he set the menu down. 

He sighed deeply before continuing, “First off, I really want to apologize for the way I treated you. I was avoiding you and acting like a jerk, really. I just… when we saw you at the diner, I was just slammed with a bunch of emotions and I didn’t know how to deal with it. I know that’s a shitty excuse, but I just couldn’t handle it, and then I think a part of me was embarrassed by the way that I acted, so I avoided you more. But then things blew up. Everything fell apart with my friends, then they started fighting and picking sides, and I realized that none of this was worth it. I was mad and upset for no reason.”

He stopped, weary of your expression before continuing. “I don’t know if I even deserve an explanation, or a second chance.”

Jisung must have lost confidence, as he wavered at the end of his sentence.

You plucked up the courage that you had, nodding in agreement.

“I think you deserve an explanation.” You sighed, thinking back to the moment they saw you. “Lucas... we had set up a date before you had even asked me, and I thought it would be wrong to ditch him, especially without explanation. When you walked in, I had actually just told him… about you.”

Your throat suddenly felt dry and you reached for your glass. “It didn’t feel right to see both of you at the same time, whether I liked you both or not. I’m going to be honest with you, Lucas is a great guy, I would be extremely happy with someone like him, but...But he doesn’t make me feel the way you make me feel.”

You glanced up through your eyelashes, weary of his expression, quickly moving on after your confession.

“And you’re right, I really think that things blew way out of proportion, that all could’ve been solved with a conversation, it didn’t need to wait this long.”

He nodded, admitting to his fault. But his mind kept wandering back to what you had said.

The way he made you feel?

He felt a sudden rush of giddiness, before he managed to hide it.

By the time the food had arrived you were well into your conversation, both of you had agreed to move past this. It wasn’t going to be easy to forget, and maybe that was the best way to move forward with your relationship.

You caught up with each other, Jisung telling stories of the stupid things that he and his friends do, mostly Haechan. The most recent of his escapades having to do with a deck of cards and a street lamp on a particularly cold night. 

Jisung reveled at the sound of your laughter, cursing himself for waiting this long to talk to you. Why had he been so afraid? What had stopped him before?

“So how exactly do I make you feel?” He asked teasingly, whilst wiggling his eyebrows.

You laughed nervously at him, realizing that maybe it was a mistake to let him get so comfortable with you. 

Or maybe it meant the start of something great.

Part 1

© Copyright 2021. hyuckssunchip. All rights reserved.

[thefallenbibliophilequote]

This Love

Loki x Reader

1989, chapter 11

"Timing is a funny thing"

Summary: It's hard to find the one, but even if you do find him it's always going to be a daily struggle to make it work. Can you even make it work after he broke your heart? The answer to that is complicated, but it all started when you found each other again in the stark tower- and that's where our story begins.

Word count: 6,196

Warnings: angst, nightmares that include: panic attacks/catcall with a light fight, fluff finally!

A/N: I love this song so much! We are so close to the end! I got into a writer's block when I started this chapter, so it took me a while to get to writing it, and in the end it turned out into my favourite chapter that I have written! I hope you'll like it, comments are appreciated! Also, there is a literary reference here, if you notice it you're awesome!

A/N2: thank you @chrissquares for the beautiful dividers! And @nacho-bucky for beta reading!

No one is allowed to repost my writing or steal or copy my work! Reblog on tumblr is fine.

Series masterlist

Song on Spotify and YouTube

The darkness in your room was darker than you remembered. Usually when you were awoken in the middle of the night, it was because of Loki.

But now as you realized Loki wasn't in your room, you got up and walked sleepily to the hallway from your room, then you heard it- and you knew that the heavy footsteps you heard on the floor of the living room were not Loki's.

You held your breath, feeling the panic take over you but you refused to let whoever was in there hear your short intake of breath. Padding quickly into the bathroom, you closed the door and locked it.

Then you let yourself breathe.

The beat of your heart was ringing in your ears, you tried to breathe but all you could think about were the possibilities of whoever or even whatever is in your house right now. Loki had told you all about the magic of the universe, but you also saw him getting back from battles with nasty scars and he wouldn't tell you about the creatures that made them.

You looked around the room, which proved to be difficult when your watery eyes blurred your vision.

You forgot your phone, you couldn't call anyone. Fear took over you again, it felt as if you were drowning, your own tears were making you weak and you couldn't seem to control it.

Hiding yourself in the corner of the room, you took the first thing that resembled a weapon and held the hair straightener protectively as you made yourself as small as possible when the sounds outside of the door got louder.

All you wanted was for Loki to show up just in time and get you out of here.

The fear took over you yet again and the door was knocked down. All you saw was a blue creature at your door. You screamed in fear and your vision went dark, all you felt was fear.

•

Loki watched your body lying there motionless besides the minute movements behind your eyelids that he was sure only he and the supersoldiers could see. Doctor Cho and Doctor Banner were running every test they could on you. It wasn't long before they figured out what Hydra did to you.

Barnes was the first one to figure it out. He was stuck inside his own mind for so long, he saw you going through the same thing. But for you, for you they trapped you using your own powers against you. Capturing you and keeping you awake by horrible emotions that you felt.

Loki stood next to you, wiping a tear that escaped down your cheek.

Sitting down at the edge of the white bed you were lying on, he tried to calm his nerves enough to leave his physical form and feel you, feel your powers, search for a way in.

And he found you there, just barely within reach. He could almost touch you, he could feel your powers caressing his own- that was before he was thrown back into his own body with such force that he regretted giving you such powers.

"I gave them to you, and now you won't let me in?" he grumbled and rubbed his eyes. He looked at you bitterly, but no it was not at you but rather your aura that surrounded you, your powers keeping you in place- supposedly trying to keep you safe.

All he wanted to do was to keep you safe, that was why he got here in the first place. He knew though, he knew that this love he has for you will eventually overpower any ancient spell there could be. He couldn't doubt it.

Your love died and was brought alive back from the dead, fate brought you back to him like the tides, and now currents swept you out again from his reach but you said so many goodbyes before that surely you will say hello again. He held onto that hope. Hope was such a ruinous thing, he never dreamed of having it or accepting it into his life.

When he was in the darkest of places, with the most horrid torment being forced upon him- you were the one thing that kept him sane even when you weren't there. You were the permanent mark on his heart that no torture could wipe off.

And now he was sitting right next to you, and he couldn't help ease the torment that you were in.

So he sat next to you, his fingers on your temples as he tried to somehow reach you, if merely for a moment. But all he got was resistance, and he was growing tired.

"Loki? Cho wants to run some tests." He saw the captain standing at the door, the bags under his eyes were dark and noticeable even for a super soldier. "Would you mind joining me?"

The captain tilted his head to outside, and Loki merely nodded.

•

Steve stood in front of the floor to ceiling windows in the common room, waiting as Loki came and looked outside next to him.

He was at a loss of words as they stood there in silence, not knowing how to approach the conversation. Steve knew his backstory, he knew what drove him to attack New York- but he still attacked it. The man who stood next to him was still the man who terrorized earth, brainwashed his friends, killed 80 people in 3 days, and hurt you twice. Steve wasn't there to protect you from the hurt the first time, but he was there the second time when he had to hold you in his arms.

Then you got taken away and Loki came back to help him, to get you back.

"Just say what you want to say, don't mewl it over." Loki simply said in his elegant but impatient voice. Was it impatient now, or nervous?

"Is there any progress in getting through to her?" Steve cleared his throat.

"As of right now, no there isn't. The witch is trying to lower her defenses but even she can't reach her." Loki knew his options, and for the slim chance that you would be okay and take him back- he knew he needed to be on the good side of the captain. He wasn't one to reveal his thoughts and intentions, but he knew the captain means a lot to you, and for you he would do anything. "I am still trying, Captain. I'm not going to stop until… we get her back."

He kept looking forward even when he felt Steve's gaze turning to look at him. He let Steve analyze his words, and then he matched his gaze. It was quiet before Steve spoke up again.

"Thank you."

"I'm certain that if we have one thing in common it's that both of us would do anything for her. I recognize my mistake of leaving her." He leaned away from the window pane when the captain turned to face him.

"While I appreciate the help, Loki, I had to sit with her while she cried after you left her. Hurt her again, and I assure you that not even Thor will be able to protect you from me."

Seeing the dark look in Steve's eyes made Loki want to scoff at Captain America's threat, but he couldn't blame him. Watching you cry the first time almost made him stay.

"I already deserve worse, so I won't fight you if that were to happen." With his hands clasped behind his back he, with certainty, stated. "It won't."

Then he went around the captain back to the room you were in.

•

With a reluctant and a little frightened Helen Cho, Loki brought you back to your room, enchanted the door shut and put your limp form on the bed, with your back on the headboard and your head lightly lulled back onto a pillow he put behind it.

Sitting next to you, he took both of your hands in his and suddenly he got reminded of that fateful night in your apartment when he held you scared in the dark.

He let his green light shine and he saw a soft purple aura surround your body. He closed his eyes and tried to reach you.

Focusing on the feeling of you, touching him with your aura, he let you take his all.

Then your head fell onto his shoulder and he saw you.

You were in a crowded street, walking towards where Loki stood now watching you.

You faltered in your step and looked to your right when you heard the sentence that was uttered by a guy that was half leaning on a red building brick, blocking the passage of a blonde girl who tried to step away from his frame.

"Oh come on, don't play coy, you wouldn't have worn this tight outfit if you didn't want the attention." His smirk disgusted you and you changed your pace to go to where they were standing.

"I told you to go away." She replied to him, but he didn't budge.

"Sweetheart lighten up, I'm complimenting you, so come on got a smile for me?"

"Hey, she told you to back off so back the hell off and stay away from her!" he laughed at you.

"Maybe you should stay out of this conversation, I am talking to the pretty girl here-" he sent a hand to grab her arm but before he could catch it you threw him back and twisted his arm.

"Do not touch her." Your voice was dark, and while Loki didn't know what he was seeing, he couldn't help but smile at your actions. You pushed him back and muttered, "I really wish the worst for you."

Thinking it would get him to go away, you were about to turn to see if the girl was alright when you felt pain in your stomach as the man hit you and threw you onto the curve where people cleared away from the fight. You looked up at him and you felt something different inside you, it was probably the adrenaline. But the second your eyes met his, you watched his eyes go wide and he started to let out screams, they never stopped, you never stopped looking at him. He fell to the floor, curling in on himself and you went to stand up.

The feeling inside you was strange now, you could feel the anger subside and now you watched him still breathing hard on the floor.

"Stop it, stop it- please." He tried to look up at you, your heartbeat sped up and you felt sick- Was he talking to you? He looked up at you and tears were on his face.

You looked around at the people that where watching you and suddenly like dominos they began to sink down onto the floor, crying and shuddering. Your heartbeat got faster with each scream you heard and they only got louder.

"What is happening?" your voice was shaking and you couldn't move.

Loki realized what scene he was looking at in your life, then he watched the girl in the black suit next to you, she seemed to hold her own against the pain that he knew you affected her with and she pulled out a black device. He recognized her, but he knows you didn't so he didn't put his attention on her.

He went back and looked at you, going forward to try and calm you down but before he could touch you, you collapsed on the floor and he was sent back and out of your dream.

"Please stop this, I don't know what's happening." He heard you cry from a distance.

•

Steve sat in the kitchen alone with a cup of hot tea. It was hard for him to see you that way and being so helpless because he couldn't help you. So he tried to stay away. But as he stared down at the mug, he couldn't help but think about the first time he met you.

Steve was walking out of the elevator at the ground floor of the Stark tower with a file in his hand, he looked up and saw four men with weapons surrounding a girl in civilian clothes and Sharon walked with her. When the blonde saw Steve she dismissed the guards and walked towards him with the girl.

Steve studied you now that you weren't blocked from his view. Your y/h/c hair fell lightly on your face and he noticed you keeping your eyes down on the ground even when you were near him already.

"Hey Steve, did you get updated on the new mission?" Sharon asked him and when he nodded she saw him looking at you partially.

"Yeah, I did."

"This is Y/N. Y/N, meet Steve." Steve put out his hand to shake your hand and it took you a moment before you raised your hand to his.

"Hi." You said to him and when you finally looked up at him he sent you a smile.

"What are you doing here with Sharon?" Steve didn't ask about the guards and he tried to maintain eye contact with you, it seems to be a struggle for you.

"Oh, she just-" you looked over at the agent looking for some help but she only nodded at you. "Found me, I accidentally ruined her operation and she took me here to- to help me."

You hated the way your voice stuttered, then again you couldn't really blame yourself, your day took a turn you weren't expecting, you didn't even know what happened.

Steve's eyes proved to be nothing but comforting though.

"Well, is there anything I can help you with?" you began to shake your head and Steve thought he lost you when you looked back at the floor, shutting your eyes for a bit.

Heavy steps came behind Sharon then.

"Agent 13, we need to get the girl to the lab now, she cannot be here." He heard the guard say and saw you flinch momentarily at his voice and the weapon he held. He did not like that reaction.

"Everything is fine here. I'll protect her." He straightened up and looked at the guard.

"She doesn't need protection captain, she needs to be contained." He chuckled but Steve's features stayed stern.

"The captain said we are okay here." Sharon dismissed the guard.

She started to take you away and towards the elevators when Steve stopped her.

"It's alright, I'll walk with you Y/N is that okay?" he smiled when you looked up at him and nodded.

"Yes, thank you Steve." Sharon told you that she will come to check on you in the lab later, and you entered the elevator with Steve.

"Don't you have other stuff you should be doing?" you asked him, breaking the silence and he laughed.

"Maybe, but you seem much nicer."

"He was right though, he was there to protect other people from me."

"Well," he turned to you with a slight smirk. "I don't know what happened but I doubt you are going to hurt me, besides- I'm sure I can take you down myself."

You scoffed at him, suddenly forgetting about what made you end up in this situation.

"Well how can you be so sure? I can be dangerous when I want to be."

"Is that so? I do not think so." You raised an eyebrow.

"What if I am a super assassin? You can't know!"

"I'll still win."

"Oh fuck off." You huffed at him but a small smile played on your lips.

"Language!" he said and silence took over the small elevator as you looked at him in shock and he looked at you, before you started laughing at him, unable to control yourself.

Steve let himself smile a bit as you laughed beside him.

•

You didn't know where you were. All you knew was the pain in your heart and the rain drenching you as water surrounded you. You were drowning and it was never ending.

The wet wood of the ship floor under you turned ever so darker in the midst of the storm and rain. You looked around you only to see nothing but rushing waves you tried to shout for help but it came out as silent screams with the sound of the thunder, the sinking ship you were trapped on tilted to the side as you tried to get to the top of the deck.

You clung to the closest wooden poll you could find, trying to get to the figurehead on the deck when the ship rattled and tilted as it sank farther.

Then you saw him.

"Loki!" you called out to him, momentary relief flooded you when he showed up just in time. You tried to reach out to him, grab his hand when he offered his hand forward, but it was out of reach.

"Jump to me, I'll catch you." You heard him tell you, you clung to the poll before taking a leap and reaching out as much as you could for him.

But you couldn't reach him, and he let you fall. You didn't know what pained your heart more. But all you felt was pain.

•

Loki lied in your bed. He had taken over it while you were in the med bay for the last couple of days. It wasn't a question, and he was not one to ask permission.

He tried to get some sleep, tossing and turning, there was always a new struggle sleeping through the night when you weren't next to him. He turned to face your side of the bed. You weren't there but he still smiled to the ghost of you. Sometimes in a flicker of light he thought he could see you, but you were still gone.

You were laying in bed with Loki, turning out the lights and then jumping back on the bed, getting under the covers and cuddling to Loki, putting your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

"So, you still haven't answered me."

"My response is clear then." He shrugged off and you playfully slapped his shoulder.

"I am really asking, we have been dating for a long time now and my birthday is soon so don't you think I deserve it?"

"You can't play the birthday card with me, darling." He chuckled into your hair and planted a kiss there. "How do you even remember that? It was so long ago and it is just nonsense."

"You said that you will take me one day for a ball in Asgard, now I am taking you on your word. That silver tongue of yours that got you me will also be the one to take you down. I want an Asgardian ball." You poked his chest

"I said that I will one day, I did not specify when, so I am well within my rights to turn your request down, darling. You should know better than to argue with a trickster god." He poked your side which made you giggle. "We have an eternity together, why rush it?"

You looked up at him and the love in his eyes seemed to glow in the dark room. You only smiled at him.

"What's in that pretty little head of yours, petal?" he stroked your arm and looked down at you.

"I feel like I'm falling in love with you all over again." You whispered.

"You're already in love with me." He chuckled and nudged his nose with yours.

"I fell in love with you once, I can and will fall in love with you again." He couldn't help the grin on his face, oh the things you did to him.

"Well then, I'll always catch you when you fall."

•

Loki was back where he started, in the cold med bay. He wasn't cold of course but he saw the goose bumps on your skin.

"I'll get you out of there, petal." He brushed his thumb across your cheek when yet another tear slipped.

He leaned in to kiss your cheek before he cradled your face in his hands, focusing on your energy yet again.

You were in your apartment with your head down as you listened to Loki talk more and more.

"I just can't understand why are you leaving me like this?" you lifted your teary gaze to look at him, but he was cold.

"Mortals are so naïve," he darkly huffed at you. "Did you really think you meant something to me? Pathetic."

"We had such a good time together, you're my best friend, my lover and I-"

"I am none of those, it was simply interesting to study the humans, to pass the time with one of them. But you're not interesting anymore."

"So, you're just throwing me away? You promised you'll stay with me!" you sniffed, trying to wipe the tears away but they just kept pouring. He was breaking your heart like all the other promises he made and you couldn't find any emotion in his eyes. "Have you ever even loved me?"

"No." it was a simple word, and you hated the small smile on his face. "I'm just being honest with you now, don't you think that is rather kind of me? I am a god after all, and you're just a puny mortal, a mess of a dreamer with the nerve to adore me and think it is returned."

"You're not being nice, Loki, no. you're just being so casually cruel in the name of being honest." You fell to your knees, with a new fresh wave of tears.

Loki stood behind you as he watched all of the things that are being said to you- from him, you think he is saying those things. You were on your knees in front of him, believing he could ever hate you.

You were paralyzed in time, frozen by his words. You couldn't stop the tears, you've never felt this hurt. It felt like the room was filled with invisible smoke.

Then you felt a hand on your shoulder, grabbing you fiercely. You dropped the hands from your face, hopeful Loki will take you back. But when you looked up, he was still standing, sneering at you. You felt a new wave of pain but then the hand on your shoulder tightened and you turned back to see-

"Loki?" your voice was low and it almost broke his heart.

"Yes my love, I'm here you're okay." You turned your head and saw Loki still standing above you.

"I'm sorry Loki, please stay with me, you're all I have." You cried to him, then the hand on your shoulder turned you around fully and you saw Loki yet again, he was crouching down next to you.

"No, don't listen to him. I love you, I'll always love you. You have to believe me, I will get you out of this- you are not alone anymore." You shook your head at his words, your head was feeling fuzzy.

"No, you hate me." You said it with certainty. And Loki had to clench his jaw, he needed to treat this delicately if he wanted to get you out.

"Don't listen to what he said, he is not real. I'm sorry I left you, but it's different now, just let me show you." Loki begged to any gods out there that your powers will let him get through to you and alter them. He put his fingers on your temples, closing his eyes for a second, he focused on you- fighting every barrier your mind was posing in front of him.

When he finally found you, you could suddenly breathe again despite still having a headache. You looked around you and saw you were now in a different living room. You looked back and the other Loki was gone, the only Loki was the one in front of you and looked at you with so many emotions in his blue eyes.

"Loki, what is-" you still felt another pain in your chest and Loki was back at getting through to you.

"Let me show you why this is different," he gestured to all the people you saw laughing and having conversation on the couches in the room. "You have me now, I'm not going anywhere. And you have a family now."

One guy on the sofa suddenly raised his beer towards you and smiled at you.

His name is Steve. You knew him. You smiled back at him a bit.

Then you heard a small laugh followed by a giggle.

Her name is Natasha, and that's Wanda next to her.

New tears streamed down your face.

"I don't understand." You looked to Loki, who was now standing up.

"You have a family now, and you have me and I'll never leave you alone." He extended his hand to you, looking down at where you still sat on the ground. "Come back to me, love."

You kept looking at him, and then back at the people who seemed more and more familiar.

You took his hand and slowly you got up, he was right beside you, holding you up.

Now that you were standing and could see him better, he looked like the Loki you knew, the real one.

"Help me hold onto you." You begged.

"I'll catch you, just come back to me."

With another step you fell forward onto his chest, the next second it was gone and your eyes blew wide when you rose up from the bed you were in.

Before you could get your bearings, still in shock, you felt Loki's comforting embrace take you.

"You came back to me." His voice was but a whisper murmured before he lightly kissed your cheek. You noticed his heaving breath matched your shocked one.

Your mind couldn't wrap up around where you were or what was happening, but all you knew for certain now was that Loki was here with you, holding you, and so you knew you were safe.

•

"So that was all me?" you asked Loki.

He nodded and still kept you close to his chest for comfort, he didn't know whose.

"What they did to you, I assure you they will pay for it. Each and every one of them will know that they should not have laid a single hand on you, my love."

He sealed it with a kiss to your forehead. But you didn't respond to it, still lost in your own head.

"No. It was all me, my powers did that." He took your hand in his and traced circles with his thumb on the back of your palm.

"Your powers are my fault." He admitted, Loki let the feeling of your skin on him ground him before he said the next words, "That night a long time ago, I casted an ancient spell on you- to protect you- but I must have got something wrong or I didn't think about how it would affect a human, and now you got the powers."

"I know, Loki. They used your wand to control my powers so I assumed my Asgardian powers were related to you." You then, to Loki's dismay, lifted yourself up on one elbow and looked sternly at the god in front of you. "You protected me, don't you dare blame yourself. Not even a bit."

You were met with a smile, his clear blue eyes were caressing you softly like water.

"What?"

"I missed you." He leaned up to reach you. "You came back to me."

You looked at your entwined hands.

"You are the one who came back to me, into my life." Loki kissed you shortly when a cough came from the door.

Steve stood there with wide eyes, and his hands clasped together. For his huge form he looked so little. You sent a smile to Loki who reluctantly got up from the bed and walked past the captain.

Once the door was closed Steve rushed to you as you got up from the bed and walked to him, meeting him halfway. He enveloped you in his tight embrace, you wrapped your hands around his neck and let him hold you, and you could feel yourself being slightly lifted from the ground.

You let your tears fall, you didn't know you needed to cry until he hugged you, you missed his comfort.

"I am so glad you're okay, I was so afraid," He said, and you could hear the strain in his voice.

"I was too, but now I'm here." You remembered flashes of what Loki showed you when you were stuck in your head. "I'm home, with my family."

He nodded and pulled you back to look at you.

"You are, of course you are Y/N- you're with me." You smiled, he wiped the tears from your face, and you put your head on his chest. "Kid, you mean so much to me, you know that right?"

"I do, and you mean a lot to me too, old man." He tickled your side and you laughed.

"That is not a way to talk to your elders."

The two of you swayed, you were still cradled in his arms when he broke the comforting silence. You could hear the hesitation in his voice.

"He is okay." You pulled back and looked into his eyes- he was serious.

"Really?" he closed his eyes and nodded with a groan. "I can't believe it- my big brother and my boyfriend getting along. And all I had to do was get tortured."

"Y/N, don't push it." You shrugged him off and went back to use his chest as a pillow.

"Oh give me a break, my ex kidnapped me." You could feel him glaring at you at the comment. "Sorry."

•

After sitting with all of your friends, you went back to your room, not surprised to see Loki lying on your bed, all ready to go to sleep.

"You could've joined us. I heard you and Steve talked. It would have been nice if you were with me." You changed from your clothes, Loki had healed your physical scars already, but you could still feel them.

"I figured you would want time with them, with your family." He stretched a hand out to you as you got onto the bed and under the covers.

"Well, are you-"

"Yes. I'm here and I'm not going anywhere." You leaned in to kiss him before settling on your side next to him, facing him.

"You still didn't actually tell me why you left in the first place. You changing colours is not an excuse." You smiled a bit teasingly, his eyes left yours then- afraid of your reaction. "Tell me."

You asked him and he had to obey.

"Just before I left you, right before Thor's coronation,"

"Yeah I remember we talked about it, you said it'll be soon."

"Yes, well I decided to test how worthy he is of being a king, and then it turned into something bigger that I couldn't control and-" he stopped to take a breath, you put a hand on his cold cheek. "Then I found out I am actually a frost giant, a monster. Don't say I'm not, my love, let me finish."

You stayed silent and let him continue, tracing patterns on his skin, where you remembered the markings on his blue skin were.

"After that, I knew I had to let you go- to keep you safe. And with everything that happened afterwards- everything I went through- I don't regret leaving you when I did. It was the right choice."

You tried not to get overwhelmed by the new information he was giving you, and while it hurt- at least he told you, and you could somewhat understand.

"You didn't have to break my heart when you left."

"I'm a monster, Y/N you don't know what my kind is like." He raised his eyes to yours now.

"It doesn't matter at all, you are your own person- well god- you are Loki. You are mischievous and funny, cunning and loyal to those who are worthy of knowing you. I still know you Loki, and you are not bad- you're good. The fact that you hide it doesn't mean you're not."

He lowered his eyes again, and you knew he was holding himself together now, but you didn't push it. Apparently you weren't the only one who went through a lot. You knew there was so much more to his story, but that was for another night.

"Darling, we separated all those years ago, and it might have been for the best. I never thought I'd see you again." He brought you closer and held your chin so you will look up at him. "But timing is a funny thing; sometimes you never know what will find its way back to you again, so maybe now the timing is right. Maybe we weren't meant to be back then. The timing back then wasn't right, but maybe now, after we both grew, the timing is right."

You couldn't help but smile at him while you pondered his words.

"So, did you write that all down? Or was it just off the top of your head?" you teased and he laughed, you could swear that it was glowing in the dark.

"You're forgetting my silver tongue, dear." He smiled brightly at you and wondered what he could possibly have done right for him to have you in his arms again. "All I'm saying is- maybe these hands had to let it go free, so now at the right time you, my love, came back to me."

You knew those smiles and those laughs were reserved just for you, in the intimate moments where he let all of his guards down, and found his old happy self, when the two of you were alone.

"I love you Loki, so much." You connected your lips for just a moment and let yourself relish in the warm feeling that swept through your body as the soft touch. "This love that I have with you left a permanent mark on my heart, Loki I'm forever yours."

"I assure you then, my love, that it is returned. I'm yours." He said it so simply that it made your heart soar and you moved closer to kiss him again, this time fiercely. You pulled him down to meet your lips, pulling at his hair to stay close to you- not that he needed it, he will be damned if there was any space left between the two of you now.

He sucked on your bottom lip, biting on it just the way he knew you liked, and you moaned softly, letting his tongue slide past your lips. You felt the growl in his chest that was pressed against your own when he tasted you, and it only ignited the fire within you that only he could spark.

"Loki," you moaned and then he deepened the kiss further, making sure you felt everything that he was feeling, tasting every love he held for you- only you. He would stop the entire world, all the galaxies, so this night with you could be longer. He will make time stand still and make this last forever, let every god know that you were his and that he was yours and that a simple thing like time will not be able to keep you apart.

Your love was eternal, you could feel it with every beat of your heart with every touch of his skin with yours, and you could never doubt it. Oh if only the gods would lengthen the night so you could catch up with Loki about anything and everything.

Getting impatient by the second, you put your hands on his hips as he hovered over you and slowly lifted them up his torso and under the thin white shirt he wore. You let your hands wander, pulling him towards you and exploring him as if you didn't have every inch of him memorized in your very soul. You started dragging your hands lower and lower until Loki pulled back from you slightly, you couldn't help the whine that you let out.

"Loki, I need you." He caressed your cheek.

"Darling, you need to rest now. I said I will take care of you, so I will."

"You're not taking care of me now…" you pouted and tried to bring him closer, but he only fell onto his side and turned you around so your back was pressed against his chest.

"Get some rest now, I promise you will need it later." He whispered in your ear and with a kiss to your neck he murmured a good night into your hair.

"Good night, Loki." Your heart was still beating fast, but you were smiling like an idiot as Loki's steady rise and fall of his chest eventually made you match his breaths.

You were home. You were safe. You were loved.

Sleep took you easily once you realized that.

•

Tags: @ayybtch @buckys-other-punk @chaoticpete @madcrazy50 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @the-departed-potato @rogerrhqpsody @onceupona-happilyeverafter-love @percabethismyotp14

[scuttling]

Birthday

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairing: Aaron Hotchner/Latina OFC Sophie Cortes Word Count: 2,648 Tags: SFW, Pre-relationship, Drinking, Pre-relationship minor Morgan/Garcia Summary: The team goes out for Sophie's 30th birthday. Collection: Sophie Cortes timeline, 7-12 Months at the BAU (See Masterlist for reading order) Link to AO3 or read below! “Time for another shot?” Prentiss asks, dropping two handfuls of glasses onto the table in front of them, and Sophie laughs, shaking her head indulgently.

“No more shots, Em. I’m already feeling the last two.” Her cheeks are slightly flushed, corroborating her comment, but she’s still standing steadily, so she can’t be too far gone.

“Come on, it’s your birthday!” The rest of the team joins in with a chorus of similar comments, but Hotch just smiles at their happiness and lets them battle it out amongst themselves.

“You only turn 30 once, you know,” Morgan reminds her, a hand casually thrown over her shoulder, and Reid frowns.

“You only turn every age once; what’s the significance of 30?”

“All he’s saying, Reid,” Garcia chimes in, taking a sip of her pink, fruity drink, “is that every year older is a chance to celebrate. Especially in this line of work.” Sophie sighs, clearly giving in to her friends’ methods, and she walks two fingers forward, to a full shot glass.

“Fine, fine: I will drink one more shot…” she begins, pausing as is for dramatic effect, “if someone gets me cheese fries.”

“I’ll buy the birthday girl some cheese fries,” Reid offers, and she pulls him down by the arm and gives him a kiss on the cheek, which earns howls from the team and a blush from Reid, and then she takes the shot.

“I’m hungry too, Spence, I’ll come with you,” JJ adds. “Anyone want anything?” Morgan, Garcia, and Prentiss rattle off orders, and Hotch takes a sip of his beer, doesn't notice that Sophie has made her way toward him until he gets a whiff of her perfume.

“Not hungry?” she asks, leaning against the table and facing him. She looks very beautiful in a short, silky orange dress, leather jacket thrown over her shoulders, and he lets his gaze linger for a moment.

“No, I think I’m going to call it a night.” He has reports that need to be reviewed, documents that need to be signed, and though he’s enjoying watching his team on a rare night out, he can’t help but feel old and out of place—especially as she celebrates her 30th birthday, for god’s sake. He can’t even remember his 30th birthday.

“Oh Hotch, you can’t.” She sets a hand on his arm, gently, looks up into his eyes with a clear gaze. “I know I don’t like to make a big deal of my birthday, but I’ll happily play that card with you if it will get you to stay.” Her eyes are sweet, and they look wide, almost pleading—it’s a puppy dog look by anyone’s standards, and it turns out he’s helpless against it.

“Okay, I’ll stay a little longer if it means that much to you,” he agrees, teasing a little, but her reply seems serious.

“It really does.” She smiles softly, then removes her hand from his arm, almost like she forgot that she put it there. “I’ll even share my cheese fries with you.”

She makes good on the promise, thanking Reid profusely for the gift and then running a knife through them so they make for smaller bites. She lifts her fork, takes two or three bites, and sets it down, handle pointing in his direction; he’s really not that hungry, but the way she shares with him is so effortless that it feels like an offering he shouldn’t refuse.

Later, Morgan and Garcia are dancing, Prentiss is talking to a woman she knows from the office, and Reid is making conversation with someone at table over, when Sophie takes her last bite of fries.

“They’re still not together, right?” she asks, pointing her fork at Morgan and Garcia, and Hotch shakes his head.

“As far as I know, no.”

“Same here,” JJ pipes up from across the table, nursing her drink. “And you know I’d know; I know everything.” Sophie laughs, sips her beer. “Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know. It’s just a shame, I guess; two people who are so drawn together shouldn’t fight so hard to stay apart.” JJ gives Hotch a quick glance, which he can’t interpret, then looks back down at her half-eaten plate of fried pickles, picking at the crumbs.

“I don’t get it either. If the FBI doesn’t care, why do they?” Sophie sighs, looking back at the laughing, dancing couple, props her chin up with her hand.

“They don’t think they deserve it.” When he and JJ both look toward her—the sound of her voice is almost sad, unusual for a night like tonight—she straightens, downs the last of her drink. “I assume that’s why, I mean.” JJ gives him another brief look, and he doesn’t know what to say. It’s almost 2 AM when the party breaks up, much later than he intended to stay out, but he’s happy he did. Sophie isn’t drunk, he doesn’t think, but she’s much tipsier than she was hours ago, before the cheese fries—and she’s really adorable.

“I love you guys so much,” she tells them all as they put on their coats. “I love you, Spencer, for buying me cheese fries, thank you buddy.” She wraps her arms around him, almost dangling from his neck, and he laughs, squeezes her tight.

“I love you too, buddy, you’re welcome.” She moves to Garcia next, hugs her tight around the waist.

“I love you, Pen. I love my card and your smile and I love coming into your cave for candy when Morgan gets on my nerves.” They laugh and Morgan acts affronted, which only makes them laugh more.

“I love you too, birthday babe.”

“I love you Morgan,” she begins, pulling him into a one-armed embrace, “even though you annoy me sometimes, ‘cause we’re Chicago twins and we both like the Cubs and we both know the best pizza is from Tony’s on 4th Avenue.”

“You know it, girl. I love you too.”

“JJ,” Sophie calls, drawing out the last letter, and they hug each other equally tight. “I love you ‘cause you’re the coolest one of us; I don’t make the rules,” she tacks on when the rest of the group scoffs. “She’s super cool and you guys know it.”

“I love you, especially when you’re drunk,” JJ tells her with a laugh. “Should have made you eat more than half a plate of cheese fries.”

“It’s not your fault, I blame Emily Prentiss,” she says, accusatorily, turning to the woman in question and giving her a hug, which Prentiss returns with a pat. “I love you even though you kept handing me drinks all night. You’re a bad influence.”

“Then I guess I succeeded,” she says with an affectionate smile. “I love you, birthday girl. I’m glad you had a good time.” They separate, and when Sophie turns to Hotch, the last in line, her face changes. Her expression isn’t one of awkwardness or irritation, but… almost like resignation, and he can’t exactly tell what that means.

She smiles softly, quirking her lip as if asking if it’s okay to proceed, and he opens his arms, tries not to smile when she sags against him as if, of all the hugs she’s received tonight, this is the one she wanted most.

“I love you, Hotch,” she says so quietly he has to strain to hear, and he moves his hand carefully over her back.

“I love you too.” They stay like that for a good twenty seconds, and when she pulls back, she smiles sheepishly.

“Okay, you guys have stayed out long enough because of me. I’ve gotta order my Uber.” Morgan and Prentiss both insist they can drop her off, talking over each other, and he decides to spare them both, speaks in his unit chief voice for the only time that night.

“You guys focus on getting each other home; I’ll get her home.” Everyone agrees easily, Sophie included, and they are walking out to the parking lot before she speaks again—not exactly slurred, but a bit slower than normal.

“How are you still so... Hotch-y? You had as much to drink as I did.”

“I’ve probably got 75 pounds on you, so I metabolized it faster, I guess,” he answers with a chuckle, steering her to his SUV, and something about that makes her groan.

“Oh, I know... all about that.” He comes around to the passenger side to open the door for her, and for a moment she just looks up at him, slowly wets her lips. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” She slips into the car, buckles up, and he closes the door with a sigh.

In a perfect world, this would be him taking her home from a date, maybe kissing her goodnight on her doorstep… But the world is as imperfect as she isn’t, and his little crush is both inappropriate and foolish, so he resigns himself to his role and vows to get her home safely, and nothing more.

They arrive outside of her apartment building after about fifteen minutes of softly murmured directions, and he puts the car into park, turns to look at her.

“Do you want me to come up with you?” he asks, and she smiles softly, tiredly.

“Yes, but no. I’ll be okay.” The look on her face is sweet, almost tender, and he keeps himself from reading too much into it. That way lies madness, he knows.

“It’s no trouble. It would make me feel better, to know you made it safely.” Her smile gets brighter, and she sits up, unbuckling her seatbelt.

“Okay, sure. Thanks. I could make you a cup of coffee for the road, if you’d like.” He nods, and they both climb out of the car, heading toward the front door of her apartment. He keeps his hands near her, ready to catch her if she wobbles, but she is steady on her feet even in the skinny heels she wears.

She unlocks the front door, then takes him up a couple of flights of stairs, stopping outside apartment number 12. Her keys turn easily in the locks, the door swinging open to display a very clean, very white apartment. “Thanks for coming up with me. You didn’t have to do that, but I appreciate it,” she tells him, hanging up her jacket on the hook behind the door.

“I wanted to,” he tells her, honestly, a little distracted by her bare shoulders, the slim straps that rest on them. She looks back, and if he’s caught staring, she doesn’t mention it. She leans her butt against the wall, reaching down to unclasp the buckle on her shoe, and for the first time, her balance isn’t perfect; she wobbles a little, and his hands catch her waist to steady her.

“Do you need help getting your shoes off?” he asks, looking down into her eyes, and hers are warm, liquid as she stares back. Her tongue sweeps over her bottom lip, and if it were any other woman, he would take that as an invitation to lean in and kiss her. Instead, he drops to one knee and unbuckles her shoe, slides it off carefully, repeats that with the other foot. He sets the shoes on the shoe rack by the door, stands back up to full height, touches her arm gently.

“Thanks, Hotch.” Her voice is soft, cautious, and it looks like she wants to say more, but the silence goes on too long, and she eventually clears her throat. “Do you want that cup of coffee?”

“Sure. Please.” She pads into the kitchen, which is, like the rest of the apartment, sparkling clean and gleaming white, switches on the coffee maker, and pulls a travel mug down from the cupboard overhead. “I like your apartment. It’s very… clean.” She turns, back against the counter, and smiles.

“I don’t like to leave a mess, since we never know where we’re going to be.”

“It’s a little bare,” he says gently, trying not to profile too much, and she looks down like she’s self-conscious.

“You know I’m private. I like to keep my photos and stuff in the bedroom.” She walks past him, down the hallway, looks over her shoulder and signals for him to follow.

Her bedroom is still very white—white comforter, white sheets, white pillows—but her dresser, headboard, and end tables are made of wood, and the dresser is littered with silver picture frames.

One is of Sophie and a young man who resembles her so much, it must be her brother. One is of the two of them with a pair of adults, their parents, probably. One is of Sophie with a young man and woman who look like they could be twins, another of Sophie and the man he knows is her previous partner back in Chicago.

There’s one of her SWAT squad, Sophie in the middle with a big smile and an even bigger gun. Then there’s one of the BAU team, from a get-together Garcia hosted; he remembers her apartment looking like a craft store threw up there, every bright color and pattern you could imagine, and he remembers Sophie’s face when she saw it, called it gorgeous and fitting and very Penelope.

Would he consider this apartment very Sophie? This room, maybe, but that’s about it.

“I love these. Especially this one,” he says, holding up the photo of the SWAT team. “We need to take you to an outdoor range one day, so you can blow Morgan’s mind.” She laughs, light and airy, moves closer so she’s looking at the photo with him.

“That’s a great idea. He’s seen my special tactics, now for my special weapons.” She touches the photo of her with her brother, picks it up to show him. “This is my brother, Leo—before he became a constantly high competitive surfer in San Diego.”

“Do you see him often?” Her face falls, and she sets the photo back down with a sigh.

“I haven’t seen him in about a year. He doesn’t agree with my lifestyle, calls me a government pawn.”

“He doesn’t agree with your lifestyle?” he asks, a little surprised, considering his habits, but she just nods.

“Yeah, he’s very ‘go with the flow’, finds me morally rigid. Thinks I’m not doing work that needs to be done, as if our job is less important than surfing.” He laughs, and she laughs with him, bumps playfully against his arm. “You should feel special, you know. No one else has seen my photos.”

“No one at all?” That can’t be right, she’s had people in her bedroom, certainly…

“Nope. I don’t date often, you know. And I one-night-stand even less than I date, so. No one has had the chance.” It makes him sad, generally, that she keeps her photos so guarded, that she doesn’t share them—he’s happy, though, to know she doesn’t have men in and out of her bedroom, as if that matters when he knows nothing will ever happen between them.

“You have to give someone the chance,” he says, pulling her in for an easy, one-armed hug and pressing his lips to the top of her head. He’s not sure why he does it, but it feels so right he doesn’t really question it.

“I know,” she says quietly, wrapping her arm around his waist, too, and leaning against his shoulder. “I just want it to be the right someone.” She looks up at him, so soft and beautiful in just her slip of a dress, feet bare, that his chest aches with the urge to kiss her.

He doesn’t, of course, and never will, and the moment eventually passes, their eye contact breaks. “I should make that coffee,” she murmurs, pulling away, and tries not to feel too bad about the loss.

[cha-melodius]

Follow You Into The Dark

Whumptober No. 9: Rumors of My Death Have Been Greatly Exaggerated

Fandom: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015) Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Relationships: Illya Kuryakin/Napoleon Solo Additional Tags: Napoleon Solo Whump, Illya Kuryakin Whump, Near Death Experiences, Heavy Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Suicidal Ideation, Missions Gone Wrong, Pining, Hospitals, spies getting old, First Kiss, Sacrifice, Non-Linear Narrative, Illya POV

Summary: Following a diastrous mission, Illya doesn't exactly cope with the new situation he finds himself in.

Notes: I blame this fic on @heytheredeann. She's the one who encouraged me to write this angst-fest and finally finish it. Fair warning: this is a pretty heavy fic, on the whole. It deals almost exclusively with death and dying, and the characters' reactions to these topics. There is some suicidal ideation in this, though it is more on the "what's the point of living" end of the spectrum than actively wanting to die. That said, despite what it seems like during the fic, the tags are accurate, and, well, you can see the prompt. There is a happy ending here, I promise, but there's a decent amount of pain before that point.

Read on AO3, or below the cut!

Add’l Notes: FYI, the main action in this fic takes place about 15 years after the events of the movie, during which time Napoleon and Illya have been working at UNCLE. It's kind of vaguely referenced in the fic, but in this story Gaby took another role in UNCLE that doesn't involve fieldwork fairly early on. They're still all close friends, but it's just been Illya and Napoleon as partners on missions for quite a while.

This fic was inspired by the song "I Will Follow You Into The Dark" by Death Cab For Cutie, which I recognize is super unoriginal for a fic about love and death, but I don't really care.

*****

You and me have seen everything to see From Bangkok to Calgary And the soles of your shoes are all worn down

It might be cliché to say that the day started out like any other, but that doesn’t make it any less true. There had been nothing special about this mission, no sign that things would turn out like this, even in retrospect. Coming to this building was supposed to be an exercise in checking another undoubtedly dead-end lead off the list. They had bickered about nothing as they prepared, as usual; Napoleon had been annoying him lately by humming off key versions of Tchaikovsky and Rachmaninoff, seemingly just for the fun of watching him twitch in response. They’d still been arguing as they cleared the abandoned building, unconcerned that anyone might be alerted to their presence. It was familiar. Comfortable in the way it always is with Napoleon, in the way that Illya stopped fighting a long time ago.

And then, without a trace of warning, the ground floor of the building had blown up. A rocket, in all likelihood, given that there had been no explosives present when they’d cleared it earlier, though fired from where, he couldn’t say. The building had been solidly built, which means its collapse had been rather spectacular. Napoleon and Illya, caught in a middle floor, had little chance. That Napoleon wasn’t already dead when Illya found him—that Illya found him at all—is something of a miracle.

Not that either of them would use the word to describe their current situation.

“It’s no use,” Napoleon grunts. “Get out of here while you can.”

A fine layer of grey dust and soot has settled over both of them, filling into every crease and line on his face, and that in combination with the dimness of the light makes it look like he’s been rendered in charcoal. With his free hand, Illya reaches up and rubs his thumb across his partner’s cheek, smudging through the dirt. Convincing himself that this isn’t all a terrible dream.

“It is too late,” Illya tells him, though, strictly speaking, that might not be 100% the truth.

There is a slim chance—exceedingly slim, in his estimation—that he might be able to get out, although it is far from certain. Half of the building has collapsed around them and the other half is on fire, rapidly filling the small chamber with smoke. Pure adrenaline had fueled Illya to clamber over the wreckage, looking for his partner, but there could be no mistaking that something is seriously wrong with his left knee, and he no doubt made it worse in his desperate, failed attempt to move the beams trapping Napoleon. In all likelihood Illya would not get very far. And if he did leave and still didn’t make it, if he let go of the hand clenched tightly in his and left him here to die alone for nothing… Well. That is not a choice he is capable of making.

“I’m not leaving you here, Cowboy,” he says, his voice firm.

It’s not the first time he’s said something like it before. And to be fair, it’s not as if Napoleon has not said those same words to him. Both of them have been in enough close scrapes that they were sure was the end. It has never been like this, though. Those situations were followed by one of them hoisting the other over his shoulder or dragging him to an extraction point. Those situations were followed by long, sleepless nights sitting by hospital beds, and sometimes by cold sweats and night terrors.

Those situations never had this kind of finality.

“Goddamn you, you stupid, stubborn Russian,” Napoleon groans, glaring at him now. “You have to try. I won’t— I won’t let you throw your life away like this.”

“And under what circumstance would you permit me to do so?” Illya snarls back. His anger is something familiar to retreat into. Something he both can and cannot control, unlike this situation. “That is not up to you. You don’t get to make that decision.”

Napoleon’s face crumples in resignation at that, like he expected this answer all along. “Illya, please,” he pleads, “you have to let me go.”

“Remember Calgary?”

The question makes Napoleon blink in surprise for a moment. “Of course I do,” he says, a little hesitantly. “That was different.”

“Was it?” Illya challenges.

His vision is rapidly blurring from the tears brought on by the smoke, which is, truly, their cause. Because a wave of something washes over him, then, something that brings with it an odd sense of peace. In that moment, he knows that he can’t leave, that he won’t leave, and making that decision is not nearly as terrifying as he thought it would be.

He is so, so tired. They are both of them old, for spies. Every injury takes longer to recover from, every string of sleepless nights more exhausting. Neither of them is as fast or as strong as they once were, which is probably how they got into this situation in the first place. His life has been longer than he expected, thanks not only to the man lying before him but an entire team who are nothing short of his family, and for that he is thankful. But right now, in this moment, he thinks he does not owe anyone anything more. He has already given so much of himself. For once, he thinks, he can be selfish.

It has been years of missions, years of partnership, years of carrying with him this silent, forbidden love that has made every moment together sweeter and more bitter than he could have ever imagined. Now he is determined to keep a promise he made years ago, a promise that Napoleon probably doesn’t even remember, but a promise nonetheless.

Napoleon is just staring at him, so motionless that Illya might fear he was already gone if it weren’t for the watery brightness of his eyes. His breathing should be more labored, Illya thinks almost absently. He’s not fighting it anymore. That realization should be horrifying, but somehow it isn’t. The carbon dioxide inhalation will knock them both out soon enough anyway. Probably not the worst way to go, in the end.

Illya curls himself forward, pressing their foreheads together, and Napoleon’s hand tightens around his.

“You don’t get to make that decision,” he repeats, softer this time, his voice rough with smoke and thick with emotion. “Not this time.”

*****

Bangkok, Thailand 8 Years Previously

One would think, with how long Illya has been in this game, that very little would bother him at this point. That’s mostly true, but it doesn’t mean that there aren’t bad days and missions that make it difficult to sleep at night. Napoleon tends to be more affected by these, which Illya would say is because he’s a thief and not a real spy, but that line got tired five years ago. It’s just his disposition, and it doesn’t make him any less of an agent (not that Illya has ever admitted that out loud).

Today had been one such day. UNCLE’s presence in Thailand was a delicate matter; they’d been sent to look for traces of a weapon that rumors said was being built somewhere in the Thai jungle, and they weren’t the only ones looking. UNCLE’s aim was to prevent either side of the war that raged to the East from acquiring it, of course, if the weapon even existed in the first place. After days of searching, Napoleon and Illya had finally located a promising lead, which had led them to a facility that had been all but destroyed already. That, in and of itself, had been more than disappointing—it’s still unclear if whoever destroyed the facility took the weapon, or obliterated it—but it was the carnage they’d found inside that left them both unsettled that evening, back in the hotel room that they are sharing.

It’s a rather dingy place the outskirts of Bangkok, the kind of seedy establishment where a former KGB agent could hide out without drawing the attention of the American military presence in the city. There’s no air-conditioning here, unlike the ritzy hotels in downtown that Napoleon would probably be staying in without him, just the sticky heat that permeates everything and doesn’t abate after dark, topped off by the incessant, maddening whine of countless insects.

When Illya walks out of the bathroom after a shower that probably left him dirtier than when he stepped into it, he finds Napoleon sprawled in one of the wicker chairs as if it alone is keeping him from melting into the ground. He’d thrown on a light linen shirt after his own shower and had apparently only bothered buttoning the bottom half of it. It’s not like Illya hasn’t seen him shirtless countless times before at this point, but there’s something about the way the collar hangs open that is unintentionally yet indescribably far more alluring than if he had been wearing nothing at all. Napoleon’s head is tipped back against the chair, drawing Illya’s eye along the long line of his neck, down to an exposed collarbone and into the dark hair that covers his chest. His skin is glistening with a thin sheen of sweat in the low yellow light of the room’s paltry bare bulbs, and the whole effect leaves Illya rather more breathless than he’d care to admit.

Napoleon’s eyes had been closed when he’d stepped into the room, but they flutter open at his approach and he stares at Illya with eyes that are as dark as the ocean in a storm. Some kind of strange electricity seems to crackle in the room between them, but a moment later it has passed, and Napoleon is nodding toward a glass of amber liquid that sits on the low coffee table before him. He has one of his own in his hand, partly filled, and Illya wonders how many drinks he’s already had tonight. Illya carefully lowers himself to the couch on the other side of the table and retrieves the glass—some kind of whisky that Napoleon had managed to find that doesn’t taste more like gasoline than not.

“Chatter on both sides suggests neither of them know who blew the facility,” Napoleon says after a stretch of silence. So apparently he’d checked in while Illya had been attempting to clean himself up.

Illya takes a sip of his drink and doesn’t suppress a wince at the burn of it. “So the weapon is in the wind.”

“Unless you believe the guy we found.”

There had been a man, among the wreckage. He’d been the only survivor, if he could even be called that, because by the time Illya and Napoleon arrived he was barely hanging on by a thread. Napoleon had spoken to him in broken Thai while Illya searched the building, and when they had met back up there had been an odd, haunted look in Napoleon’s eyes.

“You said yourself he was mostly incoherent,” Illya says, repeating Napoleon’s earlier report back to him.

“Well, that’s a low bar, when you barely speak Thai,” Napoleon replies self-deprecatingly. “He was too scared to answer questions, just kept telling me not to leave him.” “He didn’t want to die,” Illya reasons.

Napoleon shakes his head, staring down into his glass. “He knew he was going to die. He didn’t want to die alone.”

“Is there a difference?”

“Of course there is,” Napoleon scoffs. “Doesn’t it bother you? The likelihood that you’ll die alone?” “We all die alone, Cowboy.” “What is that, Nietzsche?”

Illya shrugs. “Just a saying.”

Fortunately, the conversation doesn’t linger on that topic very long. They talk a little more about the mission and their next steps, which transitions into one of their usual arguments about the war, but that fades without much heat. They play a couple games of chess on Illya’s travel set, and then a game of cards when Napoleon complains about the futility of playing Illya in chess. They finish the bottle of whiskey between them, which was probably not the best idea, but it wouldn’t be the first time, especially after a bad day.

Napoleon is pensively inspecting the last dregs of the bottle when Illya decides it’s probably time to call it a night. Not that he’s been able to get much sleep in this weather, but it feels like he should probably switch from staring wearily at the wall to staring wearily at the ceiling. He’s just started shifting forward to stand when Napoleon speaks again, not looking away from the glint of the amber liquor.

“All the same, I think I’d rather not.” Illya pauses; they had lapsed into a comfortable silence, and he’s not sure what on Earth Napoleon is referring to. “Rather not what, Cowboy?” “Die alone,” Napoleon answers, almost absently.

That was not what Illya expected, and he’s honestly too drunk to have this kind of conversation right now. That also must be the reason for what comes out of his mouth next, because it’s certainly not anything he’d admit to sober.

“You won’t have to.” Napoleon’s gaze snaps over to him, far sharper than it should be under the circumstances. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Peril.”

He’s right, of course, there’s no way Illya can guarantee such a thing, and his impulse to do so should be a little suspect, given his earlier, rather nihilistic position on the matter. Napoleon stares at him like he’s waiting for Illya to take it back, to say something like, you’re right, you and I will both die alone because we are spies, and that’s what happens to spies. The words don’t come, though. In that moment Illya knows it is a promise that he will keep, if he has any say in the matter, but it’s probably better for both of them if he keeps that fact to himself.

*****

As it turns out, Illya doesn’t get to make that decision either.

The room he wakes up in is familiar, if only in the way that all hospital rooms are familiar. The silence is broken only by the whirr of machinery and the steady beep of his heart monitor. Or not-so-steady beep: he is still intubated, and the sensation of the tube down his throat immediately triggers both his cough and his gag reflex. His heart rate spikes erratically as he struggles to get rid of it, setting off all kinds of alarms. The nurse is there in moments to help, and it is only when he lies back against the pillows and takes a deep, shaky breath that the reality of his situation dawns on him.

He is alive. He is alive. It should have been impossible, that anyone could have gotten to them. They were trapped, and the building was burning, and extraction was kilometers away. The last thing he remembers was curling over Napoleon’s body, pressing his face into his partner’s rapidly fading pulse, and then nothing. He does not know what happened, exactly, but he knows. He knows it in his bones, because there could have been no other outcome.

Napoleon is gone, and he is here. Illya has long since stopped raging at the injustice of the world, but this— this is not fair. So much of his life had been dictated for him. What he could be. How he could live. Who he could love. It had felt freeing to be able to make a decision that was his own, in the end, but it turns out he didn’t get that one either. 

He can feel, distantly, the pain throbbing through his body and understands he’s not in good shape, but that just seems… entirely inconsequential, now. It is nothing compared to the deep, visceral ache that he feels at his core, like there is a part of him missing. He sees the tremors come before he even registers feeling them, his hands shaking uncontrollably on the bed by his sides, and moments later the alarms on the monitoring equipment begin blaring again. His pulse spikes and his breaths start coming in ragged, uneven gasps, but in his current condition he is too weak to do anything except curl his hands into fists in frustration. The nurses clearly don’t understand what is happening to him, but the result is the same: within a few minutes they administer a sedative, and Illya slips back to unconsciousness again.

*****

In the mountains near Calgary, AB, Canada 3 Years Previously

“Well, this is certainly suboptimal,” Napoleon says as he surveys their surroundings.

Illya could almost laugh, if their situation weren’t so dire. As it is, though, between the state of his ankle and the fact that they have been sealed into an old, semi-collapsing mine, he can’t quite find the humor in Napoleon’s typical dry commentary. They have been left to die, and die they will unless they can find some way out of here. He has to admit, it seems highly unlikely.

The small chamber that they are currently occupying is illuminated by an ancient oil lamp that they’d found amongst the refuse, abandoned by miners who knows how long ago. Miraculously it still had enough fuel to light, but Illya guesses it won’t be long before it goes out and they are left with only Napoleon’s lighter for illumination.

Apparently finished with his inspection of the small space, Napoleon he returns to Illya’s side and drops down onto a chunk of an old beam. “Do you think signal from the transmitters will make it to the surface?”

“Maybe,” Illya answers uncertainly. The new trackers tucked into the soles of their shoes are a lot more powerful than the old standard models, but even so, Illya doubts their range through several tons of near-solid rock.

“I guess we can hope,” Napoleon sighs.

“You should look for another passage out,” Illya suggests. “Many mines have more than one entrance.”

The look that Napoleon gives him is extremely dubious. “And what about you?” “I will only slow you down.” He can still walk on his ankle, painful though it may be, but clambering over rubble is probably pushing it. “Besides, one of us should stay close to the surface, in case transmitters are working.”

“We only have the one lamp.”

This time, Illya can’t hold back a wry smirk. “I am not afraid of the dark, Cowboy.”

“I wasn’t saying you were,” Napoleon huffs. “Look, say I take the lamp, and it goes out while I’m somewhere deep in this mine, and it will, because you know it’s not going to last very long. Then I’m lost among who knows how many miles of tunnels—which, let’s face it, I probably already would be at this point—with no hope of finding my way anywhere, much less out of this place. And even if the lamp did hold out, and I did find another exit, I would never be able to find my way back to get you out.” “You would find me from the surface,” Illya argues, then adds with a shrug, “Or you would not.”

Napoleon frowns deeply, the expression all the more severe in the flickering light of the lamp between them. “Oh no you don’t. If you think I’m leaving you behind to die because of a fucking sprained ankle, you’re more insane than I thought. Either you come with me, or we both stay here.”

“Cowboy—”

“This is not up for discussion. Those are your options.”

Illya stares at him, and he stares back unflinchingly; this is one of those few, rare times, that Illya knows that he will break before Napoleon does. “Fine,” he grits out. “Maybe… maybe I could build amplifier for the transmitter, if you would find scrap wire and some metal.”

Just like that, Napoleon’s face softens and he smiles, as if their chance of survival is anything but vanishingly small. “That, I can do,” he says, getting to his feet. “Promise you’ll sit here and not try anything stupidly heroic.” “Like what?” Illya asks incredulously. “I don’t know, I’m sure you’d come up with something. Just promise me you won’t.” Illya hesitates a beat, but Napoleon seems to be entirely serious about securing his word. “I promise.”

It is only later, when Illya is hammering ancient wire into a paper-thin conductive plate under the dying lamplight, that he ventures the question that has been eating at him since their earlier conversation.

“Cowboy?” “Hmm?” Napoleon hums, glancing up from where he is watching Illya work, no doubt for lack of anything else to do.

“If this does not work, if no one finds us… we will both die here,” Illya points out. He doesn’t meet Napoleon’s eye, doesn't really trust himself to. If he concentrates on his work, he can pretend this is just a simple conversation. “I’m well aware of that, Peril,” Napoleon says, his tone utterly dry.

“And you are ok with this, knowing you might have gotten out without me?” There is no hesitation before Napoleon’s reply. “Yes.”

“Oh,” Illya breathes, because he can think of nothing else to say to that.

He will spend a lot of time thinking about that answer, even after his jury-rigged transmitter leads a search party to their position and they are pulled, filthy but alive, from the mine. Maybe it has nothing to do with Illya himself, and everything with Napoleon not wanting to die alone. In the end, Illya isn’t sure it matters.

*****

The worst part is thinking is that he could have done more. If the extraction team had arrived in time to save him, maybe they could have also saved Napoleon, if only Illya had done something else. If only he’d been better, maybe his partner would still be alive. He could find out more about what happened when the team found them, but he hasn’t been able to bring himself to ask. What does it matter? The outcome is the same no matter what.

Still, the thought bangs around in his head incessantly. Whenever he actually manages to fall asleep, he wakes not long afterward in a cold sweat, Napoleon’s name on his lips and the taste of ash and dust on his tongue. Sometimes, in his dreams, he is the one who is trapped, and Napoleon asks him why he should bother saving Illya, since Illya didn’t bother saving him? Sometimes he dreams that Napoleon is already dead when he finds him in the rubble. The most excruciating dreams, though, are the ones where Napoleon is alive, where Illya wakes up in a hospital room and Napoleon is next to him, because every time, without fail, he actually wakes from the dream and looks to his side and finds no one.

Three days go by, and even though he should be improving, his condition only worsens. It’s true, he wasn’t in great shape to begin with: besides his knee—which, despite three surgeries and a bunch of pins, is still really fucked up—he’d suffered severe smoke inhalation and moderate burns on covering the side of his torso and thigh. Even so, the doctors are perplexed by the instability of his blood oxygen levels at this point. They don’t know why he doesn’t seem to be healing, and it is quite clearly beginning to frustrate them.

Illya does not care if they are frustrated, and he frankly doesn’t care if he gets better. He is tired of being poked and prodded and rather wishes that they would all just leave him alone in his misery. That, however, is about as futile a wish as wishing that he could go back in time and stop them from ever entering that infernal building.

He’s just gotten through the usual battery of tests that they run each day when Gaby shows up clutching a brown paper bag of something he has to admit smells pretty good. The hospital food is, as usual, inedible, and she has taken to bringing take away from a Polish restaurant down the block in the hopes of lifting his spirits, or something like that. It’s not quite like home, but it’s pretty close, and he’d probably even enjoy it if he felt capable of enjoying anything right now.

Gaby kisses him on the cheek in greeting and distributes the food: pierogis and bowls of some kind of savory barley soup for both of them. The pungent smell of herbs and spices are enough to make his mouth water, even though he knows he’ll only be disappointed; everything he eats these days tastes flat, bland, and a little like ash. Still, he eats dutifully, for Gaby’s sake if nothing else.

“The doctors told me your condition is still declining,” she broaches after a long stretch of silence.

Illya shrugs. It is not news to him, and he knows it is not news to her.

“Illya, please,” Gaby pleads. She scoots her chair closer to his bedside and takes one of his hands in both of hers. “You can’t just sit here and waste away.”

“Who is wasting?” he retorts. “I eat. I do nothing but rest. What else would you have me do?”

“Fight!” she urges, squeezing his hand. “It’s like you’re— you’re just giving up, and I don’t understand why.”

Illya stares at her in disbelief. Surely, if anyone would understand, it would be Gaby. Even though it’s been quite a long time since they all partnered together in the field, they still remained close. After all these years, she must know what Napoleon meant to him, even if he’s never said it out loud. That she doesn’t—can’t—understand why he lacks the strength to carry on, as if nothing has changed, is unfathomable.

“You have to get better,” she pushes when he doesn’t offer any explanation.

“For what purpose, so you can send me to the field with new partner?”

“What? No, that’s not—”

“Of course,” Illya laughs bitterly, cutting her off. “I should have known. Always was too difficult to work with for anyone but— him. So it is to be solo missions, I suppose.” He hates the way his voice breaks, near the end; it is only a word, so what if it is also his name.

Gaby huffs and folds her arms over her chest, obviously frustrated. “You’re being absurd. Where are you getting all these crazy ideas? You know Napoleon—”

“Don’t,” he snaps. It is one thing to sit here and be told he just needs to get better, but he refuses to listen to the inevitable Napoleon wouldn’t want this. Napoleon is gone, and Illya cares about as much about Napoleon would or would not want as he did when he was holding his hand while he died.

In response, Gaby presses her lips together in a tight frown and stares at him long enough that he is forced to look away under her scrutiny. “You don’t want to talk to me about this? Fine. But you need to talk to someone.” She rises and walks to the door, then, pausing briefly on the threshold. “We care about you, Illya. We don’t want to lose you.”

It hits him, for perhaps the first time since he woke, how worn she looks. Her hair is never all that neatly done, but it’s even more messy than usual now, and dark shadows have fallen under eyes filled with unmistakable sadness. She lost Napoleon too, he reminds himself, and now she’s worried about him. He should try to get better for her, if nothing else, but he’s just not sure he’s strong enough. It feels insane, that his heart could be so bound to someone else, that going on without them seems impossible.

He looks away again, unwilling to make any promises despite how much he knows it hurts her. Yes, she would be sad to lose him, but she has a family now, and lots of other friends. She would be ok, he tells himself as he listens to her footsteps fade away.

Illya doesn’t really sleep that night, and it does nothing good for his condition. His breaths are shallow and labored, and they make him wear the oxygen mask all day, which he hates. He would take it off, but the alarms they’ve set make it impossible to get away with it, and he really doesn’t want to summon a thunderously angry Gaby to his room today.

He thinks he must still not be getting enough oxygen to his brain, despite the mask and alarms, because around mid-morning an apparition materializes in the doorway to his room. Or perhaps he’s dreaming; it would be a new variation, but there can be no other explanation for Napoleon appearing without warning, looking more than a little worse for the wear but very definitely alive.

The Napoleon-illusion leans heavily on his door frame, straightening up from where he shuffled in using a walker. He looks cautious, like he’s not sure what Illya will do, which is kind of odd. In his dreams Napoleon is always confident and sure, even in the ones where he’s in the hospital with Illya.

“They tell me there’s a very stubborn Russian in here refusing to listen to sense,” the illusion quips. That, at least, is more typical.

Illya’s eyes flick over to his blood oxygen meter, which reads relatively steady, and when he looks back Napoleon is frowning at him, his eyebrows knit together into a deep furrow. Finally, Illya pulls away the mask and grunts, “You’re not real.”

“Excuse me?”

“You are a dream. Or maybe just figment of my imagination,” he elaborates flatly. He waves the mask in the air. “Not enough oxygen.”

“If that’s the case, I’d appreciate if you could imagine me in less pain. Do you mind if I sit?” the Napoleon-illusion asks, gesturing to the chair next to the bed.

Illya nods slowly and watches with increasing uncertainty as Napoleon limps over with the help of the walker, then drops heavily into the chair. He tips his head back, breathing hard, like even this short journey was pushing it. It seems impossible that Illya’s mind would conjure this much detail, but an illusion is still more believable than the alternative, at this point.

“I gotta tell you, being crushed by a building? Not as fun as it sounds,” the illusion jokes, trying on a hesitant grin. “Though I hear I’m doing better than you.”

Great, now even imaginary people are giving him a hard time about his condition. Illya narrows his eyes suspiciously and wonders if he might actually be finally dying. Maybe this is just the last, desperate gasp of his brain to make sense of something before he goes.

“Oh for Christ’s sake, Peril!” Napoleon bursts out after a few minutes of silence. He drags an exasperated hand through his hair, dislodging curls that haven’t been wrangled into place by pomade in days. “Enough with the games.”

“I watched you die,” Illya argues.

“No, you didn’t. I mean, I’m not totally sure what happened, because I was kind of unconscious at the time, but obviously I didn’t die, because I’m here.” Napoleon’s frown deepens as he tilts his head, as if in confusion. “Is that what’s going on here? You thought I was dead?”

Illya no longer trusts himself to speak. This isn’t real. It can’t be. But it is hard to hold onto that certainty when Napoleon grabs his hand and squeezes.

“Illya, c’mon. You’re not imagining me. I’m really here, I promise,” he says softly, almost pleading.

Slowly, he draws Illya’s hand closer and lifts it to his face, pressing the tips of his fingers to his cheek. Several days of stubble bite into Illya’s skin, the coarse scratch of it a stark contrast to the warm, smooth skin underneath. Without really planning to, Illya pushes his hand forward, until he’s cupping Napoleon’s jaw with his palm and his fingers dig into the soft, short hairs at the nape of his neck. He feels so solid. So intensely real. Napoleon is looking up at him as he leans close to the bed, his ocean blue eyes shining with something that Illya can’t quite identify. Maybe… maybe he really is here, impossible as it seems.

“Napoleon,” Illya whispers, swiping his thumb across his cheek almost absently.

Napoleon’s hand is still curled loosely around Illya’s wrist, pressing against his pulse point just so, as if he needs reassurance that Illya is alive and not the other way around. He leans in to Illya’s touch, his gaze never wavering, and his voice matches the same hushed tones when he repeats, “I’m here.”

Illya doesn’t think, then; he leans down, closing the gap between them, and presses his lips to Napoleon’s. For a bare instant Napoleon is frozen in shock, but then he’s pushing into the kiss and reaching up to pull Illya closer, his fingers clutching at Illya’s hair. His lips part invitingly, and when Illya’s follow suit Napoleon wastes no time licking into his mouth and tugging at his lips in a way that makes Illya feel absurdly light-headed. No matter how many times he’d imagined this moment over the years—which wasn’t nearly as many times as he’d not allowed himself to imagine it—it had never come close to reality. Napoleon is here, and alive, and kissing him, and Illya is dizzy with the emotion of it all.

Or maybe that’s the lack of oxygen. The alarm on the blood oxygen monitor blares, loud and insistent, and the two men spring apart in surprise just as a nurse comes hurrying into the room. She frowns at the mask, laying discarded at Illya’s side, and tuts disapprovingly as he lifts it back to his face.

“What did I tell you about the mask?” she scolds. “Until your blood oxygen is stable, you have to wear it, no excuses.” Then, without waiting for him to respond, she turns her frown on Napoleon. “And you. What do you think you’re doing up?”

“Thought I’d stretch my legs?” Napoleon tries.

“Very funny. You shouldn’t be stretching anything. Don’t move, I will be back with a wheelchair.”

“Wait!” Illya blurts. The nurse stops mid-stride and turns back, her brow furrowed in confusion. A little sheepishly, he pulls the mask away again. “Could we— maybe put another bed in here? Or— or I could go to his room, if it is bigger?”

The nurse purses her lips as she looks between them, apparently trying to figure this out, and Illya really hopes he doesn’t have to explain that having Napoleon near him is the only way he’s going to get any sleep any time soon. Instead he tries to give her his best pleading look, which he has been reliably informed—by Napoleon and Gaby, who else—is difficult to resist. Finally she sighs. “These are meant to be single rooms, but, well, I’ll see what I can do. Anything to keep the two of you out of trouble,” she adds, under her breath, as she leaves the room.

It is only after she’s gone that he realizes that Napoleon is still holding onto his hand. He feels his face heat with embarrassment at the thought of the nurse’s evaluating gaze, but he doesn’t pull away. Can’t quite bear the thought of it, really. His hand tightens around Napoleon’s, feeling like that link of contact is the only thing that’s keeping him grounded right now.

After a little while, Napoleon quietly asks, “You really thought I was dead?”

“No one told me you weren’t!” Illya protests.

“Maybe because whenever they tried to bring me up you freaked out and wouldn’t let them say anything.”

Illya huffs, offended. “I did not.”

“That’s not what Gaby told me,” Napoleon counters. He hesitates a moment, before adding, “I thought maybe I’d done something to upset you and couldn’t remember it.”

“Like what?”

“Like finally kissing you, before we both bought it,” Napoleon says, a little wry.

Illya blinks at him. “Oh,” he breathes, the word muffled into the mask.

Dropping his gaze to their hands, Napoleon takes a moment to carefully rearrange them, interlocking their fingers together. “I can’t imagine what I would have done, if I’d thought you were— well. You know,” he admits eventually, his voice sounding thick toward the end. “I’m sorry I didn’t come to you sooner, Peril.”

“You could not leave your bed,” Illya points out.

“Since when has that ever stopped me before?” Napoleon asks with a tiny smirk playing on his lips.

Illya wants badly to kiss them again, to feel Napoleon’s breath mingle with his, to hold him close and never let go. There are myriad reasons, of course, why that is not possible, not in the least the stupid oxygen mask he’s currently holding to his face, but now there is hope. The promise of something more sizzles under his skin and would probably leave him breathless even if his breathing wasn’t already labored. Instead, he settles for squeezing Napoleon’s hand and hoping it conveys even a fraction of what he’s feeling.

“Just… do not go dying on me again,” he mutters past the mask.

“Not planning on it,” Napoleon says. A grin flashes across his face, fading quickly into a pensive expression that Illya’s not entirely sure he likes. “I, uh,” he starts and stops, then takes a short, steadying breath. “Probably won’t be back in the field for a while. Or ever, maybe,” he admits. “This one really did a number on my kidneys, apparently. I’ll be fine as long as nothing else happens to stress them, but Waverly’s not keen on taking the risk. Says they have plenty for me to do back at HQ.” He huffs, short and humorless. “Can you imagine me, with a desk job?” “Not really, Cowboy,” Illya says, surprised at the steadiness of his own voice.

“But I thought, it might not be so bad, if I had my partner with me,” Napoleon ventures cautiously. “Assuming, that is, he and his bum knee are planning on sticking around.”

Illya automatically looks down at his own knee, the braces and bandages obvious under the thin hospital blankets, and thinks back to everything he’s been told about it over the last few days. He’d barely paid attention at the time, not much caring under the circumstances, but now he realizes that his assumption that he’d be sent back out as soon as he was able was deeply flawed. It will be months before he can walk without assistance, and even then, his knee will never be the same. It would be frankly stupid to send an agent with such a liability into the field, and Waverly is anything but stupid.

Apparently, Napoleon had been informed of this development, and had… what? Thought Illya might leave UNCLE, if he was to be permanently benched?

“What else would I do?” Illya asks, without really thinking about how it sounds.

A startled laugh escapes Napoleon, and he arcs an eyebrow at Illya. “Oh, well, as long as you have no better options, then.”

“You know that is not what I meant,” Illya growls.

“Do I? Because I distinctly remember you saying—”

Whatever inane claim he’s about to make, he doesn’t get to, because Illya drags him into another kiss that quite effectively shuts him up. It’s a fiercer press than the first, but he feels Napoleon smiling into it anyway, like this was his plan all along.

“You are the one who could easily leave,” Illya huffs breathlessly after he breaks away, their noses brushing and their lips still only centimeters apart. “Your sentence was commuted years ago.” Then he untangles his hand from Napoleon’s robe and slumps back against his pillows, retrieving the oxygen mask and taking a long, deep breath before the monitor’s alarm can go off again.

“Yeah, and why do you think I stuck around?” Napoleon challenges, his expression flashing defiance before slipping into something devastatingly unguarded. “I could never leave you, Peril.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Cowboy.”

The corner of Napoleon’s mouth quirks up, which is all the confirmation that Illya needs that he still recognizes his own words. “So I’m safe to make it, then. Just you wait, you’re gonna be sick of me.”

You’re impossible, is what Illya means to say, but the only thing that actually makes it past his lips is a soft “impossible,” which is too honest by half. It’s ok, though, because Illya can’t regret the way the answer makes Napoleon’s eyes light up, nor how that sight makes him feel, for the first time in days, like he’s going to be ok.

*****

Meanwhile, in Napoleon's room sometime during the last segment:

Gaby: What did you do? Every time we try to say something about you he freaks out. Napoleon: I didn’t do anything! I don’t know what his problem is! Gaby: He just seems so miserable and I don’t understand why. He says he wants to be left alone but he keeps on muttering something about the room being too empty when he thinks I’m not listening. Napoleon: Really, you’d think he’d be happier under the circumstances. He’s the one who always complains that I snore whenever we have to share a hospital room. Which, by the way, I don’t. Gaby: Yes you do.

Did I just tack on some jokes to a fic about death? Yes, yes I did. LOL, what can I say? Coping mechanisms, or something. In any case, I hope you enjoyed this fic, and I'd love to hear from you! Your comments mean the world to me and are the fuel that keeps me writing. Thank you so much for reading!

[youarejesting]

Mania.3

[Full Master List] [Mania Master List]

Beta: N/A Rating: Mature 18+ Pairing: BTS OT7 Genre: Fantasy, Romance, Comedy, Omegaverse Words: 1k Blood types: Namjoon, Jhope, Jungkook, Yoongi (A) Taehyung (AB) Jin, Jimin and Yoongi (O) (Jimin in real life is an A blood type)

Summary: At eighteen everyone takes a blood test to find out their blood types. A, B, or O. Each blood type represents the person’s secondary gender Alpha, Beta or Omega and can be Dominant (+) or Recessive (-). 

When small thin Yoongi receives his letter he doesn’t expect A+. There was no way he was an Alpha especially not a dominant. But as time passes he shows no Alpha nor Omega tendencies and frankly he doesn’t care. Working in his father’s electrical business helps pay the bills but Yoongi’s real passion is music. 

One very hot day in the roof space of a luxury apartment that Yoongi is rewiring an intoxicatingly pleasant smell churns his insides and he finds himself in need of something to quench his thirst. 

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Yoongi went to the appointment thinking he would be stupid not too, this was a well reknowned specialist and a celebrity had given him the appointment. This doctor was the best of the best and after checking in Yoongi was given a full check up, blood tests and more. The doctor made sure to tell him about all the risks involving his late blooming. He had been misdiagnosed or his results had been mixed with other students in the class. 

Yoongi thought back to his graduating class, was there anyone whose results could have been switched. He wasn’t sure if he could really pinpoint anyone who could have accidentally switched their results.

“So, on top of the misdiagnosis, you haven’t experienced any heats until just last week?” The doctor asked typing on her computer. “You have experienced fluctuations with weight, acne, any excessive body hair?”

“No, I haven’t had anything?” Yoongi wondered what those things had to do with all this, he was just here to get some suppressants now that he was an Omega. It didn’t matter to Yoongi when his body decided it was ready or how, he didn’t care what his first or second gender was he didn’t care about things like that.

“So,” The doctor turned from her computer and looked Yoongi in the eye, “our dilemma is, that you haven’t technically gone through puberty properly, you have for your first gender your voice deepens and such like that, but you hadn’t gotten your first heat until a week ago.”

“Okay, so I am going through puberty now?” He asked confused, “what does that mean?”

“It means your heats will be unstable, greatly so because it is trying to play catch up with the rest of your body, I am prescribing you a rather strong suppressant and also a mild one, what I would like you to do is collect them today from the pharmacy and carry them with you. Your body at any moment could fall into a heat again, if and when that happens I want you to take the mild suppressant if that doesn’t alleviate the symptoms I want you to try the stronger ones.”

“So you're saying at any moment I could just,” Yoongi clicked his fingers emphasising his point. The doctor nodded grimly. This wasn’t what he had expected to hear at all. “So if it happens the weak one and if they don't work the stronger ones''

“Yes until we can find the right dose there is no harm in using the stronger medication as a failsafe to stop any pheromone secretion and to ease your discomfort during this time,” the printer behind the doctor whirred to life and his prescription was spat from its mouth. “The thing is I have to warn you, your body is vulnerable to pheromones and it can in fact trigger your heats. This transition may last anywhere from a few weeks to a year”

“It might take a year for my hormones to even out?” Yoongi asked, exasperated by the information. 

“Yes, I recommend perhaps seeking a partner to help with your symptoms, or simply taking the medicine until things settle down.” The doctor paused, handing over the prescription and paused, “I don’t think it will be worth mentioning, but there is a slight chance that the medication might make your symptoms worse as they will try to overcome the suppression, its basic instinct that when in heat an Omega desires to be bred. But the chances are so slim that I don’t believe you should have a problem.”

Yoongi’s mouth was hanging open, so not only could it happen any time any where, for no apparent reason, or even induced by an Alpha just walking past, it might not be something he can suppress and to top it off it would last a whole year. “Being an Omega sucks.”

He snatched the prescription from the bench and headed to the pharmacy, which was connected to the doctor's office by a set of clear automatic doors. The man at the counter seemed way too excited to see Yoongi.

“Hey how can I help you today?” The man chirped up, eyeing the prescription in Yoongi’s hand as if it were a winning lottery ticket. “Do you have a prescription to fulfil?”

Yoongi wanted to tell him that of course he did, why else would he come in holding the obvious medication script if he wasn’t filling a prescription? It’s not like he was in a particular mood to chat with the pharmacist. But he held his tongue and handed the paper over.

“If you would like to sit we will have your medicine ready quickly” He gestured to a few seats before heading to the back. Yoongi called his father asking him what their plans were, he was bored not working and if he didn’t get back to work he wouldn’t be able to afford rent.

“Well we have a few small odd jobs today and tomorrow but on Wednesday we have Mister Kim’s Apartment again.” Yoongi’s dad rattled off everything left over since Yoongi had gotten sick and was unable to finish the wiring.

“Listen, put me on for some jobs and I will finish the wiring on Wednesday, it’s my fault I didn’t finish it in the first place.” Yoongi sighed standing to collect his prescription, “I need to get back to work” 

Yoongi was happy to be back at work, after his days off during his heat he just wanted to forget all about it and do what he did best. The first few homes were easy, the omega’s who were home were super nice to Yoongi as always and he finished up his work and quickly left. It wasn’t until he walked into the last job of the day, an Alpha who needed a powerpoint installed, easy work but his pheromones were kind of annoying.

Yoongi felt the familiar dull ache in his stomach and quickly took the weak suppressant and the symptoms disappeared easily. He finished his work and left quickly not wanting to smell the Alpha’s sickening pheromones. They were nothing like the band members he had spent his heat with, even the omega’s smelt better than that Alpha.

Yoongi was disgusted that even some weak pheromones could induce his heat, but on the bright side the mild suppressant he was given did the job, he was feeling perfectly fine. Perhaps this wasn’t going to be as scary as he thought.

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[ratsoh-writes]

Okay okay, now I have time. Ranking is on how well I'd get along with them.

Sans: 9/10 because of white chocolate. Seriously when you said white chocolate peanut butter cups I gagged. But on the plus side he will eat any white chocolate I get so I don't feel bad about throwing it out. Small friendly lazy friend, possibly something more. I too fall asleep with cuddles. But don't call me kid.

Papyrus: honestly 5/10. He ain't bad! He's cool! But I don't think we'd have much chemistry friend or more. Just waving as we pass by eachother and a few greetings or small questions. Not sure how to end conversations.

Star: 6/10. I feel like I could actually talk with him occasionally because of his charisma, but for the same reason I personally wouldn't get too close because I can never tell when super charismatic people are lying vs being honest. Sorry star! It's me, not you.

Honey: 7/10 I'd feel like we'd get along pretty well, but it would require some kind of catalyst to get there. 50/50 on if it would every be anything more than friends

Red: 7/10, I'm probably be on the fence of hanging out with him until I saw him being buddies with oak and then I'd know he's cool. 50/50 relationship potential

Edge: 5/10 I like him but we are in two different places. I would try to at least be on his good side, though. Probably wouldn't attempt unless we frequently met up for some reason.

Mal: 4/10 a little envious of his confidence but my brain would get too insecure around him. He cool. But we probably wouldn't be friends.

Cash: 5/10 he's alright but like Papyrus I don't think we'd every have a reason to interact. I will watch him pull pranks, but I do not want to get on his radar.

Oak: another 9/10. I feel like he would be harder to approch but the moment he tells a pun or a small puppy comes up to him I am pulled like a magnet. However I do want kids (I'm sorry, oak, it already happened) so he'd either have to get over that if we'd ship. I'm fine managing it myself. I do totally relate with some memory issues as I have face blindness so maybe we can share tips

Willow: 7/10 he cool. We have a lot in common! Too much in common. We could either help eachother or stress eachother out and I don't know which way it would go. Also his dog is scary.

Lord: 5/10. He's okay. I'd be friends with him but his conspiracies would have me worried about what other things he believes if I don't know him well enough and I might not do so because of that. Eh. 10% dating potential because he's thoughtful.

Mutt: 3/10. Nothing against him but the moment he realizes I don't read books for fun I think it's gonna be weird. I'd support him by buying his books but I would never read them, no matter how critically acclaimed it is.

Wine: 4/10 again I don't think our personalities would ever get the opportunity to get to know eachother, he's fine but I am not fashion. I own one pair of heels and I will not own more. I am looking respectfully at his kissing, though. Perfect domestic kisses thumbs up.

Coffee: 8/10. We will communicate by leaving small gifts for eachother. Pumpkin spice season will arrive and we will thrive together. 40% chance of romance he may be too similar. Bestie material.

Charm: 7/10 I think we'd be friends without benefits. I don't mind the topic of flirting but I'm also not 'bothered' by it.

Sugar: 7/10 because I'd like hanging out with him but I also can't relate to the hopeless romantic side of him so relationship def wouldn't work. Also ace.

Pluto: 5/10. Again! He's great! Just like Papyrus! I dunno. I don't have the same interests and... Oh okay, he's floating away again, bye

Jupiter: 3/10 too loud too much energy. I'm sure you're great just not for me even as friends

Pop: 8/10 I relate to him, especially the introvertness. I will leave him sticky notes near the vents. We will be pen pals.

Rhythm: 7/10 he is very impressive and passionate! But also too charismatic for me and also I give up when I am frustrated with dancing so I will admire from afar.

Peaches: 10/10 I didn't think about it until I ranked him but he's a good one! I would crush hard. Dunno if I'd be his type though.

Rancher: 7/10 👀👀👀 he STRONK but I am probably too intimated. I work hard enough for me but I'd feel like it's not enough for Rancher.

Mafia boys: I'll be honest mafia is a big no so I'm roasting them

Snipe: 0/10 holy shit the paranoia? Do you know how many red flags that is, BYE

Bruiser: 0/10 man you got some ISSUES and you need to work on those, --like actually take a moment!! -- by yourself LATER

Butch: 1/10 at least I know what to expect but Y I K E S

Boss: 2/10 no thanks but I get the vibe he seems like a good tipper so I'll give him that.

Ace: 1/10 charismatic and mafia? See ya never! 🏃

Slim: 2/10 I'm sure you're nice and all but I'll probably never see you and let's keep it that way

G: 8/10 he's fun but maybe too much for me in large doses. I bet he'd be my work husband but nothing beyond that.

Green: 9/10 independent, fatherly and polite? Sign me UP. -1 point for his tiny plants because if he gives me one to cherish I will accidently/maybe on purpose murder it, I don't care how hard it is to kill succulents. Please don't give me potted plants. In the ground I'll try but not potted.

Rust: 7/10 because I'd probably get jealous of his kid magnetism and second guess myself a lot. Otherwise he's cool.

Noir: 8/10 yeah man, let's hang out and see where this goes :)

Lilac: 5/10 he's a good guy but.. too many old ladies, too social for me.

Basil: 6/10 I think we'd be neighbor friends who wave and ask to borrow something. Look at the lawn after yardwork. Yeup.

Oh dang! You did the whole lot!!

Lol I love how you roast the mafia boys. I’m surprised boss and slim got as high as they did.

Willows dog chaos can be nice. She’s a 50/50 but if she likes you then it’s all clear

Peaches is 100% husband material

[dreamingofaizawa]

Queen of Hades

Hades! Shouta Aizawa x Persephone! Fem! Reader

***18+ Fic***

If you are not 18 years or older, please refrain from reading any further. Thank you.

Warnings: TW: Incest, kidnapping, stockholm-ish, slow-burn ish, smut, praise kink and body worship if you squint, possessive during smexy time, overstimulation, squirting, dacryphilia, masturbation (not super descriptive tho), unprotected sex (pretty obvious but I’m putting it here anyway), creampie, aftercare, tiny bit of angst at the end but not too bad.

Word Count: 9.7k (Holy shit)

Author’s Note: *kinda long note here, you don’t really have to read it if you don’t want to*

Ohhhkaaaayyyyyy so this took a lot out of me. This is my longest fic so far, and honeslty I’m kinda proud of it. I’ve always been a sucker for Greek mythology, and I’ve always had a soft spot for Hades because he’s so sorely portrayed as a villain in mainstream media. He’s really not as bad as movies like Percy Jackson and Hercules make him out to be. Nothing in the mythology suggests that Persephone was unhappy, so I took it a ran with it. I also drew a bit of inspiration from Lore Olympus on WebToon (iykyk) for the parts regarding Demeter’s parenting.

The only three characters I really referenced to mha besides Aizawa is Hizashi Yamada (Hermes), Momo Yaoyorozu (Aphrodite), and Bakugo Katsuki (Ares). I went with Momo for Aphrodite solely because she seems like the only one Bakugo would willingly listen to since she’s on par with him at least in intelligence. I made Bakugo Ares because he’s the god of war, and tends to get angry easily. Their temperaments are similar, except for the fact that Ares can be pretty cowardly (sorry not sorry Ares).

Anyway, enjoy~

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The god sat on his throne, contemplating his lonely existence for what felt like the hundredth time. It may have been, considering he is immortal. At one time, he’d never given loneliness a second thought. He didn’t mind being this way. His job was important, even if melancholy, and he took it very seriously. Keeping Cerberus tame and entertained was probably the most difficult part, physically. The three-headed dog sat at the entrance to the underworld, guarding at all times to ensure any and all souls that passed through could never escape. And Hades simply ruled over this plane of existence, ensuring nothing was out of order and those kept in the depths of Tartarus remained there. 

However, in the last couple centuries the raven-haired god had been plagued with longing for someone to share his existence with. He no longer wanted to be alone. He craved someone to spend his time with, someone to think about and experience what mortals and gods alike called love. He wanted a queen. With the time he had on his hands, he prepared himself to scour the mortal realm as well as Olympus, to search under the invisibility his helm allowed him. Soon he was walking the realms, invisible to all creatures, observing, searching for his queen.

____

Being the daughter of Demeter wasn’t easy. The goddess hovered over you, making sure you were doing your duties properly as the goddess of vegetation. Being a goddess yourself was only made difficult by your mother. She needed perfection. You worked diligently to hone your powers, urging plantlife to grow to your will and learning about the time before the gods. You spent every day under her guidance, until she was finally satisfied with your performance. She’d finally stopped pushing you about a century ago, now simply watching with no commentary or instructions.

Today was finally the day you’d be able to have time completely alone outside your quarters. You wandered, stopping in a beautiful meadow. The sight made your heart swell with joy. Lush, soft grass stretched as far as you could see, flowers of all colors blanketing the area. From bright, vibrant sunshine yellow to deep cerulean and mulberry. Some of the lone flowers stood tall enough to touch your hips as you floated through the greenery. It was serene, peaceful. Your chest felt light, finally you were free from your mother’s harsh gaze to relax, all alone.

As you finally decided you’d return, you thought of the beauty of the area. It didn’t take long for you to find a few choice blooms to pick and carefully pluck them from the ground. Keeping them alive would be effortless from your amount of training. You’d keep them in your chambers, a memory of the feelings you experienced here. Satisfied with your choices, you took a final glance around you and began your return.

You only made it a few steps when suddenly the ground began to quake. Only a horse’s length from your feet, you watched wide-eyed as the ground split open to a huge chasm, chunks of earth tumbling into the void. A golden chariot pulled by four beautiful black stallions emerged from the fissure, pulling to an abrupt halt next to you. A raven-haired man stood proud in the chariot, one hand extended out toward you. His face showed no emotions, his dark obsidian eyes tired and sad, a scar curved under his right eye and light scruff adorning his chiseled jaw.

You shrunk away from his hand, unsure of his identity or the reason for such a surprise visit. “Who are you?” you ask warily, your eyes narrowing slightly. “I am Hades, god of death and wealth. Your mother would know me as Aidoneus.” Your eyes widened in shock. No wonder you didn’t know who this is. Hades rarely left the Underworld, and hasn’t in the past thousand or so years according to what you’d heard from your mother. Why was he here of all places? Sensing your apprehension, he reached out for you once more.

“Please, my sweet, come with me to the Underworld.” Your eyebrows scrunched in confusion. You weren’t entirely sure why the god of death wanted you, but you didn’t want to find out. Shaking your head, you took a few tentative steps backward. “I...don’t want to go with you…” The idea of abandoning your duties was absurd. You were a goddess, and your mother would be absolutely furious if she found out you’d gone with Hades and vanished to the underworld. Not to mention how your family might feel about your sudden disappearance.

A loud cry of your name had you snapping your head toward the source. A beautiful woman donning golden armor wielding a spear was sprinting toward you, her brown curls pulled tight into a woven plait down her back. “Athena!” You called to her as you began to run, but you were lifted off your feet before you could take a second step. In a blur of motion you found yourself in Hades’ golden chariot, a strong arm around your waist holding you tight to the god’s side. He peered down at you with those deep dark eyes as the chariot descended into the chasm.

“I am sorry, my love. But coming with me was never your choice to make.” You looked upward, watching as the earth closed above you. Panicked, you struggled in Hades’ grasp, but he was too strong for you to escape. “Please, don’t fight me.” You shot the god a glare that could kill, tears streaming down your face. “I never asked to be taken! Why? Why have you stolen me away?” A heaved sigh escaped his lips. “I will explain, my love, but for now,” he brings his other hand up and taps your forehead with two fingers, “Sleep.” Your eyelids droop, and your consciousness fades to black.

____

He had hoped you’d come with him willingly. Of course, he knew the chances of that happening were rather slim. Confiding in Zeus about his newfound feelings for you may have been a bad idea for him, considering he was the one to come up with this ridiculous plan. The god of the sky was supposed to be distracting most of the other gods and goddesses with a meeting, though it isn’t a surprise that Athena had managed to slip away. He was rather lucky to have been able to escape Athena without direct confrontation. He may be a powerful god, but Athena was the goddess of war strategy and wisdom. She could probably fight Zeus himself and find a way to come out victorious.

But now, as he gaze down at your sleeping form in his bed, he can’t help but feel it was worth the trouble. You were absolutely gorgeous, a beauty to rival Aphrodite, though he’d never say it aloud for fear of the woman’s jealous revenge. He watched the rise and fall of your chest, the way your lips parted ever so slightly with your breath. He wants so badly to kiss you, to hold you and cherish you, to worship you the way you should be. But he wants you to accept him and love him of your own accord. He’d made that decision from the first time he laid eyes on you. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead before leaving you to rest.

____

It felt like you hadn’t even been asleep for a second, like you had only just closed your eyes. But you definitely weren’t in the chariot anymore, and Hades was nowhere to be seen. Sitting up, you took in your surroundings. You lay on a large bed covered in fine pelts and furs on the wall furthest from the door. The room itself is large enough to fit at least three chariots and room to spare. Cool blue floated around the room, candles inset in the walls lit with cerulean fire, emitting a soft glow and shadows dancing in the light. The room was relatively empty, save for the armor on the wall along with a two-pronged scepter and a helm. There was no question in your mind where you were.

The large wooden door creaked as it opened, the King of the Underworld himself standing in the doorway. You glared as he made his way over to you and sat on the edge of the bed. “Why am I here, Hades?” You absolutely meant for the edge to come through in your voice, letting out your aggression in the most passive way possible. You hoped the tinge of fear you felt hadn’t shown through as well. As much as you didn’t like being taken against your will and hated Hades for it, you didn’t want to get into a fight with the god of death.

“Please, my name is Shouta. The mortals call me Hades. And you’re here because I’ve fallen in love with you, sweet goddess.” His voice was gentle, apologetic even. “The kidnapping was Zeus’s idea. I only went along with it because I knew my sister would never let me have you if I asked. I know how she is with her children.” You gave a small huff and pulled your knees into your chest, eyes still on the god. “Talking to me first was always an option, you know.” His shoulders shook as he chuckled. “My apologies. I should have talked to you first.” 

Apprehensively, you asked the question you were sure you already knew the answer to. You tore your eyes away from him, suddenly the furs underneath you were the most interesting thing in the world. “When can I go back?” His hand appeared in front of you, and you didn’t flinch or move away as his calloused palm cupped your face gently, making you look up into his dark eyes. “I’m sorry, my love. But I can’t let you return yet.” You gave a small nod, and he pulled his hand from your face as he stood. “Walk with me?”

His eyes were hopeful, waiting for the answer he wanted. If you declined, would he force you to go with him anyway? You squeezed your knees further into you, giving an indirect ‘no’ to test his reaction. He let out a small sigh, “I see. If you need anything, you can call for me.” He moved to walk out of the room, not halfway to the door when you stopped him. “Actually...um...I think a walk would be okay.” Slowly, you got up and walked over to him, and he gave a small smile before leading you out of the room.

The underworld was nothing like you thought it would be.

Hades - or rather, Shouta - led you on a tour of all three realms of the Underworld on the boat steered by Charon, the ferryman that delivered souls to the three parts of the Underworld. The Elysian Fields were gorgeous, mirroring daytime in the mortal realm with lush greenery and bright sunshine. This part was reserved for the mortals that were exceptionally heroic in their lifetime. Good people who lived lives giving to the people that needed it with no expectation to be repaid. All the souls here were happy, either playing or relaxing with each other in this afterlife.

The next part was the Asphodel Fields. This realm was darker, stuck in a deep limbo but beautiful all the same. A bright full moon sat high in the sky, the ground littered with luminous teal crystals. These souls were shadows of themselves, normal mortals that made mistakes and loved and lived their lives as best they could. They now live a mirrored life here, as a shadowed version of themselves. It was not a sad existence, but one that the mortal souls could be satisfied with.

As you rode the boat with Shouta on the river Phlegethon toward Tartarus, your body began to shake and your breath shallowed. You could feel the foul energy seeping into the air the closer you got. This was where the worst of the worst were kept prisoner. This realm locked a wicked soul in a loop of punishment and suffering. He looked down at you and wrapped an arm securely around your waist, and you peered up into his black orbs. “Tartarus is not a place I enjoy taking you, but I do intend on making you my Queen. You will need to see it even from a distance. I promise, you are safe.”

With a nod, he turns his attention back toward the bow. The closer you got to Tartarus, the more you began to feel fear. Despite the river of fire and the heat pouring from the banks, your body shook. The sheer bloodlust, anger, resentment, and malice pouring from the shoreline was enough to make your heart race. You may be a goddess, but you are young and weak compared to the god next to you. You feel yourself pressing into Shouta more as you float past the shore. The sights before you are horrific, if only because of the souls that are there.

You’d learned about the war between the gods and the titans early on in your life, and now here you were seeing the titans for yourself. They were enormous. Even on their knees, bound in chains thicker than the largest tree trunk, made from Adamantine the metal of the gods, they towered like mountains. They were monstrous, some with more heads than you could count, some with extra limbs, some with animalistic traits and some purely demonic. The sound of the chains rattling rang through the entire realm as a few lunged out toward the boat, only to be stopped short by the chains. 

You jumped several times, fear consuming you. Shouta held you close, his arm tight around your shoulders as you clung to him. Confidence and power radiated off his form as he raised his other arm, the chains around the titans tightening and drawing into the ground with a flick of his wrist. He leaned down and whispered into your ear. “You are safe, my love. They cannot hurt you.” You calmed a bit with Shouta next to you, securing you to him and keeping you safe.

The ferry floated along and soon you were out of the realm of Tartarus, back at the palace grounds that the god lived in. The building was beautiful, built like the temples the mortals built for the gods. However, the stone it was made from was not white but black, polished to a beautiful shine that reflected the cool blue glow from the misty realm. This area was not in any of the three parts of the afterlife. It was the god of death’s personal realm. 

The large temple sat high on a rocky hill, a staircase carved into the cliff face that led down to the five rivers that course through the underworld, all of them parallel each other until they branched off. The realm itself was magical in its own right. It seemed to be an enormous cave, huge stalactites hung from the ceiling, which was shrouded in deep blue mist that sparkled and mimicked the night sky. It was so high even the largest and lowest stalactites hung miles above the ground. The ground was all black earth, void of vegetation but full of life all the same, the scent of upturned earth and rain filling your senses. 

You ogled at the beauty of it all, despite the darkness. You hadn’t taken the time to observe before the tour, but now that you could you almost didn’t want to look away. You felt the warmth of Shouta’s body as he pressed against your back, a hand gently taking your chin and directing your head up to look at the misty abyss. “Would you like to know what sparkles through the mist?” You gave a small nod. Though the mist was thick, there was something sparkling from far above it that made up the constellations in the sky of the mortal realm.

He stretched an arm out, palm up as if to catch something. The star you recognised as Polaris shone brightly then faded, and the glimmering speck fell from the fog, landing square in Shouta’s palm. It was a large gem, sparkling against the darkness. You traced your fingers along its ragged edges, and it floated back up to its place when you dropped your hand. It was then you remembered that Hades was not only the god of death. He was the god of wealth, of earthly riches, precious gems and metals that mortals sought to obtain.

Shouta’s voice was smooth and deep in your ear, his body still pressed up to yours. “Let us go inside, my love. It is time to rest. Tomorrow, I will take you to see Cerberus.” You let your body relax into him, relishing in the safety of his embrace. Giving a small nod, you let the raven-haired god guide you into the palace. He led you to a hot spring in the back of the palace, the large steaming pool set deep in the ground and illuminated by blue flame candles. He left you alone to bathe, and you relaxed into the water as you reflected on the recent developments.

Despite kidnapping you, the god clearly harbors no ill intentions toward you. He’d even revealed that the whole thing was, in fact, your father’s idea. He’s kind, sweet, nothing like the angry and cruel god the mortals seem to fear. And he radiates power, his strength clear even when he first appeared to you in the field. He suppresses his overwhelming prowess around you, you’d realised. It became clear just how powerful a god he is when he took you through Tartarus. As powerful as he is he’s gentle toward you, compassionate and caring, dare you say loving. He did claim to have fallen in love with you.

Still, you had duties as a goddess, though your mother was more than capable of handling it on her own. The only reason you had duties is because you are the daughter of gods. You wondered briefly what she was thinking right now, if she knew you were gone, if Athena had informed her of your current placement. You would have to wait to find out. Until then, you would enjoy your time here. The Underworld is beautiful, and mostly peaceful, disregarding Tartarus. If Shouta means to make you his Queen, maybe you could learn to love the man as you’ve come to love the realm he rules. 

And of course, the god himself was rather handsome. His deep obsidian eyes held eons of emotion. Strength, power, loneliness and longing. And when he looked at you, you could tell he was sure he loved you, his eyes full of pure adoration. His long raven locks framed his face perfectly, the onyx crown he wore nearly invisible in his dark tresses. His jawline was strong, sharp, his ivory skin seemingly glowing blue in the atmosphere of the Underworld. The robes he wore hung loose around his frame, but it wasn’t hard to tell his body was strong and well built. He was a god, after all. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t want to see him in all his glory.

You finished your bath and fell asleep in the same bed as the god, your backs to each other and plenty of room between you. You only knew him for a single day, but you trusted him with your immortal life. When you woke up, Shouta took you to see Cerberus like he said he would. The dog sat proud just inside the entrance, the gate closer to resembling a cave entrance than an actual gate. Cerberus had his own wide perch above the ground to look down and watch the entrance closely, his job as gatekeeper being taken just as seriously as Shouta took his job as king of the Underworld.

Reaching the river bank, Shouta stepped out and held his hand out to you, helping you out of the riverboat after him. Soon the two of you were approaching the three-headed beast, and the closer you got the more you understood just how large Cerberus is. Sitting on his haunches, his shoulders towered far above your head. You’d have to climb up onto his back to reach his three heads. As the two of you approached, the hound turned his heads and bowed low, muzzles nearly in the dirt with a low growl emanating from him. 

Shouta, with a hand at the small of your back, walked up to the beast and placed a hand on the middle head, slowly petting up and down in between his eyes. You could hear the whoosh of his large tail behind him. He may be the guard dog to the Underworld, but he was still a dog, you supposed. “Hello, old friend. Meet your future Queen.” The head closest to you lifted, a large huff blowing in your face from his snout, before his nose twitched as he sniffed at your hair and face. You giggled, the air tickling your neck and face, as you reached up and held the large head in your hands and kissed above his nose.

“Such a sweet boy, aren’t you?” The hound’s tail swished harder and one of his front paws tapped against the ground, his body almost dancing at the praise and attention. Mindlessly, you let your hand pet at his fur as you observed the other two heads. Each one seemed to have a different personality. The one you were giving attention to was happy and jumpy, constantly sniffing and licking you. The one in the center was calm and collected, stoic even, eyes trained on the entrance as Shouta pet it. The furthest from you seemed angry, a low growl a near constant as his gaze was focused on the cave entrance. 

“Show her a little respect won’t you? It won’t kill you.” The angry head huffed before turning its gaze to you, giving a short bow, and with a snarl turning his attention back to the entrance. As interesting as guarding the gate seems, the only one that actually entered through the gate was Hermes. You watched as the god zoomed in and out, delivering souls to the dock, sending those who could pay off with Charon as he rowed them to their respective placements. You doubted any soul would be able to leave. They’d be spotted and caught easily, if Cerberus had anything to say about it.

Several months passed while you were down in the Underworld, staying by Shouta’s side through whatever he needed to do. No matter how many times you travelled through the underworld with Shouta, you never got enough of the beauty of it all. Sometimes he’d take you through the Asphodel Fields, deep into the crystal forests.  He walked with you through the fields with a warm hand at the small of your back, gently guiding you where you had yet to roam. The longer you stayed, the more you found yourself wanting to be around the god.

Any time he needed to visit Tartarus, you’d join him, and he’d keep you tucked into his side the whole time. You felt safe in his hands. Lately you’d been cuddling closer to him at night, longing for his embrace. His rather thick arms would curl around your waist and shoulders, pulling you tight to his chest. You'd wake up to the god’s deep obsidian eyes on your face, his gaze soft as he told you how beautiful you are or how thankful he was that he could wake up next to you. He’d leave soft kisses on your forehead and cheeks, thick fingers rolling shapes into your skin. 

It was those little intimate moments that had you falling, very possibly in love, with the King of the Underworld. When he’d run his hands down your arms and whisper his affections. When he’d teach you about the workings of the Underworld while you pet Cerberus’s head. In the bath when he’d wash you after a long day, never advancing further than a chaste kiss to your shoulder and neck. The lingering, longing, loving gaze he set on you while you rode the riverboat to the different realms. In no time at all you’d realized you’re happy here.

Now, you both stood at the gate with Cerberus once again. One head was nuzzling up against you, the other two focused on the entrance as you and Shouta pet the happy dog. You’d learned that while the center wasn’t averse to physical touch, he preferred to be left alone. The angry one had become less growly and aggressive toward you, which you supposed was progress. Though you were sure if you ever attempted to leave the Underworld, Cerberus would stop you regardless. Not that you wanted to leave.

A whoosh of wind rushed past you and suddenly Hermes was standing on the other side of Shouta, a wide grin plastered on his face as he leaned on the god’s shoulder. “What’s up, Sho?” His hypnotic green eyes wandered over to you and his eyebrows raised as his grin widened. “So this is miss Persephone, is it?” He held a hand out for you to shake. “It’s good to meet you.” Tentatively, you reached out and took his hand, shaking it before you asked the question burning in your mind. 

“Sorry, but why did you just call me Persephone?” A moment of realization hit the blonde. “OH! Yeah, you’ve been called Persephone by the mortals, as well as the rest of Olympus. The Bringer of Destruction. Fitting for the Queen of the Underworld, isn’t it?” Your breath quickened and eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. “Why would they call me that? I haven’t done anything!” Shouta narrowed his eyes at the god. “Hizashi, what’s this about?” He leaned away with his hands up in mock surrender.

“Hey, it wasn’t me. When Demeter found out her daughter was missing she abandoned her duties up in Olympus. The mortal realm has slowly been changing ever since she left, slowly becoming cold and barren. It’s not pretty. Your other siblings are trying their best to uphold Demeter’s abandoned chores but...they aren’t their mother.” Shouta slipped an arm over your shoulder, tucking you into his side, and you clung to him in your increasingly distressed state, relishing in the safety his arms often held for you. The two gods talked as you tried to ground yourself.

“How much does Demeter know?” A high-pitched hum rang from the blonde. “Well Zeus, Athena and I are the only ones who know you took her. I believe Hestia, Hera, and Poseidon know she’s here but not how she got here, and the rest just don’t know anything. Zeus made Athena swear not to say anything, but considering she’s his favorite it may be only a matter of time before she confesses to Demeter with no repercussions. There’s also a possibility Aphrodite and Eros know for reasons that should be obvious to you.”

While they spoke your mind was reeling. You never thought anything of your mother’s hovering, but she’d abandoned her duties up in Olympus just because you’d vanished. What did that even mean? And now that the mortal realm was suffering, would you be punished for it? Would you be blamed for your mother’s absence? 

____

“Do I have to go back to Olympus?” Shouta could hear the slight panic and sadness in your voice, and it made his grip around you just a bit tighter. Both their eyes flicked over to you, Shouta’s gaze soft and concerned. Hermes - Hizashi - gave a kind smile. “So far, nothing’s been decided. Zeus is pretty adamant about keeping this whole thing discreet, so for now you can stay here with Sho.” You seemed to relax in his arms, but Shouta could tell you were still stressed about the whole situation. 

“Thanks ‘Zashi.” The blonde nodded, then zipped away and returned to his duties as the messenger god. Shouta looked back down at you and he could see the tension in your face. Eyebrows slightly scrunched, bottom lip pulled between your teeth as you chewed on it, crossed arms and hands clutching your biceps. He’d almost call it adorable if he couldn’t feel just how stressed you were, leaning your body into him like a cat seeking shelter from the rain. His arm slipped down to your waist as he guided you back to the ferry. 

It didn’t take long for the both of you to be back at the temple. He sat you on the bed then kneeled in front of you, rough hands gently holding your own, calloused thumbs massaging circles into your skin. “My love, you are upset.” He watched and listened as you poured out your worries, all of them fears of whether or not the mortal realm would survive, if you were to be punished for your mother’s actions, if your mother would punish you herself for disappearing. He reassured you that he wouldn’t let anyone punish you for anything, that he’d protect you with his life. 

He had already vowed to himself never to let anything happen to his precious Queen. He is not a violent god, but he would hunt down any soul that dared so much as a wrong thought about you, vowing that there would be hell to pay. If he ever let something happen to you, he swore he’d never leave the Underworld again, and instead trap himself in Tartarus indefinitely. Eventually, he would express his devotion to you, his undying love and loyalty, but for now all you needed to know was that you were safe with him.

His heart nearly skipped a beat when your eyes filled with tears, voice breaking as you cried about not wanting to leave the Underworld, not wanting to leave his side. You’d grown to love the realm for all it had, as well as the man who ruled over it. He knew as well as you did that you would eventually have to return to Olympus, and there was no guarantee you would ever come back. Well, there was one, but he would never suggest it to you for it was almost cruel. It kept you connected to this realm, like a chain to an anchor.

But then you had to go and ask.

____

You could see the turmoil behind his dark irises. He was thinking, and thinking hard. “Sho...is there any way for me to come back?” His jaw clenched, something you’d come to recognize as a signal of stress for the god of death. “What do you mean, love? You could return any time you like.” You squeezed his hands, willing him to listen. “I mean permanently, Shouta. If somehow my mother refuses to let me return, is there a way to tie me to you? To make sure I need to return no matter what?” 

His usually calm features twisted in surprise, eyes wide and jaw clenched tight, his hands gripping your own. But the shock only lasted a moment before he was relaxing again. “My love, there is a way. But it is not kind to you, to force you to return here.” The sadness at that statement was clear in his eyes. He didn’t want to think of it, but the possibility for you to never want to return to him was there. Your eyebrows furrowed deeply and you ripped your hands away from his, planting your palms on either side of his face and forcing him to look deep into your eyes.

“I want to return here, Shouta, to you. Look into my soul and tell me I’m lying to you.” His dark onyx stared into you, and you stared back. He would know your sincerity, whether he wanted to or not. He had to know how much you truly cared, how far you’d fallen since that day in the meadow when he scooped you up into his golden chariot. You had to make him know. He didn’t protest when you began to pull him closer, leaning in until your lips ghosted over each other.

You’d never been this close before. He never advanced on you, never made you uncomfortable, never forced anything on you. He refused to force even the smallest things on you, like placing a hand on your waist or your shoulder, always asking permission and making sure you were okay first and foremost. Maybe it was just because of how gentle he is with you, or the fact that he’s the sweetest deity you’d met. Maybe it was the work of Eros. But you were no doubt in love with Shouta.

When your lips connected it was like a wave of heat crawled over your body, a spark igniting flame that rolled through your veins. You fit perfectly together, molding to each other in a sweet, passionate kiss. His own hands found purchase on your waist and neck, gentle caresses holding you close. Finally pulling away, you were both breathless, sucking in air through shuddered breaths and adrenaline. His voice came through heavy and thick with swirling emotions. “There is a way to keep you here, but will you wait and think about the decision before it is made?”

You knew what he was doing. He was preparing himself for what, in his mind, is an inevitable rejection from you. You also understood that he was taking you greatly into consideration, thinking about you and your happiness first. And that’s why you knew you loved him. Because you cared about him before yourself. Loving each other more than yourselves was something you shared. “Tell me now, my King, and I promise I’ll think about it.”

He sighed, but you couldn’t tell if it was from relief, sadness, or stress. Regardless, he explained to you the magic of the Underworld, and that if you were to eat a pomegranate seed from the realm you’d be compelled to return, whether you wanted to or not. You gave a nod and leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. “Thank you, Shouta. I will think about it. And you’ll know my answer when it comes time for me to return to Olympus.” He nodded, clearly grateful that you’d heed his words. However you fully intended to eat a seed when asked to return to Olympus. You had already made up your mind, and nothing could change it.

____

Waking up every day to see your face was a blessing for the god of death. He loved that you’d become comfortable with him, that you curled into his side while you slept. He adored your half-lidded, sleepy eyes when you first woke up in the morning. He adored your mussed hair before you combed it out and pulled it into a loose braid down your shoulder. Everything you did made him adore you even more, everything about you was the most beautiful thing to him. 

He loved all of you, all that you did and said, every little detail of your existence. And he made sure you knew, whispering sweet nothings as he held you in bed, praising your beauty while he bathed with you. Every morning he watched your gorgeous eyes flutter open and made known his gratitude for being able to hold you so close. You never said much yourself, but he’d never have it any different. Your movements were enough for him. He lived for the little gestures and physical touches. The way you’d cling to him while you were out, how you’d hug him close at night. How you’d lean into his chest while you bathed together, or run your fingers through his hair when you relax in bed.

But he hated what you did to him, when you’d get close and squish your body up against him, when he felt your soft skin under his rough palms. He hated the feelings being with you unlocked, the filthiest parts of his mind coming to light. He wanted to ruin you in the best way, to make you his forever. He wants to worship every inch of you, and watch as you unravel beneath him. Late at night while you were fast asleep he’d gaze at your body, eating up every bit of exposed skin and letting his imagination run rampant. Tears falling down your face from pure overwhelming pleasure, sweet sounds pouring from your kiss-swollen lips, legs quivering and fingers clawing at the bed beneath you.

Tonight was no different as his eyes raked over your slumbering form. He could feel himself hardening just at the sight of you, and it drove him insane. He was slightly disappointed in himself for allowing something like lust to affect him so heavily. But it did, and he had to take care of it.

____

You were only half awake when you heard a soft curse and felt Shouta shift in bed behind you. When you rolled over to curl into him, you confirmed he wasn’t there and it woke you up rather quickly. Still a tiny bit groggy, you got up and went to search for him through the temple. Really, there weren’t very many places to search. It wasn’t long before you ended up outside the bathing room, but something stopped you before you stepped through the curtained entryway. 

You could hear heaved breaths and soft curses from inside, the light slosh of water muffling a lot of the sounds. The sounds which were coming from none other than Shouta. You slowly pulled the curtain back, just barely, and peeked in. The sight before you made your thighs squeeze together and heat build in your stomach. The god was leaning on the edge of the small pool, head thrown back and his lower half below the water. It wasn’t hard to figure out what he was doing, with his hand submerged and the muscles in his arm flexing and pumping slowly.

You’d be lying if you denied how much you wanted him. You craved him in the worst way, wanted to touch his bare skin and feel the muscles in his back tense under your fingers. You wanted to see him lose himself and ravage you, to watch as he let his more primal instincts take over. The only problem you saw was how you would approach the subject, especially when your lustful feelings were becoming very hard to ignore. But now, you had just found the perfect opportunity.

Shouta’s back was mostly turned toward the curtains, so it wasn’t hard for you to slip into the room unnoticed. Silently, you padded up behind him and knelt. He was still pumping himself below the water, whispering filthy words and your name under heavy breaths. You reached out and grabbed his shoulders, making him jump, but you quickly shushed him. “It’s me, my King.” He froze, his entire body tensing and his shoulders rising with shuddered breaths. 

“I-I’m sorry, my love...I-” You released your grasp and leaned over to look in his eyes, silencing him. “No, Shouta. Don’t be sorry. We may be deities but we are afflicted with emotion, same as any mortal.” Leaning down, you kissed and nipped below his jaw. “Come to bed, and we can help each other with those emotions.” He turned his head to you, brows slightly furrowed and concern laced in his voice. “You don’t have to help me, sweet girl. You shouldn’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, a small smirk tugging at your lips. “Did I not just say we’d help each other?” Surprise was evident on his face as he gazed up at you from the water. You leaned close to his face, lips just grazing each other, and stared deep into his eyes. “If I didn’t want to do it, I wouldn’t have offered.” Just as he pressed forward, you leaned back and stood, leaving the god shocked and wanting more. “I’ll be in bed, if you feel like joining me.” You swayed your hips a little more as you disappeared behind the curtains, a small tease to lure the god.

Back in the room, you stood at the foot of the bed, back to the door as you waited for him. You made it abundantly clear what you wanted, that you knew what you were asking for, and knew what you were offering. The door creaked open, and you could feel the heat of Shouta’s gaze on your body. He was on you nearly instantly as the door shut, his hands roaming your body and lips ghosting over your neck. His voice was raspy, heavy with lust and want. “Are you sure you want this?” You pushed your hips back into him, feeling his hardness through your thin robes. 

A sighed ‘yes’ passed your lips, and it was all the confirmation the god needed. His hands came up and pulled the fabric off your body, the cloth wrapped around his waist following soon after. His thick fingers pinched and pulled at your body, relentless in their attack on your skin. His touch floated over you, sending electricity buzzing through you. Lust built like a wildfire, spreading and burning your blood as it coursed through your veins. You leaned back into him, pressing yourself against his strong body as he peered down yours and left kisses on your neck and shoulder. Your body felt impossibly hot, arousal pulling you deep into him as he traced your body with feather light touches.

Suddenly he grasped your hips tight, turning you and pushing you backward onto the bed. He stayed standing, and you both took a good look at each other for the first time. Yes, you often bathed together, but your back was always to his chest, and the lower halves of your body were submerged. He never touched you anywhere other than your back, shoulders and hair when he helped to wash you, and you never turned to look at him. But now, as you looked up, there was no doubt in your mind you were looking at a god. 

He looked as if he was sculpted from marble, ivory skin pulled taut over chiseled muscles. Scars littered his body, discolored lines carved into his skin, each holding a story. Your breath hitched in your throat when your eyes landed on his cock. You may be a goddess, but if you weren’t prepared, he would undoubtedly destroy you. You felt more than heard the deep chuckle he let out, a devilish smirk set on his lips. “Don’t worry, little one. I won’t break you,” you lifted your eyes to meet his, “Yet.” You swallowed thickly, anticipation building in your chest. He climbs up and slots himself between your legs, leaning over you as his hair hangs in curtains around your face, drawing your eyes to the man above you.

“My love, you can tell me to stop any time.” The look in his eyes told you just how serious he was. He would do anything you asked of him without a second thought. You gave a nod and looped your hands around the back of his neck, pulling him down into a deep, sweet kiss. Your bodies pressed into each other, your skin burning against his as every cell in your body longed for his touch. Both your tongues poked out and melded together, tasting and savoring each other while his hands roamed down your body and your fingers massaged into his scalp. 

When he finally pulled away you both panted, hot breaths fanning over each other’s face. One of his hands trailed down and gripped your thigh, fingers digging into your plush flesh as he ventured toward your heated core. He gathered the slick at the apex of your thighs, groaning at both how wet you had become and the little breathy moan you let out as he pushed a thick digit into your sopping folds. Soon he was adding a second, the burn quickly subsiding into pleasure as his thick fingers curled and scissored, stretching you and preparing you for his cock.

The pleasure was intense for you, never having experienced it like this before. In the 200 years of your life you’d never lain with a man, but there was nothing your mother could do to stop you from learning to pleasure yourself. She knew nothing about what you did alone in your chambers. But this was something different entirely. Shouta’s fingers reached deeper than yours could, stroking every sensitive spot inside you that you’d never known existed. Your legs shook as that familiar coil built in your abdomen, though much faster than you could build it on your own. 

Shouta cooed praises into your ear, that knot beginning to fray the more he focused his attention on that gummy spot on your walls. His thumb slick with your juices reached up and rubbed at the little nub between your folds, and it only took a few tight circles for you to fall apart on his fingers with a moan. He drew out your orgasm, curling his fingers into you until you were choking on sobs from the overwhelming pleasure, your thighs trying to clamp down on his hand and nails digging crescent shapes into his wrist.

You whimpered as he pulled his fingers from you, moaning softly as you watched him suck your essence off his fingers with a lewd groan. He leaned down and pulled you into another heated kiss, and you could taste yourself on his lips. “Are you ready for me?” His breaths are heavy, hands gripping your hips tight, jaw set as he tries to compose himself. “Yes, my love. I’m ready.” He kisses you softly as he pushes into you slowly, swallowing up the little mewls dripping from your lips. One hand is rubbing at your swollen clit and the other toying with your breast to distract you from the stretch of his thick cock.

Your own hands are dragging down his back, trying to ground yourself as the god sank all the way into your cunt, stilling as he bottoms out completely. You’re both taking heaving breaths as your walls flutter, adjusting to him. Your legs are quaking and you mewl softly, tugging at his hair. “Please, Shouta, move.” He pulls his hips back and slowly thrusts back in, dragging the head of his cock along your sensitive walls deliciously. He starts a slow pace, languidly driving himself deep inside you. He leans down and kisses at your neck, the angle change making you throw your head back and moan. 

You purposely clench down on him, and he bucks his hips up into you with a curse under his breath. His hands come back to your hips, fingers digging harshly into your skin as he growls. He pulls back until only the tip of his cock sits inside you, and snaps his hips forward, punching all the air from your lungs as he sets a brutal pace. Shouta doesn’t react as your nails claw furiously at his back, only yanks your body into him as the tip of his cock kisses your cervix with every thrust. Deep guttural growls and moans pour from his lips, the sound of wet skin slapping skin and the sweet, salty smell of sex permeating the room.

The little air you’re able to suck in is expelled in whines and sobs, fat tears streaming from your eyes as they roll back in your skull. Your mind was so far gone with pleasure, your entire body shivering and shaking as calloused fingers rub your clit, sending you head first into a powerful orgasm. His growls deepened as he kept himself from his own release, pounding into you with reckless abandon. His voice was raspy and breathless and one hand gripped your chin, tilting you to face him as he slowed his rutting. “That’s right, little goddess. Cry for your god, for your King. Tell me, who do you belong to?”

You took a moment to breathe through a sob, barely able to think with the overwhelming sensations. He was still thrusting his hips into you, slowly, dragging along your fluttering walls and gripping your face ever so slightly harder. “Answer me, sweet girl. Who do you belong to?” He punctuated the question with a sharp snap of his hips, stealing the air from your lungs before you gasped it back in. “You! I belong to you Shouta!” He’s pounding into you again, his hand moving to squeeze gently at your neck as he drives his cock deep into you over and over again.

“Yes, you’re mine. All mine forever. My goddess, my Queen, my wife, my love.” He lets out a loud moan, rubbing at your clit furiously. “Cum for me again, pretty thing. Cum.” Your entire body thrashes with the intensity of your orgasm, electricity jolting through you, your body answering Shouta’s command as if it knew you belonged to him, just as you both had said. You scream a moan as clear liquid splashes over his thighs and abdomen, and he fucks into you relentlessly as he chases his own release. With a long, low growl he shoves himself up against your cervix, pumping his thick seed into you and painting your insides white.

He keeps his cock buried deep inside you as he wraps his arms under your waist and rolls over onto his back, holding you tight to him as you lay boneless on his chest. You’re panting heavily, a sheen of sweat covering the both of you as he rubs his palms up and down your back. Fatigue tugs at your mind, your eyelids drooping as your breathing finally evens out. You feel Shouta shift your body with ease, pulling himself out of you with a hiss and lifting you into his arms. 

You nuzzle into his chest as he walks, and soon you’re in the warm water of the bath, sitting on the submerged ledge between Shouta’s legs and leaning back into his chest. You can feel the water running down your arms as his hands cup and pour it over you. His rough hands are gentle as they run over your body, slowly cleaning you and massaging your aching muscles. You’re drifting in and out of consciousness, barely registering being carried once again before being laid down on the bed again. Shouta’s strong arms wrap around you, pulling you into his chest as you relax in his hold.

Barely conscious, you kiss his chest lightly, getting a kiss to your temple from the god. His deep voice is tired, but happy, gravelly from earlier. “I love you, (y/n).” You echo the sentiment, barely a whisper, and somewhere in your mind you wonder if he heard you. The question vanishes as quick as it had appeared, and you drift off to sleep.

*

***About 2 months later***

*

It was early, much earlier than you’d normally wake up, when someone showed up at the temple. You were in bed with Shouta, and he awoke at the presence of other gods. Yes, gods. The both of you went to see who it was that garnered his attention. Hizashi - Hermes - stood at the top of the staircase with another god and a goddess. You recognized both. The god with spiky blonde hair and eyes red as blood was Ares, god of war. The goddess had hair black as Shouta’s pulled high on the back of her head. The front of her red dress draped low, down to her navel, her shapely figure complimented by the soft fabric that was no doubt woven from silk. Aphrodite.

The three stood at attention as the two of you walked out, the three eyeing you with very different looks on their faces. Hizashi regarded you fondly, like old friends reconnecting. Ares was angry and guarded, as always, and Aphrodite had a glint in her eyes that you couldn’t quite discern. The ravenette turned to the god of war and nodded, and Ares visibly relaxed, no longer ready for a fight. Hizashi strolled over and leaned on Shouta’s shoulder again, a wide grin plastered on his face. “Hiya, Sho.” The blonde nodded his head at you. “(y/n).” 

You smiled back at him, greeting him kindly before turning to the other two and giving a short bow. Aphrodite returned it, but Ares almost sneered. You weren’t really surprised.  “Why are you three here, Hizashi?” Shouta asked sternly. The blonde seemed to deflate slightly as he walked back over to the other two and stood with them before speaking. “Well, for one, Demeter knows now where her favorite daughter has disappeared to. Imagine her fury when she found out her own brother had stolen her away.” Shouta groaned, then huffed. “She’ll live.”

The blonde chuckled. “Probably. Zeus has ordered that Persephone, formerly known as Kore and given the name (y/n) by Demeter, return to Olympus indefinitely.” Your eyes widened in shock and time seemed to freeze at his words. Your heartbeat drowned out any other noise, panic swirling in your head. Indefinitely? That meant until your mother decided you could come back to Hades, and you knew the answer would be never. You couldn’t live in a world where you couldn’t come back to Shouta. 

The god could sense your distress and pulled you into a tight embrace, still discussing the arrangement with the three deities. But your mind was elsewhere. You knew what had to be done if you ever wanted to return. Heart racing, you leaned back and grabbed Shouta’s face, pulling him to meet your eyes. “Let me eat a seed, Shouta. Please.” His eyebrows knit together and his body tensed as he shook his head. “I can’t let you do that, my love. I can come visit you in Olympus instead.” But you wouldn’t have any of it. 

____

He watched as your eyes filled with tears, your voice quivering and breaking as you spoke. “No! My mother won’t let you see me! And even if I begged her she won’t allow me to return here. She won’t let me come back to you.” Fat tears rolled down your cheeks, sobs shaking your shoulders as you tried to hold them back. He hated seeing you so sad, so heartbroken. But he knew what would happen if you ate a pomegranate seed. To be fair, so did you, and you were willing to do it if it meant you could see him again.

You were willing to be compelled to return, compelled so strongly that if you didn’t return your body would fall ill and weak, pain seeping into your very bones. You would need to return here, to the Underworld, or you would suffer. You would need this realm to survive. He had explained it to you when you asked, and you’d promised you would think about it. Still, he hated the very idea of you being in pain. His mind reeled with the possibilities, and as much as he hated it, you both knew how this was going to go.

____

Staring up at the god, you waited as he lost himself in thought. You didn’t want to force his hand, but if you needed to, you would. Three other deities were present, and could probably hold him long enough for you to pull a red fruit from the earth and swallow down a seed. A deep sigh came from the raven haired god, and a large hand cupped your face as he pulled you into a sweet kiss. He leaned his forehead against yours and sighed softly before speaking, his voice low. “I won’t force you, my love. It is your choice to make.”

You let out a shaky, relieved breath and pulled away from him. Extending your arm out to your side, palm down to the earth, you willed the plant to grow. In mere seconds, a tree sprouted from the dirt, a single large pomegranate glowing with the magic of the Underworld hanging just at your face. You plucked it smoothly, then let the tree shrink back down and vanish. You cracked the fruit open and held a single seed in your palm, looking to Shouta as you took a deep breath. He gave a final nod, and you popped the seed into your mouth, swallowing it whole.

You felt the magic course through you, a piece of the Underworld itself flowing through your body and making itself a part of you. Turning to the three, you spoke, radiating the confidence of a Queen and a goddess. “You three have witnessed me consume a pomegranate seed from the Underworld of my own volition. You know that Hades has not forced anything upon me.” The three nod, acknowledging the truth in your statement. You addressed the goddess of love. “Aphrodite, I believe you can confirm that I love Shouta just as he loves me, and that it was not influenced by you or Eros but developed naturally.” 

She gave a sweet smile, nodding in confirmation. Turning back to Shouta, you wrapped your arms around him and he held you tight in a final embrace before you left for Olympus with Hermes, Ares, and Aphrodite. You peered up into his dark obsidian eyes. “I’ll be back, I promise.” He smiled down at you, adoration and love the only emotions in his gaze beside a tinge of despair. “I know you will, my Queen. If you are ever in danger, or if you long for me too much to bear, tap the ground and I will come to you.” 

You held him close, then separated and walked to Hermes, who picked you up gently and held you to his chest. Aphrodite and Ares climbed into their own chariot and set off before you. With a final glance to the god of death, you called out to him. 

“I love you Shouta.”

“I love you too (y/n).”

He and the rest of the Underworld vanished in a blur, replaced by the grand palace grounds of Olympus.

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

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