#hardly proofread whoops

[scvrgrl]

rearrange my world | portgas d. ace x fem!reader

based on this ask!

status: ongoing…

cw/tags: [MARINEFORD SPOILERS!!] fem!/afab!reader, reader is a member of the whitebeard pirates (and whitebeard's biological daughter teehee), slow burn & angst, enemies to friends to lovers, the enemies part is a little one sided, includes sfw and nsfw/smut content, multi part/chapter!!

part one | rmw m.list

“whatcha thinkin’ about?”

you’d been staring intently at the night sky, lost in thought as your dilated pupils traced the constellation of stars above. the familiar voice of your crew mate startled you, its low pitch mingling with the sound of crashing waves against the ship’s hull. your moment of peace away from the restless Whitebeard pirates had been interrupted by your father’s new recruit — Ace. it had only been a few weeks since the man was welcomed aboard, his vicious attacks against Whitebeard coming to a slow halt as he began to adjust to life on the moby dick.

his annoyingly chipper attitude caused your heart to race, irritation pooling behind your temples. you flashed a brief side eye, glaring at the young man as he approached you. the tension between the two of you had been thick, constantly butting heads every chance you got.

your first impression of Ace had been…interesting, to say the least. Ace’s arrival had not been long after your own, the unsteady waves beneath the ship entirely unfamiliar to you, causing your stomach to toss and turn at any given moment. this phase of seasickness persisted for days, completely bedridden with periodic trips to the ladies room. one night in particular, your nausea ripped you from your sleep, stomach bile and anxiety rising in your throat as you stumbled your way to the bathroom. your incessant pleas of ‘please don’t throw up’ was interrupted as a loud creak echoed through the halls, sounds of old wood groaning underneath an unfamiliar weight. for the first time in days your nausea stopped, adrenaline rushing through your body as you slowly make eye contact with the shadowy figure — a younger man cursing himself under his breath.

“who the hell are you?” you questioned, voice curious and stern to hide the shakiness of your anxiety. the figure met your eyes, how own filled with a distant darkness that you couldn’t quite set your finger on. was it anger? or something more sinister? that you couldn’t know, yet your stomach twisted all the same.

however, the man brushed you off, scoffing and continuing his journey, as if your interaction had been an inconvenience for him. your brows furrowed with disgust, partially at his attitude but also at the sting of bile returning to your mouth. you decided that if he truly was a threat, someone on watch would’ve taken care of the bastard before he set foot on this ship. although, you had failed to realize that the mystery man wielded a small weapon to carry out his mission — killing your father in his sleep.

when you discovered the truth the next day, you were pissed, lashing out at anyone who dared to breathe in the wrong direction. it look a while to admit to yourself that your anger was never actually directed toward Ace, but towards yourself. you had the perfect opportunity to apprehend the young man, saving your ill father the trouble and stress. if only i hadn’t been so damn selfish. 

regardless, Ace had turned into the perfect punching bag.

“how peaceful my night was until you came and interrupted it,” you grumbled, refusing to make eye contact. “what do you want, Ace?”

the man scooted up next to you, resting his elbows on the ledge as he analyzed the look on your face. he wore a shit-eating grin, knowing that invading your personal space like he did would set you off, “what, a guy can’t get to know his crew mate? it’s been a few weeks and all we do is argue.”

“and why do you think that is?” you scoffed, finally returning his gaze — only yours held frustration. “all you do is bug me and try to kill my dad, both of which make us not cool.”

“oh cmon, [y/n] it was only a few times!” he protested, his own sarcasm causing a small laugh to escape from his lips. his amusement from this meaningless conversation only made you more irritated, shoving his arm away as you stormed off. what a fucking weirdo.

…

growing up, you and Whitebeard shared a promise — once you turned eighteen, he would allow you to sail along with his crew. and once that clock struck twelve on your eighteenth birthday, you sprinted to the rendezvous point — a small dock located on the coast of your hometown. the scent of the salt from the ocean swirled in your head as you inhaled deeply, allowing yourself to grow accustomed to the  smell of your new home. your father welcomed you with open arms once he arrived, his monstrous biceps cradling you with a nostalgic affection that conveyed his pride in finally welcoming you home. although you’d never admit this directly to his face, it had been hard watching your father build a family on sea, while you — his actual family — watched from the rocky sidelines.

on board the ship, you were not regarded as the captain’s daughter, but as a respected equal. to truly be successful, you had to earn your position just like everyone else — training and fighting hard to prove yourself worthy enough to be a Whitebeard pirate. by the time you arrived, everyone had earned their place on board, whether that be represented by their honorary titles or through their incredible determination. this knowledge did not deter you, but made you even more eager to succeed. the access to such valuable fighters at all times provided you with the tools to improve yourself — constantly asking for advice on techniques.

Whitebeard had been extremely adamant about your position — making it abundantly clear that you were not going to receive any special treatment, blood be damned. you had come to terms with this rule, happily accepting it as it was. sure, having your father as an emperor of the sea had its perks, but you wanted to create a name for yourself. there were many young pirates rising in popularity, all sharing a similar dream — world domination through the influence of power and honorific titles. you, on the other hand, wanted to take advantage of the world’s ambiguity. the freedom of the vast oceans enticed you, drawing you in from a very young age. you wanted to see what was out there — exploring cultures other than your own and making friends all over the world. wealth and fame never came to mind when you decided to set out to sea, your father having enough of that to support the two of you for generations. all you wanted was to enjoy life’s most simple pleasures.

the other rule had been a bit more…embarrassing. 

“…and one more thing before i cut all of you loose,” Whitebeard announced, his voice quick to silence the chatter and scraping of boots against the wooden panels as people rose to their feet. he had called a quick meeting during the banquet on the night of your arrival, a celebration for the new recruit. you could tell by the way his words slurred that he was extremely drunk, but nonetheless very serious. “i want to make it very clear that [y/n] is to be completely off limits. from this day forward, you are all prohibited from any sexual or intimate relations with my daughter—“ 

“DAD!” you interjected, shooting a wild glare at your father as your cheeks burned into a hot crimson, “seriously?? no offense but like you’re all like…really old.”

the room erupted into exotic laughter, hoots and whoops booming from every direction as the drunken pirates clutched their sides. one pirate decided to speak up, planting one of his legs on the floor as he adjusted himself atop the large wooden barrel he had made his post on for the night. his fiery orange hair and red rimmed glasses caught your attention immediately — Marco, you had heard your father address him once before, “oh c’mon Pops, she’s like five years old! if anything she’s like our little sister!” 

your face recoiled at his words, arms thrown up in exasperation, your drink spilling over your wrist in the process,  “hey! i didn’t wait eighteen years to board this ship just to be treated like a child!” 

the huffing of your cheeks, however, completely contradicted your words — looking more like a toddler throwing a fit than a brave young woman with every passing second. 

Whitebeard raised a calloused hand, his open palm signaling for the senseless shouting and bickering to halt, "look, i've spent nearly my entire life on the sea, traveling with enough grown men to know how truly disgusting pirates can be. if i ever find out that any of you have acted in such a way toward my daughter, i'll have you killed where you stand. am i clear?"

despite their dismissive laughter, the rest of the Whitebeard pirates knew better than to go against his word, keeping this rule at the back of their minds.

...

it was no secret that the daughter of their beloved captain had grown to become a beautiful, fiery young woman. your figure had filled out nicely over the years — clothes that usually draped over your small frame now fit snugly around the curves of your body, chest and hips filling in your favor.

your attitude, on the other hand, could use some work. you were never afraid to speak your mind, making it abundantly clear when you disagreed with a snide comment or opposing idea someone presented to the crew. “letting things slide” had never been your forte — you were upfront and honest, a quality that many successful pirates possessed. 

you'd quickly learn such a quality often got you into trouble, however, especially when you had met someone just as fervid as you. Ace ignited a heat within you that you weren't even sure a human could produce, unbridled rage and frustration pounding against your temples every time you clashed. the stubbornness of two hot-headed teenagers was enough to physically rock the large ship, shouts and screams unbearably disruptive.

one thing Whitebeard couldn't stand was a brat. memories of him reprimanding you for crying and whining without a good cause plagued the first few years of your life.

"if you're gonna be stupid, you've gotta be tough," was his famous line. your stubbornness prevented you from recognizing the valuable lesson at hand, often referring to him as "a big mean pirate" rather than his honored title of "daddy". he never took your words to heart, however, laughing in your face while your big eyes lined with hot tears. "you'll thank me later, kid"

it turns out that your uncooperative attitude was a phase you failed to outgrow, as your father had called both you and Ace into his quarters for a talk. the two of you sat uncomfortably close to one another on Whitebeard's plush bed, elbows grazing from time to time. these sudden touches caused you to flinch, exchanging awkward glances with the man next to you as your cheeks grew hot.

"do you mind?" you griped, finally pulling your arm away after the fourth brushing of skin.

Ace's gaze remained neutral, a playful blush dancing across his freckled cheeks, "what, you scared you might like it?"

you scoffed, rolling your eyes as you dramatically scooted to the edge of the bed. Ace's gaze burned the back of your neck as he watched you, chuckling to himself at your theatrics.

your father's giant figure loomed ominously over the two of you, watching the interaction unfold as his patience grew increasingly thin. Ace returned his gaze as he made himself comfortable, arms crossed beneath his shaggy black hair. this adjustment caused his shirt to flap open — not that he had it buttoned up anyway — the pastel yellow fabric exposing the toned muscle of his abdomen.

"what's on your mind, Pops?" Ace said, his tone relaxed and oblivious to the severity of these conversations. Whitebeard's gaze flickered to his, yellow pupils illuminated in the dim candle light of the bedroom. Ace's smile began to fade as he saw that Whitebeard was completely unamused, sitting himself up once again out of respect.

"whatever shit you brats have going on needs to stop," Whitebeard began, his raspy voice cutting through the silence like a blade. "you might not realize it, but everyone is sick of hearing you two bitch at each other every time you're together. i've worked hard to build this ship into a family that loves and relies on each other, and i'm not gonna sit here and let you two destroy that. do i make myself clear?"

guilt crept up your throat as your cheeks flushed in embarrassment. it had only been a few weeks and you're already affirming your suspicions that you were unworthy you were to be here, that your existence was merely an act of nepotism. you nodded at your fathers words, biting the insides of your cheeks to stop the slew of protests that rested on the tip of your tongue.

not only had you hated the fact that you disappointed your father, but that you caused him unnecessary trouble. it was clear that his health was declining with every passing week, Marco making more frequent trips to his quarters the last few days. the thought of losing your father terrified you, especially since you two finally got to spend time together in one space after a lifetime apart. your eyes often drifted over the oxygen tube that rested just beneath his nose, a crushing reality that your father really was just human after all. that he would live and die like everyone else. this ache in your chest caused your thoughts to drift to dark places — how you would react to the news that he was in fact not improving, how divided life on the ship would be, how you would react when he actually kicked the bucket…

…

unlike you, Ace enjoyed your bickering, often encouraging it by baiting you with sly comments in hopes that you’d latch onto it. it reminded him of simpler times in the east blue, where he and his brothers would run wild and free in the jungle, inventing new ways of getting into trouble no other child would have ever imagined. he was used to raised voices and insults hurled at him — life as the pirate king’s son not as glamorous as you’d think.

your “screaming matches,” as some would describe, always ended with Ace having a smug grin plastered across his face, never actually hurt or affected by your venomous words. in fact, he enjoyed watching you get worked up — the way you would get close enough to his face that he could smell the light perfume you wore, a flash of pearly teeth so close to his mouth that all he had to do was lean in and—

“…do i make myself clear?”

oh, right.

“yes, Pops. sorry again for all the trouble, i promise it won’t happen again,” Ace assured with a lighthearted smile, which told you that his words didn’t hold much weight. such a performance would’ve earned a rise out of you, however, you were so lost in your own disparaging thoughts you had failed to notice.

when there was no reaction, Ace turned his head, gaze lingering over yours as he studied your expression. it was…empty, as if in that moment you were sucked into another realm where you could feel nothing at all. he had never seen this side of you before, never knew that in a blink of an eye you could be silent and distant. the feeling that brewed in his stomach was akin to curiosity, but also a deep sense of sadness. your sudden disassociation was an art he knew all too well, becoming a master in masking his own emotions. Ace’s heart clenched unexpectedly at the sight, releasing a deep sigh to relieve some of the tension building in his chest.

underneath all the teasing, the look of hurt in your face something he never wanted to see. your sorrow encouraged him to try building a better relationship with you. after all, you couldn’t really be that bad, right?

“okay, we’ll do our best,” Ace said, his voice soft as he stood to meet Whitebeard’s gaze. your father gave him a small nod, a gesture that let him know that he really was putting his trust in the two of you.

“hold on, Ace. i still need to speak with you,” Whitebeard started, placing a firm hand on the young man’s bare chest. “[y/n] you may go.”

you snapped out of your trance in an instant, returning to the present as if nothing happened.

“g’night dad,” you said solemnly, feet scurrying out of the room hoping no one caught onto your sudden shift in attitude. Ace’s dark eyes followed you on the way out, watching your shoulders sway back and forth.

Whitebeard’s gaze, on the other hand, never left Ace and watched the way he observed you — a little too closely. he cleared his throat, causing Ace to blink his way out of his thoughts.

“i wanted to speak to you about [y/n]. you’re aware of the rules, yes?”

it took a moment for Ace to realize what exactly he had been talking about, rummaging through the jumbled mess that was his mind.

“ah, the whole ‘don’t-date-my-daughter’ rule,” Ace said, his long fingers bending into air quotes. “i’m quite aware.”

“i mean it, Ace. if i find out that you’re messing around with my daughter on this ship, ill throw you overboard myself.”

Ace’s expression returned to its playful default, eyes mischievous as he huffed a laugh, “don’t worry pops, i won’t fuck your daughter if that’s what you’re so worried about.”

Whitebeard has always been a stoic figure, never letting words or dangerous situations knock him down. that was until Ace planted such a vulgar image in his mind that he had no choice but to react. his shock transformed from bewilderment to an intense anger, amusement never making its way to his face.

“you can go.”

Ace recognized the danger in his expression and swiftly exited the room, hollering a fast “okaysorrygoodnight!” over his shoulder.

it’s finally here!! okay and yes i know i made y'all wait for this a liiiittle longer than anticipated but I promise it will be worth it. i had two midterms and a paper all within a two week span so i was stressing real bad but all is well again!

i also closed my requests (temporarily) so i can answer them as efficiently as possible so please bare with me!

i hope you guys enjoy this small series :))

[downbad4sylus]

“You kept your name”

(part 2 to “I killed you”)

synopsis: You and Sylus take a ride to an eerily familiar field of flowers on the outskirts of the N109 Zone.

content: sylus x afab!reader; reader is MC; use of Y/N; soft!sylus; pre-relationshipish; cameo from the twins; smol angst; tooth-rotting fluff; kissing; possibly canon divergence (i make shit up about present-day sylus since we don’t have all the answers yet); mostly proofread

word count: ~3k (whoops)

tags: @evilldentists; @midiplier; @chillycheem

a/n: incredibly grateful for all the love for the first part so hope you all enjoy the second part just as much!!! anyone interested in a nsfw special part 3 >>;;;)))))

You had a much easier time falling back to sleep than you thought you would. Perhaps the exhaustion of reliving your past coupled with a weight you didn’t even realize you’d had finally being lifted off your shoulders.

When morning came, you woke again nestled in the same position you’d fallen asleep in, head resting on Sylus’s chest listening to his unusually rapid heartbeat. Though now, you supposed, it wasn’t quite so unusual.

You lifted your head and found Sylus still asleep. It was rare for you to wake before him, and you always took the time to admire his sleeping face. Carefully, you ghosted a finger toward his face, intent on lightly tracing the sharp line of his jaw, the slope of his nose, the shape of his lips—

Sylus’s hand snatched your wrist. “Having fun?” he drawled, not even opening his eyes.

“You ruined my fun before I could start,” you whined, sticking out your bottom lip.

Sylus chuckled and laced his fingers through yours. “Surely you’ll forgive me, won’t you?”

“I guess,” you muttered.

“How generous.”

You propped yourself up by your forearm as Sylus finally opened his eyes to meet your own. “Are you sure it’s okay we go? I know you don’t like being out during the day.”

He brought your linked hands to his face, twisting them to brush his lips along the back of yours. “I’ll be fine,” he assured. “It’s supposed to be overcast today anyway.”

“Okay, as long as you’re sure.”

“I always am with you, sweetie.”

Your heart squeezed. Such an innocuous statement yet it held profound meaning.

Sylus sucked in a deep breath. “Let me at least make us breakfast first before we go.”

You perked up. You loved it when Sylus cooked for you. “Do I get to sit at the island and watch?”

He chuckled. “Of course.”

Hardly able to contain your excitement, you leapt out of bed, dragging Sylus along with you out of the bedroom, into the hallway, all the way to the kitchen. You didn’t even give the man a chance to put on pants.

Rather than sitting at the island, as it was much too far away from him, you perched on the counter beside the stove, watching Sylus expertly cook two perfect omelets. Once they were plated, you both sat at the island, so close your thighs were touching. Before you could pick up your fork and knife, however, Sylus had already cut a piece of his omelet and was holding it in front of your face.

“Open,” he commanded.

You obeyed, cheeks heating as you opened your mouth and he placed the bite on your tongue.

“Now close,” he purred, sliding the fork from your lips, eyes trained intently on yours. “Good kitten.”

Trying very hard not to choke, you chewed the savory bite, moaning at how good it was. Sylus’s lips twitched in smug satisfaction.

“It’s so good, Sy,” you said after you swallowed, already digging in to the omelet on your own plate.

“Only the best for you, sweetie,” Sylus quipped, taking a bite himself.

Sylus insisted on feeding you once he scarfed down his omelet faster than you could keep track of. You protested at first, saying you weren’t a child, but when he pinched your chin and drawled in that deep, silky voice of his “You’ll be a good kitten for me, won’t you?” you folded instantly.

Cheeks as red as his eyes, you let Sylus start feeding you the remaining half of your omelet, losing yourself in the intimate moment—

“Boss? Miss Hunter?”

Your head whipped to the side before you could take the bite Sylus offered, eyes going wide when you found Luke and Kieran standing at the edge of the kitchen. Even with their masks on, you knew they had shit-eating grins on their faces.

“Uh, hi…guys,” you muttered, swiveling on the stool, giving them your back, too embarrassed to face them.

“Were we interrupting something?” Kieran asked.

Sylus placed a hand on your thigh, thumb rubbing soothingly. “Just breakfast,” he stated simply.

“Why are you having breakfast, Boss?” Luke asked. “You aren’t usually awake at this time.”

“Y/N and I are going on an impromptu trip today, which means you’re both in charge while I’m gone.” His voice took a bit of a sharp edge as he said, “I don’t want to be bothered.”

“Of course, Boss,” said Luke.

“You can count on us!” finished Kieran.

Sylus hummed in approval, squeezing your thigh. You looked over at him and was surprised that he was holding another piece of omelet for you to eat.

“Sylus,” you hissed, eyes darting over to where the twins now stood across the island. Did this man have no shame?

He tilted his head. “What’s the matter, sweetie?” he asked teasingly. “Not hungry anymore?”

“Can we have the rest of your omelet, Miss Hunter?”

You turned again, now looking at the twins. The thought of having them witness Sylus feeding you was enough to make you lose what was left of your appetite.

You snatched the fork from Sylus’s hand, threw it onto the plate, and pushed it toward the twins. “Knock yourselves out.”

They cheered their thanks and immediately dug in, lifting their masks only enough so they could shovel fork fulls into their mouths. You ignored Sylus’s frown and instead grabbed his wrist, leading him from the kitchen back to his bedroom.

Around a half hour later, you and Sylus had changed (the man had a closet full of clothes just for you, obviously) and were making your way to his bike.

Staring at the sleek motorcycle, you wondered idly if Sylus preferred riding to driving because it reminded him of flying. You’d ridden on the back of his bike enough times to know he frequently ignored speed limits and you’d even caught him a few times without a helmet. You weren’t sure if the half-crazed lecture you’d given him about not caring about his safety actually got through to him, but Sylus made sure to have a helmet on every time you saw him after that. Not that it mattered, only you could kill him anyway, but that didn’t mean you wanted him to get injured.

Knuckles rapping softly on your forehead tore you from your thoughts.

“Did I lose you, kitten?” Sylus asked with a smirk.

“Sorry,” you breathed. “I was just…thinking.”

His head tilted. “About what?”

You gnawed at your bottom lip, unsure whether to share said thoughts with him.

Sylus pressed his thumb against your lip, tugging it free from your teeth. “Don’t bite your lip,” he murmured. “Tell me what you were thinking.”

“I was wondering if you like riding your bike because it reminds you of flying.”

His brows twitched closer, his lips teasing a frown. You instantly regretted what you’d confessed, the last thing you wanted was to upset him.

“I’m not upset,” he said, easily reading your facial expression. “Just a bit caught off guard.”

“Why?”

“Because you only just remembered our past and you’ve already figured me out.”

You thought back to the puzzle pieces that had been put in place after you’d woken from your memories, how easy it was to understand the Sylus before you now and how his actions reflected the Sylus you’d known then.

You smiled. “I feel like it’s less impressive when you’ve had an advantage over me this whole time,” you protested jokingly. “You figured me out pretty quick, too.”

Sylus chuckled. “I guess that makes us even then.” He reached behind him, grabbing the helmet he’d gotten for you (yes, it had cat ears), and hooked a finger under your chin, tilting it up. “You ready?”

“Yes,” you answered firmly.

He placed the helmet over your head, buckling the strap beneath your chin, and gave it a soft tap when he was finished. He then put on his own helmet before swinging his long leg over the seat, gesturing for you to join behind him.

Seated on the bike, arms wrapped securely around Sylus’s waist, he took off onto the streets of the N109. Your surroundings blurred as he weaved his way through the zone, heading toward the outskirts.

Closing your eyes, you imagined you were on his back while he flew you through the sky. It was freeing, affording you a newfound appreciation for rides with Sylus. Perhaps now they could be reminiscent of the past for the both of you, not just him.

It didn’t take long before the N109 Zone faded into the background, Sylus now riding down a long stretch of road with open fields on either side. There were no flowers though, so you wondered where, exactly, he was taking you.

Your destination became clear however, when a shock of red greeted you on either side of the road.

Sylus slowed the bike to a halt, kicking down the stand and cutting the engine. As he took off his helmet, you remained still, looking out at the field of red flowers that was just like the one in your shared dream. How was this possible? Was it merely a coincidence that these fields existed in this lifetime too?

Your helmet being unbuckled and lifted off your head broke you from your stupor and you found Sylus standing in front of you, waiting patiently with a hand outstretched. You took it, letting him support you as you climbed off the bike. He laced your fingers together once both your feet were on solid ground, and led you forward, into the flowers.

It was surreal, walking through the field beside Sylus. It felt like two worlds colliding, past and present melding together. It made your heart flutter with excitement knowing that this time would be different. This time you’d be damned if you didn’t get your happy ending.

Sylus stopped abruptly, giving you no warning before plopping onto the ground, dragging you down with him. You squealed as you fell into his lap, giggling as he wrapped his arms around your waist and buried his face in the crook of your neck.

The first time Sylus found this field of flowers, no different from the one outside of Tarus City, he’d nearly been brought to his knees. He wasn’t one to believe in signs but this one felt undeniable, too much of a coincidence to not mean something. It was before you’d officially met, but it gave him an unfounded confidence that once you did, he’d have his beloved again. He’d promised himself then that he wouldn’t come back here unless it was with you, and now, he’d fulfilled that promise.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” you said, threading your fingers through Sylus’s soft hair.

He hummed, the noise vibrating against your skin. He placed a single, chaste kiss on your pulse point before pulling away and meeting your gaze. “Ask your questions,” he said gently.

You pursed your lips as you decided where to start. “Are you still a dragon?”

Sylus huffed, amused. “Well,” he began, sucking in a breath, “yes and no.”

You raised a brow in silent command for him to continue.

“I’m more human than I am dragon now, but not fully either,” he said.

That certainly explained the strange comments he would make every so often.

“Do you still have wings?”

He nodded.

“Horns?”

Another nod.

“Tail?”

“Yes, kitten, all three.”

You looked at his head, thinking if you stared hard enough, his horns would appear. “But…where are they?”

“Hidden away by my Evol,” Sylus answered. “It takes a lot of energy to do so.”

“Is that why the sunlight bothers you? Is it easier to keep them hidden during the night?”

Sylus smirked. “Clever kitten,” he said, all the confirmation you needed. “What else?”

“Can I see them?” you blurted.

His brows rose in surprise. “Not right now.” When you pouted, he added, “Some other time, when we’re in private.”

“Fine,” you relented. You glanced down at where his arms encircled your waist and slid a hand over one of his. “The linkage is my doing.”

“That’s not a question,” Sylus teased.

“I know,” you said. “Just wanted to get it out in the open, I guess.”

“You guess?”

“When did you realize it was my curse?” you asked instead.

“The first time,” he said simply.

You snorted. “Of course you did.” You lifted your head to meet his striking red eyes. “Is there anything you’re bad at?”

Sylus barked a laugh, causing your heart rate to increase. “I’m sure there’s a few, but I haven’t figured out any of them yet.”

“Ugh, your arrogance is immeasurable sometimes.”

But you still love me, was what Sylus wanted to say, but settled on, “What other questions do you have for me?”

A thought occurred to you suddenly and you sat up straighter in his lap, brows drawing together. “Did you make me shoot you to see if I actually wanted you dead?”

The bastard grinned. “Maybe.”

You slapped his shoulder. “Sylus!”

He was laughing, but damn it did you love to hear him laugh. “I’m still alive, aren’t I?”

You shook your head. “You’re insane, that’s what you are.”

“An important trait needed for the leader of Onychinus, something you haven’t shied away from.”

“Guess I’m a bit insane as well,” you muttered.

“Guess so,” Sylus agreed, smiling.

You softened, unable to stay annoyed with him when he looked at you with such tenderness, something he reserved only for you.

You reached up and lightly traced beneath his right eye. “You kept your name.”

“If you couldn’t pronounce my true name, I’m pretty sure no one else would be able to either,” he teased.

You chuckled. “You’re right, Sylus is much easier to pronounce.”

“And it was given to me by my beloved, how could I not keep it?” he murmured.

His beloved. You were his beloved, then and now.

And he was still your dragon, even if the dragon part was currently hidden.

You leaned away from him, something he nearly growled at, but stopped himself when he watched you pick a nearby flower. With a soft smile, you tucked it behind his ear, then slid your hand down to his chest, the same spot you’d once placed a flower in his scales. The same spot he’d hidden the brooch that allowed you free passage through his territory.

“Flowers suit you better than the N109 Zone,” you murmured.

A heartbreakingly tender smile lifted the corners of Sylus’s lips. “That’s the first time someone said those words to me.”

You felt like crying.

“Only you and this flower”—his eyes flicked toward his ear—“can touch me here.”

Sylus picked a flower of his own and placed it in your hair, then cupped your face, running his thumb along your cheek.

Feeling such an undeniable pull toward him despite being already so physically close, you shifted in Sylus’s lap to straddle his hips, wrapping your arms around his neck. He sucked in a sharp breath at the new position, the hand on your face sliding to brace the back of your head.

Running your fingers through the hair at his nape, your eyes darted between his and his lips.

“Do you have any more questions?” he asked breathlessly.

“Just one,” you said.

“What is it?”

“Can the N109 Zone have flowers bloom everywhere, as far as the eye can see?”

“Only for one person.”

Sylus’s lips crashed into yours.

He was firm but gentle, angling your head right where he wanted you as his tongue swept over your bottom lip. You opened for him, whimpering when his tongue slid along yours.

Sylus’s kiss was claiming, taking what was rightfully his. He’d been waiting for this moment since he first laid eyes on you in this lifetime. Waiting for his beloved to come back to him.

Tightening his grip on you, Sylus flipped you onto your back, his body pressing against yours, all without breaking the kiss.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, tugging on his strands. Between kisses you managed, “I want…to touch…your horns.”

Sylus groaned and you felt it rumble through his chest. He finally broke away from your lips only to trail open-mouthed kisses across your jaw and down your neck. “Not here,” he said roughly.

You would’ve been more upset had his lips not felt like heaven on your skin.

“Sylus,” you said, pulling his hair to get his attention.

He lifted his head, his cheeks flushed and ears red. “Do you want me to stop?”

You shook your head. “No,” you said, cupping his warm cheek. He nuzzled against your palm. “I love you, Sylus.”

Air whooshed from his lungs and his lips were on yours again. Your souls may have been bound but Sylus was still in disbelief by your confession, even though you’d all but said it last night. Fate—who had always been cruel to him—had finally turned in his favor. There was no curse to separate you this time, only one to keep you by his side. This was a second chance for the both of you, to love each other freely, to explore what life could truly be like together, and now that he had you, Sylus would scorch the earth before he ever let you go again.

He drew back, waiting for you to look him in the eyes before saying, “I love you too, Y/N.”

You huffed an incredulous laugh, tears welling as you stared at the man you loved. Your dragon, with you once again.

Sylus’s loving gaze took on a dangerous glint. “How about we head back to the base and I’ll show you my horns, sweetie?”

With a wide grin, you nodded. “Don’t need to ask me twice.”

Sylus chuckled, placing one last kiss against your lips before hefting you off the ground.

Then hand-in-hand, dragon and sorceress, having been given a second chance at love, walked through a field of flowers where once life ended but now a new one could begin.

[fallenprophets]

◦⭐︎・love lost

Ekko x reader

Summary: once a Firelight and Ekko's partner, you are now a mercenary, dragging yourself through jobs to make enough money to pay for food. After one too many drinks, you take a job you can't handle, and get hurt. It's no shocker who comes to your rescue.

Set at undefined time, no use of Y/N, gender neutral reader

Warnings: gore (not too bad but be mindful), swearing, mentions of death/welcoming death. 3.2 K words (oops), not proofread as always

A/N: icl guys this is one of the longer fics I've written, and definitely the angstiest one. Again, for my best friend, @sahxrii (go check out her recs, they're SO good) who I do everything for, lets be honest.

You have always prided yourself for knowing your limits; stopping when you need to stop, being reasonable about your own abilities. This has kept you out of quite a lot of trouble- avoiding fights you could not have won, not provoking people who were clearly able to whoop your ass. 

This, however, is very different, and not a common occurrence. 

First of all, you might be a little drunk- you’ve just had to numb the sting of your day with a drink, just a small one, in a tiny grimy bar run by a tall man with bright orange skin. Second of all, you’re running on two hours of sleep and painkillers (the painkillers are slowly wearing off, to make matters worse). 

And lastly, you’re in a really bad fucking mood. 

So, when your handler slides you a note with a name and address written in ugly red letters, you think fuck it, and take the job. You should’ve known this was stupid- you should’ve done what the sober, not exhausted version of yourself would have done. But instead, you accept with a bleary nod, because, to be frank, all you want at that moment is to break something. 

So you take the note, drain your drink, and leave the bar, shrugging on your worn coat. Adrenaline is already starting to buzz beneath your skin, your knuckles tingling softly in anticipation. You had never been this excited about violence when you were younger- in fact, people might have described you as gentle, even. But now, with all the things you have witnessed, all the people you’ve lost, hitting people brought a kind of release you could find nowhere else. 

Besides, there’s no one who remembers you as that gentle person left, anyway, so who are you disappointing? Yourself? You chuckle drily into the cold air, thick with gas. 

You stop in front of the building, your hands tucked into your pockets. It is big, red, and ugly (like the ink the name had been written in, you thought), bright colourful light shining from the broken windows. A Zaunite haunt, typical for a wannabe drug lord- the kind of man you were often hired to beat up or kill. You kick into the dirt at your feet, take a deep breath. You have hardly sobered up on the walk here, so your vision is still somewhat blurry, everything swimming around you like you’re underwater. 

Broken memories of swimming in an underground lake with him flitter through your mind, and you dismiss them, muttering a curse between your teeth. You roll your shoulders and make your way inside, striding in like you own the goddamn place. 

“You can’t be here,” a goon dressed all in black calls from the top of badly painted stairs. You look at him, an ugly grin splitting your face. 

“Kick me out, then,” you say, your heart already beginning to beat a little faster. 

Before you know, goons are coming at you from the sides, cracking their knuckles. The twat at the top of the stairs sneers down at you, his teeth oily and black. 

“You don’t wanna do this,” a woman on your left growls. She’s twice as big as you, her arms covered in bright red, winding tattoos. 

“I think I do,” you answer, raising your hands, which are already curled into fists. 

She lunges first, and you catch her with a right hook in the jaw. She hardly falters, but you drive your knee into her stomach. Now, she stumbles, and you leap up, narrowly avoiding an attack from another goon. You grab goon number one- the woman- and smash your forehead into her face. Her nose explodes, red and white flying all over you as she falls backwards. You spin and grab the nearest object- a stool- and bring it smack into the second goon’s middle. He collapses, and you walk over to him, drop the stool on his head. He stops moving. 

You turn to the giant of a woman, who is standing and looking at you with pure, unadulterated hatred. Her face is broken into bits, blood and spit dribbling down her chin. “Come on, then,” you say, cracking your already sore knuckles. 

She throws herself at you, twice as angry as before. You dodge, but she catches you in the shoulder. Excruciating pain shoots through you, and you realise too late that she has wicked little claw-like contraptions on her fingers. She comes at you again, slashing wildly. You jump out of the way, once again catching a claw in the face. It slices open your left cheek; pain explodes all through the area, but you grin. A challenge- you’ve always liked that. 

Somewhere in the back of your mind, a child’s voice screams at you to stop, to leave, to give up. The goon from the top of the stairs is gone. You falter when you notice this- he must be warning his boss, who is your target. You double your efforts, lunging at the woman. You manage to punch her in the stomach, but your second hit, aimed at her throat, is knocked out of the way as she drives her claws into your wrist. You scream, not really in pain but in sheer shock at the sharp metal slivers protruding from your skin. 

“Should’ve left,” she sneers into your face. You spit into the bloody mess that was her nose and wrench your arm back, kicking her, hard, in the sternum. She stumbled backwards and you pull your weapon- a machete, sheathed against your back- out, spinning it around. She assesses you for a moment, with what you realise now are robotic eyes. 

Oh. 

Oh, fuck. 

You are not fighting a person, you’re fighting a robot. Or something that’s half half- the blood spilling from her face gives you the idea that she might be made of flesh and bones, but those eyes- you’ve seen them before. She’s assessing your fight patterns, and she’s going to win. 

You duck out of the way of another attack, but she manages to graze your neck with her claws. You slash wildly with your machete, to no avail- she avoids each blow easily, and the ones that do hit, she ignores happily. 

Finally, one of your attacks hits- you aim the blow upwards, and the machete carves straight through her face. Blood, huge quantities of the stuff, gushes all over you, bone shattering under the power of your blow. You yank the machete out, momentarily stunned as she stumbles to her knees, eyes fizzing out. 

“Fuck,” you pant, stumbling backwards, “fuck you.” 

Your victory is short lived. More goons are coming down the stairs, armed to the teeth. You raise your weapon, ready to fight them all if it kills you, when you feel something strange. Your shirt has been sliced open- cold hair breezes around your stomach. You look down, and are somewhat horrified to find blood; your own blood. 

All at once, you feel nausea hit. You stumble to your knees, gasping for air. She got you- you feel the pain shooting through now. She managed to sink her dirty claws into your stomach as if you were made of mist and gas. 

Everything flickers in front of you as the last few days finally hit. You’re in so much pain, it’s almost incredible- had you been an author, you would have liked to write about this one day. It’s like your insides have been ripped out (they kind of have, you suppose) and set on fire, stomped on, pissed on- you almost laugh at the thought as your head hits the ground. 

You can’t remember when you fell. 

Your vision goes dark, flickering in and out. You see the goons approach you, pick you up unceremoniously. You are outside your body, floating somewhere beyond, watching through your eyes as they drag you outside. It is raining- you wish you could feel the raindrops on your face, one last time. 

You laughed, holding out a hand. It had been a while since you had experienced rain- in the Firelights hideout, you are protected by the huge leaves of the tree; and the Firelights hideout has everything (and everyone) you could wish for, so why would you ever go outside? 

But, after hearing you sigh softly and murmur something about the only thing you miss about your old home being the rain, Ekko made it his mission to bring it back. As soon as it rained again, he took you by the arm, promising a wonderful surprise. He offered to blindfold you, but you kindly refused when you saw that he intended to take you up the tree. You had climbed together, him guiding you gently upwards; and as you’d ascended, you had heard a beautiful, soft patter; a sound that made your heart beat speed up and your throat close. Finally, you had reached the top, and he had lifted the leaves to reveal a little area above the canopy, partly shielded from the rain with a makeshift structure made of leaves and cloth. 

Now, you sat in this structure, your side flush against his, a hand held out to the pouring rain.  

“Do you like it?” He asked softly, looking at you. 

“Do I like it?” You cried, almost incredulous. “Yes, Ekko, I love it!” You turned to him, grinning so widely it almost hurt. “Thank you,” you added after a moment. “Thank you so much, Ekko.” He smiled too, and you took his face in your hands and kissed him, and Gods knew you’d never been happier. 

You’re lying in an alleyway. It’s like you can physically feel the blood leaking from you, your life draining from the gash in your stomach and the holes in your arm. The goons have left, convinced you are dead- why didn’t they check your pulse, stupid bastards? 

It has stopped raining, but you’re soaked to the bone, lying there in the dark. Someone has stolen your jacket and your machete. 

You groaned as you lifted the jacket up to the light. A bright fabric, the colour of the sunset, now stained with dark greenish grey goo. You should have known that wearing your favourite jacket down into the mines was a stupid idea, but you’d done it anyway. 

“Stupid,” you mumbled to yourself, dropping the jacket into a heap on the floor. You wondered briefly if it was salvageable, but deep down knew it wasn’t. You’d have to find a new one, which would be nowhere near as nice. 

Someone knocked on your door, and a soft voice spoke your name. 

“Come in,” you called, still staring sadly at your jacket. 

Ekko stepped inside, his presence like warm sunlight. Despite the grief caused by the ruined jacket, you smile, turning to him instantly relaxing as he wrapped his arms around your waist. 

“I hear your jacket got ruined,” he said softly. 

“Yeah,” you muttered in response. “Upsetting.” He laughed. “I have something for you.” You pulled away, moving your hands to his biceps and looking at him. “What, Ekko?” You already knew what he was going to show you, but it warmed your heart all the same. 

“It’s not exactly the same colour,” he said apologetically, “but-“ 

You put a hand over his mouth, beaming. “I don’t care,” you said. 

He smiled back at you, releasing you to pull something out of his bag. It was neatly folded, but he held it out to you. You shook it out, and found a jacket, almost identical to the one that you had just ruined; it was a slightly lighter shade of orange, and the pattern on the back was a tree instead of the flowers you’d had on your last one. 

“You’re insane,” you said, in awe. You put the jacket on- it was a little too big, but who gave a shit? It was your jacket, gifted to you by your boy. 

You blink back into consciousness, and almost screamed. The pain coursing through you is like nothing you’d ever imagined; like being electrocuted and burned and drowned all at the same time. Despite the gaping hole in you, you want to curl up, to shield yourself from the wet and cold and pain. 

“Please,” you whimper into the ground, “please, no.” 

It’s not that you don’t want to die. In fact, you welcome death- you see it as a release more than anything else, from the bullshit life you lead. But dying here, like this- 

You start to cry, and you gag and retch as tears spill mercilessly. 

You are about to give in- you have given in- when a bright light seems to fill your vision. It is green and orange and yellow and pink and warm and fills everything around you. For a moment you think you’ve died, and this is some kind deity welcoming you into the next life, whispering I forgive you don’t worry as it carries you away. But no, the truth is much harsher than that. 

A face hovers into your field of vision, and warm hands tug your shirt upwards. You want to protest, but your throat is dry from all the retching and sobbing you’ve been doing. A cloth presses down into the wound in your stomach and you howl, eyes rolling back in your head as the pain grabs you by the throat and fucking throttles you. 

“Stop,” you manage to whimper. “Why- why are you doing this?” Your voice is hoarse, you’re crying again as you try to shut out the pain. 

You hear shouting- words like help and home and quick- and black out again. 

When you come to, you are no longer lying wet and dying in an alleyway miles from home (where even is home anymore? It’s just you, and that orange jacket, which you don’t even have anymore). 

Your surroundings slowly swim into focus (swimming, your brain sings, swimming in an underwater cave, hands on your waist, kisses all over). You are lying down, mercifully dry and warm. Pain pumps through you in waves, mostly coming from your wrist and your stomach. You wonder, again, if this is some afterlife- if so, it is far less cruel than your parents described. 

But then, you turn your head, and pain sears through you. 

But that is not what makes you cry. 

He lifts his head instantly as he hears your quiet sobs, and he’s at your side, a hand carefully gripping yours (he’s avoiding the bloody bandage wrapped around your wrist, you realise), the other gently brushing soft fingers over your bruised face. “It’s okay,” he says, even though you think he doesn’t mean it. It’s not okay- you ran away, got yourself beat up, almost killed, and he’s had to rescue you. Of course it’s not okay.

“Ekko,” you whimper. 

“It’s okay,” he repeats, stroking your hair away from his face. Instinctively, you curl away, wanting to hide your injury from him. He shakes his head, his eyes brimming with tears (or maybe you’re delusional, because who would cry over you?) 

“I-“ Your words are lost in a pathetic sob, and you turn your face away from him. 

“Don’t,” he says. A pause. “How are you feeling?” 

You croak out what should’ve been fuck but instead comes out as a bad imitation . You would’ve laughed, in any other situation. 

“What happened?” His voice is so soft, so kind, it makes you want to rip your eyeballs out and stuff them into your ears. 

You shake your head. You don’t want him to know what you’ve been up to since you left the Firelights. 

He lets go of your hand, and for a moment you think he’s leaving you. It wouldn’t surprise you, to be honest. But no, he doesn’t leave you. Instead, he leans over, inspects the bandages wrapped around your midsection. Your mind instantly flashes to him prodding it, digging his fingers into your wound and calling you names. You wouldn’t blame him. 

“You’re an idiot,” he says finally, still glaring at your bandaged stomach. 

“Excuse me?” That is the first full statement you manage to force past your shredded throat. 

“You’re an idiot,” he repeats with just as much gusto. “I mean, how could you just go and do this?” He gestures at your injuries. 

“I didn’t-“ 

“What, think? Yeah, I can tell.” His face is partly obscured, so you can’t tell what face he’s making. 

“I-“ 

“You’re so stupid. I mean, did you really think you could survive taking on all of the goons in that building?” He snorts to himself. “At least tell me the pay was worth it.” 

You’re somewhat incredulous. All the time you’ve known Ekko, he’s never been this outright mean to you. 

“What-“ you sputter, unable to find the words. 

“Did you not think for a moment that you might get killed?” He puts extra emphasis on the word killed, and it’s like a punch in the gut. When he turns his gaze onto you, you think you’d prefer to have the goons rip you apart than see him look at you like this ever again. 

“I’m sorry,” you manage to say through a fresh tightening in your throat. Your eyes sting and you’re about to turn away when you see his expression. 

He’s smiling. 

“What?” You almost choke out. “What is it?” 

His smile is the softest thing you’ve ever seen. It’s the sunlight, shining through the leaves of the tree; it’s the rain gently pattering on the roof of your childhood home. It’s the smell of old books and wood. 

It’s so painfully home. 

Your eyes sting, and you turn your face away from him, swallowing the bile rising in your throat. He still smiles at you like that, after everything you’ve done. 

He takes your hand again, his other beginning to gently trace patterns on the bandage on your stomach. It’s such a soft, kind gesture. He used to do that, you remember with a pang, when you two would lie in bed together: draw little patterns on your back with his fingers, when he thought you were asleep. 

“It’s okay,” he says, and for the first time, you wholeheartedly believe him. 

“I’m sorry,” you repeat, because those are the only words your throat will allow out. “I am.” 

“I know,” he murmurs. He hesitates, then leans forwards, kissing your forehead gently. “Just…” he trails off, his gaze now focused back on your bruised face. “Don’t do that again.” 

You promise him. Not with words, but with the feeling in your chest, the loosening of your lungs and throat as you watch him watch you. You promise him with the way your knuckles have stopped aching for more skin to break, with the way your eyes water again. 

You promise him with all that you have, because that is the least you can do for him. 

“I love you,” you mumble, almost sheepishly. 

“I love you too,” he answers; there is no hesitation, no layered but only if… behind the words. He says it back with the same confidence he gives orders, the words more of a declaration than softly spoken pretty things. 

“I’m sorry,” you add, after a few moments of just watching him breathe. 

“I love you,” is his answer. 

You shut your eyes, and he squeezes your hand. 

[nekrosdolly]

haunting you - a. wesker x reader

you're a stripper and he's a scientist who's never felt the touch of another.

a/n; first wesker piece i've written in a whiiiile so i'm sorry if this is a little clunky!!

content warnings; set in 1998 before the mansion incident, jill moonlights as a bartender, virgin!wesker, stripper!reader (no set stripper name), wesker is in his late thirties (38), reader is 21, loss of virginity, brief dry-humping, sex (p in v), dirty talk, technically bottom/sub wesker, top/dom reader, this might be ooc (im rusty), light petplay (you call him a puppy and he almost creams), whiny wesker, slight condescension from the reader, not proofread as always lol

terms of endearment; darling, sweetheart, dear, puppy (wesker)

wc; 2.460k

You stare at your reflection in the vanity mirror, one of many workers tonight who are less than strapped for cash not unlike yourself. Since you were legal, you’d made the choice, albeit degrading, to start stripping. That was three years ago. Now twenty-one, you’re less naive and smarter with your money, but still lacking financially. Not to mention, you’d been at this club for three years, why change that? No real job would take you if you told them what you’d been doing as a makeshift career anyway.

And so you stare. Your makeup is kept simple but alluring enough for most anyone to be drawn to you, but your outfit is the real showstopper. Strappy and black, you’re nearly naked, but you’re used to that by now. The usual pre-performance jitters have struck you once again, leaving you with cold feet and nerves that aren’t much warmer. Even in the back rooms, you can hear the bass-heavy music and high whistles of men vying for more of whomever’s attention. It’s enough to draw you from your shell and with a few deep breaths, you force yourself away from the vanity. The path to the stage is short, much to your chagrin, and the lights are hotter than hell when you step out to the shiny stage. While you get no cheering, you get your own special welcome of drunken customers whistling lowly and the occasional whoop. 

You know from experience that, while intoxicated, watching someone work the pole is hypnotic at the least. Your audience can hardly take their eyes off of you, rolling your body against the chromatic steel pole. It’s still warm from the previous dancer. Your anthem for tonight is seductive and slow, as most dancers’ songs are, and your face is the peak of seduction even as the inebriated crowd douses you with cash of all varieties.

After the dance, you’re slick with the slightest sheen of sweat. Nobody ever said dancing was easy, even the exotic kind. You walk to the bar, swaying your hips with every step. Despite the money you’d earned from your on-stage performance, you’re hounding for more. You refuse to leave with less than your month’s rent tonight. So you saunter to the bar, your sultry gaze scanning the sea of people carefully.

“A drink?” Jill, the bartender asks as you lean against the bar. She’s always liked you, so she slips you a free drink now and then.

“Please,” you nod softly and she smiles, ready to make your usual as a platinum-blonde man approaches you. He offers you no smile, just a somewhat menacing stare. You’d be scared if there wasn’t something so virginal about him. Otherwise handsome, with pale skin and blue eyes behind slightly dorky prescription glasses. Not to mention, he’s dressed in a suit.

“Lovely show,” he says with a somewhat nasally voice. Like clockwork, you smile and sip the cocktail Jill slides over to you. His lips twitch slightly at the corners- a smile by his terms in return.

“Thank you, honey.”

“Of course, dear.” He takes a seat on the stool beside you, flagging Jill over for a cocktail of his own. He seems confident, though you’re not sure if it’s because he’s got money or because he’s talking to someone attractive. Your gaze remains steady on his face, although his trails much lower on you before flicking up to meet your eyes. Weird, you could’ve sworn they were blue just a moment ago…

“Do tell, darling,” he ghosts a pale, elegant hand over your shoulder, “how much would a few hours of privacy with you cost me?” 

Just looking at him, he seems like he has money. He reeks of crisp bills that can hardly fit in his overflowing wallet. Part of you wonders just how much you can get out of him. Your performance left you with roughly $360- not quite enough. Should you play your cards right, he could be your last customer for the night.

“Three hundred per hour.” You say with that same smile. He doesn’t flinch at the number like most men might. Then again, you get the feeling that he’s not like most men. He seems respectful, too- maybe you were wrong and he’s a regular, or maybe he doesn’t want to get kicked out. He nods and you finish your drink quickly. He does the same.

“Shall we?” He gestures to the back of the club where there’s less light and doors that lead to private rooms. If he were allowed to touch you, he’d offer you his arm.

-

You can always tell the experience level of men when they’re alone with you, away from friends whom they might try to fool with a hyper-masculine persona. This man- whose name you still don’t know- is similar to that. He grows a bit more fidgety, maybe out of impatience, and when he sits down on the plush velvet booth surrounding the stage, he struggles to stay still. He clears his throat quietly and looks away from you as you straddle him.

“So tell me,” you purr, cupping his jaw and guiding him to look at you in all your seductive glory. The way your hair is styled compliments your makeup, the curve of your pliant flesh between the straps of your skimpy bikini bottom that’s adorned with black gems, and your top decorated with those same gems. His cheeks heat up at the smooth sound of your voice, red tinging his alabaster cheeks. Nervous eyes trail up your body to meet your own, your heavy gaze inflicting arousal upon him. The heavy feeling pools in his gut, his cock twitching to life in his boxers.

“What’re you looking for? A lap dance? Something a little more?” It’s a little late to be asking that but you get the feeling he doesn’t mind. Even though you’re just hovering, you can feel a hint of the bulge in his pants.

He swallows thickly.

“What would a little more get me?” He asks quietly, his hands unsteadily hovering around your waist. Seeing such soft skin begging to be touched makes his mouth water. Little do you know- you might, given how anxious he seems to be- he’s had very few chances to touch someone as gorgeous as you. He’d taken none of those chances and to this day, remains a virgin. He’s not used to being so close to someone like you.

“Sex, sweetheart.” You rub his cheek with your thumb, resisting the urge to tease him into oblivion. Technically, soliciting sex is against club rules, but what your boss doesn’t know won’t hurt her. “Would that cost extra?” “Yeah, it would. You buying?”

“H-How much?”

“An extra three hundred.”

He rushes to grab his wallet from his pocket and dig out the three hundred. You smile as you take it from his trembling hand and tuck it into the waistband of your panties.

“Thank you…”

“Albert.”

“Thank you, Albert,” you settle your full weight onto his lap, really feeling the extent of his boner under your clothed cunt. He groans quietly, biting his bottom lip as he stares wantonly at you. A soft giggle escapes your throat, “just a few rules though.”

He gulps and nods, trying his hardest to pay attention in favor of rutting against your warm, inviting cunt like a dog in heat. You let go of his face.

“One; you cannot leave bruises- no hickeys, scratches, bitemarks, etcetera. Two; no kissing, I need my makeup to be perfect. Three; I’m in control and if you have a problem, speak now or forever hold your peace.” You give him a moment to voice any protests, but he’s quiet as a mouse.

“Fourth and finally, if you cum inside of me, you’re paying me an extra hundred per load. Do you consent to all these rules?”

“I do.”

“Good man,” you feel his cock throb at the praise. Albert sucks in a sharp breath as you slowly roll your hips, a shaky exhale following when you guide his hands to your waist. His hesitance feeds your confidence like fuel to a fire. He tips his head back, each movement against his clothed cock forcing a pathetic whine from the back of his throat. He bites his bottom lip hard and true to a virgin’s ways, his climax is approaching quickly. Sure, he’s masturbated before, but this is much different. You’re so pretty and wet, your dripping arousal soaking through the gusset of your panties. Watching him slowly come undone, the menacing facade melting into the mess he’s trying so hard not to be is satisfying. You’re relatively unphased, even as his cock bumps your clit with the perfect amount of pressure. He’s getting too close to cumming.

“I-I’m going to- Wait, please,” he grips your hips tight, making you still, “I need to be inside of you.” You nod softly and scoot back a little, allowing him to unzip his fly and shove his pre-cum stained boxers down so his cock stands free. Pale fading to pink at the tip, weeping with sticky, salty fluid- he’s long, about three fingers thick, and clean-shaven. He looks down at your hand as you grab his length, cooing quietly at him with faux sympathy and stroking him once, twice.

“Please,” his hands ball into fists with the effort of his restraint. Needy, half-lidded blues meet yours again, “please fuck me.” 

“Sure, sweetheart.” You chuckle softly and push your panties to the side, careful of the cash hooked on your waistband, and shuffle closer. He nearly cums the moment you lower yourself onto his achy length, his mouth dropping open. You wince slightly at the stretch- it’s on you for forgoing prep, but how can you deny him when he’s so pliant in your hands? His hands shoot our to grab your waist firmly, struggling to maintain what little composure he has left. Panting, his cheeks are bright red, and he can’t stop looking at you. 

He allows you a moment to adjust- though it’s mostly for himself to will himself to avoid cumming on the spot. You’re wet and warm, gummy walls surrounding his length perfectly. It’s even better when you start moving, rolling your hips smoothly. Hands on his shoulders, you keep yourself steady as you ride him. Soft moans fall from your lips, his cock brushing against your spongy g-spot deep within your velvetine walls. He’s all but whimpering, his perfectly aligned teeth digging hard into his pale pink lower lip so hard he might bleed.

He does once you lean forward and move faster, your face just inches from his. If you hadn’t set the rule of no kissing, he’d be pressing his lips to yours to hide his pathetic noises. 

“You know,” you murmur, locking his eyes to yours again, “you look kind of like a puppy.” His cock kicks inside of you at that, a stray moan slipping from his lips. He shouldn’t like that, really. He’s a scientist- a virologist to be more specific-, a professional, uptight man, and yet he’s acting so subserviently. It would be bothersome if he wasn’t balls deep inside of you and nearing his climax quickly. 

Panting, he struggles to restrain himself. He can’t help himself as he leans forward and wraps you in his (oddly) strong arms, burying his face into your neck to stave off his orgasm for just a little longer. The obscene squelch of your slick makes his head spin, each roll of your hips making him grunt or groan louder and louder until-

“C-Cumming- cumming-” he rasps, his pulsing length spilling hot, sticky seed deep within your gummy walls. The moan he lets out is downright shameful, his grip on you tightening exponentially.

You gasp quietly at how much he cums and how deep it is, nearly reaching your cervix. You pause for his sake, allowing him to relax against your soft body as he recovers from his high. In attempt to soothe him a little more, you rub his upper back. He grumbles and pushes himself against the back of the booth, huffing. His once-perfect hair has become a bit mussed, likely loosened due to the light sheen of sweat. He can’t seem to look at you as he slips another hundred into the waistband of your panties alongside the three other bills.

“Do you want to-” He gestures to you, still straddling him with his soft dick inside of you. Like a nice man, he wants you to finish, but you know you shouldn’t. It would likely increase the chances of you getting pregnant and you simply can’t have that, birth control implant be damned.

“No, it’s fine.” You shake your head softly and get off of him, fixing your underwear as you turn away to give him privacy. He tucks himself in his boxers and zips his pants up before fishing for his now-thinner wallet, though it’s not completely empty yet. If you didn’t know better (and you don’t, he’s a stranger after all,) you’d think he gets off on this kind of thing- his wallet being drained.

Albert hands you three more hundreds and mumbles a quiet “thank you” for your services. It hasn’t even been an hour, but it’s not like he cares. Who wouldn’t want to give their money to someone as pretty as you?

He’s satisfied by the looks of things, his face less red now that he’s calmer and more composed. You take the money happily, watching him walk to the door with a smile on your lips.

“What’s your name, dear?” He looks at you over his shoulder.

“Come back soon and maybe I’ll tell you.”

Albert leaves with that, his dignity shattered and his pride dismantled. 

Weeks later and you’re at home sitting on your couch, watching the news late at night after one of your shifts. You’re barely paying attention, looking through missed calls on your motorola cd930 when you hear a familiar name come up on the missing persons list. The news anchor is reading off a list of names from the most recent tragedy- a mansion exploding in Arklay County, where supposedly some members of the local S.T.A.R.S team got trapped and barely made it out alive (so you’ve heard.)

“Albert Wesker, Joseph Frost, Richard Aiken, Edward Dewey…” The tired man drones on, listing off the rest of the names as pictures start to pop up. Only one face sticks out to you.

“No way,” you sit up straight and lean closer to your television, your eyes focused on Albert’s picture. Save for the sunglasses, that’s him. You’re shocked and honestly a little disheartened. 

In your dreams, you see him again.

[soobadnoonecanstopher]

Can I Stay? (A Baekhyun Story) Part 16.

Pairing: You x Baekhyun

Rating: M

Word Count: 7.2k

Warnings: whoops plot. I didn't really proofread this — sorry. Also sorry it is taking so long for the chapters to come out. I hope you still love me.

A romance between two adults with an unspecified age difference between them, an English story that uses the word Noona for lack of another word in English that carries the same feeling, if you don’t like this, then don’t read this story.

Links: Part 1, ….. Part 15, Part 16, Part 17

Tag List: @andimoon @his-mochi-cheeks

Maybe it was the expensive clothes you were wearing. Maybe it was the understated, quiet luxury of the handbag you walked through that office door carrying. Could it be the shoes? Surely the casual observer couldn’t have noticed the bright red soles of the brand new Louboutins on your feet as you walked.

Perhaps there was some extra oxygen filling up your chest somehow making you carry yourself with an added bit of confidence; making you feel as if you could float away with even the slightest breeze.

You felt as if you were a completely different person. You felt as if the others could tell. It couldn’t just all be happening inside of your head either because you caught evidence of some reactions to you; little things. Tiny double takes as you walked by. Slight widening of eyes when you entered your meetings; slight twinges in the expressions of their faces; barely detectable save for how very aware of yourself and of all of them you felt inside of your skin right now.

So much was new. So much felt different.

You were, in very new and very real ways, very suddenly and unequivocally … somebody’s.

And that somebody he was — he was yours too.

It had a taste to it — it was rich and sweet and secretive and quick. A fresh baked cookie swiped when Mom’s back was turned. Hasty kisses stolen behind heavy wooden doors and brushes of warm fingertips over the back of a hand as you walked by. The whispered lean of a warm shoulder against your own as you both stood in an elevator; surrounded by people; acutely aware of the rhythm of only eachother’s breathing.

A smell like very early morning just before dawn on Christmas Day; the smell of pine and cinnamon and the crisp chill of snow outside, like hiding at the top of the stairs to catch a forbidden glimpse of Santa Claus.

Warm brown eyes from across a hectic room touched into yours again and again. You knew you were staring. You had very little control over it though. This was so very unlike you. Baekhyun was as busy as you had been. The project was wrapping today and loose ends had to be tied up. Final documents had to be submitted to clients. Plus he had been training his replacement on all of his tasks and duties. Tomorrow would be the wrap party. You could hardly wait to unclench. You’d have some drinks with your team and you’d even get to dance. Maybe you could get away with a dance or two with your soon to be ex-assistant without drawing too many curious gazes.

You could dance together one or twice, couldn’t you? You could stand to be held in his arms and swung around the dance floor without leaning in too close or gazing too deeply into his deep brown eyes as you did it, right?

You did your absolute best to look at something else; at anything else.

Those deep brown eyes had found yours once again. Again and again, he found you. Maybe it wasn’t only you who had been staring at him as he showed Assistant Cha the ropes; as he leaned in and spoke very closely with her; as he told her things that made her head roll back and big belly laughs erupted from her bosom that shook like jelly when she laughed dramatically with her whole body.

She reached a hand out and her fingertips touched lightly along his forearm; making contact for a fraction of a second — no more time than the width of a strand of hair. Not enough time of actual contact to warrant any sort of comment about it at all. It was not even any real touch on his skin even; she got his shirt sleeve. This was nothing. This certainly wasn’t anything that warranted such a ridiculously detailed description inside the ever-present internal monologue that played through your head when you thought about this man. It could hardly even be called a touch, really.

Still…she touched his arm. She laughed and giggled and smiled a sickeningly sweet smile at him and you knew, you knew what it felt like to look at him and talk to him and feel that attraction and desire and lust and want. You knew of the kinds of irrational and impossible fantasies that would fly through her head at the very thought of just one of her desperate touches being returned by him.

You could not blame her. He was beautiful.

He moved his arm down and away; probably purposefully. He was reaching for something and just before he spoke, just before his movement nagged at her focus and pulled her dreamy eyes away from his pretty face and down onto what he had to show her, just before his focus dropped to the papers or notebooks or tablet or whatever the hell it was that he held inside his hand, you had them once more; those deep brown eyes that looked into yours from across this space; those brown eyes of his that found yours again and again no matter where you were and no matter where he was — it was like a magnet. He looked at you and you looked at him and the sound and the commotion and the ever present din inside of this busy workspace fell weirdly silent to your own ears.

You had to stop this.

You pulled your focus away from the two of them and you looked around the room at your team. It took so much effort to do.

With the exception of one person, the entire team was immersed in their own tasks. There was a bittersweet vibe in the air and each and every one of these people, to the very end, was giving it their all.

As your eyes made their way around to each desk, glimpsing lightly over its occupant, you reached a person who’s presence had been so familiar to you that you only half jumped to find her looking right at you.

Sandi, a senior member of your translating team and the person who occupied the seat closest to your office door, the person who had worked with you for probably the longest out of all of the group, who you had shared many long nights with over the course of your career, Sandi was watching you with a quiet amusement on her face.

You met her eyes with as much strength and fortitude as you could manage but you admittedly felt a bit taken aback to have had her attention during this time; this time when you foolishly had assumed no one could possibly be paying any attention to you.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting. Perhaps a small smile in your direction and maybe she would resume her work. Or maybe she was watching you because she had a question for you. You strengthened the eye contact with Sandi and lifted your eyebrows in question. Doing your absolute best to keep any guilty expressions from manifesting in your eyes.

You definitely hadn’t expected the next words that came out of her mouth.

“You should stop watching them. She doesn’t hold a candle—“ she began out loud but just as suddenly as she spoke, her words halted abruptly as she closed up her mouth with a start, shaking her head in quick shallow passes. The small self-satisfied smile that had been coloring her lips before she opened her mouth had now slipped away and her eyes widened as she turned her head away from you; averting her eyes. She lifted a hand to cover over her mouth, clearly surprised that she would say such a thing out loud.

Sandi may have been surprised by herself, but you felt blindsided. You felt your mouth go dry and a spindly tingling slowly crept up the back of your neck.

She knew.

Sandi knew.

You felt sick.

The panic that surged through you was swift and complete and it took your breath and what was left of your rational mind.

Without your mind working, all you could manage was to stare down at the girl in silence until you exhaled a purposefully slow breath through your mouth. She had both of her hands over her parted lips and she was reeling. You felt similarly but thankfully years of working through impossible and stressful situations where your facial expression mattered, kept the reeling happening inside of you where it should stay.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry, Miss Manager. I didn’t mean—”

“Sandi — come see me in my office, please.”

Sandi knew you better than most. You’d worked closely beside her for so many years, if anyone would have noticed the obvious change in you since you’d met Baekhyun it would be Sandi. It made the most sense that she would have noticed something was going on. But still, you felt blindsided by this revelation. It wasn’t that you didn't trust the woman, you did. If anyone in this office was going to know such a damning secret about you, it might as well be Sandi.

You felt guilty. You felt very much in the wrong. You’d always strived to set such a good example to your team members and here you’d been caught red-handed, having done such a thing with your direct subordinate of all people, with your assistant! Yes, yes you had already processed his transfer, met with his new team lead, you were doing your absolute best to remove Baekhyun from any and every position beside you, beneath you, any connection to you as quickly as you possibly could. But the fact remained, you were in direct violation of company policy. You should have come clean to HR the second you’d realized just how inappropriate the professional relationship with Baekhyun had turned to have him transferred out that very day.

But you had been weak.

You had delayed it; torn by the very thought of losing him from your side and now…now someone knew. What if she had the wrong idea? What if she thought you used your influence over him to coerce him into the relationship? What if she thought it was one sided, or what if she used this new-found information to hold over you?

You shook your head back and forth as she walked through the doorway of your office and quietly closed the door behind her. Her head was downcast and she moved slowly through the space to take a seat beside where you sat with your hands clenched together in your lap on the small sofa in the center of the room.

“Miss Manager, I really didn’t mean anything bad by what I said. I was just thinking out loud and it slipped out.” She began quickly, as soon you felt the cushion dip when she sat down.

“Can you tell me what you meant by it?” You kept your voice low and careful as you replayed her words again in your mind, a quiet disbelief dancing along the edges of your memory. Maybe you heard her wrong, or maybe she didn't mean it exactly as it sounded to you. Maybe your guilty conscience had you running when nothing was even chasing you.

She didn't speak for a few moments and you swallowed the moisture inside your mouth, lifted your head and looked around the clean space of your office.

“You said that I can stop watching them, who do you think I was watching?” You probed again, realizing that your face, which was angled away from her now, might have not been as in control as usual. You could feel the dampness in your eyes and you blinked quickly.

“Baekhyun and Assistant Cha. Nothing is going on there. There is nothing to worry about. I’m on your side, by the way — both of you.”

You had confirmed it.

She knew.

You felt your steady resolve crumble with the deep sigh of defeat that left your chest and the oxygen leaving your lungs pulled your eyelids closed until all of the light was shut out for a moment. Just for a moment.

You only needed one moment.

“How did you know?” The delicacy of your words, tantamount to a confession, balanced lightly on the tip of your tongue. Your voice sounded so much smaller than you were used to hearing from yourself.

Her reply did not come instantly but the delay in her response, you knew, was more imagined by your own sense of urgency than in anything she was doing. Still, you were impatient to know; enough to turn your gaze from the safety of the silent bookshelf full of items you had owned and controlled for years to look anxiously upon the expressions written on her face and the unpredictable and uncontrollable harsh truths you might find in her eyes.

“Does anyone else know?” You whispered another quiet question, despite the fact that she hadn’t answered the first one yet.

Her eyes watched your face and in them you saw a lightness and warmth. On her lips was the smallest sweet smile that brought you back again to the woman you knew so well; the woman you had worked with closely over the years on several projects, through countless sleepless nights, tirelessly and side by side. The valuable member of your team who proved herself to be trustworthy and reliable. The woman you sought out first when something needed to be handled discreetly and quickly.

She was watching your face and she inhaled a small breath to speak.

“I’m pretty sure I’m the only one who could possibly know,” she said with that soft smile still inside her warm eyes. She was reaching into her pocket to pull out her cellphone and you looked down at her illuminated screen as she opened up an app. It was Instagram. She clicked a few times and eventually landed on a profile that was familiar. It was Baekhyun’s account and a few harmless pictures down his feed, her fingers stopped scrolling when she reached something that you knew would be a picture he had posted one of the nights he’d spent in your bed.

It was an innocuous shot of his hand holding your hand with only an alarm clock visible in the background. The time read 02:16 A.M. and it sat atop a wooden bedside table. Nothing else was in focus. The background of the picture was blurred beyond recognition with only a hazy outline of the very tip of the tail of your darkened bird lamp but definitely not anything that was recognizable about it. Neither of you wore any jewelry that might possibly come back to you. You looked at the words he wrote below the image — ‘I die for any little bit of you, my love.’ — and while yes, it had filled you with butterflies and made you kick and scream under your covers in secret when you saw what he wrote, for the purposes of Sandi identifying you from just this— was she a witch? How could she possibly have known?

There was nothing there. Nothing that pointed to you so conclusively that she would present this evidence to you with such conviction.

“From his posts, I knew he was seeing someone, but when I saw this, it suddenly made sense — how you could have changed so much since he joined. Anyway, I bought you that clock as a Secret Santa gift last year. So obviously I would be the only one to recognize it. I am glad to see you still use it.”

“Would you believe me if I said I gave the clock away to my sister, so that couldn’t possibly be me in the picture?”

You said it jokingly; feeling as if a switch had been flipped with Sandi since she knew something so very damning about you. What authority and respect? This woman saw and knew too much. You now had a confidant and maybe even a friend. Oh no! What if you had to transfer her to another department too? You couldn’t keep losing your best people like this just because you couldn’t keep your work life separated from your personal life.

You honestly felt as if you’d lost all control in this job the moment that man walked through your office door on his first day of work.

“You don’t have a sister.”

“Right,” you conceded quickly.

“Miss Manager,” Sandi began after a few moments, “you don’t need to feel so guilty about this. I really don’t think either of you have done anything wrong. And isn’t that why he’s being transferred so suddenly? To avoid any problems with the company.”

“And let me guess. He made the first move, right? I’m certain of it. I noticed how he looks at you. Since last year even.”

“Last year? You knew him from before this project?”

“You don’t remember him? He was interning with Manager Jung Ho. Ahhh maybe it was the red hair and the glasses.”

Sandi still had her phone out and was scrolling again, this time through her own photo albums that went back through the years. You recognized yourself in many of the shots. Candid pictures as you both worked, a few of the group laughing together as the team unwound after some particularly hectic days. Her scrolling stopped abruptly and you looked down to where she touched with her index finger on a pretty boy with wavy red hair, wearing round gold wire glasses and standing literally right beside you, his eyes looking at you while you were about as busy as could be focusing on putting out several fires at once.

“Here he is. Always following around Miss Manager Noona. Always staring at Miss Manager Noona and talking about Miss Manager Noona. He was so annoying,” she said with a hearty laugh. She scrolled again and image after image showed a similar scene, Baekhyun taking stolen glances at you and you with your mind so occupied at the time you didn’t even remember him. The more pictures you saw of the young red-head with the glasses the more the actual memories of him popped into your mind.

He was bright and chipper and you never did catch his name at the time. He was noisy and full of laughter and full of life and you…well, you had a dark storm cloud hanging over your head back then. Last year was a hard year for you. You had some professional failures that you still dwelled on and some even worse personal failures involving one relationship that still burned you to think about. You’d nearly given up on all things romance at the time; sworn off men forever with their lies and their cheating ways. It was no wonder your eyes had been so blind to the entire person standing beside you; rooting for you; building you up as he had done back then.

You remembered him more as you looked at the pictures. Now his face was so recognizable to you, after you had fallen in love with everything about him, you’d even be able to spot him with bright blue hair and a fake mustache on. But apparently all it had taken was a pair of glasses and a wavy red perm.

“I can’t believe he pulled a Superman-Clark Kent on me — ohhhh…look at how cute he was!” You cooed right out loud. A momentary lapse made you forget where you were and as soon as the sickeningly saccharine words left your lips you lifted a hand to cover over your parted lips.

She laughed out loud , “Oh no, you’ve got it bad. You’ll invite me to the wedding, won’t you?”

She was joking when she said it but you closed up your mouth and pulled both of your lips between your teeth, biting down to try and keep from doing something stupid like squealing from the pent up excitement you felt when you thought about marrying him. Your strong reaction was yet another confession. She had gone motionless the moment you didn't laugh it off as just a funny joke.

“Of course you are invited,” you whispered just under your breath and her laughter quit suddenly, her lips hung open, and her eyes widened significantly.

“Oh my god. What? What?!” She was whispering, but it was a very loud and very excited sounding whisper. “Are you serious?”

You felt her hands grip around your upper arms and she gave you a good shake. It made the laughter break free from your chest and you were giggling now. It was useless to fight it. You could feel the excitement building the more she shook you and the louder her whispering giggles grew. You lifted both hands to cover over your face as your entire body shook with laughter.

You gave into it; the joy and anticipation that her genuine excitement brought out of you and by the time you heard the soft two knocks on your office door you had to wipe away moisture from your eyes from giggling so much before you could compose yourself enough to call out to whoever was knocking that the door was unlocked and they could come in.

The door was pushed and a familiar head of blond hair poked inside just before you saw the rest of his face.

“Miss Manager,” Baekhyun spoke cautiously with his face carefully controlled as he said it. Not even any flirtatious tones hidden in a sweet grin or a secret wink. He was on his best behavior today with so many witnesses around. You hadn’t had a single pointed look from him in hours. It had been at least two hours since you felt the warmth of his fingertips on the skin of the back of your hand. It had been a solid hour since he had looked into your eyes for longer than thirty seconds and allowed those eyes to slip down and steal a glance at your lips.

“You have a meeting upstairs in five,” he said and he pushed the door open further. You could make out Assistant Cha standing just behind him; a thick and heavily scribbled notebook held up to her chest with both of her arms wrapped tightly around it as if it carried all of the secrets of her very new and scary universe.

You nodded your head to the pair of them and quickly gathered your end-of-project meeting materials.

Sandi was excusing herself quietly; if not rather slowly. You caught the lingering examination she gave to Baekhyun as she made her way around the sofa you both had been squealing on moments earlier and seemed to be taking her time with the exit. If he noticed anything amiss, he didn't make it known, but after a few moments of her looking into his face she simply nodded her head once, smiled a sweet smile in his direction and said a quick, “Okay, okay. I can see it. I could have sworn you used to wear glasses.”

You bit down on the side of your tongue to suppress any remaining giggles.

Baekhyun’s eyes danced around her face for a moment in mild confusion and he frowned his lips with a tiny pout, inhaling lightly and parting his lips to respond. But before he could offer any explanation she turned her head back in your direction, gave you a small wave of her hand and a quick, “See you at the wrap party, Miss Manager,” and she then was gone.

You’d made it half of the way through the rows of cubicles when a tap on your shoulder halted your steps and pulled your attention behind you. You recognized that the person calling you was Baekhyun and your eyes were pulled down toward his hand in which he held a small post-it note.

“Excuse me, Miss Manager, I think you dropped this,” he said as he pushed the small folded-in-half piece of colorful paper into the palm of your hand. You knew you must have had a questioning look inside your eyes, at least for the first few seconds of this, but you quickly recovered with a nod and a quiet thank-you on your lips. You slipped the paper inside the pocket of your blazer.

As your legs moved, you noticed that Baekhyun and Assistant Cha held back some, and your curiosity about the small token from your boyfriend felt absolutely itchy. It was as if that small note was pulsing as it called to you from inside your pocket. You slipped your hand in and pulled it out, glancing around quickly to take note of the fact that no one around was paying you any attention at all and with Baekhyun’s steps so far behind you figured no one would mind if you read whatever little details might have been written just for you on this note.

‘I miss you today. You are right here and I miss you to death. I am being so brave about it. You can compliment me about it later, if you want.

P.S. Which season do you like best?’

You silently slipped the note back inside your pocket with a lovely little tap over the fabric to make sure it was secure. You felt as if this elevator you stood inside was carrying you straight into the clouds above this building. He probably couldn't text you freely because of the close proximity of his shadow, Assistant Cha. Or maybe he just wanted to hand you this adorable little note as a physical token of his affection; something you could hold in your hand and lightly touch with the tip of your finger. You half wondered if you should just text him back the answer to his question.

Instead you held your finger over the elevator button to keep it open long enough for the pair of assistants to finally join you inside and you caught the briefest touch of his brown eyes as he stepped inside.

His eyes did not linger. Yours did not chase but you did feel the distinct presence of the warmth of his body as he stepped into the space directly behind you. There were no secret touches or hidden attempts to reach for you inside this space. The high speed elevator surged up quickly; its destination was amongst the upper floors and with the abrupt movement you rocked lightly on your legs to keep your balance. You reached a hand out to rest it over the bar and a glance to your right, just over your shoulder afforded you the view of a familiar hand doing the same. Long slender fingers flexed once outward in your direction, but his hand did not move any closer to you and eventually those fingers simply wrapped around the silver pole for the remainder of the elevator ride.

You would not let your fingers leave his skin tonight.

You’d had your fill of denial.

The meeting was typical for this stage of a project. You paid exactly enough attention as you needed to. Your presentation showcased your team’s successes and honestly, although you didn’t tend to toot your own horn, your own performance looked incredibly impressive as well. Although with such a capable team it was hard not to look incredible. You gave credit where credit was due as you always did and as the other managers and directors said their parts you pulled out a small note pad from your bag and began penning a response to your boyfriend. You did your best to keep your face from showing too much but you could feel the elation pulling your lips into a small smile as you drew the little sad faced emoji in the middle of the note.

‘You are very brave, and doing so much better than I am. I got caught staring at you today. :( Sandi knows now.

P.S. I like the fall. Winter is too cold, Spring is too sneezy, and Summer is too hot. Although you kissed me in the summertime so I like it now too.

P.P.S. I remember you now, from Jung Ho’s project. I didn’t know you wore glasses.

P.P.P.S. It’s not fair for you to look so handsome in every hair color. ’

You stopped writing when you ran out of space. This all could have gone so much smoother in a text message, but there was something magical about writing all of this out in a note to secretly pass to him in person.

Your meeting ended and there was another meeting coming up just after lunch. Your busy schedule and the ever present assembly of people around you didn’t give you any opportunities to pass on the note. And when you would have normally both found yourselves alone with each other, now there was an entirely new person around with her own set of eyes, watching and learning all sorts of things about her new position. And hopefully just that.

She was fine. You could tell that Baekhyun was right about her. She would do well and she would succeed in her new role. You would come to depend on her and appreciate her too. Maybe even the strange undeserved bitterness you felt when you looked at her pretty young face would fade.

But now, you wished she had some other place she desperately had to be.

You found your chance just after lunch when Assistant Cha had departed to the bathrooms. You spotted Baekhyun leaning against a pillar on the ground floor checking the time on his watch, looking about as handsome as could be in his suit and ignoring the many curious glances from various ladies and men who walked by him. He seemed to be waiting for something and you slipped closer to where he stood, careful not to be spotted as you made your way around the other side of the pillar.

You’d reached a hand out to tap on his shoulder at the exact moment that a ping sounded out on his cell phone and he moved out of the way just as your fingers extended so that they touched nothing. You felt a little silly.

While you felt a tinge of disappointment that you’d missed your chance, you also felt a surge of mild curiosity about what he was up to. He made his way toward the security turnstiles and met with a run-of-the mill food delivery man who handed him a small black bag from a local bakery down the block. You’d recognized the logo of one of your favorite shops that had the absolute best fruit tarts you’d ever had and a chocolate cake slice that you’d just about sell your soul for.

He was walking back with his head and his focus turned down into the small bag and you spun on your heels behind your pillar so he would not see you stalking him.

Your feet moved lightly, feeling like you were in some sort of spy movie as you moved along with him, yet just out of his sight as he made his way toward the elevator. The button was pressed, the lights illuminated and after a few moments the soft ding let you know that he would be stepping forward into that quiet space. What kind of deal with the devil did you have to make for that elevator to be empty?

He stepped inside and you held back. You counted in your head just a few times before moving and just as the doors were closing you slipped inside the space, earning the quiet gasp from the very center of his chest when he saw you.

It was empty. You had him alone for a few seconds at least.

“Excuse me, Assistant Byun, I think you dropped this.” You did your best impression of him and held up the little colorful note you had with a cheeky smile that he returned instantly as he reached out quick fingertips to grab the note.

Baekhyun wasted no time. His fingers pulled the small sheet apart and his mouth moved as he silently formed the words of your message with his lips.

“Oh my god,” he gasped quietly; having absorbed the bad news from the note first, “Sandi knows? How?”

“She’s a better detective than Batman,” you shrugged rather casually. Both because you trusted Sandi and you figured if you weren’t freaking out about this, then maybe he would take it in stride as well. “She showed me some pictures of you from last year.”

“Did she?” His lips were pulled into a smile and you caught the little lift of his chin and the scrunch of his nose.

You nodded twice, acutely aware of how telling the smile on your face must look to him. “I remember you. I didn't know your name though. But you looked very cute with the little glasses and the hair,” you lifted a hand to make a waving motion with your fingers above your own head. “Did you get LASIK? Where are the glasses?”

He was reaching a hand out to press a button on the elevator panel and his eyes narrowed slightly as he pursed his lips.

“Oh, that was just fashion. They never had any lenses in them. I have perfect vision.”

His clarification made you laugh out loud. You leaned against the back wall of the elevator and looked into his face freely, feeling every bit of the affection and attraction you had for the man fill up your chest with contentment. At last, you had a moment alone with him. You could look at him. You could stare at him and you could daydream and you could let every single recent memory of the love you shared with him flood your mind freely in this shared space without onlookers or witnesses.

Baekhyun leaned against the side wall, doing just about the exact same thing to you and when his head leaned back against the elevator wall his eyelids sank down half closed, his jaw relaxed, and his lips parted with a slow exhale of air from deep within his lungs.

“I wish I could touch you,” he whispered under his breath.

“Me too,” you confessed, “stupid cameras,” you added without breaking eye contact with him; although you did let your head fall some to rest against the back wall.

“I’ll kiss you in the wintertime,” he said with a smile pulling at his lips, “so you don't feel the cold so much.” His sweet words and that pretty smile pulled a matching smile from you. You lifted a hand to cover over your mouth, tapping lightly over your lips with your fingertips.

“Let’s have a winter wedding,” he said.

“This winter? So soon?” You didn’t hear any objection in your voice. Only curiosity.

He nodded and blinked his eyes slowly; a truly dreamy expression taking over his features.

“We can honeymoon somewhere without pollen and I will kiss you in the springtime.”

You couldn’t stand it. You felt ready to burst right here inside this elevator; just from his sweet, romantic promises that coated you from head to toe.

In the recesses of your mind; in the bargaining parts, you could hear the questions parading by.

What if you reached a hand out and pressed the button for the ground floor on this elevator panel. What if you pulled him by the shirt sleeve — didn’t give a good damn about who saw — and marched him right out of this office building, out onto the street, and hailed a cab destined for your apartment. What if you said screw who knew the truth, screw the wrap and the endless droning meetings, screw this job. What if you took him home and you locked both of you inside your home for a month straight. Nothing but the two of you and the privacy you would find in that bedroom.

“I miss you,” he said softly under his breath with his eyes still locked onto your face. Your mind had been wandering but his words pulled you back into yourself.

“I’m right here,” you said with a small smile, blinking your eyes slowly and purposefully in his direction again and again, as if you could send him a message with their movement — I love you, I love you, I love you — your eyelids called out to him.

“I miss you, though,” he said again with a long exhale from his lungs. “What am I going to do next week when I can't look up and see you whenever I want?”

The elevator slowed its rapid upward movement and you could feel it in your stomach as it slowed to a stop. Someone must be joining; you hadn’t yet reached your destination but it appeared that someone would come and interrupt this. Damn them. A soft ding let you know the doors were about to open. Your few moments of alone time with him was coming to an end.

Baekhyun was still talking though; still lost inside his own head and caught up in the dread of the upcoming changes you both would need to adjust to.

“I sound pathetic, don’t I?” You had to look away from his face but from your peripherals you caught the small step he took in your direction as he moved closer to you.

“Baekhyun, someone is coming in.” You didn’t have time to reassure him that this feeling he was going through was not something he was alone in. You also felt the loneliness and the ache to touch him. You were also feeling the sense of dread for the upcoming weeks without him by your side.

But right now was not the time. Not with this camera above both of your heads and the elevator doors about to open and whoever it was that had called the elevator was about to walk in.

A few simultaneous sensations happened. You could feel the jolt as the elevator came to a full stop and, at the same time, Baekhyun’s soft fingertips brushed against the back of your hand. He had taken another step it seemed and he was beside you; his wandering hand reaching down to run a slow path over your skin down the back of your hand. You felt the moment his fingers wrapped around your palm and slipped lower as each fingertip slipped just in-between your own fingers.

You had to pull away. The doors opened.

You pulled your hand out of his grip quickly, if not a bit forcefully, and you stepped away at the same time; putting a good two steps worth of distance between the two of you. You brought your hands in front of you and clasped them together and you looked up just in time to make eye contact with a terrifyingly familiar set of brown eyes. Brown eyes that bore a strikingly frightening resemblance to the very same brown eyes that had been burning a hole into your heart all day long.

You were sure the first few moments of the eye contact, you had a look of absolute panic. You were certain he would have seen fear in your eyes.

You did your best to push a smile to your face. Inside of your chest your heartbeat had jolted to life, sending thundering booms through your entire torso. You felt the trembling from it. You swallowed nervously and you could hardly hear your own words from your lips over the echo of your racing heart inside of your eardrums.

“President Byun,” you said softly; wincing internally at just how terrified you sounded as you said his name. “Lovely to see you, Sir.”

Your greeting earned you a curt head nod and his eyes immediately moved to touch upon his son’s face.

“What floor?” You were closest to the buttons and you inhaled through your parted lips and forced the air back out slowly, desperately hoping your question hadn’t sounded stupid. He was the president and every one knew his offices occupied the top floor.

“Top?” Your finger hovered over the button and your nervous question another swift nod of his head. He spared you only a fraction of his attention before he was standing beside Baekhyun, who kept his eyes fixed securely on the closing elevator doors.

The doors closed and you stepped back, holding your hands together in front of your abdomen so they wouldn't tremble and give away the raging anxiety that was surging through you right now.

You hadn’t been ready for this. You knew seeing his father again after all that had transpired between you and Baekhyun would bring some strong emotions but you were having about as strong a reaction as you could take quietly. It was the suddenness of this.

You kind of just wanted to run away from this. Yet you were trapped inside this moving box with these two men who hadn’t spoken a word to each other despite sharing a familial bond, sharing a bloodline, sharing a home for most of Baekhyun’s life, you couldn't help but notice that Baekhyun hadn’t even said hello to the man. Nor had the man said anything to his son, but the two of them merely stood side by side in this elevator and looked ahead with blank and passive faces.

You felt a tickle in your throat. It was the nerves. You fought the urge to cough and quickly realized it was useless and you turned your head a little and cleared your throat, trying to rid yourself of the annoying feeling without actually coughing inside a closed elevator in a time when coughing in public was a major faux pas.

The sound of your own throat cleaning was timed perfectly with the sound of President Byun’s feet as he took a single step forward so that he was standing ahead of the both of you and he inhaled a breath into his lungs to speak out loud into the space right in front of his face.

“I have received some very interesting news this morning,” President Byun said in a steady and confident voice without any flinching in his body language to favor one side of him or another. There was nothing given to indicate that he was speaking to any one of you in particular.

“What is that, Sir,” Baekhyun said; at last acknowledging his father. You couldn't find the nerve to get your own voice to work. You held your breath and then tried your best to keep your breathing steady and even. You felt the slight pain in the back of your hand as your nails gripped hard into your own flesh.

He didn’t turn around to look at either of you when he spoke again, he merely inhaled a breath, opened his mouth and dropped a bomb right on top of both of your heads.

“I heard that you think … that you’re getting married.”

[To Be Continued]

Links: Part 1, …. Part 15, Part 16, Part 17

[missbunnybunny]

" Miguel Look . At . Me ”

⚚ This story had been in my Draft for a while, I wasn't sure if I should post it or not. But here ya go. It a LONG reading!⚚ 🚩 cws: cursing, yelling, gore, suggestive, slightly, proofread but don't count me on that. Enjoy! Miguel O'Hara x Special Spider-Women. This is a y/n story hopefully by the end it's well written. There is Spanish in this story. Plz enjoy and I hope you all liked it.

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There was a terrible humming in your ears. Your head felt literally as though it were submerged in water due to your swelling and impaired eyesight. It was hardly audible and distorted like a damaged radio. A voice yelled out, "/n." Then even another and yet another "y/-". Your name must have been called out by several individuals. Y/N! reverberated in your thoughts as your conscience faded in and out. "Get moving right NOW!"

However, for us to get here, we must first go back a few hours. The weather had been miserable for a few days already, so it was not your week. You had very little chance of escaping without taking a direct hit from a bucket of liquid sky bullets. Less deadly rain was falling, and it was turning into a lovely, soft drizzle. Your little sister kept pleading, "Please, can we go play? I'll behave. " delivering her best puppy eyes. Despite being aware of what she was doing, you fell for it.

Putting your phone down and sighing, you turned to face her. She had been begging to play outdoors in the rain for the last ten minutes. As much as Jay was annoying you, he also enjoyed rainy days. "plz y/n. It would be exciting. " Jay talked to you from the left. You ruddered your templé and muttered, "Didn't I tell you to quit coming up in front of Liz?" "No lo regañes!"Liz commanded. You'll never understand how your 5-year-old sister didn't run away from the symbiote. Really, kids are odd.

Jay had unexpectedly entered your life. You got your ass beat while fighting a bad guy, yet you still won. You had been a spider woman for nine years, and every battle taught you something new. One of these lessons from six years ago was to never, I repeat, never, fight in the presence of a crazed old guy! The senile old guy was restrained by the time the struggle was over. Glass was all throughout the place, with liquid green and other multicolored pieces on the ground. You created a terrible mess, slightly horrified that if your mother had seen this if it had been your room, you would get an ass whooping. however, it was not your mess. When you reach out to shoot your web, a quick, sharp pain struck you in the back.

You spun around to confront whoever did this but couldn't find anyone. You concluded it was back discomfort, went home, had a shower, and went to bed because the old guy was still chained up, and the room was empty. waking up the following morning to a slimy-looking monster in black and crimson, staring you in the face. That being was now giving me a puppy-dog expression. "Esta bien!" while raising your hands. "You win. Get ready." < fine> After 20 minutes, everyone was prepared and ready to leave.

Grading your keys and phone, you left the apartment turning around to lock the door. Liz was standing next to you in her favorite raincoat. It was clear with cats sprinted on the design. Yours, on the other hand, was a hooded cyberpunk long cape raincoat in black and white. The second you both were outside, Liz started to jump into the puddles. She was having fun while I was taking a video of her to show Mom later.

Speaking of Mom, she was calling me. Asking me how our play date was going. " va bien, ma. Se está portando bien." < everything's good, ma. She's behaving well> You turned around to see she was still playing. "Si, mami. La Quiero adiós."< Yes, Mom. Love you, bye.> You ended the call and turned around to see some sort of portal take your sister. You dropped your phone and jumped right into the portal. Jay is grading your phone on the way down. Landing in an empty hallway, no little sister in sight. Spidy sense going absolutely crazy, Jay growling as he spoke, "Smells like more of you, think their nice?" You scoffed a little," you bite, so we're good, " you told him.

After walking for what felt like forever. Finally you saw the light of a bigger space, you saw a sea of spider people. You looked at them wide-eyed and mouth agap, and they stopped what they were doing to stare right back at you. "Uhh, hi." You smiled, fans slight poking out. Jay manifested on your shoulder, looking at them. Before anyone could move to get you, you had glitched right out of there.

In the meanwhile, with Liz:

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"Ow, ow eso duele." < Ow, ow that hurts.> Liz rubbed her behind and murmured." Where are we, Hermana?" < Sister> She turned to look, but she couldn't find her big sister. Standing up, she set out on a quest to find an adult and ask them for assistance. While moving, She checked each open door to see whether anyone was around. She approached a door, knocked a few times, and waited for it to open. The door was opened by a huge, extremely tall man who was glaring aggressively from side to side. Still staring at him, she timidly said, "Hola, hi, can you help me." Children do think grownups are tall.

He noticed a young child with an umbrella and raincoat as he looked down. He questioned what a child was doing here. He asked, "What's your name, Niña?" < kid> "My family and friends call me Liz, but my name is Eliza." She gave him a smiling face. "What's your name, mister?" Liz questioned. He said, squeezing the bridge of his nose as he anticipated getting a headache, "Miguel O'Hara." He saw the little girl enter the room and was shocked that she didn't immediately start touching everything. He sensed her staring a hole through the back of his head after five minutes. He gave her a raised eyebrow and silently prompted her to continue.

"Your suit looks like sis, but hers is cooler," she said playing with her umbrella from where she had taken a seat. Miguel froze, his mouth slightly wide as he stared at her. He said, "What does your sister's suit look like?" Liz smiles as she starts to explain, her eyes glinting. She wears a black mask with a crimson inside. She wears a hood that is black on the outside and crimson inside with a white lining. Oh, her mask only covers her eyes, not her entire face. she wears a stylish cyberpunk jacket that hides her mouth. It has a glitchy spider with a heart for a head, and it is black with a crimson lining. Also, her pants have several pockets with zippers in black and red. black Snickers with a bottom color of crimson. She grinned while panting, I helped her design it. "

The child responded with a shake of the head in the negative when a holographic woman asked her, "Did you even breathe?." He thought to himself, "Can kids talk so much without breathing." But thanks to her eager and thorough explanation, he now knew where on earth she was from. Although it sounded like earth-xxx, he still had to determine how she entered his world. Lyla and Liz were having fun. the lady abruptly appeared in front of Miguel. A spider person wearing a cyberpunk raincoat with a symbiote had entered the mess hall,  they glitched just as soon as they appeared and disappeared. 

Liz jumped up onto her feet and excitedly spoke, "That y/n my big sis. Vino por mí." < She came to get me.> Now Miguel had another problem on his hand you! Liz ran towards the door in front of him before he could take another step. She stumbled and nearly fell face-first to the ground, forcing Miguel to grab her hand. It was amusing to observe Miguel clutching the hand of an adorable kid who was carrying an umbrella while wearing a raincoat with a cat print. She was a smiling woman with a stylish motorcycle jacket and yellow spectacles, staring down at the small child. The little child hid behind Miguel's leg when she knelt down to talk to the child. As he knelt down next to the girl, Miguel sighed and said quietly, "This is Jess; Ella's una buena persona." < She's a nice person.> He gently persuaded the small kid to shake Jess' hand. The little girl reluctantly shook Jess's hand after looking at Miguel and then at her. Eliza introduced herself before hesitantly moving to Miguel's chest and said, "Hello, my name is Eliza." When Miguel stood up, he was holding Liz in his arm to prevent her from falling and accepting that she wasn't going to let go of his neck.

They encountered several floating passageways while Miguel was narrating to Jess how Liz and her sister Y/n had arrived in this reality. Liz started gushing to Jess about how amazing you were and how she wanted to grow up to be just like her big sister. " But I don't like it when she calls me at weird hours of the night to open the window." Liz sighed. The kids' concerns were teased by Jess, and Liz said, "But, they make it up. I always get some snacks from Jay. " "Who is Jay?" Jess questioned after pausing for a few moments. The young girl hesitated, seemingly recalling something. "Oh, Jay is my sister's symbiote; I should have told you about him. But don't worry, they won't bite. As soon as she finished speaking, Miguel and Jess' spidey senses activated. "Oh, but we bite alright," said a lady in a voice that sounded like it was coming from a doll's voice box.

returning with Y/n✁┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

" Oh, but we do bite alright," we spoke. Jay wondered who these guys were and why they had his small human friend, and he was on high alert. The huge man in particular felt odd. He smelled like a spider, but he couldn't determine what was in the mix. You questioned, "Who are you?" "Tiny human, are you okay?" said Jay as he suddenly appeared on your shoulder. He reserved a hum from Liz in response. Liz called out from above them, "Am okay, these kind people saved me." As you leaped up to meet them and your sister, you exhaled a breath of relief.

"This is Miguel O'Hara and Jess." You acknowledged Liz's introduction by nodding and telling both. As you took Liz from the tall man named Miguel and said, "Hello, I'm Y/n these ones' big sister, and this is Jay. You had to admit that he had fantastic looks, but that wasn't the goal.

You realized it was 2:30 when you looked at your phone and realized you needed to get home before Mom got home. It means your search for your sister had taken an hour and thirty minutes. Due to traffic, she didn't arrive home until 6 or 7. You were ready to start talking when you heard someone else's stomach gurgling. Liz looked at you shyly and said, "Oops, am hungry." Jay also added his voice, saying, "I agree with the tiny human." You rolled your eyes and chuckled a little. "We have a mess hall; feel free to eat there," replied Jess.

When you arrived, it was the same area you had initially entered when seeking Liz. Jess and Miguel had led the way. but soon after arriving, Miguel went off to his office. Jess advised you not to take it personally since it was simply the way Miguel behaved. You all approached the counter and placed orders. "Please give me 20 chicken nuggets and a large plate of fries," Liz asked. You said, "I'll have a plate of (favorite food) and some lasagna, please." "And I'll have a grape soda and (favorite drink), please," Jay stated. Following the completion and settlement of all orders, Jess took you to a table with a large group of people. Liz carried her food, you carried yours, and Jay held the beverages.

they all waved at Jess and at you once you had fully arrived at their table. They moved over to make some space for you both. You thanked them before taking a seat and placing your plates down. Jess announced that she had to go " enjoy the food, take care." With that, she left the mess hall. " am Hobie, nice to meet you mate." Said the man with a guitar and cool punk style. " am Miles, and this is Gwen," the young man introduced himself and the girl beside him. " And am Pavitr Prabhakar." The last one of the group was introduced. Liz let out a Squeal, " Am Eliza, you're all so cool. Special you Hobie." She commented.

Everyone was eating when a sudden purring sound could be heard. Except for Y/n and Liz, everyone froze. Miles, who was glancing about, questioned, "What was that?" “Oh, that was just Jay, I guess.” Liz moved her plate to you and stated, "Am done," as you continued to eat. When Liz stated that black and crimson liquid came out of your raincoat, you said, "Jay can have the rest. "Don't mind if I do," Jay suggested getting a few chicken nuggets. “That's Jay's sister's symbiote; he enjoys nuggets. Because of that, he purred.” While the other guests at the table were fixated on the new friend, Hobie was the first to say, "That's cool." He stated while gesturing to Jay. Jay commented, "I know”.

"Jay, at least drink something. You're giving me a stomachache," you said as Jay continued to eat endlessly. He was hesitant and downed the grape soda after you reprimanded him. When you sipped your (favorite beverage). Of course, you were eating for two, so when you finished your meal, you felt content. Liz was having fun as Hobie was showing her how to play the guitar and looking at the stickers. When you're having fun, time does fly, as you discovered when you checked your phone at 4 p.m.

You stated, "Can we be taken to Miguel's office, I think it's time for us to go," as you cleaned your plate and disposed of it with the other dirty dishes. Hobie took hold of Liz's hand while the rest of the gang led the route and sometimes talked. Once everyone had come into the room, an older man holding a young child with red hair greeted them. Miles sprang up and said, "Oh, hey Peter," while waving a hand. Gwen exclaimed as she removed her from Peter's head, "Mayday, stop pulling his hair."

Miguel continued to work while staring at the several screens in front of him without turning around. When Liz saw him, she raced and clutched his leg, asking, "Can we go home now?" At last, Miguel turned his head away from what he was doing to look at Liz. True to her claims, a portal opened just a few meters away from Liz when Lyla said, "A portal should be ready in a few seconds." Liz tightly hugged Miguel's leg before releasing her grip and waving goodbye to everyone. A clawed hand grabbed her and pulled her into the portal just as it started to crash before she could scream.

" ELIZA!" You hurried to the portal while yelling in terror only to have it close in your face. You spun around in horror only to see the look on everyone else's face. save for Miguel, who had a contorted expression of rage and fear? Liz was gone, what were you to do? And you have no idea where she may be; is she alright? Is she injured? She had to be located. Miguel continued to type, and eventually, it looked like he had solved the issue since a perfectly shaped portal suddenly appeared next to you. "You should return to your universe. We'll find your sister," Miguel remarked. You headed over to him because you were enraged. Having been recently told to leave your sister by him? Was he crazy? You lowered him to your level by grading his jaw, "Miguel Look. at. me. I came here for Liz and am not leaving without her." You informed him while looking him in the eyes, then released your hold on his face. Jay was experiencing the same level of anxiety as you were by silently pacing back and forth in your head.

Everyone saw the encounter as it took place. To their amazement, Miguel merely let out a sigh and hit a button. They had anticipated Miguel to lash out at you for scolding him for even ordering him. "Your sister was unintentionally sent to this Earth." Your legs quickly carried you there when a gateway popped up next to him. "Thank you," you said to him before briskly moving through it. With the exception of where the city and the forest appeared to meet, it appeared to be your earth. Your spidey sense went off behind you; it was beautiful, but Liz was more crucial. Miguel and the other spider people appeared as you turned to face them.

You puzzledly turned to face them. You didn't expect to see them, so you questioned, "What are you doing here?" "I think that the little lad is cool," Hobie remarked. " We're friends, and friends support one another," Miles and Gwen nodded in agreement as Pavitr Prabhakar made his statement. You turned to face Miguel as he assuredly nodded and continued, "We'll find your sister." You spoke out, "Jay, you know what to do," and maintained a forward gaze. With that, a dark, red liquid began to seep out of your body and completely cover you. You were now dressed in a completely black suit with red eyelining. "Ah, it's wonderful to have control every so often," Jay remarked. He began to smell the air, searching for any traces of Liz. In times of need, having a fairly keen sense of smell was helpful. Once he spotted her, he started to leap. Jay said, "Try not to get left behind you, slowpokes." Jay came to a rest on top of an abandoned factory whose windows were all smashed after swinging from building to building. Jay squats and scans the ground below him. A big Lizard was tying up an unconscious Liz, which they could see.

Miguel was explaining his strategy to safely rescue Liz when Jay rose up and hissed, "Blood." " What did you say?" Miguel questioned. "He made her bleed, and I'm going to kill him," Jay stated before thudding to the floor with a loud THUMP. Miguel merely looked down at Jay before diving down as well. "Huh?" said the man, turning around to face Jay. "You're not Spiderman," said the Lizardman. when he watched more people plunge from the roof. "Give me back the tiny human," Jay commanded. Jay charged towards the Lizarded, punching him in the face before being struck by a Tail. Miles shocked him, while Gwen, Pavitr Prabhakar, and Hobie fired their webs to keep him in place, and Miguel punched the Lizardman in the face. While they were doing this, Jay hurried up to Liz, who appeared to be in good condition, save for a scrape on her left knee. Jay relinquishes the majority of power to Y/n. As you scooped up your sister, you sighed a sigh of relief. As you were doing so, someone yelled your name, "Y/n watch out!" You felt as if your back had been crushed by a sack of boulders, knocking the wind out of you, even though you were still clutching Liz firmly.

There was a terrible humming in your ears. Your head felt literally as though it were submerged in water due to your swelling and impaired eyesight. It was hardly audible and distorted like a damaged radio. A voice yelled out, "/n." Then even another and yet another "y/-". Your name must have been called out by several individuals. Y/N! reverberated in your thoughts as your conscience faded in and out. "Get moving right NOW!" With that, your eyes shot open. The fight was still going on, and you had to keep Liz safe. standing up and wobbling from side to side a little, after a few seconds with the help of Jay's help, you managed to stand up straight. looking to your side, you saw a large pail of (favorite color) web safely covering Liz.

taking a deep breath, you looked at the battle head-on. When you saw there was an opening, you mustered all the strength that you could and ran to the Lizardman. punching him in the face and blasting him throw the wall, leaving him unconscious. " Ah, eso duele como una puta," < Ah, that hurts like a bitch> you remarked while clutching your hand. The trip back to the Spider Society was probably a blur to you because Jay led the entire time. Liz had awoken after having her knee treated; how she had so much enthusiasm, you I'll never know. Your injuries weren't too serious; Jay had healed most of them. Miguel gazed down at Liz with a small smile on his face. " Si sonreíes así más a menudo, no me importaría llevarte a casa conmigo." < if you would smile like that more often, I wouldn't mind taking you home with me.> You gave Miguel a sly grin. Liz said, "Uu, ella está tratando de seducirlo." < Uu, she's trying to seduce him > Laughing her little head off. 

Lyla announced that the portal to your world was complete. You had Liz picked up and were ready to head home. Liz murmured something into your ear as the portal opened, and you smiled. "Can you come here, Miguel?" Liz said, inviting him over. The man raised an eyebrow but nevertheless approached her. "Come a little closer," she whispered, causing Miguel to stoop to your height. Liz grinned as you kissed him on the cheek, "Tengo un nuevo tío." < I have a new uncle.>You grinned even wider as you noticed Miguel's cheeks get slightly pinker by the second. " Ay, Que lindo. Bye everyone, see ya next time." < How cute.> You mentioned entering the portal. As the portal finally closed, Liz yelled, "Bye-bye, everyone."

Miguel was rendered speechless as his mind absorbed what had just occurred. Muffled snorting and laughing jolted him out of his stupor, and he spun around, glaring angrily at the perpetrators. "You hear me, not a single word of this to anyone," he warned. "Get out, all of you," Miguel yelled. Hobie said, "I wasn't even here." He headed to the door, followed by the rest of the gang.

It was still softly raining when you exited the portal. It was a nice and much-needed melody. You entered your apartment and opened the door. Liz leaped out of your arms and raced to her room to change into her pajamas and take a bath. You did the same once she was showered and clothed. After a while, the jingling of keys drew your attention. " Ya llegué." <am home> yelled a lady from the front door. " Hola ma, como te fue?" < Hi, Mom. How did it go?> You asked. " Me fue bien, les traje Pizza. Se divirtieron?" < It was fine. I brought you some pizza. Did you have fun?> she asked. " Si, verdad Liz?" < Yes, right, Liz?>  Looking at your sister, you said. She leaped and shouted si <Yes> as she held her pizza dish." Eso es bueno, me voy a baña." <That's good, am going to take a bath.> she replied as she exited the room.

"We should do it again!" Liz stated. "The next time you fall, throw a portal," you said with a smile. Make a note of Miguel's phone number." You made a joke poking her nose. She glanced at you and smiled, saying, "On it." You couldn't keep a straight face and burst out laughing. You both had a long day, Jay was out cold. It was interesting. You couldn't wait till your next visit to the spider society. But it would have to wait till you got some much-needed rest after such a long day.

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[hyenahunt]

Rouge & Ruby: Youth's Depression - 2

Writer: Umeda Chitose

Season: Winter

Characters: Ibara, Hinata

Proofreading: royalquintet (JP) & Skyress (ENG)

Translation: Mirei

Ibara: (Idol, Vice-president, sponsor, producer… No matter the position, I'm still me.)

[Read on my blog for the best viewing experience with Oi~ssu ♪]

Ibara: …By the way, what kind of stage plan does 2wink have for the performance?

You mentioned that you are still in the middle of discussions, but it seems that a conclusion hasn’t been reached yet. I am open for consultation if needed.

Hinata: Ah, well, um... The discussions have been a little rocky, but we really shouldn't rely on the Vice-president for everything.

We’ll try to agree on something ourselves and find our own way forward.

Ibara: … From what we've discussed, I now know Yuuta-kun's opinion, but I imagine you have your own ideas too, right, Hinata-kun?

Hinata: Yes, I've put forth suggestions, too. But the sad thing is, they don’t really click with Yuuta-kun…

But I was thinking my sweet-tooth opinion might be more useful when we start talking about what sweets we'll prepare.

Also, Yuuta-kun probably won't be able to stomach the chocolate being provided for ES' Chocolat Fes, anyway.

So I think I’ll need to be the one who does the tasting, and then brainstorm how to do the PR to attract fans into buying it.

Ibara: …I see. Since you seem to have your own plans, Hinata-kun, I won’t give you any more unnecessary advice.

Hinata: It's not unnecessary… I’m really, really grateful to hear your suggestions, Vice-president.

But aren’t you performing in Chocolat Fes too, Vice-president!?

Ibara: ? Naturally?

Hinata: That means you're also an idol who will deliver love and affection to everyone on Valentine's Day! ♪

Being an idol while also being CosPro’s Vice-pres, and even a sponsor who brings in money to support us like this…

You're also handling the big job that is producing Eden. Since you’re so busy, I just think we shouldn’t be bothering you more than we already are.

Ibara: … Very well. I'm not so weak to the point that you need to be worried about me, but I appreciate the concern.

Hinata: I’m still really sorry for showing up so late.

Are you gonna keep working after this, Vice-president?

Ibara: … I was thinking of polishing up the Chocolat Fes plan after this.

Hinata: Whoops! seems like I came at a bad time…

Hinata: Well then, I'll excuse myself. Good luck with your work, Vice-president!

Ibara: Yes, please take care on your way back.

Hinata: Lastly, I really, really appreciate the help! Thank you! I'm looking forward to Eden's performance too ♪⁠

Ibara: …

…In the end, It did feel like he was skirting around the topic of 2wink's stage plan.

Knowing them, they're unlikely to spend an outrageous amount of money or use it carelessly… I would assume, anyway. Well, I shall leave them be.

Though… an idol who delivers love and affection, huh…

Somehow I keep being haunted by the word "love". What a nuisance.

… (staring at his PC monitor)

(Idol, Vice-president, sponsor, producer… No matter the position, I'm still me.)

(And no matter the position, I'll have to be the winner of Chocolate Fes—of Valentine’s itself.)

(From securing absolute success, and even emerging victorious in the battlefield of sales…)

(No matter how people keep pointing out how many things I pursue at once, this is just how I do things.)

(Not once in my life have I not had the confidence and determination to chase after multiple rabbits, and successfully catch them all.1)

(So it's hardly a bother to add COMP to the mix as well—)

Ibara: … Tch. The more I look at it, the more absurd that plan looks. How disgusting.

It’s true that I’m not unrelated to the management of CosPro-affiliated idol schools.

Also, it’s a fact that COMP is a project hammered out for CosPro, by CosPro.

Even so... It would be one thing to be at the whims of His Excellency or His Highness, but to have my own plans twisted for the sake of ES or the expectations of the executives is extraordinarily unpleasant.

Didn't we fulfil our duty already in that live PV filming the other day?

Although restoring the image of CosPro-affiliated schools and gaining recognition from the executives would only serve to my benefit…

Before a wish that I have strived to grant for myself, are they not simply obstacles?

Jun: But I know about what you've told us, Ibara. Some of it's got a competitive aspect to it as always, but I trust in your way of doing things when it comes to that, so I think it's fine and all...

So I don't wanna have anything related to COMP throwing a wrench in that, at least this time 'round.

What I'm saying is — if it's gonna stress you out so much to try to shove it in, let's just win this thing with your own plan and our own abilities.

Ibara: … I don't need you to tell me that. Actually, that was my line of thinking from the very beginning.

…

(SS happened, then COMP was handed over to me. Perhaps I was thrown off-balance at some point.)

Ibara: (No, the one who threw me off balance the most is actually Jun… But because of him, my mind is clearer now.)

(The fact that Jun managed to see through me like that means I still have a ways to go.)

— I shouldn’t think that I can seize everything for myself so easily. I also don’t always have to seize everything I can get my hands on.

Allow me to demonstrate that I can obtain what I truly want!

(In this case, the part related to "COMP" is unnecessary after all. Fufu, getting rid of unnecessary things really feels quite pleasant…♪⁠)

(With that out of the picture, it’ll give me some more breathing room, which means it’s possible for me to upgrade the plan for Eden…!)

Now then, let us get right to it—

Time: A little while later

Ibara: … Hm. Look at how I managed to create a new plan already. This is truly thanks to my extraordinary planning skills… ♪⁠

When it comes to reaching contacts, the faster the better. It's quite late already, but let's start making phone calls —

Hello? Ah yes, my apologies for calling this late, but I have a small request…

Hinata: Uwah…

(I'm coming back after thinking that I should drop the Vice-president something to thank him for all the advice, but he's totally flipped a switch!)

(I thought he was in a bad mood, but now he's suddenly all smiles and so focused on his work. At this rate, I should probably just leave him be and go back to the dorm.)

(Then I'll do my best — we’ll do our best for Chocolat Fes…!)

[ ☆ ]

✦✦✦✦✦

Translation Notes:

This is refering to proverb  二兎追う者は一兎も得ず, which translates to "One who chases after two rabbits will catch neither". Ibara seems to be purposefully quoting part of the proverb to imply that he's already good at targeting multiple things, and that the proverb itself doesn't apply to him

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[chthonicgodling]

lmao @marscats37’s tags on that Ares n’ Ker post about how Ker just couldn’t care less that Thanatos is ✨deceased✨ like. yeah. that thought has inspired this tangent. whoops accidentally wrote an essay! also I didn’t proofread this at all so I’m sorry if this doesn’t make ANY sense

disclaimer ig yes thanatos has done awful awful things but that’s not what I’m talking about right now so bear with me - ANYWAY -

my point begins with, it’s funny because in current canon and for QUITE some time prior I’m always talking about Thanatos in the past tense like oh he Did That and he Traumatized This Person and Because of Him This Is Like This — like now he’s just the ~villain ghost of the narrative~

but for a while he WAS a character who would actually appear in the Elysiumverse, not even just to show up and cause a bloody scene (he did that too 😔) but prior to Neo’s kidnapping that got him arrested sometimes he would just Be There™ loosely in the Underworld to be a bitch to Maci and Tory (the contents of those convos are heavily from the before-april-thought-to-archive-things-time and are mostly lost to the sands of time) -

and the POINT of this rambling is that like, delightfully I think the personality and character of Thanatos is something that I don’t get to talk about much lately or right now!?? we know he was among the most despicable assholes in the elysium’verse and we know his list of egregious crimes and we know that By The Time We (as in, you all, as in the events that I mostly ever talk about here) Got To Meet Him he was already on a spiral down into the full unmasked supervillainry that led to his downfall— but like. what was he like to interact with beforehand.

…..as an aside please know that even with Maci’s history with him and even though she remained terrified of him at her core, Maci had buried all that down (to not deal with for. Years) and so whenever she and thanatos ran into each other in those aforementioned beforetimes - which wAS MORE TIMES THAN YOU��D THINK - their interactions were less “cowering from a scythe” that you might be imagining and more “loudly bickering at each other bc Maci couldn’t let him know he was getting to her” so that’s. Yes yes before Thanatos reactivated™ he was more of a nuisance fggkfk

BUT ANYWAY

and so, in regards to Thanatos and Ker……. What WAS he like to interact with beforehand well. Ker can tell you! oh she fuckin couldn’t stand him LOLL. sure they considered each other allies - despite being distant siblings they did I think hook up quite… frequently which. okay yeah gross but Greek mythy disclaimer, and this is hardly the worst thing they’ve ever done at least not tHANATOS - insufferable as she found him he was attractive at least I mean 😐 anyway - but Ker like. did not LIKE him?!!!

Ker IS an Elysium villain but honestly…. really JUST due to her relationship with Chal, don’t forget Ker has never actually DONE anything against maci and Tory other than allow Chal to be born as a weapon against them (Thanatos’s idea) and stand there menacingly when Neo was kidnapped (and rip Chal’s shoulder off at the time). She’s disliked Maci because fucking everyone dislikes Maci and disliked Tory because Maci really plucked this destined-to-die-mortal up and ascended him out of deaths grip how dare He Do That but like. Ker’s priority has always been her job and duty as Death

And so her relationship with Thanatos is 1) obligation based - based on the fact that he’s the only other death and if anything happened to him she’d have more work to do. dddddid she kinda sorta definitely encourage his murdery tendencies when he was a fucked up child!! okay yes she did do that but. he took that and ran with it. Like I said Thanatos and Ker ARE siblings many centuries apart and the concept of a second death exists because Ker (and Morpheus, that’s another story) had gone to the fates long before Thanatos was born to get some Fucking Help. and then this is what she ended up with?!!! because number TWO-

her relationship w him was ANNOYANCE BASED!??? because thanatos did not ever give a shit about his own duty and instead was constantly distracted murdering people he wasn’t supposed to (Ker did cover for him, so I guess that’s a crime to add to her own list) . He was constantly getting tangled in needless drama that HE started all the time with the palace or with whoever he was tormenting at the time. To be fair…….. Ker did absolutely enable all this to happen so again she’s not like,a good person but her allyship with thanatos was soooo reluctant lol

Like, Thanatos annoyed the shit out of her! At his “height” he was popular and charismatic and chatty (in the underworld - on olympus he was bitchier, as warranted<33 tho he did schmooze with Ares too who was like. I see right thru u dude you’re fucked up gtfo). he was constantly wrapped up with his stupid little schemes and power plays while Ker and her all business zero sense of humor personality was like. fucking god can you focus. literally like? Evil deathy version of Dog Person/Cat Person.

when thanatos came to her as his own insanity was ramping up and was like Can You Do Me A Favor Pleaase Please Pleeeeeeaaaaseeeee I Need You To Have An Evil Baby With Me her response was basically are you fucking kidding me. he got her to agree with the promise that a double death born god would be evil and cool. (It was Chal, and she was not either of those things fgkkfg). but it was also to get him to just stop whining at her about it.

Meanwhile, Thanatos - knew Ker hated him, first of all - but also knew that she was/is WAY stronger than him, as she could (and did. Sometimes. When he was particularly irritating) break bones or make anyone spit up ichor with just a blink of her eye as goddess of violent death - and so Thanatos calculated that he could not afford to have her an as enemy. but… Thanatos also HATED that she was stronger than him, raging cocky misogynist beneath the surface that he was. and so to her face he tolerated her back and even batted his eyelashes and acted as companion and ally— but seethed under his breath about having to feign friendship and respect to Some Dumb Bitch

…and every time Ker HEARD HIM SAY THAT UNDER HIS BREATH she’d snarl at him until he backed down fgkgkg

and so once Neo was born and Ker realized that SHE DIDNT NEED THANATOS ANYMORE she really checked the fuck out of the situation and just. Politely waited for him to fucking die. it did take a few years but sure enough he was euthanized and in exchange Ker got Neo, who despite being the daughter of the prince and princess that she really disliked was… comparatively not that bad.<333 and they all lived happily ever after

so in conclusion!!! yes Ker didn’t gaf that thanatos was gone lmao. not in the slightest. Thanatos and Melinoe were committing murders for each other’s honor during the height of their villainy but when Thanatos was exploded into literal chunks, KER was like….. :-) hmm ok. that’s fine.

this went all over the place but I hope this has been a fun look at a separately bizarre dynamic taking place on the outskirts of Elysium this whole entire time <3 the end

[myysaints]

fifth times the charm (g.w.)

george weasley x reader

summary: the five times you almost kissed george, and the one time you finally did

contains: fluff!!!, mentions of that pen in hbp, lots of pining 

notes: this one’s a long one!!! not proofread much whoops. also im reentering my hp phase so maybeeeee more hp content coming 👀 would love to do a hp-related writing challenge for nov/dec!!! 

i. 

The first time you almost kiss George Weasley, you’re admiring the scenery.

Because Christ, it’s beautiful.

It’s a strange thing to marvel over, you’re aware, but you can’t help it. With the way the sky is lit up with a thousand brilliant lights, the roaring enthusiasm pulsing through the crowd and through your own veins, the myriad of colours that dot the stadium - The 422nd Quidditch World Cup Final is utterly magical.

“Get the buggers!” George roars from beside you, practically leaping out of his seat as he wrings his hands. You chuckle quietly, watching his face contort into an expression of anguish as Bulgaria, to his immense dismay, scores another point. 

Your soft sound of amusement does not go unnoticed, because despite the raucous noise all around you, the taller Weasley’s eyes flit over to yours, before a cheeky grin takes over his face. Without warning, he’s pulling you to your feet, eliciting a laugh of pleasant surprise from you.

“Enjoying the game, eh?” He yells, straining to be heard over the cacophony of noise. He grins, positively glowing under the floodlights that illuminate every inch of the large stadium.

You laugh, cupping your hands to shout back, “Moreso enjoying watching you! You’re a sight!” 

The tone of your voice is joking, but as you say it, your heart beats a little quicker. Because you do mean it. You would never tell George, or anyone for that matter, but over the 4 years you’ve known the Weasleys, you’ve developed a sort of… little crush on a particular troublemaker. That being him. George Weasley.

So it’s to your surprise that your words have what looks like a soft blush settling on George’s cheeks. He coughs, abruptly turning away from you. He seems to hesitate for a moment, a look of uncertainty and perhaps even nervousness flickering across his face before he musters a brazen smirk, saying proudly, “I know I’m good looking, but really, the most exciting game of the century is happening right in front of you! And you’re staring at me!”

As you break out into laughter, George’s heart swells. The brilliant look of joy on your face is enough to have him smiling as well, unable to stop his heart rate from accelerating tenfold. As if you can hear how fast his heart is beating, you turn to look at him, a small smile on your lips.

His breath hitches, and against his own will, his eyes drop to your lips - And when he looks back up, you’re still smiling, eyes locked on his face, watching him. And it’s then that George notices how you’re close, ever so close, so close that he could almost lean over and just-

“BLOODY HELL!” 

An arm jerks him away from you, and George stumbles, eyes wide as Fred shakes him firmly by the shoulders. The grin on his twin’s face is unmistakable, and he can hardly hear him over the explosion of noise from the crowd. 

He casts a look to the scoreboard, staring numbly at the green confetti that rains down. The game is over.

Before he can move or even attempt to get back to you, he’s being pulled into an engulfing group hug with Harry, Fred and his father, the three of them jumping up and down, almost drunk on the high of Ireland’s win, while all George can think about is the soft smile on your lips. 

He casts a desperate glance over his shoulder, eyes searching the crowd for you, but when you meet his gaze, you duck away. 

His heart sinks. 

ii. 

The second time you almost kiss George Weasley is… tense, to say the least.

George Weasley has never been one to fawn over someone. He’s always hidden his feelings behind joking and teasing, choosing to show his affection through harmless pranks rather than passionate gestures. 

But you. You make it so difficult for him not to burst out into song and dance like in one of those cheesy Muggle romantic comedies.  

“Never reckoned you much for a history person.”

The sudden voice has you jumping, your History of Magic textbook slipping from your hand as you try to catch your breath, glaring at the tall redhead that you somehow hadn’t noticed. He merely sends you a dopey grin, reaching down and handing you your book, bowing as if he had just done you a great service. 

“You’d be surprised at how much you don’t know about me, Weasley,” you tease, walking away from him. His footsteps echo through the empty corridors as he rushes to catch up with you (“Rush” being a bit of a stretch - It merely takes him three long strides to reach you).

Deftly placing himself in your path, you sigh in mock exasperation as he takes the books from your arms and sets them aside. With a charming smile on his face, one you cannot help but mirror, George takes your arm and bows, again. 

“Well, would you perhaps afford me the great opportunity to learn more? About you?” 

If you didn’t know any better, you’d say that he almost appeared nervous. But you do know George Weasley, and you know him well enough that the only people he gets even a semblance of anxious around are his mother and Katie Bell, whom you know for a fact that George has a thing for.

Which is why you’d brushed off that little… incident at the World Cup as nothing more than a blip. A one-time moment that meant nothing. At least, to him, no doubt. To you, that moment where your eyes met his and he leant in is one you’ll never forget. The nights you’ve spent imagining what could have happened had the game interrupted are proof of that.

“What do you say?” George grins, stretching out his hand. “Will you allow me a chance to get to know you better?”

You open your mouth to answer, a smile beginning to form on your lips, but before you can even get a word out, a shout of your name cuts through the silence. 

Surprised, you turn, only to find yourself face to face with an unknown student from Durmstrang, who has in his hands a box of chocolates and a small bouquet of flowers. 

You cast a wild look of askance to George, thinking, that this is just another one of the Weasley’s absurd little pranks. But to your immense surprise, and secret glee, he merely shakes his head, a sour look of what you might indulge in imagining is jealousy passing across his face. 

The Durmstrang boy smiles, a large boyish grin as he kneels and offers you the bouquet and chocolates, asking in a thick accent for your company to the Yule Ball. 

The show of brazen pursuing has you sending a shocked look of excitement to George, who merely gives you a thin-lipped smile. Mind still reeling, you choose to ignore the burning gaze of the Weasley standing beside you, and graciously accept the Durmstrang boy’s proposal. 

His name is Nikola, he tells you, a pleased smile and a soft blush crossing his face as you repeat it slowly back to him. He bids you goodbye with a gentlemanly bow, one much deeper and much more sincere than the mocking one George had given you just moments earlier. You watch him retreat, giggling softly as you watch him silently pump a fist in the air.

“Quite the catch, aren’t you?” 

You can’t muster the strength to jab back at him, only able to mutter a quick goodbye as you scamper off to tell Hermione of the news, unaware of George’s wistful gaze on you. 

---

Godric, you look stunning.

As if his feet have a mind of his own, George is moving towards you, noting how you’re quietly watching the couples whirl about on the dancefloor, your own date gone from your side. He’s grateful for that, really, he is - Otherwise he wouldn’t have the courage to face you. Not when you look so beautiful tonight.

“Having fun?”

Recognising the voice in an instant, you don’t move to look at him, merely nodding and humming in confirmation. 

Frankly, you don’t know what you’ll do if you meet his eyes. You can only hope that he hasn’t noticed how your eyes have been searching for him the whole night, regardless of your constant efforts to recentre your attention to your extremely charming date. Thankfully, he’s off getting more punch.

“Where’s your little Durmstrang friend?” George asks, fiddling with the lapel on his coat, trying to get his corsage back in place. 

You click your tongue, frustrated by his fidgeting. “He’s at the drink table. Getting more punch,” you mutter, brow furrowed in concentration as you fix his misplaced corsage, then reaching up to straighten his collar. “Merlin, who helped you with your robes? It’s all skewed to one side.”

Satisfied, you proclaim proudly, “All done!” only to have the words die in your throat as you tilt your head up. 

Close. Again.

The few centimetres between you have you suddenly feeling dizzy, becoming increasingly aware of the compromising position you’ve found yourself in - You, practically pressed up against his chest as his hand brushes against your hip. The scent of his cologne is overpowering, and you feel your heart flutter desperately. 

“Are you… Are we…” you trail off, looking up uncertainly at him. 

His expression is unreadable as he replies, sounding equally conflicted. “I don’t know. Are we…?”

“Ahem.” 

You jerk back and away from George, reeling back so fast that your back nearly slams into Nikola in the process. He places a steady hand on the small of your back, handing you your cup of punch as you murmur quiet thanks, hurriedly downing the drink to conceal the warmth blooming on your face. 

George stands there, his arms now hanging limply at his side. He sends you a tentative smile, nodding to Nikola is polite acknowledgement. “I’ll be going now, then,” he says plainly, his face contorting into a grimaced smile. “I’ll see you around.”

You wave goodbye, as does Nikola, who, upon George’s departure, raises an eyebrow with a sly smile. 

“Oh, don’t tease,” you groan, as he laughs. 

“You don’t have to pretend,” he responds, “I know you like him. And I am sorry for interrupting.”

Bemused, you shake your head in laughter. “No, no, you’ve got it all wrong, I don’t… like him. Besides, he… He fancies someone else.” At that, you nod towards Katie Bell, who has her arm interlinked with George, laughing happily away. Your heart aches at the sight.

Nikola only snorts. “Please. The way you two look at each other… I assure you, the one he loves is not her.”

It’s shameful, really, how your heart stutters at the word “love”. 

iii. 

The third time you almost kiss George Weasley is perhaps one of the most exhilarating “almost”s in your life.

“Nice one, George, real gentlemanly of you!”

The lake rocks with the force of George’s cannonball, and you shriek as he begins to swim towards you, like a hungry shark on the hunt for his prey.

It’s the summer break, and you’ve managed to find escape from the panic-stricken world outside in these moments at the Burrow with the Weasleys. The lake that sits a mere five-minute walk away from the Burrow proved especially useful on a sweltering day - And so the Weasley’s - Fred, George, Ron, Ginny - and you made the quick trip down for a swim.

“George, George, don’t you dare…!”

A pair of strong arms wrap around your waist, lifting you up a fraction above the water’s surface before letting you slip underwater again. You sputter as you resurface, nevertheless laughing as you chase him around the lake. 

“Oi! You two lovebirds! Keep it down, some of us are working on some excellent craftsmanship here!” Fred yells from the shore, currently in the process of building an unnecessarily complicated sandcastle. 

George only snorts derisively, shouting back, “Excellent craftsmanship my arse! That looks like shit!”

At that, Fred leaps up, causing you and George to both yelp in laughter, creating a ruckus in the water as you attempt to splash away from the approaching redhead. 

As you attempt to run away, giddy with laughter, George wraps his wrist around yours, tugging you forward by the arm. Your breath hitches, and for a split second, you freeze, causing you to slip underwater with a surprised shriek of laughter, pulling George down with you.  

There are bubbles all around you, and in the frenzy of moving water, you feel a hand slip around your waist, pulling you towards the boy in front of you. Even in the water, he’s a sight - You can’t help but admire the way his orange locks dance in the water. The way his eyes blink rapidly, squinting to focus on you.

Then he’s moving towards you, and you are him, and it all feels so right, and your foreheads meet, and you move to just kiss him for Christ’s sake-!

All of a sudden your world is spinning, and you’re being forcefully yanked upwards from the water. You sputter, your head pounding as Fred hunches over you, worriedly asking you question after question. You only catch bits of it - something about accidentally kicking you in the head? 

You aren’t sure, too focused on George leaping out of the water and rushing over to you - like your own knight in shining armour. 

iv. 

The fourth time you almost kiss George Weasley, you do so in earnest impulse.

You’ve been trying, desperately, to produce your Patronus for the past ten minutes. Nearly everyone else has done it, and despite Hermione’s attempts to comfort you at your struggle, you’re getting increasingly frustrated with yourself.

Which is why when George sidles up to you, eyebrow raised and mouth poised open to no doubt tease you, you merely hold up a hand, causing him to stop in his tracks.

“Don’t start, Weasley,” you warn, recentring your attention to the task at hand. “I have to get it right. I have to.”

“You don’t have to do anything, okay?” He tilts your head up, and you can’t fight the smile that slips onto your face. “Just... C’mon, I’ll help you.”

He places his hands on your hips, guiding you into a firm stance as you raise your wand. His breath, warm and so close a shiver runs up your spine, fans against your neck as you close your eyes. 

“Okay, think of your happiest memory.”

“I did,” you groan, “That time at the lake.”

From behind you, he snorts. “That’s your favouirte memory?”

“I don’t know, I just…” you open your eyes, turning to him with a look of exasperation on your face. “I don’t have one specific memory… It’s more of… a collection of them, I suppose.”

He raises an eyebrow, nodding understandingly, suddenly serious. “Okay. Why don’t you focus on that feeling, alright? Think about what makes that collection of memories so treasured, alright? Now, go on. I believe in you.”

The praise has your heart swelling, and you squeeze your eyes shut once more. Slowly, the feeling of his arms wrapped around your waist still there and firm, you inhale and imagine all the times you spent laughing with him. The euphoria that floods your system each time he cracks up at your jokes, each time you are the cause for his happiness.

And you whisper those two words, and open your eyes. 

“Merlin’s beard, you did it!” George exclaims. 

And you did.

A stunningly majestic eagle soars through the room, swooping and doing tricks as people laugh and watch. All the while, you’re distracted, being twirled around in George’s arms as he lauds you in praises and gushes of admiration. 

“Knew you could do it, I knew you could!” He says with a dazzling grin, placing you down as you laugh, giddy with excitement and pure glee. 

Tentatively, almost hesitantly, he reaches an arm up and brushes your cheek gingerly with his thumb. You force back a shudder, instead looking up into his eyes, a familiar feeling of deja vu rushing back to you. 

A smile tugs at his lips, and you swear to yourself that this is the one, this is the moment where you kiss George Weasley, but just as your lips are about to meet, a body collides with yours, sending you tumbling to the ground.

“Blimey, Neville!” George practically groans in frustration, helping you to your feet. Your face burns in humiliation, and you quickly murmur a quiet apology to Neville, who is apologising profusely to both you and George, before slipping quietly and hastily out of the room.

Leaving George, once again.

v. 

You haven’t spoken a word to George since then. 

After that… incident, you did your best to avoid him - Which should have proved to be considerably difficult given that you share a House and a bloody common room with him. And that you’re best friends with his brother. 

But strangely enough, you’ve hardly caught sight of the lanky Weasley this past week. Though, you have been busy. The arrival of Umbridge, that cursed pink nightmare, has brought with it seemingly twice the amount of workloads per class and almost triple the amount of stress. 

Evidently, this new shift in school atmosphere has affected the twins as well - the number and frequency of their “attacks” around the school have only increased since Umbridge’s crackdown on the place. Each time she introduces yet another variably unreasonable “rule” of hers, a prank of heightened explosivity erupts and shakes the school.

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t enjoying the look of horror on Umbridge’s face each time she discovers yet another one of their mischievous acts of rebellion.

“C’mon, just talk to him, will you?” Ron complains. “He’s been talking my ear off about how much he misses you and whatnot, and I can’t stand another minute of it!” 

To your surprise, Hermione turns to you, a knowing glint in her eye. “You know, and I hate to say this, but I agree with Ron.”

You balk, mouth ajar. “Hermione! I thought you were on my side!”

“I don’t take sides, you know that,” she says, nudging you with a growing smile on her face as she sings teasingly, “Besides, I think someone’s watching you!”

You whip around, following her gaze to none other than George Weasley. 

As your eyes meet his, he straightens up almost immediately. You quirk an eyebrow as he fumbles to place his cutlery down, before sending you a beaming smile and an eager wave. The clumsiness has you foolishly giggling, despite yourself. That only serves to make the grin on his face wider.

And so, for the first time in months, you smile back at him.

The look of surprise and glee on his face is priceless.

When you turn back to your friends, they’re all staring at you expectantly, causing you to gasp in mock affrontment. “Alright, now all three of you are ganging up against me! I have done nothing wrong!”

“Sure, but it is driving all of us crazy,” Harry says, raising an eyebrow. “You have no idea how long George can go on and on about you. He’s mad for you!”

“Alright, well, what do you expect me to do about it?” You splutter. While you try not to show it, the knowledge that George talks about you, and does so incessantly at that, makes your heart race to no end. 

Ron looks up, waving his fork about. “For one, you could talk to him.”

“Goodness, Ron, please do not ever speak whilst chewing again,” Hermione makes a face, reaching up to dab at his face with a napkin, fussing over him. You send a look to Harry, who merely chuckles into his pumpkin juice.

“You should talk to him, you know,” Hermione says, pulling away from Ron, who stares after her in askance. “Goodness knows it’d help clear all that tension between you two.”

You cross your arms, frowning. “There isn’t any tension. And you know what? I will. I will talk to him.”

“Thank Godric for that,” Ron mumbles, already continuing to shovel food into his mouth, much to Hermione’s exasperation. 

You slyly cast a look at the redhead in question, watching with your heart in your throat as he throws his head back and roars with laughter. 

---

When you said you’d talk to George, this was not at all what you’d meant.

Hunched over and sobbing quietly into his shoulder as he cradles your arm, silently patching your freshly-carved wound up, is not what you intended to happen.

You were on your way back from a DADA meeting, having felt rather ill suddenly. Admittedly, it was foolish of you to be wandering around the castle, alone, when Umbridge was practically hunting down DADA members. But that had totally slipped your mind, consumed by the rising wave of nausea that had overcome you.

So when none other than Pansy Parkinson found you roaming the corridors, almost keening in pain, Umbridge had no problem pinning you as a DADA member. She was right, of course, but you weren’t about to let her have the satisfaction. 

Ultimately, she had no real proof that you were apart of the Association, so she had no choice but to let you go - though not unharmed. 

The horrible raw inking on your right arm, spelling out in your jagged, hesitant scrawl the words “I will behave”, still burns, an hour later.

Thankfully, George had caught you as you were stumbling, vision blurred with tears and arm rendered practically useless thanks to the pain, through the corridors. And he had done his best - he was doing his best - to heal the wound with magic, but either the damage was too extensive or that blasted Umbridge had placed some sort of magic-resistant charm on it. 

Either way, you refused to visit Madam Pomfrey, so George resorted to his limited but sufficient knowledge of non-magical first aid skills to help. 

“I’d kill her if I could” he growls, moving to kneel before you. His is voice low and gruff as he angrily rips off a strip of fabric from his shirt, much to your protest. “Don’t worry about my shirt, just worry about yourself and what I’m going to do to that detestable pink monstrosity.”

Unable to do anything but sit there, your eyes roam the expanse of George’s face with a soft smile. At your silence, his gaze returns to you, and his lips quirk up, a soft pink hue dusting across his cheeks once he finds that you’ve been staring. 

“What’re you doin’?”

“Just admiring, that’s all,” you murmur back. 

An equally tender look slips over his face, and his calloused palm, worn from years of Quidditch and endless scraps with his brother, cups your cheek. Your face heats up as his thumb brushes away stray tears forming, and you laugh breathlessly.

He tilts his head, a curious smile on his face. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, just… this happens to us a lot, doesn’t it?”

“I suppose it does,” he chuckles, “Maybe this’ll be it, hmm?”

You smile, pressing your forehead to his. “Maybe.” 

But alas, fate has other plans.

A distant meow has George leaping up and away, hurriedly helping you to your feet. “C’mon, it’s Filch. We gotta get out of here,” he curses, wrapping an arm around you protectively as the two of you run down the corridor back to the Gryffindor common room, both your hearts beating a thrilling rhythm. 

And so the fifth time you almost kiss George Weasley comes and goes. 

vi. 

The castle is exploding. 

No, really, it is. Inside the classrooms, within its century-old walls, fireworks are going off in a dazzling display of colours. Students and teachers alike are streaming out of their classes and into the halls, flooding the courtyard as above you, Fred and George Weasley soar.

They’ve done it. The grinning bastards, they’ve done it.

In perhaps the greatest feat they’ve ever managed in the course of their time at Hogwarts, they’ve managed to not only put on the most amazing and breathtaking prank of all time, really, but they’ve also sparked a certain emotion that has been quelled at Hogwarts for so long - Excitement.

You laugh in pure, unbridled delight at the dumbfounded look on Umbridge’s face, heart tugging at the radiant grin on George’s face. From beside you, Ron whoops, pumping his fist in the air. 

That gets George’s attention.

In an instant, the crowd is parting and he’s swooping down on his broomstick, stopping right in front of you. The beaming grin on his face is a sight to behold, and he takes your hand in his.

“Here we are again,” he says softly, a faint smile on his face. “Not going to run away from me now, are you?”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Faintly from behind you, you can hear Umbridge shrilly screaming something along the lines of, “Come back here!”

But who cares. You’re a girl in love with a boy. And it’s the best thing that could ever happen to you.

“Shall we?” He asks, a gallant grin on his face. 

You take his hand, and he helps you onto the broom, just as Umbridge catches up to you. She shrieks in frustration, but you’re long gone, the explosion of colour behind you painting the sky and George in a breathtaking myriad of colours. 

“George,” you whisper, and he turns, looking at you with so much love and admiration in his eyes that you can’t help but tear up. 

And you don’t even have to say anything for his lips to be on yours.

And that is how you finally kissed George Weasley.

[elentiyawhitethorn]

You Belong with Me

Based on the Taylor Swift song

CW: language, a little kissing

AN: I’ve been working on this for a damn long time and I was having a lot of trouble with it but thanks to @rowaelinismyotp’s proofreading and suggestions this finally made it to you all (thank you so much Anna)

Masterlist//4955 words

“Sorry babe, I didn’t mean it like that.”

Aelin glanced up, eyeing the door curiously.

“Seriously, Lyria, I only meant—” A pause. “No, but—”

Aelin held her breath as she listened to the barely audible voice of her best friend.

“I was joking, Lyr, I wasn’t trying to offend you. I’m sorry.”

Aelin furrowed her brow and averted her gaze back to her schoolwork, but her eyes glazed over, making it impossible not to continue eavesdropping.

“I can’t, I’m at Aelin’s right now.” Rowan sighed. “We’re just doing schoolwork. I need to go.”

Aelin couldn’t make out what Lyria was saying, but she was angry enough that Aelin could hear her voice on the phone through the door. She frowned and stabbed her pencil at her paper angrily.

The only reason Aelin didn’t tell Rowan how she felt was because she wanted him to be happy. Well, also because she was a coward. But mostly for his sake. And yet, what good did it do if Rowan wasn’t happy with his girlfriend? He may think he was, but Aelin knew him better than he knew himself.

“Yeah, see you tomorrow. Love you.”

A wave of numbness washed over Aelin.

He had not said that before. He had never said that before. And Rowan told her everything, which meant she should have known if he’d said “I love you” to Lyria.

This could not be happening.

Aelin squeezed her eyes shut, fighting off tears. The doorknob creaked and Aelin opened them once more, leaning over her binder and summoning a look of concentration.

Rowan stepped in and shut the door behind him.

“Hey.”

Aelin looked up and smiled happily, no trace of upset on her face.

“Hey. Everything okay?”

Rowan’s smile dimmed slightly. “Yeah, everything’s fine. Just a misunderstanding.”

Aelin nodded and smiled harder, ignoring the false tone in his voice. She patted the bed beside her, and Rowan climbed on the mattress, sprawling out and picking up a pencil.

Now that Rowan was off the phone, Aelin turned the music back up. Noticing the song and remembering Lyria’s eyeroll upon hearing Aelin listen to it last week, Aelin turned it up farther.

And in addition to spiting that bitch who’d clawed her way into Aelin’s life, maybe the noise would help drown out the roaring in her head.

It was a win-win.

—

“Yeah! Go Rowan!” Aelin screamed from her spot on the bleachers. She couldn’t say she particularly understood the attraction to lacrosse, but Rowan loved it and he was one of the best players—and she could admit to understanding the attraction to him playing lacrosse.

Rowan sent her an amused glance from his spot on the field. She just grinned and waved, entirely unapologetic. So what he was only practicing with his team—it was Aelin’s godforsaken obligation as best friend to cheer him on regardless of the circumstances.

She saw Rowan chuckle and turn back, shaking his head in feigned exasperation, and Aelin could only smile widely despite her shivers. It was extremely cold outside, and the metal bleachers weren’t helping matters. Even equipped with a heavy coat and gloves, Aelin was freezing. Usually she had Elide and Lorcan to warm her up, but this wasn’t a game and the bleachers were nearly empty.

Aelin was about to turn back to her homework—she could hardly spend all her time at Rowan’s practices without doing some sort of multitasking—when Aelin felt a burning gaze searing into her skull.

Lyria Allen was glaring daggers at her from the sidelines. She was cheer captain, and the whole team was practicing alongside the lacrosse players today in preparation for tomorrow’s game.

And Lyria, who seemed to have something out for Aelin, appeared pissed at her whooping for Rowan. Aelin couldn’t bring herself to be mad—if someone was very obviously in love with her boyfriend, they’d probably get on her nerves a little too. Then she remembered last night’s bitching from the phone and all her pesky little comments directed at Rowan, and Aelin stopped feeling bad. Besides, Lyria was the one Rowan loved, while Aelin cheered from the sidelines, only to be ignored most days. The brunette wasn’t exactly in a position to be pitied.

Lyria turned away from Aelin, hips swaying threateningly in her short cheer skirt. She said something to her fellow cheerleaders and they started a series of complicated moves, Lyria admittedly looking the most graceful of them all. Her leg swung up high, higher than Aelin had thought humanly possible, and she sighed, wistful.

Rowan would never want her when there was someone like that. Someone who could do the splits and whose face looked like Aphrodite’s and who had the body of a supermodel.

It was embarrassing enough to compare herself to Lyria. If Rowan ever were to find out, his pity—or worse; if he found her lacking in comparison—would crush Aelin. She thanked the gods for the thousandth time that her friend was oblivious enough not to notice the way she felt. He’d always been hard-headed when it came to all things romance, and Aelin didn’t know what she’d do if he ever found out about her feelings.

Of course, everyone else was not so oblivious. All her other friends knew better than to speak about it, but she could tell they knew. Aelin thought back to a lacrosse game from a couple weeks ago. She’d been cheering even louder than today as Rowan made a goal.

“Mala, Aelin,” Elide had muttered. “You’ll bust my eardrums.”

Aelin had sent her an apologetic glance. “Sorry.”

Elide shook her head, a smile tugging at her lips. “Don’t be.” She looked like she wanted to say something more, but nothing else was said.

And Aelin had smiled tightly and looked back to the game, knowing Elide was debating whether or not to bring up the dreaded topic. Thankfully she had decided not to.

The same sort of apprehensive feeling flowed through Aelin now as she plucked at her jeans, suddenly fidgety.

Life would be over if Rowan ever found out.

—

“Lyria isn’t coming?” Aelin asked, trying to keep her voice neutral but secretly over the moon.

Rowan shrugged helplessly. “She said she wasn’t feeling well.”

“I’m so sorry. I know how much you were looking forward to this.” Aelin did mean it; she hated to see Rowan crestfallen. But a much larger part of her was relieved and even slightly gleeful at this sudden change of events.

Aelin had been stressing out over this day for weeks. Rowan knew Aelin and Lyria weren’t close—though he attributed that to their shyness, rather than the mutual dislike he overlooked—so he’d planned a big hiking trip for his “two favorite people to bond over.” Aelin had said something about neither of the girls liking hiking and he’d snapped back that they could bond over having a horrible day. That’s when Aelin had realized how important this was to him, and she’d shut up and let him plan their little friendship excursion.

And now Lyria was a no-show.

“We can still go, just you and I, if you want,” Aelin suggested quietly, pushing down all the inappropriate rage and amusement and putting on that well-worn mask of friendship, the very fake one that disguised all the selfish feelings that threatened to boil over inside.

Rowan shook his head, and Aelin’s heart broke to see how upset he clearly was. “No, that’s okay. I know you don’t like hiking.”

“I will for you,” Aelin said.

He flashed a watery smile. “I appreciate that, but there’s no point anymore.”

“At least let me buy you an ice cream,” Aelin insisted. “I can’t just send you home like this. I feel like shit.”

“Don’t. You didn’t do anything wrong. But yeah, okay. Ice cream it is.”

Aelin smiled reassuringly and they started down the road to the Wendlyn Ice Cream Shop. She talked to him on the way there, and Rowan slowly, ever-so-slowly, started to respond, losing a bit of his melancholy. By the time they were seated on a park bench with ice cream in hand, he was smiling again, worry lines vanished from his face.

And when he laughed… Aelin wanted to bottle up the sound and hold it hostage for the rest of her days. Rowan hadn’t laughed like that in a long while, and her being the cause of it was just another bonus to add to the day.

But even better was that by the end of their afternoon, Rowan wasn’t the only one who’d forgotten Lyria. Aelin stopped thinking about the girl entirely, something that was usually difficult to do, so absorbed in Rowan’s attention, attention that had been lacking since he started dating you-know-who. It was like the bitch didn’t exist and it was just Aelin and Rowan all over again.

If only it were that easy.

—

“Galathynius. I’d like to have a word.”

Aelin’s eyebrows rose almost to her hairline at the unexpected and rather terse command. She looked up to find Lyria, short skirt and crop top showing off plenty of skin and high heels making her look like a schoolboy’s wet dream, hands on her hips.

Aelin blinked slowly. “Um, okay?”

Lyria frowned at Lorcan, who was sitting next to Aelin as they prepared for a physics exam. “Alone.”

Aelin squinted and racked her brain for anything in particular she’d done to offend Lyria recently, drawing a blank. Lorcan sent her a frown and she shrugged at him, standing up. There wasn’t much else to do.

Aelin followed Lyria as she silently turned around and marched off to the brick wall of the school, far enough away that no one would hear their conversation, tossing a helpless glance back at Lorcan who just tossed her a thumbs up. Gee, thanks, Aelin mouthed at him, scowling as she turned back and found herself lagging behind Lyria. No one had any right to be able to walk that quickly in heels.

Aelin stopped beside Lyria once they reached the wall. She offered a tight smile, one Rowan’s girlfriend failed to return. “What’s up?”

Maybe if looks could kill was too much of a cliché for Aelin to be thinking, but damn could that girl level a glare. “Stay away from my boyfriend.”

Aelin gaped. “Excuse me?”

“I said,” Lyria hissed, “leave Rowan alone.”

What the fuck. What the actual fuck. “Am I missing something?” came Aelin’s incredulous reply.

“Apparently,” Lyria snapped. “See, here’s what’s going on. My boyfriend. The sweet one who loves me, not you. Just like he tells me. Don’t forget that part. He wants to break up. For no reason at all other than some bullshit reasons about how school is getting to be too much for him and he can’t properly balance his extracurriculars. But I’m not an idiot, and I don’t care what you’ve said to him, just that it needs to end. You’re ruining my life. So stop talking to him. Got it?”

Aelin’s mouth dropped open. “What?” she rasped.

“Are you hard of hearing?” Lyria said, voice dripping with venom.

“Rowan dumped you?” Aelin asked, ignoring her bitchy remark.

“Are you not listening to me? I know you did this; you can’t play stupid. Just piss off and let him be happy.”

“He dumped you?” Aelin repeated, voice a whisper.

“For the love of the gods would you stop—”

Aelin didn’t wait up to listen before spinning on her heel and stumbling back over to her table.

“Hey!” came Lyria’s furious call, but Aelin ignored it as her vision went spotty. Pushing away the dizziness that threatened to take over, Aelin reached her table in a daze.

“What did she say to you?” Lorcan asked, his voice hard, ever the defender.

“I need to go,” Aelin whispered. She grabbed her bag, hurriedly stuffing her papers inside.

“What—”

“See you later,” she called as she started sprinting for her car.

“Aelin!” Lorcan yelled.

Just like she had with Lyria, Aelin ignored him.

Wind whistled around Aelin as she jogged for her car, strong enough that she shot a glance to the sky, where large black clouds were pooling. She scowled, wishing this was the one day the gods hadn’t decided to create a storm big enough to blow her away.

The door slammed as Aelin rushed to get seated. She turned the key in the ignition, placed her hands on the wheel… and paused.

“Fuck my life,” Aelin muttered, then pulled out of the parking spot in the direction of her own home.

Hours later, Aelin sat at home, on the floor in front of her bed, legs crossed and hands on her knees. This was her lousy attempt at meditation. It had been only natural to look for a method of de-stressing after realizing she had absolutely no idea what she planned to do with the information Lyria had given her. Aelin could hardly just show up at Rowan’s door and give a casual, Hey, I heard you dumped your girlfriend. I’m in love with you, by the way.

So Aelin had texted Rowan I heard what happened with you and Lyria, I’m here if you need to talk and then put her phone down. Then waited. And waited.

And now here she sat. Sure, she could just look up a YouTube tutorial or something. Someone out there must have some advice for Aelin, who had never meditated before in her life and was going solely off of the little Buddha figurines that littered her grandmother’s house. But that would involve looking at her phone, and subsequently having to look at all the messages from Lorcan. And the lack of messages from Rowan.

“I hate my life,” Aelin declared out loud. Then she sighed helplessly, frustration driving her to scan the floor for something to throw against the wall, frowning when she only spotted a single sock.

Groaning like the drama queen everyone knew her to be, Aelin glanced at the clock and forced her eyes closed once more. Almost ten o’clock. She’d been stressing about what to do with Rowan for nearly six fucking hours. That’s also how much time had passed since she’d texted him. Aelin was going to go insane if she didn’t cool her nerves.

It was just… she’d stormed off to her car with a purpose, ready to find Rowan and demand answers and tell him how she felt. Or something like that, anyway. But once the initial determination had worn off, Aelin just couldn’t go through with it. Not when she was unsure of what the outcome would be. She was too much of a coward to take risks.

And yet, she also couldn’t do nothing. Something told Aelin that this was her chance, and she’d damned if she let it slide by.

With refreshed spirits, Aelin rose to her feet before she could think better of it.

Her parents were somewhere in the house; her mother was likely in her home office and her father was probably snacking in the kitchen. There was no way they would let her go to Rowan’s this late, and she couldn’t say she just needed a quick walk in case she ended up being gone too long. This meant Aelin would have to sneak out.

Aelin wasn’t quite what one would consider a rebel. She and Rowan had snuck out one time—only one time—to see a concert their parents had banned them from going to and the encounter had ended with Aelin’s makeshift blanket rope coming undone as she climbed out the window. Thank the gods she’d been near the bottom at that moment, and she’d only gotten a few scratches and bruises. Of course, her parents had heard, spotted her outside with Rowan, informed Rowan’s parents, and subsequently gotten the pair of them grounded for longer than Aelin liked to think about.

Which meant Aelin had no fucking clue how she was going to get out of the house without her parents noticing, but she knew for certain she would be avoiding the window.

Slightly concerned but unwilling to be dispirited, Aelin grabbed her phone and put it in her pocket, stuffed some pillows under her comforter, and faced her bedroom door. Steeling herself, she opened the door as silently as she could muster, then began tiptoeing down the hall.

Aelin was halfway down the stairs when she heard voices. Taking a chance, she hurried down the rest of the way and turned in the nearest doorway.

“Is Aelin in her room?” her mother’s voice asked. Aelin tensed, waiting for a reply.

“Yeah,” her father said, “she went up a while ago.”

“Good,” replied her mother. Her voice changed, becoming softer and… sultry. “I was hoping for some alone time with you.”

Aelin’s eyes widened. Gross.

New mission: get out of the house as quickly as humanly possible.

Aelin glanced around the dining room she’d entered, gaze landing on the window across the room. She was on the ground floor now, and it would only be a few feet to the ground, nothing too bad. Although Aelin was ready to jump out a window fifty stories high if it meant not being in the vicinity of her parents.

Praying like her life depended on it, Aelin got the window open and climbed out with a series of laughable ninja moves and crushing anxiety. Carefully sliding the window closed, Aelin breathed a sigh of relief and turned away from the house.

Part two: get to Rowan’s house. Her car would likely make too much noise and if she decided to risk it, this might be over before it began. Luckily, Rowan’s house was only a few blocks away, and Aelin needed the time to clear her thoughts and figure out what to say.

She started down the driveway and then the sidewalk, head buzzing all the while.

It started to rain as Aelin walked, at first small drops and then a sudden downpour. She quickened her pace but didn’t turn back, refusing to stop herself from being brave for once in her life.

By the time Aelin reached Rowan’s house, she was soaking wet. She knew his parents were out of town on some business trip, as they often were, so it was just Rowan in there. The thought made Aelin nervous, and she hesitantly made her way to the back door that was closer to his room, talking no notice of the boom of thunder above.

Aelin pounded on the door to be heard over the storm, which had begun in earnest. She made sure her phone was safe in her pocket and out of the rain.

A moment passed and Aelin worried Rowan hadn’t heard her. Or worse, he just wasn’t answering. But soon enough the door was cracked open and then pulled in all the way as Rowan took her in.

“Hi,” she lamely yelled over the noise. Good to see that extra time spent preparing her speech had done exactly zero good.

Rowan blinked at her, surprise flashing in his eyes. He opened his mouth a few times before settling on, “Come inside!”

“I don’t want to get your floor wet,” Aelin yelled back, yelping a little as another lightning bolt struck, the resounding noise splitting the world in two.

Rowan ignored her and tugged her inside, closing the door firmly behind her. Out of the rain, Aelin finally noticed the redness of his eyes. And also the fact that he was not wearing a shirt.

Holy hell. Apparently lacrosse was good for the body.

“What the hell were you doing out there, Aelin? It’s dangerous to be out this late in a storm that bad.”

She flinched at the reprimand in his voice. “I need to talk to you.”

Rowan crossed his arms and Aelin tried very hard—very, very hard—not to glance at his bare chest once more. It was a bit of a losing battle.

Aelin averted her eyes to the relative safety of the floor, where she was dripping all over his carpet. She shifted, and her clothing made a squelching sound.

“What do you need to talk to me about so desperately?” Rowan’s voice was slightly sarcastic, and Aelin got the feeling he wasn’t in the best of moods. Not that she’d expected him to be, considering the circumstances.

Doing her best not to start with an “um” or a “well,” Aelin took a deep breath and said, “Why did you break up with Lyria?” She brought her gaze back to Rowan’s in time to see him frown.

“Why is that so urgent that you had to come here right now to ask me?”

Aelin didn’t have an answer for him. “I just… I just really need to know. If you want to tell me, that is.”

Rowan’s eyes narrowed but he didn’t respond.

“I just,” Aelin tried again, “I just was worried about you and I didn’t understand why and I needed…”

“You needed what, Aelin?” Rowan’s voice had turned deeper, rougher, and she shivered.

“I needed to tell you something,” she whispered.

Rowan stepped closer. “You’re here now. Tell me.”

“I can’t until you tell me why you broke up with Lyria,” Aelin said apologetically. “I have to know that first.”

Rowan, his face so still that Aelin couldn’t detect one single emotion on her usually see-through best friend, took another step forward. “I broke up with Lyria because she didn’t make me happy. She couldn’t.”

“Why not?” Aelin rasped.

Rowan closed his eyes. “I wanted her to be someone else.”

“Someone else” was vague, but Aelin’s heart started racing. “Who?”

His eyes flew open and he stepped back as if exiting a trance. “It doesn’t matter.”

Aelin shook her head. “Yes, it does.”

“I told you what you wanted to hear. What is it that you have to say?”

Aelin gulped. She could come up with a lie, get out of this somehow. She could do it and go home. Nothing would have to change between them. Then again, things had been changing for a while now.

“I’ve been wanting to say this for a while, but I was too scared I would lose you if I went through with it. I’m still scared, but ever since you started dating Lyria something’s been changing between us, and I’m scared I’ll lose you either way. At least this way I have some say over what happens.”

Rowan’s eyebrows furrowed and Aelin turned away from him, breathing deeply.

“I can’t stop thinking about you, Rowan. Thinking about you in all the ways a friend isn’t supposed to. And it’s gotten so bad, bad enough that I’m saying this the day you broke up with your girlfriend.” Aelin let out a wet hiccup. “And I’m sorry about that. But I can’t keep it in anymore. I need you to know how I feel because I’m going to go mad if you don’t, and I’d rather lose you than not really have you at all.”

Aelin closed her mouth, suddenly regretting every word that had just escaped her mouth. “And, um. That’s all. Your turn. To say something, I mean. If you want to. And whatever you say, that’s okay. That is, I’m not expecting anything. I just—”

Aelin was cut off by the feeling of Rowan’s hand coming to rest on her cheek, gently guiding her face back to his.

She swallowed at the look in his eyes: confused yet understanding, conflicted yet certain, loving yet… hungry.

Aelin wasn’t even surprised when Rowan’s lips closed the distance between them.

She was instantly kissing him back. Her lips moved desperately against his, and his against hers, and Aelin began to realize just how much Rowan had wanted this. She gasped as his tongue pushed between her lips, letting her hands find his shoulders and rest there. She wanted to run her hands down his bare torso and feel the muscles there, but Aelin was having enough trouble as it was standing upright as Rowan devoured her the way no seventeen-year-old boy should know how to do.

All of a sudden she didn’t care that she was soaking wet and freezing, she didn’t care that Rowan had had a girlfriend just this morning, she didn’t care that she’d snuck out and was probably going to get caught. She didn’t care about anything at all. Aelin submitted to the greed, the desire that coursed through her and moved one hand up and ran her fingers through Rowan’s hair, tugging lightly. He let out a faint groan and Aelin almost forgot her own name.

Rowan finally pulled back, panting. Aelin was just as winded. Her face was definitely a color between scarlet and crimson as she stared up at her best friend.

“Me too,” Rowan whispered. “Me too to all of it.”

Obviously Aelin had surmised from that kiss that Rowan was in agreement with her declaration, but hearing it was a whole other thing.

But as much as Aelin wanted to ignore the question rolling around her head as Rowan reached for her once again, she couldn’t stop herself. “Did you love Lyria?”

Rowan’s hand paused midair, just out of reach of her face. “I should get you a towel. You look freezing.”

“Rowan,” Aelin protested, but he was already gone.

She was freezing—she’d been standing here for a while, dripping water from the storm the whole time—but Rowan didn’t need to know that. And when he returned with a fresh towel, Aelin kept her mouth shut as he handed it to her.

She began toweling herself off, but seeing that it did little to her clothing, Aelin just dried off her hair with it.

“I’ll get you a change of clothes,” Rowan offered.

“You don’t need to do that.”

He frowned. “You’ll catch a cold.”

Gone again. Aelin was suddenly terrified to hear the answer. She busied herself with her hair as she waited, too nervous to think about it too hard.

Rowan came back into the room with a shirt that clearly belonged to him. Aelin blushed but before she could say anything he began to speak, a matching blush on his own face. “It was my smallest shirt. And, uh, I didn’t think any of my pants would fit you.”

Aelin nodded. “That’s okay,” she said in what she hoped was a neutral tone.

“Um.” Rowan handed her the shirt then said, “Bathroom’s to the left,” as if she hadn’t been spending her time here since the age of five.

“I’ll drip all over the floor,” Aelin countered. “Just turn around.”

Rowan’s blush deepened and she tried to remember the confident young man who had been kissing her just moments ago. It was difficult.

He turned, and Aelin began to strip, wincing at the sound of her wet clothes peeling off her skin. She dropped them on a pile on the ground, which was already wet anyway. Her panties and bra she left on, not caring that they were soaked through as well. Aelin wiped herself a little with the towel. Then she pulled on Rowan’s t-shirt, savoring the scent for only one moment before making sure it dropped nearly to her knees and saying, “You can turn around now.”

Rowan obediently faced her, his eyes dropping to the hem of her, or rather, his, shirt before snapping back up to her face.

“Are you going to answer me?” Aelin whispered.

A muscle in Rowan’s jaw feathered. “I didn’t love her.”

Aelin squinted skeptically. “I don’t believe you.”

“Why not?” he retorted.

“Why couldn’t you just say that? If you didn’t ever love her, there’s nothing to hide from me.”

Rowan shook his head, a humorless grin pulling at his lips. “You don’t get it, Aelin. I told someone I loved them without meaning it. I used her to try and get over you. Do you have any idea how much that could have hurt her? Sure, Lyria isn’t the nicest person in the world, but even she doesn’t deserve that.” Rowan shrugged. “I’m an asshole,” he concluded.

Aelin snorted. “Then cheers to the pair of us, I suppose.” Rowan sent her an inquisitive stare. “I’ve felt like the world’s biggest jackass for months now because of how unhappy I was that you were happy with someone else. I’m your best friend and I know it wasn’t easy for me to watch you with her but I still could have put some effort into being excited for you. But I didn’t. I’m a horrible friend.”

Rowan snorted, and Aelin looked to him in surprise. “Do you think we’re going to stand here telling each other how much we suck all night?”

Aelin let out a startled laugh. “It’s possible.”

“How about this? We have a damn lot to talk about, that’s for sure. This is already messy and complicated, and there’s plenty we need to sort out. But right now it’s eleven p.m. and I’ve just found out the girl I’ve been mooning over for years feels the same about me and I want to kiss her so hard she forgets how to think. So why don’t we pick the whole talking thing back up later?”

Aelin blinked incredulously, then grinned. “I mean, that sounds like an awfully reasonable way to sort everything out.”

“If you think so,” Rowan replied with a smirk, stepping closer.

Aelin didn’t care if she sounded like some ridiculous, love-sick, idiot girl straight out of a Hallmark film—when Rowan’s lips pressed against hers and his hands came to rest on her waist, it felt like there wasn’t anything in the world that wasn’t right.

———

Tag List:

@aelin-bitch-queen

@charlizeed

@evolving-dreamer

@feysand-loml

@flora-shadowshine

@gracie-rosee

@infernoqueen19

@julemmaes

@leiawritesstories

@lemonade-coolattas

@live-the-fangirl-life

@midsizewitch

@morganofthewildfire

@mybloodrunsblue

@nehemikkele

@realbookloverproblems

@rhysandswingspan

@rowaelinismyotp

@rowanaelinn

@sexy-dumpster-fire

@sleeping-and-books

@story-scribbler

@swankii-art-teacher

@the-lonelybarricade

@thenerdandfandoms

@yesdreamblog

[shorkbrian]

Dizzy

Prelude - I had such a hard time coming up with a scenario. I maybe might be stuck in a mud pile here and it’s sucking away any sort of brian I had and taking my writing ability with it. please excuse all errors my dear readers. I don’t really proofread, i just write and then post cause monkey brian wants it done now hurr durr. ANYWAYS Kiri here finally decides to make a move on the pretty pal that is now in their college friend group. reader is obvs not into it, but as long as reader doesn’t outright say no, he thinks it’s okay and that they’re just shy and sensitive. (Which btw yikes yikes yikes don’t do anything without consent. Even touching. Consent is required irl periodt)

Prompt - No prompt this time, just thinking about the sweet anon that asked for a S/O with a sensitive body.

Pairing - Kirishima Eijirou x reader

Warnings - Pretty nsfw themes throughout. 

Music -  https://youtu.be/gBRi6aZJGj4

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Hands pulled you flush against a large, muscular body, spinning you so that your back was against the wall. You felt disoriented, trying to make rational sense of the sights, sounds, and sensations assaulting your body. Kirishima was palming roughly at your chest with one hand, his other inching towards the space between your legs. Hot kisses were pressing into your neck, feeling your skin move as you tried to twist away from the groping hands, unbidden tears creeping up into your eyes.

“Kirishima-! Pl-plea—se-”

Kirishima pressed his forehead against your collarbone, breathing heavily. “ ‘m sorry I can’t go slower....... it’ll be okay though, yeah? Just lemme - lemme make you feel good.”

It sounded like he was begging, his lips once again returning to mouth wetly at your neck.  You wiggled against the body keeping you trapped against the wall, but it was useless; Kirishima was so much bigger and stronger than you were -  he was easily able to keep you pinned.

You didn’t even think the redhead liked you that way. Your roommate Mina had introduced you to her friend group, and they immediately accepted you as one of their own (except for the hothead Bakugou, who seemed to hate everything. The other told you to ignore his jabs and insults). You all seemed to run in different circles, but you quickly became comfortable with everyone and absolutely loved them all. You enjoyed hanging out with the group, going to see movies and getting together for ice cream or video game marathons. Whenever you settled down in Denki’s apartment for said marathons (he had the best set-up),  you opted to sit on the floor instead of of squished together on the couch with the others. Kirishima would always shout over the whooping and yelling of Sero and Mina that you should come sit next to him; he always saved you a seat in these situations, but you knew your boundaries.

There was no indication that Kirishima had feelings for you. Sure, the man liked to pay for your food when you all went out, but he did that for everyone.  He would try to sling his arm over your shoulder as the group walked around the lake in the park, but he didn’t seem miffed when you always shrugged him off; Bakugou didn’t like being touched either. Sometimes Kirishima would show up at your college dorm, claiming that the campus coffeeshop had accidentally made him an extra coffee and it just happened to be your favorite, but that didn’t mean he liked you! He would often run errands for Mina, showing up in your shared dorm at odd times to drop off food or clothes or whatever Mina had him buy.  He was just a kind, considerate dude, who loved his friends! (You pointedly chose not to remember all the awkward times he had shown up in yours and Mina’s dorm to drop something off and you had been barely clothed, or just getting out of the shower. You figured neither you nor Kirishima wanted to think about those times. ((You were wrong))).

It was well known that Kirishima wasn’t amazing in school - his strength was more physical, the man competing as a scholarship athlete in wrestling. You had been to one of his matches and it was almost scary at how strong and /ferocious/ you had seen Kirishima get as he grappled with his opponent. Kirishima was amazing at what he did, and you couldn’t believe the redhead hadn’t told you how good he actually was. Mina said Kiri had always been like that - determined and quiet about his goals and the things he knew he could succeed in.  He was humble, unlike Bakugou who bragged and puffed out his chest at every opportunity.

Had you been surprised when Kirishima had called you in a panic, babbling something about Bakugou refusing to help him study and Kiri didn’t understand what the book was talking about and could you /please/ come over and help because you were the smartest person he knew? Not really. Were you surprised to find that he had a house off-campus, where he lived with his parents? Yes, Kirishima didn’t really ever talk about where he lived.  It wasn’t far, but Kiri insisted on coming to pick you up. The ride there was pleasant, the two of you chatting and laughing about how Sero had singlehandedly shut down the chem building because Denki had convinced him to make something (you weren’t sure what) and there had been a small explosion.

He was fun to tutor. He just needed a bit more explanation than the teachers provided, and you were more than happy to help. After studying for an hour and a half, Kirishima thumped his head down on the table and groaned, claiming he needed a break. You had agreed, and Kirishima had gotten up and led you to the kitchen, where you pulled out two sodas and sat down at the island. The two of you had begun talking, and somehow it had strayed into each other’s love lives. Kirishima seemed very interested in yours, brushing aside every question you had for him and focusing on you. It had come out that you had never really kissed anyone, even though you were a sophomore in college. 

“Aww, poor little baby, never been kissed.” Kiri had teased. ‘Y’know, I wouldn’t mind teaching you. I’m really good with my mouth.”

His wink threw you off and you had blushed, stammering out a weak, respectful refusal.

“C’mon, you’ve gone all your life without having a hot makeup ‘sesh! With someone as hot as you, that’s practically a crime.”

Kirishima had slid closer to you, lowering his voice as he leaned in close.

“I won’t hurt you, you can trust me (Y/N). I know how to treat a girl right. It’ll feel good, Y’know? Mmhm, I can teach you some other things too, if you like.”

You didn’t like where he was going with that.

“I uh, think I need to go home now? Mina’s probably worried and I need to wake up early tomor-“

Kiri rose as you did, quickly stepping forward to crowd you against the kitchen island as he gave a short huffing laugh.

“It’s gonna be okay. You’ve been kind enough to tutor me, now let me return the favor.”

He had surged forward then, mouth meeting yours. You had squeaked in surprise, eyes going wide as strong hands came to rest on your hips. Everything felt weird, this was happening too fast. Kirishima didn’t even like you? You pushed against his chest as hard as you could, struggling to separate the two of you.

“Kiri, we shouldn’t- I don’t think-“

“Don’t think then.  It’ll be fine, okay?”

That had all lead up to now, where he had you against the wall, kissing your neck and groping your chest. You felt dizzy, there were too many sensations and you couldn’t figure out what was happening. His other hand gently pressed towards your crotch, your hand flying down to block him entrance in between your legs. 

“Kirishima… You- yo- your parents!”

You gasped quietly. Maybe the man would come to his senses and let you go. Or maybe you could scream for Mr. and Mrs. Kirishima and they would come rescue you. You hoped Kiri would just let you go; having to call for his parents would be humiliating. Would they even believe you? Would Kirishima shove himself away before they could come around the corner?  

“What? Oh, they’re on vacation…. You could stay for the next couple of days. Yeah, I think it’d be nice if you stayed for a little bit. I can show you so much, make you feel so good!”

Your throat felt tight. You couldn’t scream. You felt too overwhelmed and there was so much going on that you couldn’t focus on hardly anything, let alone trying to scream your lungs out. The world felt fuzzy.

Kirishima easily batted your hand aside to dip his own in between your legs. He began rubbing at your crotch, slowly, sensually. His other hand came up to pull down the collar of your shirt so he could mouth at your collarbone, and you panicked.

“KirishIMA, wa-wait!”

Kirishima paused for a second at your cry. You figured you sounded genuinely distressed as he pulled away from you, retracting both of his hands to look at you with a hint of worry in his eyes. Now that his hands weren’t on you, you were able to re-center your thoughts, taking a deep, shaky breath.

“Kiri……. I like being friends with you. I-I can’t go this far with you, I’m sorry.” You couldn’t meet his eyes. Why were you apologizing? He was the one making you uncomfortable, touching you without asking and not stopping when you asked. It was easier to think when he wasn’t touching you.

“Why not?”

He pressed close to you again, and you shrank back as far as you could, plastering yourself to the wall. When you looked up at him, his eyes were dark. “I wanna be yours, wanna have a relationship with you. I could be so good for you, treat you so well. Just give me a chance (Y/N)”

You shivered. A relationship with Kirishima wouldn’t be horrible. He was nice, kind, funny. But you didn’t want to get physical.

“I….. I’m too sensitive…..”

Kiri froze. “What does that mean?”

“I, well……… Uh I don’t know how to explain really-“

Kiri crowded you further, pressing his chest against yours and craning his neck down to glare into your eyes.

“No, tell me what that means. Help me understand.”

You were too scared to refuse.

“Theres…..I’ve never been kissed before because my body is just too-too sensitive. Whenever people touch me I feel all tingly and it’s too much and I can’t focus and the world just feels blurry and everything feels fuzzy and it’s so much. That’s why I hate hugs, and sitting together with everyone at Denki’s, and when people touch me. I don’t….. I don’t know, it just feels weird and I don’t know how to deal with it I guess…..”

You trailed off, glancing up at Kirishima to find him staring down at you intensely.

Kirishima felt like drooling. He could only imagine what you’d look like when he was inside of you, when he touched you and played with you and licked and sucked at every inch of your skin. You would be so frazzled, crying and whining in overstimulation just from a simple kiss.  He wanted to see that, wanted to see you thrashing and whimpering because of him, because of what he would do to you. Kirishima had liked you ever since Mina had introduced you to the group, and had just assumed that you were playing coy, or hard-to-get when you brushed off his casual touches. He was an extremely touchy person after all. But to learn that the reason you refused to let him touch you was because your body was too sensitive? Oh, the things he wanted to do to you.

You gasped as Kirishima suddenly grabbed your shirt and pulled, the fabric shredding like paper.  

“Kirishima! Wha-“

His mouth devoured yours in a searing kiss; you could feel his sharp teeth occasionally brush against your lips as he hungrily breathed in every protest you tried to utter. Hands smoothed down your shoulders, dropping to grab at your chest roughly before moving down to grab your hips. In a sudden movement, Kirishima had you in the air, holding your waist and moving your legs so they hung loosely around his hips. You broke from his kiss with trouble, gasping for breath as Kirishima began walking.

“Kiri! Wa—it where are we-? Where are we….. going?” You didn’t feel so good. Kirishima had begun kissing along your cheeks, neck, collarbone, anywhere he could reach as he walked, his strong arms holding you up.

“You’re gonna wanna lay down, I don’t want you to pass out and hit your head when I eat you out.”

He bit down onto your shoulder, making you scream into his neck before you could tell him to put you down.

“Ohhhh, you’re gonna feel so good. I can’t wait to be inside you, I can’t believe I get to be your first (Y/N).  You already feel so, so good against me baby………….”

Through the confusion, you realized with disgust that you could feel a blunt hardness underneath you, rubbing up against your backside with every step Kirishima took. You wanted to fight, to scream in his ear and bit his nose and punch and kick and swear. You felt so weak. Everything was happening so fast and you couldn’t focus and you were crying and he was touching you and you felt dizzy and-

“I’ll be so gentle, don’t worry….. It’s gonna be okay. I want you to feel just as good as I do, I love you so much (Y/N)……”

You ignored the rest of his babbling, the only thing you were able to focus on was the steady drip of tears as the slid down your face. You watched as they dripped onto Kirishima’s shirt, dampening the fabric. 

You felt so sleepy. 

You felt so sick.

[bitchiha]

✎ Hinata With a s/o Who’s Personality is the Opposite of Hers

A/N: this was a request from  a very sweet anon and I worked on it for such along time, but Tumblr did not save the post so I had to retype it.. but its okay, I am fine and here is the second attempt: 

Request: Hi! I hope you're doing well. I was wondering if you could make some relationship hcs for hinata with a s/o who's the opposite of her? My baby deserves everything and I don't see much of her and am sad bc I love her 😢 Thank you you talented person who warms my heart💿💗💿

Warning I did not proofread this <3 I am too ducking lazy bye

Gosh okay Hinata needs a s/o that’s loud and slightly obnoxious lol, like she needs that type of person to push her out of her shell. She may be shy at your advances at first, but let’s be real she actually really loves them.

99.9% of the relationship is Hinata stuttering your name. “Y-y/n!!”

She likes when you make a big stink of any small gesture she does for you. It makes her feel super confident and even if she’s walking away blushing just know that she’s going to be thinking of that moment for a good month afterwards. Like she brings you food one day after you’re training with Naruto and you’re so happy that you mow it down in like 2 seconds. Then you smother her in hugs, kisses and praise and she just turns beet red. “Y-y/n!”

Your compliments help push her out of her shell even more and she cherishes every single one. Even if your compliments are kinda shitty, it’s the thought that counts. “Wow Hinata, youre eyes look like marbles, they’re so cute.” And Hinatas blushing so fucking hard and Shino and Kiba just scratch their head like?? “Uh why did you blush at that weak ass compliment?”

You’re basically her cheerleader. Make sure to give her pep talks. Like if she’s feeling down about herself for whatever reason, you always go up to her and give her the best inspirational talk you can, throwing in all the cheesy shit you know and she’s always grateful. You’re probably half screaming the pep talk because you’re just so riled up to make your girlfriend feel energized and the effort alone is comforting. “Don’t worry about what anyone else says, I believe in you Hinata! I know you can do this.”

Whenever you two are on missions together she always makes the effort to try and show her powers off to you. She sees how protective you are of her in the village and she wants to show you that she can take care of you too. That just gives her the extra drive she needs to kick the enemies ass <3 She loves when you stare at her wide eyed and shocked after she whoops their ass. Like leaving you speechless is such an accomplishment because you hardly ever shut up. “Holy shit, Hinata!!! You’re the coolest girlfriend ever, you totally kicked their asses!”

Brag about her!!! Please just flex about your girlfriend. She does the same for you but she gets super shy afterwards. Like when she talks to Shino, Kiba and Kurenai about you she always does the little finger thing with her hands and turns beet red. Kiba loves to tease her about it when you all hang out, “Yeah, Hinata always talks about you with us. She’s always rambling about how—“ then Hinata proceeds to clamp a hand over his mouth with her eyes bulging out of her head. “K-Kiba!!”

You’re a tease so you like to get her flustered. So sometimes you join in on Kibas teasing, afterall it’s just fun and games. It’s not like Kiba wants to hurt your feelings. However, if it’s anyone else in the village they will not get the same treatment. Oh someone wants to shove Hinata as they walk past her in the village? Want to say she’s not strong? You will openly challenge them to a battle. “Hey you jerk! You wanna disrespect my girlfriend again? I’ll kick your ass right now!” And she’ll hold you back, “Y/n! It’s okay! Really you don’t need to do this.”

Honestly as you two get closer in the relationship, she starts to develop some of your mannerisms and little by little she bursts into “y/n fits.” That’s what kiba calls them. It’s basically where she does something bold and totally un-Hinata like. Like someone’s talking crap about you in the village and she goes from little shy girl to “who do you think you are talking about y/n like that?!” Kiba tells you about the fits later and you just sit back with a grin, “that’s my girl.”

She also doesn’t mind PDA — to an extent. You’re an affectionate person so you can’t help the PDA sometimes, but you know when you’re overstepping. There’s 3 levels of Shy Hinata. First level is with light PDA, like gentle little touches that you don’t even notice you’re giving her. Light brushes over her arm as you walk, or your fingers thrumming against her thigh as you two sit down at a restaurant. There’s a little brush of pink across her cheeks and you normally don’t notice it unless someone *cough cough* ( Kiba ) points it out.

The second level is with intentional touches, like hand holding, wrapping an arm around her etc. Her face turns bright red and you have to ask if it’s okay, she nods eagerly, she actually likes it a lot. It just takes her a while to adjust to it.

The third level is emergency level. Like this is just borderline she is going to evaporate. It varies from touches you didn’t mean to be so intimate, to jokingly slapping her ass when you pick her up from training. She just immediately turns red and starts stuttering and you can almost see her head overheating.

It’s kind of funny lol and you have to apologize afterwards because she’s literally over heating for five minutes afterwards. As the relationship goes on she will end up getting you back at least once, even if she’s blushing the whole time. It’s worth it though because you’re blushing just as hard at her sudden boldness.

Also loves nicknames, even the tacky ones you give her. Call her a whole list of nicknames and she adores every single one of them. For real, like you can call her: princess, peaches, love, cutie pie, sweetie, etc and they will all make her smile.

Saves like every card you give her. They’re the most extravagant yet horrendous things that ever came into creation, but she loves them all and ignores Neji’s blatant dislike for them. Like sure, they’re decked out in glitter and they look like a five year old made them, but you tried your best and the thought that you spent your time on her in such a sentimental way always makes her gush. Keeps them all in a shoe box under her bed with all the other trinkets she collects from dates and hang outs with you. She definitely wears the gifts you give her too, even if they are a little too crazy for her, she likes how humbled you get when you see her wearing them.

Also she’s 100% a pillow princess and you will not and cannot change my mind <3

[missmewts]

white winter//winter anderson

pairings; winter anderson, gender neutral (masculine leaning) reader

rating; pg

warnings; christmas practice, in depth experience of anxiety, minor winter (14), minor reader (16), minor kai (16), this one is a little longer, NOT PROOFREAD!

.

this is a chapter from my wattpad book, of which you can find here.

winter. your favorite word, your least favorite season. snowfall coming much too soon and wearing layers upon layers that make it difficult to move. the layers that make you sweat the first three minutes, and freeze the last 27 minutes, 30 minutes being longest you could stay outside with your best friend, kai, and his younger sister, winter.

you had met kai on the first day of third grade. the other kids made fun of his floppy brown hair and his timid, anxious nature. you came up to him on the playground, sitting on the swing beside him. you told him that they made fun of you too. you recited exactly what your older sister had told you when you told her you were being bullied. 'they're jealous. they want to put you down to make themselves feel high.' and kai had brought you home with him to meet his younger sister, because she had told him the same thing.

and now, seven years later, you were still best friends with kai; and you were dating his sister. winter was the one that suggested you come over for christmas; almost immediately, poor, timid kai stopped his swing, his winter boots scraping the snow beneath him.

'winnie, i don't think dad would like that very much.' he said nervously. his pale fingers were trembling, having given winter his gloves after she forgot hers. 'probably not.' she said with a grin, squeezing your hand. her brown hair matched kai's as it sprawled awkwardly along the back of her jacket.

you normally stayed out of things like this; you never chose sides because you knew it was easy for kai to fold under pressure, giving in to things he doesn't want. but even under your small smile, he sighed. 'i guess we can ask.' winter whooped, jumping off the swing and throwing her arms up with a laugh.

she really had no idea how perfect she was.

so, kai insisted you come along to ask. parents were always nicer when friends were over, giving in to things they normally wouldn't. so, you stepped into the anderson household. the three of you stomped the snow off your boots and put them on the rug. kai took the several jackets from you and winter and hung them up, staying back to undress while winter lead you into the kitchen. it was incredibly warm- mrs. anderson was just pulling out cookies, hot chocolate heating on the stove. she gave you a wide smile when she saw you, placing the pan on the counter beside the large, snowman decorated cookie plate.

kai hurried in behind you, stepping behind the counter to help his mom put the cookies on the plate. 'hello, [y/n]! how are you?' she asked politely, letting kai take care of the cookies in order to get the hot chocolate off of the burner. 'i'm okay! a little burnt from school today, but i'm alright.' winter squeezed your hand before letting go, going to grab mugs from the cabinet.

their mom made a small sound of disappointment, before turning off the stove. 'that's not good! did your mom ever figure out what she's doing for christmas? last time i talked to her, she mentioned she was still trying to get off work.' she said, pouring up five mugs of hot chocolate. i shook my head as kai brought the cookies to the table. 'no, her boss wouldn't let up. she's gonna be there for christmas eve, but not for christmas. my older sister and i are planning on celebrating together, but we were hoping we could come over. y'know, so we don't have to spend it alone.' kai cast you a relieved look.

mrs. anderson gasped. 'of course. we have plenty of room for you here. the more, the merrier!' she said, as the man on the radio began some carols. winter cheered, and kai smiled. they both knew their mom felt bad about your situation- dad leaving, hardly enough money to hold down the fort, practically being raised by your sister. there was no doubt she would allow it when you asked, sounding so casual about your not-so-great situation.

'awesome!' you said as winter brought the mugs to the table. you took one, grabbing one of the snowman-shaped sugar cookies. 'i'll let your mom know?' their mom suggested. you nodded, only half-scared about what she might say.

and as christmas break came around, everything got a lot more stressful. your mom was estatic about you being able to spend christmas with someone. your sister bought a cheap set of tools for mr. anderson and wrapped mrs. anderson some of her expensive makeup as a token of appreciation. your sister allowed you to give one of her books to kai, the first in a series that kai had been meaning to read.

you, your mom, and your sister all scraped together money to buy a beautiful necklace-earring set for winter. the earrings were danglies, and you could guess they would reach to about the start of winter's jaw. they were loosely diamond shaped, a thin chain held the whole thing together. while they were fake, the diamonds were beautiful. they glimmered like ice in the light, much nicer quality than what you paid for. while they were small, they matched the necklace.

the necklace had a thin chain as well, and the charm was another fake diamond, just as elegant as the earrings. the charm was simple; winter's name in beautiful calligraphy. the charm was meant to be seasonal, but it fit perfectly. the charm was small, that way it was sweet, simple, and could go with any outfit. your mom nearly cried when you pointed at the set in the window of a shop at the mall.

and now, christmas eve. the day that everyone despised. you met with the entire family, ate until you felt sick, and opened presents that you faked your excitement about. you fit as many desserts as you could in your already full stomach, then made the drive back from from grandma's house, feeling tired and carsick. the same again and again, every year.

your mom didn't like your grandmother too much, hence why you would be staying with the andersons. when you got home, your mom immediately ran to get her nightshift uniform on.

your stomach flipped uncomfortably about seeing winter for the first time since your first date. your sister typed away on her phone; she was only two years older than you, but she acted like she was at least ten years older. kai had the biggest crush on her, so she seemed excited to tease him the whole time. she didn't seem nearly as nervous as you did.

you knew winter would love whatever you ended up getting her, but you still couldn't help but feel like maybe she wanted something more than 15$ diamonds. she was 14 years old. she wanted something more from someone two years older, someone who had their life slightly more put together than her. this feeling only multipled when you got in the car. the drive was less than two minutes away, but your mother insisted that she drive you through the cold.

she walked up to the door with you and your sister, thanking mrs. anderson endlessly as she pecked a kiss onto your sister's head. your mom left almost immediately after 'i love you's, leaving you alone with your sister. 'kai and winter went with their father to grab last minute gifts,' mrs. anderson said as she lead you and your sister into the living room.

it was like a hallmark movie. their living room was decked out. the christmas tree was pushed into a corner, decorated with elegant crystal ornaments and gold-shining christmas lights. the fireplace had the same lights strung up underneath four stockings, kai, winter, mom and dad scrawled out individually on each one with glitter glue. the couch, recliner, and loveseat were all facing the fireplace, or more specifically, the nostalgic rudolph the red nosed reindeer stop motion playing on the TV above it. there were presents underneath the tree, gift wrapped in funky wrapping paper. surrounding the tree was a small metal gate- small, but high enough for their cat to keep off. in fact, their cat was relaxing on the back of the couch, her shimmery, wise blue eyes following you until she declared you safe. your older sister reached into her black jawstring and put three newspaper-wrapped gifts under the tree. you insisted on holding onto winter's until christmas morning, it being now tucked safely in the water bottle net on the side of your backpack. there were cookies on the coffee table, many different christmas-like shapes. trees, gifts, snowmen. you had never decorated this nice before- even your sister looked baffled.

your socks felt silky along the carpet as kai's mother lead the two of you up the staircase. she stopped at the guest room and dropped you off. she had said that not seeing winter until morning would make the gift that much more special. your sister was to sleep in winter's room, on the floor. so, you sat on the queen sized bed, the family photo on the nightstand making it that much more unbearable. it felt like hours in the dark bedroom, the only light being from the moon, the neighbors' lights, and the occasional car that drove by. outside the window, you could hear a car door slam and soft chatting as they got closer to the house. they must have been shushed, because the only noises you heard after that was four soft pattering of feet.

you propped open the window slightly, kicking one leg out from underneath the heavy blanket. the mixture of the moon slightly obscured by snowfall and the warm-cool body temperature you found yourself in sent you to sleep.

the next morning, the smell of breakfast woke you up. almost immediately, you shut the window. then, your eyes drifted to the clock. it was seven, and the only noises you heard were children screaming outside, and 'rocking around the christmas tree' from downstairs. so, in your sweatpants and baggy shirt, you hurried to the bathroom before anyone else woke up. after finishing up your teeth and hair, you headed back to the guest room. a pit in your stomach formed as you were getting dressed, last nights anxieties catching up to you. the closer the time grew, the bigger the pit got. with half-decent hair, an un-ironed christmas patterned button-up that made you feel like a gay uncle, and slightly baggy (but cuffed) blue jeans, you slipped on your socks and out the door, backpack hanging loosely on your right shoulder.

each step you took made the pit grow larger, swallowing up your stomach and moving to other organs.

you walked through the living room, mr. anderson's eyes following you judgementally. you stepped into the dining area, where your sister talked on the phone with your mother, who was now working her day shift as security. you spotted mrs. anderson in the kitchen, swinging her hips in time with the music as she dished up food. the pit neared your lungs as you held your backpack to your chest, sitting in the chair next to your sister. she was wearing a tight red top with faux fur, maybe as a tribute to Santa, and a flow-y white knee-length skirt. it was totally unlike her dark, grunge style, but she looked nice.

kai entered the dining room a little after you, sitting across from you. the morning seemed to feel weightless to him too, but most likely not for the same reasons. he was wearing a simple nirvana tee and black jeans- not so much into the spirit, but at least his socks were red and green. the pit swallowed up at least three fourths of your lungs by the time winter came down.

she looked amazing. she was no where into the spirit, but that didn't matter. you had seen all the articles of clothing she was wearing, but never together. her hair was up in a unique hairstyle, as always. this time, her hairstyle reminded you of princess jasmine, loose but tied up at the bottom. there was a hairtie she put at the top to keep it neat. she had on a white long sleeve, a black cropped tee on top in order to hide the dark bra that would peek through the white shirt so obviously. she had on a black skirt, much shorter than your sisters, that reached mid thigh. she had on long white socks that came up about two inches above her ankle. then, her favorite mary-janes, black and shiny and strapped over her socks. again-not in the spirit, but so...her.

the very sight of her made your mouth salivate. you swallowed quickly, removing whatever crude thoughts lingered in your mind. 'you look nice.' what your sister said didn't even begin to cover it.

the pit swallowed your lungs. there was no way you deserve this.

her smile melted you into putty. you gathered the courage to smile back as mrs. anderson brought breakfast to the table. their father sat at the head to your right while their mother sat at the head to your left. you could hardly down the food, despite how good it all smelled. you ate about half, in order to not be rude, rubbing winter's ankle with your foot. she massaged your other foot with her other foot.

winter finished her plate, eyeing your half-empty one skeptically, but she didn't say anything.

the pit felt like it was nearing it's favorite part, the juiciest strawberry, the heart, by the time you were sharing the loveseat with winter, giving her the cushion while you sat on the arm. she smelled like playboy perfume and lavender scented body wash. it flooded your senses, making you weak. it teased the pit moving through your body, the comforting smell pushed back, but as it grew closer to winter's turn to open your gift, the pit grew excited.

winter turned to you, collecting the three gifts for you, two in beautiful wrapping paper and the third not even wrapped, from your sister. your sister had given you an old pair of boots that didn't fit her anymore. kai gave you a case of trashy, hilarious off-brand movies. winter gave you a beautiful linked ring. she showed you how to put it on, but you were hardly paying attention as she slid the jewel on your ring finger and the silver band on your middle, linking the chain between them. the only thing you were paying attention to was the way her claw-like manicured black nails scraped your skin gently. then, she opened yours as the pit began to gnaw on your heart.

she smiled.

her eyes welled up.

she handed you the necklace, pulled her hair to the side.

and the pit disappeared.

[a-lockman5]

Things were different now. {Devi x Paxton}

A/N: Whoop! My first attempt at writing Paxton/Devi. Requested! (eeee!) Canonically accurate. I did not proofread so if it sucks I’m sorry. IF I SUCK, I’M SORRY. 

Also checkout my masterlist! Please request more!

Warnings: Fluff/angst, (that’s it, I think?)

“Devi, hi!” her voice came over the receiver.

“Hey!” Devi chimed back. “How’d you get my number?”

“Paxton gave it to me, of course. I have good news; I was accepted to FIDM!”

Eleanor and Fabiola looked at Devi questioningly, but she just shook her head as she rose from the table and went outside. They were at Fabiola’s house studying for their chemistry test.

“That’s amazing, but of course you did! They’d be stupid not to accept you!”

“I’m so happy! We’re celebrating tonight and Dad told me to invite whoever I wanted.”

“Great! You’ve earned it, Becca.”

“Thanks! Do you think you can come?”

“What?”

“Come to dinner! I never could have made it this far without you. You have to celebrate with me!”

“Uhh…”

***

“Who was that? Your mom?” Eleanor asked.

“No, it was my friend Becca.”

“Paxton’s sister, Becca?” Fabiola asked incredulously. Devi had finally told her friends the details of the photoshoot the day Eleanor’s mom left. She’d explained how Paxton did not trust many people around his sister, and that Devi had met her only by circumstance. When Becca needed someone to save her photoshoot for her portfolio, Paxton had few people he felt he could call.

“She got accepted to the fashion program.”

“Yeah, but have you” –

“No, not once,” Devi cut Eleanor’s question off. “I haven’t talked to him since he blew me off after Ben’s party.”

She had not told her friends about the voicemail Paxton left her on her dad’s birthday. She hadn’t even told anyone Paxton kissed her. Things were different now though, weren’t they? After making amends with her mom and spreading her dad’s ashes, Devi found Ben asleep in Mr. Gross’s car. He was waiting for her… he stayed for her to make sure she was okay. She hadn’t considered Shira in that moment like she had the night of his birthday party. Devi had been so consumed by what must have seemed like a small gesture to Ben but was monumental to her.

She’d felt so abandoned by so many people during the last few weeks, but not Ben. Ben Gross. If you’d told Devi a month ago that she would kiss Ben Gross in his father’s car by the beach in Malibu, she’d have died of laughter. Things were different now though. Ben had been there for her, opened his home to her, brought her friends back to her, delivered her to what was probably the most important event of her life to date. If that wasn’t love, what else could it be?

After their moment in Malibu, Ben went straight to Shira to end their relationship. Reportedly, there was no love lost on Shira’s end. Ben did say she’d been surprised, but not particularly upset. After that, he and Devi were together. No real discussion – not that they’d needed one. Ben was texting her the next day, telling her the details of their first date. They’d gone to miniature golf, and then for pizza. Ben actually had the good humor to take her to the pizza parlor where he’d met TheRealPickleRick69. They’d shared a laugh and it was a perfectly pleasant evening.

She’d never had a boyfriend before. She had nothing to compare her first relationship to, but Ben was nice. He didn’t bicker with her in class the way they’d used to. He studied with her during lunch. He brought her gifts every so often. They’d talk at night before bed, but only texting. Her mother didn’t know they were dating, but instead thought they had struck a competitive friendship. It was better that way. They were allowed to spend more time together. Things were different now, but they were good.

“What’d she want?”

“She invited me over for dinner,” she told them as she picked at her fingernails.

“What did you say?” Fabiola asked. Devi didn’t respond, only continued to stare at her hands.

“Devi!” her friends exclaimed in unison.

“You can’t do that!”

“What would Ben say?”

“Listen,” Devi held her hand up, “Becca is my friend, and this is big! How would you guys feel if I blew you off after you got into” –

“Cal Arts”

“Berkeley”

“Exactly,” she nodded at each of her friends’ aspirations. “You guys taught me I need to be a better friend. That means supporting my friend while she goes after her dream!”

“Okay… but what are you going to tell Ben?”

***

“Devi?”

“Paxton, hi,” she tried to say casually.

“Hey, I didn’t” –

“Coyote girl!” Trent appeared in the doorway. “What is up? I haven’t seen you since that rich guy’s party.”

“You saw me in history yesterday, Trent.”

“Oh yeah, that was you!” he laughed. “What are you doing here?”

“She’s here for dinner,” Rebecca said from deeper inside the house. “I invited her.”

Paxton glanced over his shoulder before looking back at Devi. He frowned slightly and his tongue swept across his top lip as he gaze searched hers for a moment. “Yeah, of course, I should have guessed. Come on in, Vishwakumar.”

It reminded her of that party at Trent’s – the one that had ended in Paxton driving her to the hospital. He and Trent had been surprised to see her that night too, but Paxton was much happier to see her then. She stepped across the threshold as she felt her phone vibrate in her pocket.

*Hey, quiz me for geography?*

She had chosen not to say anything to Ben about dinner at Paxton’s. Not that she wouldn’t… she just didn’t beforehand. Things were so new and she didn’t want to start a fight over nothing. Because it would be over nothing. She was celebrating her friend, that was all. It didn’t need to be a big deal. Still, she pocketed her phone again after putting it on ‘do not disturb.’

“Thanks for coming!” Becca enveloped her friend in a hug. “I can’t believe I got in.”

“I can,” Devi said genuinely. “I’d kill to have your clothes in my closet!”

“If I remember correctly, you tried to steal some of her clothes,” Paxton grinned at them. Devi’s eyes snapped to his, and she didn’t know what to say so she just grinned back.

“So this is the Devi we’ve heard so much about!” she heard a man’s voice from the kitchen. When she turned, her eyes met the warm smile of a tall Japanese man and a shorter blond woman kind brown eyes. She saw the resemblance between them and Paxton immediately.

“Mr. and Mrs. Hall-Yoshida, it’s nice to meet you,” she smiled. “I brought some assorted chocolates, my mom would kill me if I didn’t.”

“Yes! I remember Paxton mentioning you are an excellent guest,” Mrs. Hall-Yoshida said, graciously taking Devi’s gift. Paxton’s ears turned pink at his mother’s words.

“Devi, come see my acceptance letter!” her friend pulled her out of the awkward encounter.

Devi read the letter aloud and watched as Becca beamed at her. “This is seriously so cool. I can’t wait to see your work on runways, in stores, you’re one boss woman, Becca.”

“Now, come on, everybody sit. It’s Becca’s favorite tonight.”

“Tacos!” she cried cheerfully.

“We have black beans or tofu if you’re vegetarian though,” Mr. Hall-Yoshida assured Devi.

“I’m supposed to be,” she nodded, “but I’m not always great at doing what I’m told.”

Paxton chuckled at his plate as Trent nodded next to him. “Yeah, this girl tried to wrestle a coyote! She does not follow any rules.”

“Right, my boy took you to the hospital that night, right? Isn’t that when you first met?”

“No, Devi came over before that. They were already hanging out.”

“Yeah, we had to partner up with Trent for a school project,” Paxton said, glaring at his sister. “We spent some time together then too.”

“And then of course, Becca’s photoshoot. The reason we’re all here,” Devi said trying to divert attention from her and Paxton’s… relationship? Friendship? Were they even friends at this point? Ben’s party, the night they kissed, was more than three weeks ago, and Devi never brought up his voicemail after she and Ben got together. They hardly looked at each anymore, even when they were in the same class.

“Devi, we always have fun when you’re here,” Becca told her. “You and Paxton should hangout here so I can see you more.”

Devi felt herself wince. She glanced at Paxton, who was busying himself with constructing a taco with a practiced stare. Did Becca really not know they weren’t hanging out? That would certainly explain why she let her walk right into this awkward evening.

“I don’t see why it has to be me and Paxton, Becca,” she tried to say with good humor. “You and I are the ones that have fun. We’ll just let Paxton keep hanging out with Trent. Who needs him, right?”

Everyone at the table laughed, except Paxton. Devi noticed he’d not looked up from his plate since getting his taco prepared. Was he actually hurt? He was Paxton Hall-Yoshida! He could have any girl he wanted, why was he being so weird?

“Yeah, dude, you don’t need the ladies when you’ve got me,” Trent elbowed his friend. “Mrs. H-Y, will you pass the tofu?”

“I didn’t know you were vegetarian, Trent,” Mrs. Hall-Yoshida replied, passing the tofu down the table still.

“I’m not, but my mom is, and I just have mad cravings for tofu!”

Devi couldn’t help but smile then, and it looked like neither could Paxton. Who knew Trent would be such a good buffer? So many times over the last couple months, Devi wished that Trent was not around and she could just talk to Paxton without having ‘Coyote Girl’ shouted in her face. She knew he meant well, Trent was a nice guy once you moved past his inability to read a room. Besides, it looked like that very same shortcoming would be what made this evening bearable.

“Actually, I will take the black beans too. Thank you for thinking of me.”

“Of course! Honestly, I did not know that many of those practicing Hinduism are vegetarian. My father is Shinto as I was raised. Paxton said that vegetarianism isn’t required in Hindu culture, but it is thought to be a form of body purification. Is that true?”

Devi looked at Paxton again, though he continued to avoid her gaze. When had he learned all that? Did she even tell him she was Hindu? Sure, they talked the day of Ganesh puja, but did she ever actually tell him she was a practicing Hindu? Maybe she did. She did have a tendency to ramble and lose track of her sentences. She finally tore her gaze from him to meet his father’s eye again. “Yes, generally speaking. In my mother’s house, it is expected. It’s not as common as it used to be, but traditionally the consumption of meat is considered sinful and we’re to have a responsibility to limit harm to other life forms – ya know, cows, chickens, goat. Plants are alive too, but my mom doesn’t take to that argument well.”

The table laughed again, and Devi felt herself start to relax. This wasn’t so bad. So she and Paxton kissed one time. Things didn’t have to be weird. She could still be friends with Rebecca and enjoy time in the Hall-Yoshida house. This was nice.

“So how are things with Gross?” She finally heard Paxton’s voice again.

Fuck.

“Uh..” Devi hesitated. She looked at Rebecca, who looked confused at her brother’s question, and then back at Paxton. His face was hard, smooth.. effortlessly cool. “They’re good, actually. I don’t know if you remember, but I got in a really big fight with my mom a few weeks ago. Ben was really there for me. I guess it made sense all along for us to end up together. I’m really happy.” She punctuated each word with an equally cool gaze at the boy she’d pined for for years.

She saw Paxton’s jaw set. “Good. Glad to hear it. You deserve it.”

Silence descended. Devi felt her anxiety spike. Why did he have to bring up Ben? And why did it feel like everyone knew how uncomfortable the situation became when he did it? Why was he trying to ruin dinner?

“Oh, Gross!” Trent said after what felt like an hour of silence. “I saved that dude’s life once! Man, you should have seen the crater on his face that day. Lucky I was there.”

Devi nodded at Trent slowly, not even able to begin to decipher what he was talking about. “Excuse me, I need to use the bathroom.”

“You know where it is,” Paxton shot back, eyes on his plate again.

She didn’t respond. Instead she found herself shut in the bathroom with her back against the door as quickly as she could. A deep sigh escaped her as she pushed her hair out of her face. Maybe she should just go. This was a bad idea. She shouldn’t have come. You know what? No! she thought to herself. I am being a good friend to Becca. Paxton is the one who blew me off. If he’s mad about me being with Ben, then he should have thought of that before not speaking to me for a week.

Devi pulled her phone out of her pocket then and had several missed calls and text messages from Ben.  He wanted to know why she wasn’t answering. It didn’t take long for him to start spiraling. Had he said something to upset her at school today? Did she not need to study for geography? Was she with Fabiola and Eleanor? He thought they liked him, why wouldn’t they let her talk to him? Was she rethinking things with him? Devi rolled her eyes impulsively but felt guilty as soon as she realized. She typed him a quick reply before putting her phone away again.

*Mom took my phone away. I found it but I have to leave it here so I don’t get in bigger trouble. Talk to you tomorrow.*

After washing her hands, Devi returned to the table. Some of the tension seemed to dissipate in her absence, but she still consumed her meal quietly unless she was directly spoken to. It felt safer that way. Trent kept Becca and her parents in stitches, and it almost felt like Devi and Paxton weren’t even at the same table.

After dinner, Becca requested root beer floats for dessert, and was eagerly helping her father. Trent had needed to leave because he had to get his evening workout in. So Devi and Paxton were sat as far from each other as possible on the couch in the living room with the TV on. She was trying not to look at him but she couldn’t help notice his fingers tapping on his thigh. It took her straight back to riding in his car the night of Ben’s party. The night he kissed her – what, at the time, was the happiest moment of her life. Things were different now though. Right?

She looked to his face to find he was already looking back at her. He didn’t look as cold as he had during dinner. He looked vulnerable and there was an emotion in his eyes that she couldn’t pin point. She was going to ask if he was okay, but he spoke first.

“Can we go outside for a minute?”

She felt her eyes widen. “Uh yeah, sure. That’s cool,” she tried to sound aloof, but she failed. The corner of Paxton’s mouth kicked up in a smirk as he nodded briskly and stood.

As soon as the door was closed they both started speaking.

“Paxton, I’m sorry” –

“Look, Devi, I shouldn’t have” –

And then they stopped and looked at each other with what could only be described as matching stupid grins.

“I’ll start,” Paxton said reaching a hand out and grasping her shoulder gently, “but let’s sit down.”

She nodded, letting him guide her to the top step of the stoop where they’d sat together after Becca’s photoshoot. “Devi, I’m sorry. I’ve been a really shitty friend to you. I didn’t know how bad things were with your mom, but that doesn’t matter. I should have been there for you.”

“I should have told you about Ben. I didn’t mean to blow you off, but I didn’t know what to say. We hadn’t been talking, and so many things changed.” Did he flinch when she said that?

“You don’t need to do that. You don’t have anything to be sorry for. So we kissed one time, and now you have a boyfriend. If I wanted a piece of the Devi Vishwakumar, I should have taken it when I had the chance,” he winked.

“I didn’t think…” he grinned at her, much like he had when he found her kicking a locker over a month ago. “You’re joking again.”

“Let’s not let things get weird, okay?” he stood up, before offering her his hand. “At least not weirder than tonight has already been. We’re friends, right?”

“Right, why should things be weird?” She grabbed his hand and felt the electricity shoot through her. It was the same every time they touched. Sure in her mind, things didn’t need to be weird. She wasn’t sure her heart agreed.

Part 2 >>

[inexchangeforyoursoul]

FINALLY birthed this thing. I’m officially a disaster with writing anything that involves conflict. Just like irl. :”) Anyway, yeah, there were 3 reasons why I did not finish this immediately about a month ago.

Első: See above.

Második: I had no idea what I wanted the last drop for Hawks to be before writing the rest in advance anyway, whoopsie~

Harmadik: I was.... reeeeeally not sure whether I want to publish this during pride month, seeing as I’m cis, and what kind of shit I put in this. (..... ok I’ve been thinking about this, and somebody just tell me if I’m plain projecting shit here. I might as well. Like, I always am, but it has usually got to do with characters being heavily #relatable in some way in strictly canon, which goes for everyone I write scenarios for. But now I’m thinking about whether there is something more to this, bc me headcanoning Shiggy as genderfluid and starting that shitty LawxOC body swap fic came around the same time two years ago, and now here’s Hawks, too. I’m onto you, me. I’m so onto me...)

Anyway... if you want the usual fluff, you might wanna sit this one out. (There’s some of it, but beware of everything else... it got p long (~6.5k), too, so you might wanna read it on a proper platform for txt: AO3 )

Big, BIG thanks @cutiesableye @acidmatze @waxwingedhawks and @mistystarshine for basically proofreading it and slapping a big green GO into my nervous face. Or being at it rn; regardless, I am thankful. Sssh, only dreams now.

I hope y’all be as uncomfortable reading the meat of this as I was writing it, whoops.

For how much he's surrounded by people normally -which he enjoys most of the time, really- Hawks prefers the silent rooftop right now. It shouldn't be anything out of the ordinary, he'd need a lot more alone time in the first place… but he's supposed to be working right now. Be in the thick of this spying shit, collecting intel from social and environmental clues like nobody's business.

Returning to the room is not something he wants right now, though. The topic and the awkward atmosphere it brought are weighing on him, and he'd rather get over this before moving on with the sleuthing business. He's been perching over the weed-ridden parking lot for like half an hour already, though. Judging by what he can pick up, the League is back to their time killing activities, and not very concerned about his absence. He noticed Spinner checking on him some time back from the doorway, and that's what it was. He's low-key grateful that they would let him breathe instead of poking around some more, or tailing him. If it's something he's allowed to do all the time, it'll be a luxury he's plain going to cherish for as long as it lasts.

Another plus is… that his reasons to join have become more than just believable. Even if this bit of information was not something he wanted to share. Like, at all. Ever. It was perhaps naive to think nobody will ever find out in the first place, that it would stay a secret of the select few who trained and took care of him. But the ones aware of it now being the members of Japan's most infamous terrorist organization… is not reassuring. 

Still… they are letting him be alone. It's… nice. Being seen as a person. It also hurts, though.

His feathers catch onto the vibrations of someone coming up the staircase again. The echoes tell of familiar size, weight and shapes… he knows who it will be. Being a wild card, he's probably coming on his own volition. The plastic smile is already in place, even though it has never worked on the guy- this was nice while it lasted.

The metal door opens with a lazy creak, then there's a soft thud, followed by slacking steps that stop right behind him. Dabi takes a swig from the beer can in his hand before speaking. "So… Peacock and Starling, huh."

"What about them, bacon face?" It's a funny feeling to hear someone say those… names, technically. It's equally funny to think that one of those is what he'd be known as if things go a little more his way. Even considered the title Phoenix for a moment, but that was too pretentious even for him, not to mention ill-fitting past being made of reds and yellows. As for the flashy Peacock… it's easy to see why the blatant joke got rejected off the bat. He'd look sick in iridescent blues and greens for sure, but that's all the reason he ever had to consider it. Those colors didn’t fit his basically pre-established brand… and nowadays he'd rather be invisible than catch even more eyes, anyway. And there's the almost, almost final Red Starling, which had the prototype of his current hero costume and everything…

He wanted to avoid predatory birds when given the task to choose a hero name, blatant secondary traits notwithstanding. They were beautiful creatures, yes… but hardly something reassuring and safe, killing for a living, full of pointy bits. Someone else probably wouldn't have batted an eye and had gone for the intimidation factor, but it was simply not what he had in mind.

A hawk… is a borderline case. It's among the smaller species and underwent some form of domestication, after all. They are not ideal for being kept as mere pets, though; they serve a purpose, instead.

They are used.

Used to hunt for sport or pest control, as he usually does. As he's supposed to right now.

So 'Hawks' was an afterthought, invoking the image of speed and danger. Which they insisted on, especially after… that. Smuggling the S at the end on the form was a last passive-aggressive jab after getting the okay, before letting go of who he used to, or wanted to be. It was fascinating to see the big shots make peace with it almost immediately, and regarding it as an improvement, even; 'makes it easier to associate with a swarm of feathers,' and 'more unique and identifiable,' they said. As if the original idea didn't accomplish both. It really was just… fascinating. The rest of these names, he banished to the stuffiest, darkest corners of his mind, as there were few good things, and even less pleasant memories attached to them. Until… today.

What has happened was simple and logical- the idea whether he'd choose another alias for underground activities came up. Mentioning them in the first place was an enormous mistake… and entertaining either as a viable option was even more so. Disturbing those relics reminded him of those buried memories and feelings, and all he can think of right now is the way Himiko's words rang in his ears barely half an hour ago.

Today, your smell reminds me of Big Sister.

Dabi lets out a sigh before getting to the meat of it. He spent the time Hawks had been gone on thinking himself, and there's a lot to unpack here. So he ought to take it step by step, lest he gets lost in the details. “Let me… get this story of yours straight."

… Great. This is exactly what he needs.

"It starts with… dirty, piss-poor little you getting caught up in a car accident and single handedly resolving it, right? Then, for doing something nice and selfless like that… you got sold off like a slab of fucking meat to the government.”

He blinks. "Hmm… not the most revolutionary take on it. I know you can do better." Claiming that the thought has never crossed his mind would be a lie. He just never let himself dwell on it. But now, this idiot is making him do exactly that. Or is trying to, at the very least. It certainly seems to be one of those convos. This… is turning out to be a major pain in the ass right away. Maybe he should reconsider provoking him this time around, it could backfire big time in the current mood of his.

“It is what happened, though, wasn’t it?” Dabi continues, slipping down to sit next to him, one leg dangling over the edge. “And once your apparently sub-par parents raked in the easy money, and washed their hands of you… you got stripped of everything.”

"Bold of you to assume that I had much to lose, bro. If you know about the accident, you also know where they picked me up from." Putting up a front aside, there was a rough edge to that 'everything' that makes Hawks want to run for the hills immediately. Nope, he is positively not in the mood for antagonistic banter at the moment. He wasn't really able to hide his upset and embarrassment over the situation, so Dabi must have found some twisted sense of enjoyment in pestering him about this specifically. Why can't this asshole just… shut up for once. He thought the villain incapable of it, but he does it so damn well with others around. Sticking with the lot might be a good idea, because solo Dabi is worse. He… he better filter out all the babbling before he starts thinking about bad shit or worse. It’s been a while since he had to take such measures, but he'll have to lull himself into a coma, and just… shut up. Inside out. And hope that Dabi gets bored of him.

“Doesn't change the point, does it, now. They started with any meaningful human contact you may have had… until they erased every last ounce of self," Comes the continuation while Hawks tries to block it out; "They denied you time, likes, attention, possibly even your basic fucking needs while moulding you into a perfect little cleanup machine that fears no death. Then tossed your dried-up skeleton into a roomy cage, filled with expensive junk to fill the void, as a semblance of compensation. Well thanks for fucking nothing, you sick fucks."

Hawks' eyes have locked onto a sunbathing lizard in the distance, but the idle animal is not quite enough of a distraction and his fingers twitch with the tightening grip over the wall's edge. Why does it sound as if Dabi was taking his side?

Shut up… don't pay attention.

He winces when Dabi pulls on the collar of his tracksuit to take a disgusted look at the label. "All the shit you wear was gifted from companies you played dress-up doll for, wasn't it… one fantastic billboard, you are. You own literally nothing else, do you? I'm sure that's the case, because, funny story… a newbie classmate of mine, some dump kid whose parents became new money, had always obscene amounts of cash on him…  but after an initial shopping spree, he never could bring himself to buy a fucking thing. So we asked him about it. Turns out he simply felt like utter shit for spending any of it unless he had a good reason. I laughed then, but apparently, getting a bag of chips is a gargantuan issue for most people who grew up in poverty." 

He leans closer, low words dripping like liquid venom in Hawks' ear. "You, too, feel like garbage every time you spend an ounce of money on something you can do without, don't you? Reminding yourself that there are dozens of that thing at home, lying untouched in your wardrobe that's the size of some families' entire house. Pray-tell Hawks, how many times did you sit over a full basket of online goods… the stuff of your dreams, probably some basic ass shit... only to back out at the last second, hmm?"

Shut up.

Dabi's eyes slide to the tense hands possibly attempting to tear the crumbling edge off the worn wall. A second later, he distances himself again, stirring the can with lazy, circular motions. "I don't even want to imagine what it feels like. Never spent a fucking dime on anything but charities, I fancy. And the odd bottle of booze, fuck or junk food… Are those chicken bits the only thing you're allowed to get? Tch.” 

“What a fucking luxury, being allowed to treat yourself to a bucket every other week, when your disgusting training diet has been set in stone three months in advance." It sounds like a personal addendum, but not a single word in that sentence escapes the overbearing sarcasm and condescension.

A still ticking cogwheel in the hero's head wonders why Dabi knows of the standard diet thing he has to undergo at least twice a year being three months long, and how he could possibly know that he's come to hate half of the dishes over the years. The overwhelming majority of said cogs have long come to a halt, however, screeching SHUT UP. He's not sure who or what that message is directed to anymore. Probably both of them.

Dabi’s waltzing wrist comes to a halt, soon followed by the whirling liquid in the can; it's a minute break, the kind that's just enough to make conversations awkward. In fact, the silence is too big for Hawks to handle- there’s no white noise to drown out and it makes not thinking, not paying attention unbearably hard. The lizard disappears under the cracked asphalt, leaving him with nothing.

“With how long it took you to respond to Shigaraki, they also stripped you of your name. And what I got from the exchange with Toga… is that the same goes for your body, too.”

A shiver runs down Hawks’ back and wings over the addition, kicking the machine brain back in full order despite his best efforts. Dabi takes a big swig of beer and lets out a sigh, resulting in another ill-placed pause. It gives Hawks time to think, goddammit, and he thinks too fast, too hard, about everything.

“While you were moping up here, I've come to realize why you always seem to be so hilariously desperate to one-up me in any given way… it’s because you actually are grasping for straws. You have no control whatsoever, over anything. None." There’s a somber undertone to his voice. The can, along with the remaining sloshes of beer, are flung down to the concrete wasteland and land with a sad, high pitched clank. "My sister used to be like this… people like you don’t dare to ask why things happen. You will believe you’d done something wrong to deserve it all… maybe see yourselves as a necessary sacrifice. Did they ask you to be a martyr, or did you decide so yourself, bird brain? Not that it matters… because that’s exactly what your bosses want and they'd keep on twisting your arms until they get there… but I bet they did. They didn't ask whether you actually wanted it, though… or ask anyone else, about anything, for that matter." 

He reaches over Hawks' vaguely trembling shoulders for the jaw, forcing his face out of hiding. The grip turns gentler as the man's head turns in his general direction, though he's refusing to make eye contact. Dabi keeps him there like that for a while, dissecting him with icy, blue scalpels.

"Gentle like a dove… you'd have flipped the fuck out and been talking shit ever since I opened my mouth any other day. Is this the defense mechanism you developed for these situations?" There's some twitches to the corner of the mouth, but the other remains unresponsive. Heaving another, mildly annoyed sigh, he pries the hero off the crumbling wall with a disgruntled huff and turns to face him. Once there’s some space to work with, he tilts the head in his grasp to the left, to the right… no resistance. "To see you like this is creepy as all hell, birdie… do you even register what I'm saying anymore? Or is ignoring me the goal? Hmm?" 

He scoffs at the glazed eyes, then shakes his head. "I'd imagine you met some pigs high up on the food chain soon after the stunt… those monsters can do anything they want. Then buy silence from pocket change." He starts caressing the other's face as the trembling turns more and more into shaking. "Isolated, innocent eye candy kid at their mercy…… I can only imagine what they’d do to a sweet little plaything like you."

A visceral reaction makes Hawks' stomach convulse, threatening to empty itself, and the muscles in the rest of his body follow suit. Unwanted scraps of memories, all the blurred scenes, images and feelings he didn't quite manage to erase flare up in his mind. And even though his entire being is revolting against being reminded of hugs that felt off by a mere margin, of touches that were always, always distinctively soft and slimy, and things sometimes even worse, and much worse…  the sole thing that betrays his near perfect neutral expression is a pair of clenched jaws. What concerns him even more than any of this, however, is the fact that his tear ducts have been burning up for some unknown time, and...

… too late. There’s already a droplet of water sitting on the thumb Dabi lifted up a second ago.

The tear gets reduced to nothing between the pensive swipe of two fingers as he lets go of him. “Thought so…”

A sliver… a handful of cells, some unidentifiable part of Hawks is thankful that Dabi doesn’t elaborate on what he’s thinking right now, glaring somewhere distant both past the hero and his own damp hand.

The villain's eyes come back into focus soon enough. There's still… one more thing. "Then you started to grow… and they decided to focus on function over form, since your baby face would be just as marketable with a scruff. Becoming popular and following a strict schedule makes it near impossible for creeps to do as they please, with all the watchful eyes dissecting your every move… so you live on a leash instead. An accessory to show off to guests… and still shiny, new weapon to flashily beat up people with." He cocks his head. "And you loathe mindless violence."

On one hand comes the relief that the previous topic has been dropped as unceremoniously as possible, and he gets a moment to breathe and stop shaking like a leaf. On the other…

They are used. Used to hunt pests…

Having less than no time for himself, the daily drill of regular heroing and the overwhelming amount of paperwork the job comes with are things he can deal or cope with… It’s fighting, hurting and confronting other people he loathes the most, even if he'll ram heads with the bigger fish to ensure a more stable framework for everyone to live in. For… others to live in.

Forcing himself into a group of known murderers and the deception this comes with is just the icing on the rotten cake. God, all these fucking lies, he cannot look into the mirror anymore for being overcome with sheer disgust. And now he's stuck with it until the source of all Noumu can be located, too. Why can’t things be like a shitty cops and robbers chase and, just… easy? Simple? Is it really that much to ask for?

But what makes it unnerving is to know that Dabi’s right, always fucking right. About people, what a living nightmare being a hero is once one looks past the glitter covers, and pretty much everything else. But most importantly, he's right about him. He hates being predictable at all, not to mention being read with confidence, and right now he feels as naked as an open book with covers ripped clean off.

He can feel more tears break free, and his fingers scrape over the rough concrete, letting the bumps and glass shards cut a fingertip or two open. It's frustrating. Every single time they happen to make contact… Dabi either makes a good point or manages to get the upper hand in the most inane, little ways, and it’s so… frustrating.

He can’t keep bottling it all up forever, but what is he supposed to do about these feelings?

“What I'm not sure about… is what exactly they are thinking this time.” There’s a thoughtful pause before the continuation; every last tendon in the blonde’s body tenses up. “Are they actually this desperate to get us for good… or is it you they want to get rid of that bad?” 

For a moment that seems like an eternity, Hawks feels… absolutely nothing. Nothing but the piercing glare of the very sky above them, staring straight through the villain's eyes. “Psycho girl is right… you really have no idea how to say no.”

Why now… Hawks can't tell. But hearing the same shit he's thinking about for the millionth time makes something crack. Click. Snap. And next thing he knows, he’s already tackled Dabi to the ground and is clenching his fists into his coat; the man himself doesn’t look too surprised over the turn of events, which drives him even madder.

“Every,” his voice shakes with bubbling anger and is lower and gravelier than his normal, but it will do. Hawks pulls on the leather hard enough to lift the other before slamming him back onto the grey concrete--- “Every” --- over--- “single” --- and over--- “aspect” --- and over, “of you,” and over, “drives me up… the fucking wall,” and over… “any time you open your godforsaken MOUTH,” this time, he goes a little over the top, as the big yank is followed by a pointed knock upon Dabi’s head meeting the ground and his lungs flatten under the pressure of fists, but Hawks is not in the mindset to give a flying fuck about the minor inconveniences of the villain at the moment. Fucker has dug this grave himself, so he better lie in it. "how the everloving fuck... How…! How can you possibly know me more than I do?! TELL ME!!” He asks with an ever growing voice that borders screaming by now, all while shaking the man relentlessly.

He's about to pull and slam him down again when Dabi's hands grab onto his arms just below the wrist. Maybe it's that he did not expect it, but the grip definitely stings a little. As fragile as Dabi is, he thought those scrawny arms less powerful, but apparently what does he know? Still angry, he tears one hand free while shooting a glare at the villain.

There's a trail of blood flowing down his cheek around where Hawks' fist rubbed against at the time of the yank. Dabi blinks once, leaving his left eye with an odd pink texture as his lid smears the leaking red fluid all over it. Not too surprisingly, his face remains as unreadable as a mannequin's, and eyes as cold as that of a taxidermy specimen. Hawks hates looking at him when they are like this, which is most of the time. "Careful, little bird… you're tearing at the seams. Don't want to end up like this, do you?”

That calm voice works like just another taunt, making the hero want to beat him to a pulp, or at the very least, continue where he's just left off with flattening him into the concrete. At the same time… hesitation wedges his joints to a halt. No… No, he doesn’t want to end up ‘like this,’ whatever it may have been to drive Dabi into burning himself alive on a daily basis.

And he notices. Of course he does. Hawks could swear to see his lips curve, but it may just be the angle.

“Fucked-up kids know how to read others pretty well, don’t you think?”

Hawks’ still short breath hitches and he freezes upon feeling a hand, the very same he just shook off, slide over his hips, ice cold on his heated skin even through the fabric of a t-shirt. There's no real intent behind it; in fact, it feels like a doctor's indifferent, calculated touch. Somehow, that makes it even worse. "… didn't even have the decency to start stuffing you with testosterone from the get-go, huh?" 

Another statement that sounds more like a personal note than anything else, and it makes Hawks’ skin crawl.

“Well I can’t read you for shit! Congratulations!!!” He barks, slapping the intrusive limb away. “For starters, what was this supposed to be about, hell, why the fuck did you even come up here?! Just to gloat about it into my face? Or do you want to make fun of me for not being able to decide whether I’d rather be a cheeky bitch or the insufferable prick I am today?!” 

There’s tears streaming down his face again, but he couldn’t care less. It hurts like all hell… especially remembering full well how fucking much waking up from what was supposed to be nothing more than an open break surgery hurt- there was near nothing to remove, for fuck's sake. But claiming not to enjoy at least some aspects of what being a man brought would be just more lies on the throne built on them.

Mentioning his interest in IT and mechanics to strangers is not criticised or made fun of, not anymore. Neither is his tendency to run ahead of others in pretty much every situation. Instead of second guessing, people default to respecting and listening to what he says on any given topic in general, and he stopped doubting himself, too. The circumstances were a special kind of fucked-up for sure… but he also ended up having fewer weak spots than almost everyone else, which did come handy a couple of times. The hormones he received made him taller than he ever could have grown realistically, too. And rejecting fans is easier as most women- and most of them are women,- know basic fucking etiquette.

But he also wants cheesy tees with cats and birds and flowers that he never gets to sponsor. Cuter shoes that are still comfy. Some eyeshadow every now and then. Wear the prettiest blues and greens, and maybe… maybe a nice dress.

"… You are pissed for the same reason I am.”

By the time Hawks has processed the sentence, he is the one being pressed into the roof, with one wing stuck awkwardly underneath him. For a dreadful moment he breaks into cold sweat, because this also means that Dabi is between his legs, and--- fuck, this is the last fucking position he wants to find himself in, especially right fucking now. He doesn’t get to break out in panic, however, because the villain is busy strangling him against the lukewarm ground. It’s his turn to grab onto the other’s arms as he wheezes for some air. He needs to calm the fuck down somehow, otherwise he won’t be able to use his feathers---

“Looking at you… is like staring at a distorted mirror image at fucking funland.” Hawks cracks his eyes open, seeing Dabi stare right back at him. It's as if someone put goddamn transparency over the villain to make the blinding blue behind him visible. He’d blame cold eyes in general, but he doesn’t find Twice’s even lighter ones nearly this creepy when Dabi’s like this. His burn with intensity rivaling All Might and Endeavor, which have always made him uneasy.

“What a nice pair of custom-made patchwork monstrosities we are…” His voice delves into a hiss as the grip tightens over the hero’s neck. “… makes me sick to my stomach."

Hawks coughs under the weight on his throat. He manages to get some air in and think clearly enough to turn back to logical thinking; if Dabi wanted to go for the kill, he’d be toast by now. Motherfucker is just toying with him for the hell of it, isn’t he? He flexes his wings against the rough concrete and flips the two of them back over to where they started.

“Would you stop playing games, you *cough* sick fuck?!” he wheezes, all out of breath.

"Maybe you’re the one who should stop dicking around, bird brain!"

His next protest gets cut short when Dabi headbutts him in the temples. It feels half-hearted, but gets him to shut up for a moment nonetheless, which is all that the other needs.

"The fuck did you scrape us up from the floor for, HUH?! You had ONE JOB, and you could have been done with it just like that… but instead...!! INSTEAD you played nurse and started to GET ALL COMFORTABLE AND SHIT!” The villain’s voice is basically rolling like thunder over the forsaken plot.

Hawks’ angry and pained grimace twitches under his hand- he’s seen Dabi smug, and aloof, and crazed, but not… angry. Not to mention angry with him, specifically. And, once again, it’s one of those little, irritating, miniscule things that are… true. He didn’t get an order to stick around and follow the lead to the Noumu until like a week later, so it was all unnecessary and ended up being even more work and trouble than it was worth.

He didn’t have to help when he found all of them dying, bleeding and broken.

He also didn’t have to start talking to Compress and Twice and Giran, then all the rest as they warmed up to him and came to.

He wasn’t supposed to lie about their initial status, he didn’t have to keep covering for them after they were all walking and doing all right, after the decent person in him had already been satisfied.

And he definitely never meant to get… attached.

A pull on his tracksuit wakes him from the shock, just as Dabi continues screaming at him head-on. “And YET, there still isn't anything YOU want from us?! REALLY?!! Do you want to be a puppet for the rest of your life, idiot?!"

Well… Hawks had been called names before. He never thought that being called a ‘puppet’ would offend him this much, but that... that certainly just did it.

“NO, I DON’T!” He screams back at him, voice swaying all over the place.

"CAN'T HEAR YOU, BITCH!!"

"I SAID I DON'T WANT 'o!!” Whatever air's still in Hawks' lungs gets stuck inside as a wave of what’s probably fear washes over him upon hearing his own, distorted voice crack and echo in the empty parking lot. Realizing just how much he's straining his voice, a sudden knot manifests in his stomach that folds his rage into a small, jittery, awkward package.

“Ah… I,” It takes so much effort to squeeze out a single thing, what--- why is he embarrassed? “I don’t---”

The next word gets stuck somewhere between his thoughts and throat when the same cold hand from before leaves a little pat on his head.

"See? Wasn't that fucking hard, was it now." It combs Hawks' hair back, staples getting stuck here and there on the fragile strands. There’s nothing methodical about it this time; the entire gesture is just… gentle. "Good job, chicken."

Just like that… all that rage, despair and helplessness, along with the last confusing bundle of emotions, evaporates out of the blue, leaving Hawks empty and tired, somewhat nervous, and maybe a little… relieved. It takes him a bit to be able to think of anything at all, god knows how much time passes while he blinks blankly in front of him. It takes a rugged sigh from Dabi underneath him to phase back into reality; the scarred hand has long disappeared, and is tucked behind the villain’s head along with the other as he’s gazing at the passing clouds. The first coherent thought that crosses Hawks’ head is a fully formed fact- what kind, and with what purpose, he doesn't know or begin to understand… but this was… a test, or rather, a lecture.

A very… very crudely executed lecture.

Hawks sniffs with a stuffy nose. Fucking… fucking fucker. “… you are an asshole through and though, aren’t you?” And now he’s hoarse, too. Wonderful.

There’s a shrug… well, as much of a shrug it can be from someone in Dabi’s position. “I don’t believe it’s ever been up for debate.”

He sounds so smug, it's just so… ugh. The hero squishes his face with a palm in frustration before crawling off him at last. The annoyed grunt in response is all he needs right now. "Are you done being a nuisance, or do you wanna egg me on some more?"

There's a rare chuckle. "Already making bird puns…? Nah, little bird. Getting hell-and-back pissed is exhausting as fuck. You won't be any more fun today." 

With that, Dabi scrambles onto his elbows, then sits back up. He gives a quick massage to his previously flattened nose before rubbing the back of his head; there’s a number of fully formed lumps already. Feathers isn’t very gentle when riled up… at least the spot’s not bleeding. He'll need to put some painkillers to work, though. "Still… the manic look suits you well. I'm getting giddy just thinking about your bosses' reactions upon seeing you like that." In a move that is more or less successful, he licks a finger to rub the trail of rust off his cheek.

Hawks wrinkles his nose upon seeing a rather genuine looking smile on the other’s face. “Please. Noone in their right mind is in my face like you are all the damn time… at least not with the intent of driving me batshit only to make me murder them. You’re a freak case and should not be accounted for.” He sighs, resting his head on an arm- there really is no willpower left in him to do anything for the rest of the day. There better be no trouble on his late evening patrol, or so help him. Or help it, because there's no guarantee he won't snap back to this awkward beat-to-a-pulp mode if confronted with a no-name villain.

After some fidgeting, Dabi produces something from a pocket… something that looks very suspiciously like a worn blunt. “It’s because they don’t have to, dumbass… you are edging towards a nervous breakdown at any given time. Anyway, look… you are no doubt seen as an invaluable asset… but are worth so much more still. Give yourself some credit." Hawks peers back at him just as the conspicuous thing is lit over a wrist which gets shaken after, much like one would put out a match. There’s a tentative draw, followed by another. 

“What I want to say is… they are terrified of you, birdie. If not for the danger of exposing their disgusting practices, it's because they fear that their blue ribbon pet won't return from a hunt… for one reason or another. And, just for the record,” He breathes, offering the roll to him; “I'll gladly hold you back for a good scare."

Following a vacant stare and a blink, he takes it. It’s not as if this quite tolerable, for-the-hell-of-it mood of Dabi’s was new, but… he was seriously considering to strangle the guy a minute ago. When exactly did they return to casual banter? Hell if he remembers, or has noticed at all. God… this whole thing has him rattled real good. Hopefully a nap will get him back into the usual pace of things.

“I sure hope not everyone blows their sugarbird pocket money on beer and weed like you do,” The blonde muses once he can feel a different kind of fatigue set in, reaching the blunt back to Dabi. Hypocritical? Maybe. Won't stop him from nagging others for the same shit, though. Comes with the job.

“Well, Compress replaced the crumpled hat… and Tomura decided to save up for a new handheld,” Dabi muses, placing the smoke into the corner of his mouth. "It'll go via Giran, of course. After seeing the taxes on that shit, I can't even blame him."

Can’t help but smile at that. “You are all fucking hopeless.”

A hum is all he gets as a reply.

After a while of comfortable silence, the remains of the roll get snuffed out on the ground. Blinking past Dabi, Hawks can see the sun is soon to set. Fucked like two hours just sitting out here, didn’t he. The Commission better not expect much from today’s endeavor… cannot exactly tell them that he was getting high on the rooftop with the flame villain for a good portion of it, the only villainous topic being creepy fat cats and their own shortcomings. Or that his possibly biggest secret slipped, although they wouldn't give a rat's ass about that. Yyyeah… it’s best to bullshit it.

“Humor me for another minute of real talk, will you, chicken?”

Dabi’s voice drags him back to reality again, only to realize that the light has already turned into a warm yellow. If his bones… or rather joins popped now, he’d feel like the embodiment of a nice little bonfire under the sun. Huh. Guess the stuff was of the better quality to make him think of weird similes and turn his sense of time whack. What was he--- oh, right. He should answer.

“… cannot promise I'll be able to pay attention or remember any of it, but do your best, crouton.” There’s a mild prickly sensation in his wings and his brain feels like marshmallows. If only he could always be so calm.

“Don’t bullshit me, you barely had a whiff." The dirty remains of weed are flung over the roof in annoyance.

He can feel a goofy smile creep onto his face- it's nice to be the source of frustration for once. Maybe all he needs to do is be honest more often. "Second hand smoking goes a long way, bruh."

The initial answer is an exasperated sigh. "Shut it… Anyway, you should cut the sweet chirping and tweeting, birdie. No matter what you do, people take advantage of your position. You know this better than anyone else. So squawk and screech to your heart's content, if that's what you need… and if barking won’t help, get down to biting.” Having said that, he stops surveying the cracked parking lot under the golden sky, and turns back to Hawks.

He forgets to breathe for a second. Good lord… those eyes glow as if they were illuminated by blue fire from inside, and the contrast with the sunset is just… well, literally breathtaking, he supposes. This is among the few times when they don’t creep him out- quite the contrary, in fact. They still feel like X-rays, though. “I guess it really doesn’t matter… by the way, real talk question: can you fucking read minds?”

Not that he expected anything else, but a smug grin appears on the villain’s face. “Maybe~”

“Careful, man. Your pants are sizzling.”

Lo and behold, another rare chuckle. Despite being under the influence of drugs, (or maybe because of that?) Hawks is on a fucking roll.

He can't keep his eyes off those blue ones even once Dabi decides to stare back at him. “Jokes aside… suppose there really is an idiot like me out there, and they get up close and personal… put those clipped talons to work and gouge their fucking eyes out. You have all the means to tear them limb from limb… go all out, who gives a fuck. These are the same kind of people who shit on wild animals from beyond a cage, but watch them run with tail between legs upon realizing that the gates are wide open. And even if you weren't ready to dirty your hands or feathers like that…" 

He lifts a pointing finger and rests the tip on the hero’s nose. "One word of yours… and we'll make sure it's the last day they touched anyone. Understand?"

Really, all he can manage to that is a weak, sheepish smile. “… thanks,” he breathes, not knowing what else to say. He should be a thousand times more alarmed over basically being told that someone's ready to kill for him, and not… well, flattered? Touched? Especially since he knows Dabi means it, and so would the rest of them.

“Great,” the other grunts while getting on his feet, and leaning just a little bit on Hawks’ head while doing so. What a turd. Latter’s about to get his stiff legs working as well, but once the vague aching starts subduing, he can see Dabi stop in the doorway and put a hand on his hip. “… those filthy gremlins have been spying on us.”

Indeed… someone brought the hero’s scantily loaded bag to the top of the staircase and left it there.

“In that case,” turns Dabi around, flinging said bag over to Hawks in the same breath, “go straight the fuck home and get yourself presentable, you overgrown turkey. Might wanna decide on the new alias by the next time I call, too. You already know the rest.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he sighs, dragging the strap over his head.

Between the echo of boots, there’s a distorted farewell: “See ya, little star.”

Hawks stops in his tracks. He looks over to the empty entrance, and the metal door wide open. The sound of footsteps has faded into barely more than creepy sounds in an abandoned building- if not for his feathers, he wouldn’t even know that six other people are under the roof he’s standing on. Spirits and shadows haunting an old convenience store like many others.

He's nothing more than another ghost out here, and yet… he's never felt so real.

---

No matter what he chooses, Dabi will just stick to 'fancy chicken.' Also, I’m so fucking proud of that Red Starling. Not only is it obscure astronomy bullshit (much like the title of this thing), but it would be a nifty alternative to Hawks; just hit up a video on a flock (or, as I just learned, murmuration) of starlings. Shit’s cray.

[the0ldmann]

“I Would Hold the Sky for You...”

Writing under the cut.

I know I said a LOOOONG while ago (haha, whoops!) that I was gonna write a whole little series, but I’ve lost fire and also could not come up with a suitable idea for how to continue chapter two! So I figure the least I could do is share chapter 1. Yes, I even had a title for it. Either I’ll come up with an idea at some point and chapter 2 sees the light of day. Or someone else can honestly take over writing it if they want. *shrug emoji*

It’s not beta read or even really proofread. But I hope ya’ll enjoy what I was trying to go for anyway.

Yes, I headcanon’d that Reaver’s original name was Jack.

    “Where the hell did that boy go now?!”

    “Did you check by the docks? You know one of the best spots is down there.”

    “Bah, there’s too much commotion down there for fishing today- ship’s just come in.”

    “Then why aren’t you there offering an extra hand?”

    A cloudy day was perfect for fishing. One might then reasonably expect any young man skipping chores to be hanging around the docks with the rest of the sailors and fishermen, chatting away while at least one complains about their bad luck and lack of dinner. For this guess, one would normally be right, but on this day Jack and his childhood friend Brom were in the nearby woods instead.

    “I bet I can hit that red X painted high up there!” Jack shook his head, not even bothering to respond to Brom’s boast. Brom puffed out his chest, swiped a lock of dirty blonde hair from his eye, and took an awful long time to aim. The throwing knife zoomed past, landing on the ground further out with a soft ‘thunk.’

    “Looks like you owe me five gold.”

    “Wh-what?! Yous never said anything about accepting the bet!”

    “Didn’t have to.”

    Jack picked up the knife and walked back to where Brom was standing. He then proceeded to walk a little farther, turn on his heel and throw the knife right into the center of the X without stopping to properly aim. Brom sighed and clambered halfway up the trunk to retrieve it. His descent was as equally graceful, as a nearby pile of leaves was scattered by his landing.

    “I swear your skill is supernatural.”

    “I’m not that good,” Jack shrugged the compliment off. “It’s just called careful study and practice. Maybe if you didn’t chase after pretty girls at the bar all night, you’d be half as good as I am. Ow!” Brom playfully punched his friend’s arm.

    “Big talk coming from someone that already has a girl! You don’t know what it’s like being single- you and Dahlia been tied together since we was kids.”

    “You know what I hear, Brom? I hear a lot of excuses. C’mon, try to follow my movements for five seconds and maybe you’ll learn something. I’ll even slow down so you won’t miss a thing.”

    “Actually,” Brom shook his head, placing a hand on Jack’s arm to stop him. “When was you planning on finally tying the knot with her? The two of yous been engaged for how long now?” Jack sighed and shook his head. It was a concern of his, but everything had to be perfect for the wedding- not a single hair could be off. It wouldn’t do to start a marriage off with a bad wedding day, and he certainly had done the best he could for Dahlia to make sure her life was perfect. “Is she even going to keep waiting-”

    “Of course she is!” Jack snapped. “She wants it to be as perfect as I do. We share the same dreams and we will settle for nothing less!”

    Brom staggered back a step in shock. Jack usually kept his temper under lock and key, but he had struck a nerve. Of course he was worried she wouldn’t want to keep waiting. She’d reassured him it was fine, but what if it wasn’t?

    “And just what are you two boys fighting about this time?”

    A familiar voice snapped the two of them from their thoughts.

    “Dahlia, my sweet, it wasn’t a fight! Brom misspoke and was just about to apologize, weren’t you, Brom?”

    Brom nodded his head vigorously. Dahlia hardly looked convinced.

    “Well if you’re not going to tell, there’s hardly a reason to press. I figured I’d come and warn you your dad’s looking for you- and before you ask no, he’s not bothering to check the docks today.” She paused long enough for the two of them to shoot her a quizzical look. “Ship’s just come in so it’s busier down there than the guards during wasp season.”

    “You hear that Brom? We got ourselves an out! Let’s get down there and see what’s new before my old man does.” Jack took off running towards the little village they called home while Brom hesitated. It wasn’t long before Jack was out of sight and Brom turned to speak to Dahlia.

    Except all that came out was silence.

    He floundered awkwardly before Dahlia spoke up, seeming to just know what was on his mind.

    “We’re okay, Brom. I know you’ve been good friends with the both of us since we could walk, and that you’ve a tendency to worry too much about everyone, but we are okay.” She leaned in to whisper in his ear. “There’s actually a bit of a contest going between us- and if you can keep a secret- I might have found a good enough baker. We’re actually getting very close to finally having everything perfect for the wedding!” Brom broke into a grin while she giggled and waved him off. “Now go catch up to Jack before his dad gets to you.”

    Brom, suddenly reminded about his long-gone friend, stumbled over a tree root as he began to run to catch up. Dahlia waited around for a minute before she took off running after the two of them. It wasn’t every day a ship came to port in Oakvale, and she wasn’t about to miss out on any of the fun.

    Normally ships passed by the little village- it was fairly self-sufficient and didn’t see much need for trade with the rest of the world. However there was one ship always sure to port every now and again.

    “Jack, my boy!” A voice, slightly gravely with age but still quite lively, boomed out across the dock. Most people paid it no mind, however. “It’s been a couple months since I seens ya. Ya got a date for that wedding yet? Now I know you wouldn’t have had it without invitin’ me.”

    Captain Goodwin ruffled Jack’s hair before the man could duck away. Though he was a gruff man to most, to his friends and family he was incredibly jovial. A native to Oakvale, the village held a special place in his sea-faring heart and yearly visits were part of his routine. Those visits weren’t on any particular time table, but he always made sure he visited once per year with as many trinkets, supplies, and stories as he could muster.

    “No sir, nothing official yet. But…” Jack leaned in close to try and keep his words a secret from any nosy villagers nearby. However his excitement kept his voice a bit louder than intended. “Word is I might have finally found the perfect baker.” The captain gave Jack a pat on the back that nearly knocked him over. It was hard not to share in the excitement.

    “Well then I better not be leavin’ anytime soon then. Besides, a bit o’ time land-side might be good for me old bones…” It was then Jack really noticed the graying hair on Captain Goodwin. When exactly had he gotten so old? “No need to talk about me though. I got someone I’d like you to meet. Jack, meet Em… Ahm… Eh…”

    “Aemulus.” Jack’s eyes followed the captain’s gesturing to the sound of the voice. There stood a young man, roughly Jack’s age if not a year or so younger. “Most people have difficulty pronouncing my name, so you can just call me Aem.” He held out a hand for Jack to shake.

    “Jack.” Aem’s shake was firmer than Jack expected from such a skinny thing. His dark hair was also styled similarly to Jack’s- one could have easily mistaken them for brothers.

    The captain was grinning broadly as he turned back to Jack.

    “Aem here’s from a far-away land and wanted to see the world. I took a bit of a shine to ‘im as he reminded me of a certain someone, and I figured the two of you’d get along pretty well. I’m sure you’ve plenty to learn from each other so if you need me,” Captain Goodwin shouted over his shoulder as he began to walk away. “I’ll be at the tavern!”

    As the captain’s figure disappeared into the crowd, Jack and Aemulus were left alone.

    The silence stretched on somewhat awkwardly as neither one knew how to really begin. Since Jack had to play host, he gestured back towards the village and the crowd.

    “Shall we start with a tour?”

    “Lead on.”

    Jack led Aem through the small village he called home. There wasn’t much to it, as it was a simple way of life, but Jack was still quite proud to call Oakvale his home.

The tavern was pointed out first and foremost, since it was situated so close to the docks. Next was the general store- useful for getting most of one’s daily needs if you or a neighbor didn’t produce them. Notable townsfolk had their homes pointed out and Jack ended the tour on the bridge. Both his house and the farm on the edge of the village were close. The sun was just beginning to set as he leaned forward against the railing to look out at the sea. Aem opted to lean back against the railing on the opposite side, eyes firmly fixed on the back of Jack’s head.

“Sounds like a quiet and peaceful life.”

“Aye, that it is.”

“Haven’t you ever wanted more, though?”

Jack turned to look back at Aem, a confused look on his face.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, haven’t you ever wanted to see the world? Find out what else is out there? You can’t seriously tell me you have no sense of adventure.”

Jack paused, looking down at the bridge under him in thought. It wasn’t that Aem was wrong, he just hadn’t ever stopped to think about it. Aem continued questioning while Jack continued to ponder.

“You’re what, mid to late twenties if you’re like me?” Jack nodded but did not look up. “Wait much longer, and adventuring is going to be a pain- quite literally. Captain Goodwin certainly can’t move around like he used to, and he’s what, in his fifties? We’re past halfway there, Jack.”

He had to admit Aem had a point. Life was already planned out for him though. The wedding was going to be very soon if everything continued to come together. After that, the whole village was going to be hounding them about how many kids were on the way. By the time they would be grown up, it’d be time for the two of them to really settle down into retirement. The most they could maybe do would be to make a trek to move to Bowerstone- as Bloodstone was definitely out of the question- but they’d be so far from family and friends Dahlia would never agree to it.

Oakvale was all he knew, and all he was going to know.

Before he could even decide how he felt about that revelation, Brom came running up to the two of them completely out of breath. Between each gasp of air, Brom just looked back and forth with absolute bewilderment before finally being able to choke out a single word.

“Two?!”

“Ah, Brom, I’d like you to meet my new friend!” Jack gestured towards Aem. “Aemulus is his name and he came here with Captain Goodwin. Aemulus, this is my good childhood friend Brom. You joined us at the perfect time actually, I just finished the Oakvale tour and was about to ask him for stories of his own home.”

Aem shot Jack a look as Brom perked up. He’d managed to dodge the conversation and with an audience, Aem was unlikely to get any honest answers of introspection out of his new-found twin.

“Please, just call me Aem.” He shook Brom’s hand in greeting. “I suppose I have an interesting story or two to tell, but first, perhaps we should head for the tavern? A place to sit and a good drink sound like the best way to enjoy a tale.”

“Oh, I so do loves a nice cold tankard. There’s also that little corner table we could grab so nobody’ll interrupt us.” Brom was practically bouncing up and down in excitement. Jack nodded and gestured for the others to follow him back into town. Aem was going to have to wait until later to corner Jack again.

    On the way to the tavern, the three men ran into Dahlia, who was as surprised as Brom was when first spotting Aemulus. Introductions were had yet again, and they carried on their merry way with another member in tow. Luckily, the corner table hadn’t been taken and as the men settled into their seats, Dahlia offered to grab the drinks.

    It didn’t take long for her to return and set a tankard in front of each of them. She scooted her seat closer to Jack and wrapped her arms around his free one.

    “You said you two were engaged, correct?” Aem aimed the quick question at Jack before taking a sip.

    “Yes. We might even have everything in order soon to go ahead with the ceremony.”

    “Oh, so you found a baker?” Dahlia looked up at him. She was secretly hoping it wasn’t the same one she had heard about.

    “A visiting one, from Bloodstone. They make an amazing lavender tea bread.” Jack smiled down at her. “I actually planned a visit for us in two days. I was going to tell you tomorrow, but now seems like a good time to break the news.”

    Dahlia hid her head in his side. Brom, putting two and two together for once, unfortunately couldn’t stop himself from commenting.

    “Wait, when you said you’d heard of a baker you wanted to check out before you told Jack, was that the one? Looks like he beat you to it already then, haha!” Jack looked down at Dahlia with an amusedly smug look on his face.

    “And you thought you were gonna get everything in order yourself before I could so much as get wind of any of it.” Dahlia reached and took a sip from his tankard before he could protest.

    “Since I lost the bet, the least you can do is share your drink then.”

    “Why not get your own?”

    “I didn’t want to.” She stuck her tongue out at him and he shook his head in response.

    “Well you two certainly act like you’re married already.”

    Aem’s voice sounded a little leering, but Jack seemed to be the only one who had noticed. Neither Brom nor Dahlia had any sort of reaction to it beyond a slight chuckle, so he couldn’t say anything about it.

    “The two of ‘em’s been together since we was kids. They’ve been acting married for years.” Brom let out a heartier laugh this time, and Dahlia piped up with her own commentary.

    “Though telling him that always leaves him a bit embarrassed.” She fell into a fit of giggles when Jack used his free hand to tickle her side. Aemulus simply watched the moment unfold, hands holding the drink sitting firmly on the table in front of him. “Stop, stop, I’m sorry! Heehee, I won’t do it again!”

He whispered something in her ear which left her hiding her face in his side again. Jack looked proud as he looked back at the others.

    “So Aem, you said you might have a story or two of your own to tell. Why not share with the class?”

    “Oh, yeah! I’d love to hear what your home’s like! You got anyone waitin’ for you to come back?” Brom was leaning towards their new friend, curiosity lighting up his face. He was the most eager to learn more about Aem, but he could spot Dahlia peeking at him from across the table as well.

    Taking a deep breath, he proceeded to empty his tankard within seconds and gently set it back down on the table. The others simply stared at him in shock and awe. Clearing his throat, Aem spoke up after the brief silence.

    “So you want to know more about where I’m from, eh?”

    All three of them nodded.

    “Well, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to tell you all. We’re friends now, aren’t we? Just don’t go getting green with envy after I tell you…”

    Hills of vibrant green all around, protecting a quaint valley town from the harsher outside world. One might think this little town would be a boring place to live with its temperate weather all year-round, but that is where you would be mistaken. There were a few passages through the hills that locals knew well and delicacies that only this town could produce, so trade kept the streets bustling with life. Indeed, despite its smaller-than-expected size this small town could rival any large city in wealth and prosperity.

The secret to it all was the mead.

    Beekeeping was held in high regard- one of the most honorable professions one could take up. Brewer, gardener, and florist were also three incredibly well-respected professions. The fields surrounding the town were always bursting with color from all the flowers. Honey from here was the sweetest and never in short supply.

    Sweet honey makes an even sweeter mead.

    Nothing could rival the alcohol this little town produced, and to compliment the drinks were bouquets made with the most romantic of flowers in mind. What better way to say ‘I love you’ than with liquid dessert and a brilliantly blooming display of bright red roses, orange lilies, pale pink peonies, and dark red carnations?

    It certainly wasn’t much of a tourist spot itself, but the cities over the hills certainly would pay a pretty penny to make sure everything got to them fresh and safe. They were the more popular spots, and that was perfectly fine for everyone in the town itself. It wouldn’t do to have people trampling the flowers and disturbing the bees after all.

    Aem went quiet for a moment, surveying everyone’s reaction. Brom looked lost in thought, trying to see the flowers before him while Dahlia had a gleam in her eye, like she desperately wanted to ask to go see them.

Jack’s reaction was the hardest to read. He seemed to be doing his best to keep himself guarded, but he did seem a little intrigued by the idea of such a town, head tilted to the side ever so slightly in consideration.

“Before anyone asks the obvious, no I don’t have anyone waiting on me back home. I’ve actually been hoping to find someone in my travels willing to come back with me.”

All of them raised an eyebrow at that. Dahlia was the first to speak up.

“You’re single?” He nodded.

“Is that so hard to believe?”

“Well, we’ve only just met, but if you’re anything like my Jack, surely you’d have tons of girls jumping at the opportunity.”

“Ah, but that’s just the thing, most don’t want to go off adventuring. They want to settle down immediately, in the place where they grew up. I, on the other hand, still wish to see more of the world.”

“B-but,” Dahlia refused to give up the topic, “surely there’s got to be someone willing to adventure with you! You can’t tell me absolutely no one is interested.” Aem simply shook his head.

“That’s become part of the challenge of adventure, I’m afraid. Though I am always glad to make new friends. I look forward to spending time with the three of you while I’m here.” Standing up, he stretched his arms above him. “Though it appears we’ve spent quite a bit of time talking this evening,” he gestured to the window. “I suppose it’s about time I found Captain Goodwin to say goodnight and settled into a room. Pleasure meeting you all.” He shook Brom and Jack’s hand one last time before heading off further into the tavern to find the captain.

“I suppose we should all be gettin’ back then. It’s late and I ain’t about to make me mum any madder. Already kinda mad at meself for missin’ dinner…” Brom took off while grumbling under his breath. Jack turned to Dahlia as a realization crossed his face.

“I’ve completely forgotten about my dad! Despite the fact I’ve somehow managed to avoid him all day, he’s absolutely going to tear into me when I get home.”

“Well, you can always come stay the night with me. You know my parents don’t mind pulling out some spare blankets for you on the floor.”

“I know they don’t, but doing so last minute feels wrong.” Jack sighed. “Better get going before it gets too late.”

A comforting hug and a quick kiss on the cheek was all they shared before Jack was out the door. Dahlia knew she wasn’t going to be able to see him at all tomorrow- and as bothered as she was at the idea, she knew it would only be for a day. Besides, it would give her time to ask Aem more about his travels while showing him more about the town.

The excitement at learning more about their new friend put a spring in her step as she headed out the door. Tomorrow was certainly going to be an interesting day.