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applerubyy · 3 years

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Ciao Adios

Summary: When you find your boyfriend cheating on you yo decide to expose him in the pettiest way you can think of.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader (some Loki x Reader if you squint)

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Cheating and cursing (I think that’s it?)

A/N: Hi! So this is my first time writing and posting anything here so if its terrible please tell me nicely :). This is some AU where everyone lives and all is happy ok? Also english is not my first language so I apologize in advance for any grammar or spelling mistakes. Anyway, if it turns out that some of you like it I think I’d be willing to do a part 2 if you like. Hope you enjoy it! <3. Btw, the gif is not mine so credit to whoever made it.

Crack. That’s the sound of your heart breaking, ripped to pieces in just a few seconds. And no, you were not exaggerating. Seeing your boyfriend kissing someone else while taking off their clothes would do that to a person. And in his office of all places.

How did you not see that coming? They had a lot in common and they did spend a lot of time together but you were just so naïve thinking that he was the most trust-worthy person ever that you looked the other way and believed him when he told you she was “just a friend”.

Just a friend my ass you thought as you calmly walked to your room. No running, that would draw attention to you and you didn’t need that. No crying either, because once you started you wouldn’t be able to stop. Walking down the hallway and taking the elevator to your floor feels like it takes forever.

Time is funny that way. It has that annoying tendency to slow down or speed up at the worst times. Like when you were in college and the clock seemed to literally stop, you would look at the time and it was 10:20 am and check again after what felt like half an hour for it to be 10:25 am. Or like when you are having fun with your friends at a club and you see it’s 12:30 but when you look again a few minutes later it’s 2:40. Right now it feels like the former, time seems to have slowed down. Maybe Dr. Strange did something to it? No, that’s stupid, he wouldn’t play with time that way.

Finally the elevator pings open and you rush to your room. Well, it’s not only your room anymore. You share it with him and everything is a reminder of what you just saw. The art supplies on the desk by the window, the famous shield leaning against the wall near the door, the messy bed where you sleep together every night …

And every single thing brings tears to your eyes until finally, the dam breaks and you let the tears fall down. You bring your hand to your mouth to muffle a sob that brings you to your knees. Crying is the only thing you can do right now because your brain is stuck on a loop. All you can see is Steve kissing her, unbuttoning her shirt with one hand while the other grabbed her ass. And all you can hear are their moans, Sharon’s whimper when he touched her and his groan as he did so.

And now you are full on crying and choking on air because that scene keeps replaying itself over and over no matter how much you want it to stop. And you do, Gosh you do because there is so much your heart can take and this is too much. It shatters you in more ways than one. It makes you question everything you thought you knew about him, about her, about your relationship and about yourself.

You remember the first time you met him. You were already in college and looking for an internship. Luckily you happened to be the niece of the one and only Pepper Potts. And who wouldn’t want to work near Earth's mightiest heroes? You sure did. You were studying journalism and communications in New York and working with the Avengers was the ultimate dream, one that was about to come true.

Your first day was uneventful, it consisted mainly of coffee runs, delivering files and passing messages along. That was until your third coffee run where you ran straight into a wall, well actually it wasn’t a wall but it felt like it. The coffee spilled everywhere, on your clothes and his, and you were going to fall on your butt if it wasn’t for him grabbing your arms to steady you. Imagine your surprise when you looked up to see Captain America himself.

And that’s the moment your love story started. It seemed like something straight out of a romantic comedy and you loved it. It started with flirting, a date and then another, him asking you to be his girlfriend and finally asking you to move in once you graduated. It felt like a fairytale.

Tony wasn't very happy about you and the Capsicle but he saw how happy you were so he tried to be happy too. Tony was your uncle even if you didn’t share any blood. Growing up you would visit your aunty Pepper in New York and he was always around, you even stayed at his house when Pepper and him had to work. So, you two became really close even before he became Iron Man and started dating your aunt.

The same thing happened with Rhody. Your close relationship with Tony meant you were close to him too, seeing as he was one of the most important people in his life. Rhody treated you like his niece and was the only one he didn’t make fun of which you took as the ultimate compliment.

So those three you knew before you started working at the compound and before Steve. But once you started working there you met the rest of the Avengers. Being Pepper and Tony's niece and Steve's girlfriend meant they all wanted to get to know you.

You met Bruce Banner, the Hulk, and you became really close. But that was thanks to his close relation with Tony and all the time you spent with him working on his social media presence to make sure people saw him as more than just the green monster who smashes things. After a while of working there they promoted you and now you manage the Avengers social media.

Nat and Wanda became your best friends from the moment you met. You just clicked and hung out as much as possible, being the only girls on the team meant they were really happy to have another female added to the mix. As for Vision, he liked you because Wanda did, simple as that.

Bucky and Sam were the funniest people ever, their constant bickering always brought a smile to your face and they welcomed you with open arms. Happy that their friend had finally found someone to be with.

Thor and Clint were like the fun uncles you got to see every once in a while. The God of Thunder was like an excited puppy and would hug you till you couldn’t breath every time he came to Earth and Clint would joke around with you and FaceTime you when he was with his kids because they loved you (“best babysitter ever” that called you).

You met Peter when he started working for your uncle. He was a sweet kid and your love of memes, vines and pop culture made you instant friends. He would ask you for advice on girls and tell you science jokes.

But we all know not all fairytales have a happy ending and this one definitely didn’t. You’re feeling so many things at once. There’s anger, sadness, jealousy and something else you can’t put your finger on. You keep crying and are unable to move from your kneeling position on the floor. Checking the clock you realize you’ve been on the floor crying for an hour so you stand up.

Taking a shower seems like the best thing to do, your head is pounding and your face is all puffy. As you shower it hits you, that other feeling swirling around is inevitability. In a way you always thought he was too good for you, you always thought he would eventually get tired of you and trade you for someone else.

It just hurt too much that it was her, the woman he shared so much with. The niece of Peggy Carter, his first love. An agent of S. H. I. E. L. D. Someone who risked their life for the world like he did. Someone prettier. Someone better than you.

Yeah, you were definitely on a self-pity party. But you needed to be miserable for a while, to cry it all out, to hurt so that you could move on to the next stage of grief: anger. And when that came, there was no stopping you.

You weren’t a mean person, or a petty one. You gave everyone countless opportunities and forgave way too easily so you never really got angry. But when you did, when you said enough is enough, yeah, you better watch out. That could be the meanest bitch you ever met and she had no mercy.

So you got out of the shower, dried yourself and started getting ready. Tony was throwing yet another party about who knows what and you were not missing it. You liked parties, they were the perfect excuse for wearing pretty dresses and putting on make up. And tonight you were going all out.

Your inner bitch was concocting a plan and you were going with it.

You hear the door open and prepare yourself to put on the best acting of your life. You take a deep breath and in the sweetest voice you can muster say: “Steve is that you babe?”

“Yeah doll it’s me” you hear him say. A few second later he pops into the bedroom and gives you a peck on the lips as you continue with your makeup.

“How was your day?” Steve asks as he takes off his clothes, probably to take a shower. “I missed you today, i went by your office but you weren’t there” he says with a small frown between his eyes. You could stare at his blue eyes forever but snap out of it when you remember what he did.

“Oh not much, i left work earlier to get ready for tonight” you answer. Shit your work. You really did leave like that, but after tonight hopefully they’ll understand. “You should start getting ready, the party starts in thirty minutes”.

He smiles at you and tells you he’s going to take a quick shower before getting dressed. He goes to the bathroom and you feel like breaking the mirror but instead take a few deep breaths and remind yourself he’s getting what he deserves later on. With that in mind you finish applying you makeup and smile at yourself, you look good. Moving on to your hair you decide to do some loose waves and that’s it, you really don’t know how to make those complicated updos.

Steve gets out of the shower and starts putting on his suit. Men really do have it easier you think to yourself when you see all the work you had to do and he just showers and that’s it.

You take your dress out of the closet and admire it. It really is beautiful. It has a deep plunging neckline that shows a lot of cleavage and is skin tight with a slit on one side. The fact that it is silver with sequins makes it even better. Pepper helped you pick this dress.

You put on the dress and admire yourself in the mirror. You look good. Behind you, you hear a whistle and turn around to see Steve watching you lust in his eyes. He comes closer and grabs you by the waist, pulling you to him.

“You look stunning” he says as he wets his bottom lip. “I can’t wait to take it off of you when we get back”. Lying cheating bastard.

“Can't wait” you lie as you wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him. This is just a kiss goodbye you tell yourself. One last kiss before he’s out of your life and probably runs to her. Tears threaten to fill your eyes but you hold them down. Not now.

You break the kiss when the need to breathe is too strong. Grabbing his hand you start walking towards the door and say: “Come on, we’re already late”.

——————————————————————————

The party had already started once you walk in and in true Tony fashion it is elegant and extravagant. Everyone is there: S. H. I. E. L. D. agents, the Avengers themselves, politicians and a few famous people.

You and Steve walk to the bar and order drinks. A whiskey for him and a strawberry daiquiri for you, yes you are that basic but hey, it tastes awesome. He offers you his arm and with drinks in your hands you start looking for your friends. A lot of people stop you on the way, nobody wants to miss an opportunity to talk to Captain America.

One thing, or rather on person, catches your attention: Loki. He’s sitting on one of the cushions alone with a drink in his hand. It’s weird to see him there. Sure, he was redeeming himself for what he did in 2012 and Thor said he was doing better but he rarely left Asgard (he “hated mortals”) and when he did come to Earth it wasn’t for a party.

As if he could feel you staring he turns his head and locks his eyes with yours. You weren’t going to lie, he was gorgeous. He was incredibly tall, had those charming green eyes and was actually funny (but you’d never admit that to anyone). But you were in love with Steve and never saw him as anything more than Thor's hot brother. And everyone in the Avengers was hot so that’s not saying much.

You turn away from him and see Nat and Wanda on the dance floor and you tell Steve you’ll see him later and to go find his friends. He’ll need them after tonight you think to yourself. You greet the girls and start dancing with them, for a moment forgetting about what you saw today and putting Loki out of your mind.

The three of you decided to take a break and order some more drinks. Once at the bar Wanda orders for you and when your drinks arrive you go back to the dance floor. You spend the next few hours dancing, talking to your friends and pretending that nothing's wrong. Talking to Steve and pretending that nothing's wrong. Hugging Steve and pretending that nothing's wrong. Kissing Steve and pretending that nothing's wrong.

The fact that Sharon is at the party doesn’t help at all. When you see her talking or touching him you feel like you’re gonna lose it but you remain strong. You remind yourself of your plan and try to keep them out of your mind.

There’s a small stage at the far end of the room and you see your uncle Tony step on it and grab the microphone.

“Hello everyone and thank you for coming to another one of my amazing parties. I hope you are having a good time and taking advantage of the free bar over there” he points to the other side of the room and continues, “Now for what we have all been waiting for: karaoke! And yes, i want everyone to sing something because that’s the whole point of this. I'm looking at you Manchurian Candidate, you’re singing”.

With that he gets off the stage and passes the mic to Sam who decided to sing a Marvin Gaye song. He’s pretty good actually but you can’t fully concentrate on him because your mind is going a thousand miles an hour for what it’s going to happen later.

More people go up and sing their songs and you applaud when they’re done. Nobody is talking much, they're all too busy either laughing at the others performance, drinking or actually listening to the songs. You’re sitting with Steve to your right, Bruce to your left and the rest of the Avengers nearby. You’re your own little group.

It’s finally your turn and as you walk to the stage you can hear your friends whistling and cheering you on. Once you’re up on the stage you choose the song and start singing.

Ask you once, ask you twice now

There's lipstick on your collar

You say she's just a friend now

Then why don't we call her?

So you wanna go home with someone

To do all the things you used to do to me

I swear, I know you do

Used to take me out in your fancy car

And make out in the rain

And when I ring you up

Don't know where you are

'Til I hear her say your name

Used to sing along when you played guitar

That's a distant memory

Hope she treats you better than you treated me, ha

As you continue singing you get more and more confident and take the mic. You walk off the little stage and over to your friends while dancing and you can see them smiling, clapping and having fun. They have no idea how much i mean all of this you think. You look at Steve and he’s completely oblivious. Good, you want to take him by surprise. You arrive at your little circle of friends and start singing the chorus.

I'm onto you, yeah you

I'm not your number one

I saw you with her

Kissing and having fun

If you're giving her all of your money and time

I'm not gonna sit here wasting mine on you, yeah, you

Ciao adios, I'm done

You keep dancing and go back to back with Wanda who’s also singing along. You then turn to Nat and she grabs your hand and makes you do a little spin.

After three, after four times

Why did I bother?

Tell me how many more times

Does it take to get smarter?

Don't need to deny the hurt and the lies

And all of the things you did to me

I swear, I know you did

And now you take her out in your fancy car

And make out in the rain

And when she rings you up

She know where you are

But I know differently

Now she sings along when you play guitar

Making brand new memories

Hope you treat her better than you treated me

You go up to Tony and he starts dancing around you busting out some dad moves. You laugh and keep on singing and dancing.

I'm onto you, yeah you

I'm not your number one

I saw you with her

Kissing and having fun

If you're giving her all of your money and time

I'm not gonna sit here wasting mine on you, yeah, you

Ciao adios, I'm done (I'm done)

Ciao adios, I'm done (no, no, no, no)

Ciao adios, I'm done

If you're giving her all of your money and time

I'm not gonna sit here wasting mine on you, yeah, you

Ciao adios, I'm done

And now you take her out in your fancy car

And make out in the rain

And when she rings you up

She know where you are

But I know differently

Now she sings along when you play guitar

Making brand new memories

Hope you treat her better than you treated me

You walk back to the stage as you sing and step up. You put the mic back into place and sing the last part of the song.

I'm onto you, yeah you

I'm not your number one

I saw you with her (with her)

Kissing and having fun (and fun)

If you're giving her all of your money and time

I'm not gonna sit here wasting mine on you, yeah, you

Ciao adios, I'm done (I'm done)

Ciao adios, I'm done (you get on with your life, I'll get on with my life)

Ciao adios, I'm done

If you're giving her all of your money and time

I'm not gonna sit here wasting mine on you, yeah, you

Ciao adios, I'm done

When you’re done people are clapping and cheering and you look to your friends to see them all smiling. You look at everyone and make a little mock bow and when you straighten you see Loki sitting on the same couch as before. But this time he’s looking at you and he’s laughing, not smiling and cheering but actually laughing.

You look back at your friends and say “Thank you, thank you” with a smile on your face. You continue , “I wanted to dedicate this song to my boyfriend Steve” you point at him.

“In case it wasn’t clear enough, i wanted to tell you that i saw you with Sharon”. You could hear a pin drop. No one was talking and all eyes were on you. This is what you wanted, to humiliate him as much as he did you. And what better way to do it than publicly? Oh but you weren’t done.

You could see Steve's face going pale and nobody knew where to look, if at you or at him. Tony look ready to murder him as did Rhody, Pepper, Peter and Bruce. Thor, Clint and Vision looked shocked. But Bucky, Sam, Nat and Wanda looked guilty.

Your heart breaks a little more when you realize they knew. You can’t really blame Bucky and Sam for not telling you, they were Steve's friends after all. But you thought the girls were your friends, that they would have told you. Apparently you overestimated that friendship.

You keep on smiling and continue “So… I’m breaking up with you. Hope she was a good fuck and wasn’t uncomfortable with the fact that you were once in love with her aunt”. You do a dramatic pause and make a little disgusted face. “Anyway, if I’m lucky i´ll never see you again. Have a great life!”

And with that, you walk off the stage and make your way to your friends. Steve is rooted to the spot and his face is red with embarrassment. You walk up to him, look him straight in the eye and give him an evil smile. He gulps and opens his mouth as if he’s about to say something and then closes it. He does is two more times and still nothing comes out.

You turn to your group and look at Wand and Nat, who can’t seem to be able to look you in the eye. You sigh and say: “Who want enemies when they can have you as their best friends right?”. They look up then and start talking. Telling you how sorry they are and to please forgive them. You raise your hand to silence them and they do.

You go to your aunt and uncle who look like there should be smoke coming out of their ears and say: “I’m gonna stay in a hotel for the night, can’t stand to be here anymore”. Tony scrunches his eyebrows and look at you like you’re crazy.

“Hell no. You’re staying here. We can find him another room to sleep in but you’re not leaving. If anyone’s leaving is Mr. Star-spangled over there” he practically screams the last part as he points at Steve.

You take a deep breath and hug him. It takes him by surprise but he puts his arms around you. “I appreciate it uncle Tony but i can’t stay at the compound, it just hurts too much” you say as you let go. Turning to your aunt you hug her as well and say: “Thank you for everything but I quit”.

The moment those words leave your mouth everyone starts talking at the same time telling you how crazy you are and to think about it. You just smile at them and tell them you already made up your mind. “I'm gonna go pack a bag and ask Happy to take me to a hotel nearby. Please make sure he doesn’t follow” you say as you point to a still red-faced Captain America.

With that you turn around and leave. The room is silent for a few seconds before you hear your friends all screaming at Steve. You look around for a second and notice that Loki is staring at you with a smirk on his face. When you look him in the eye he raises his glass at you ant takes a sip.

You give him a small smile and walk through the doors towards the elevator.

#steve rogers x reader #captain america x reader #steve rogers imagine #captain america imagine #avengers #avengers imagine #loki x reader #loki imagine #tony stark #steve rogers x y/n #captain america x y/n #steve rogers fanfiction

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eureka-its-zico · 3 years

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Irrevocably Yours Pt. 2

Part 1

Request: hey! can i request a scenario of jungkook being a rich kid who has some of his legs is leg failure , basically can't walk without a cane , And he falls in love with a normal girl , and they end up running away , happy ending plz , also if u can , LIT IT Up with smut ' thank u ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

A/N: So Part 2 is that slow burn build up (with possible cute moments?) and part 3 will be the actual SMUTTY goodness. Hopefully this is something cute and fluffy that is enjoyable and helps progress the story a little more so when a full length next part of a bunch of smut comes it all makes sense. Or idk anymore lol I edited this thing four times and I just really hope you all like it Please enjoy this wordy mess. I wasn’t sure how to properly write it out the end and yeah...I winged it. If it needs to be fixed lmk please!! As always, I hope you all enjoy. Much love, Jenn

P.s. when I wrote this I listened to Lauv’s “I Like Me Better,” and Pink Sweat$ Feat. Kehlani’s “At My Worst,” on repeat like crazy.

Jungkook x Reader

Word count: 15,496 (I know:it’s a hefty boy)

Genre: Fluffy/Smutty, slow burn,

The next day at school you weren’t a hundred percent sure what was going to happen. And sure, maybe you did wake up from a dream replaying that moment in the mud. The ending is a little bit different. This time, dream you didn’t let your chance to kiss him go by. When the opportunity presented itself, and you were both looking at one another like before, you’d leaned forward and kissed him. You weren’t surprised to feel him kissing you back.

You could still feel the ghost of the imagination of him leaning down to press his lips against yours. The way he leaned in; eyes soft with longing as his body leaned deeper in against you. The weight of him pressing you into the mud until you were sure an imprint of this moment would be there forever. This imaginary kiss you’d shared was sweet, chaste, and everything you could’ve hoped for. Deepening at the last second as your alarm blared you back into realty.

It made you want to ring your hands through your hair in frustration.

Your whole walk to school was nothing but foggy images of the dream on repeat. A mixture of yesterday’s events accompanied them with each frame until you weren’t sure which was the actual moments or what your head had created. I mean, you did know he didn’t kiss you, but...the look in his eyes. Maybe Jungkook hadn’t, but there was that moment you swore maybe he felt the painful comedic romance moment of it all too.

All these unanswered what if’s you'd created had built an impossible chasm that seemed to stretch infinitely wider between you in your head. In the end, you were your own bully as your mind stayed up until three that morning playing out every scenario you could think of. Even the ones that ended with you probably reading everything wrong, because what did you know about body language? Or, more specifically, boys built like Jeon Jungkook.

It didn’t matter that you had two tests today and never finished your homework for home period, but what the hell. Nothing like hopelessly daydreaming about the boy who may or may not have flirted with you and harmonized along to songs with a hidden voice of an angel, am I right? And sure, a large part of your night was spent chastising yourself half the time to remind you there was no way in hell Jungkook could feel that way towards you. Even just a little. Your inner monologue of bringing yourself back down to earth, another culprit in the growing list of reasons why none of your assignments were completed.

What can you say? You were a mess.

Your only game plan you’d been able to agree on was just to daydream out the window. Writing out your own hapless love story starring the boy who sat across from you in the home room. With a silent plea to the universe that you weren’t called on to answer any questions.

Your arrival at homeroom was met with barely seconds to spare. The bell rang behind you, and a few other students, as you rushed towards your desk.

“Hurry, hurry to your seats! Or I’ll write you up as late!”

Mr. Choi was all talk. Everyone knew it and his excessive arm movements to rush every body that passed his desk made him look exactly like a conductor. His crazy movements were enough to distract you for a split second from the one person you were desperate to ignore.

“Good morning, class. I hope you are all fully rested and awake for class this morning. Let’s have us open our books to page two hundred and forty-two and continue on with our lesson.”

In unison the sound of backpacks unzipping with students reaching in their backpacks to bring out textbooks filled the class. The only person who didn’t currently have said book was holding his hand up, and seated directly across from you.

“Yes, Jungkook?”

“Seonsaengnim, I’m sorry. I haven’t received my textbooks yet.”

“Ah, that’s alright, Jungkook. You can go ahead and share with Y/N, again.”

You hoped your face wasn’t giving away the panic you felt rising up to match the blush that was streaking across your cheeks. Jungkook’s hand was already on the leg of your desk. His fingers tips grazing across your knee in passing as his hand wrapped around the bar and used it to bring you closer to him. You kept your eyes glued to page two hundred and forty-three and refused to look in his direction. Jungkook seemed to find a way to remedy this; his hand came into view and grabbed hold of the book corner and slid it over to his side. And as if he was the world’s greatest magician, he now had your attention.

Your eyes immediately shoot up to acknowledge his presence, instead of staying on the book. You knew that devilish smirk of his would be there to greet you even before you actually saw it.

“Well, good morning to you too, Y/N.”

His voice practically hummed a tune as he spoke. His eyes heavily searched your face, and you prayed whatever he found wasn’t any lasting signs of rosy cheeks.

“Good morning, Jungkook. I hope you slept well.”

“I slept very well, thank you.”

“That’s good-“

He cut you off fast, his next words a hush of teasing: “Even though some crazy girl tried to smother me in mud yesterday.”

Your world narrowed in on his smug position in his chair, but quickly realized he just wanted your attention. The smile he wore softened around the edges as his eyes tried to look away from you and yet found their way back. You did your best to hide your smile and must have failed miserably for his face noticeably brightened.

“I’m sure if that’s what she was doing - which I doubt - you probably deserved it.”

Jungkook pretended to be wounded and caused you to practically jump out of your seat when his free hand landed on top of yours.

“I can’t believe you think I deserve to be smothered,” he pouted.

You rolled your eyes in a weak attempt to look away from him. Anything to not be swallowed up by how stupidly cute he looked in this exact moment. The fingers that held your pencil lazily tapping on the pages of the math book to bring his focus to something else that wasn’t you.

“We need to pay attention.”

It was the only valuable excuse you could come up with to look away from him. But who were you kidding? You didn’t have to be looking in Jungkook’s direction to be painfully aware that he was there. His own gaze burned straight through you and left a trail of heat everywhere his eyes seemed to land.

Right now, you were aware they were on your lips and stirring every emotion from your dream you tried to suppress. Plus, you weren’t being cute. Unless Jungkook found the sight of you chewing your bottom lip into dust attractive.

It was a terrible nervous habit that seemed to only backfire right this second. You were sure he was ready to make a comment on it. You waited patiently for it to come in between you mindlessly copying equations off the board and the sea of arms flying up to answer whatever it was you’d just written. My gosh, you were trying so damn hard to not pay attention that you were doing nothing but paying attention to him.

Please don’t let him just see I’m doodling.

Mr. Choi was in the middle of showing how to work out a long equation when you decided it was safe to give Jungkook a glance. It was instantaneous how quickly you regretted it.

You jumped back against your seat in a weak attempt to recover some space. You weren’t exactly sure how you’d missed it -missed him- getting so close, but you had. Jungkook’s face was mere inches from yours and it took everything to not show him you weren’t at all bothered.

“Jungkook,” you whispered fiercely. “What.are.you.doing!”

Jungkook ignored your question. His eyes squinting as they looked around the side of your head. The gesture made you increasingly subconscious until you couldn’t keep your hand from going up to brush alongside it.

“What? What is it?”

You were expecting the worst.

“I think I see some mud still stuck inside your ear.”

And like magic your earlier blush reappeared. Your tongue rolled against the bottom of your teeth in a weak attempt to keep yourself from smiling. Unfortunately, you weren’t able to stop it as the urge to give in tugged mercilessly at your lips. The playful glint in his eyes was enough to keep the panic of how incredibly close he still was. Your eyes hopelessly glancing at the pair of lips that plagued your dreams.

Jungkook noticed.

And how did you know this, you might ask?

Jungkook gave it away by the dramatic way his lower lip was drawn in by his teeth. Every movement he made sure was exaggerated and stupidly slow. His eyes watch for your reaction. He didn’t have to wait long; your eyes were glued to them long before his teeth joined the equation. You should’ve felt more embarrassed at your own blunt display - or maybe at his -but, god help you, you weren’t.

You tore your gaze away from him and did your best to pretend whatever part of the lesson you’d missed was interesting. The dirt on your shoes could’ve been more interesting at this moment; anything to keep you from looking back at him.

“I rinsed my hair three times in the shower. Thank you very much.”

“Did you think of me while you were washing yourself clean?”

If what Jungkook was after was seeing your face light up brighter than a tomato he’d succeeded. Your cheeks instantly flushed and felt scolding hot. The only line of defense you could think of to fight the devilish look in his eyes was to give him a smack on his arm. The motion only caused his sinister smile to turn into a full blown grin; a bark of laughter leaving him seconds later.

Jungkook chuckled out an, “Ouch!” His body leaning back, faux wounded, and rays of sunshine pouring out of him in waves.

“I meant when you were getting the mud out of your hair.” His voice carried the singing sweetness of his laughter; airy and light. This boy who you did think of in the shower. All hard edges and softness; sour and sweet. Your very own sour patch kid. “I mean, I thought of you when I tried scrubbing it out from behind my ears.”

Your heart gave a brief jump at his omission. What you wished you would’ve focused on was the fact he’d admitted to thinking of you...in his own shower. But nope! Instead, your mind appeared to focus more on the fact it was while he scrubbed at his ears.

“I scrubbed my ears too.”

Oh. My. God, you inwardly cringed.

Is that really what your magical brain decided to say in return? Jungkook leaned back in, eyes inspecting not just your ear, but your entire space. Recklessly moving in dangerously close, and your heart was ready to beg for mercy. Whether to completely close the space between you or to stop teasing, of which you weren’t sure.

“It appears you didn’t do that good of a job,” he huffed.

A gurgled scream flew into your throat; the sound was utterly ridiculous and Jungkook ate it up. His head flew back in laughter as your hand moved to swat at him again.

The disruption turned the attention of your teacher directly to the two of you, and Mr. Choi was quick to address it.

“Jean Jungkook! Y/L/N, Y/N!”

The both of you rose from your seats in unison. Jungkook’s rise the definition of graceful, while yours in comparison was met with anxiety and your knees colliding with your desk. Your small “Oomph,” of pain sending him into a fit of giggles beside you. The hand you sent in to pinch at his leg only sent him into another fit.

“Y/N!”

Stupid, stupid! Of course he would see.

“Seonsaengnim!”

To appease him, you felt your body respond in a ninety-degree salute. Your face keeping down to stare at your shoes and praying you weren’t about to be sent out of the room.

“Would you mind explaining what Jungkook and you found so interesting that the two of you felt like you didn’t need to be a part of class.”

God, it wasn’t a question. He really wanted you to tell him, and what could you say?

“Oh, he was just asking me if I was in the shower...thinking of him. And he was thinking of me too!”

Which wasn't a lie. Maybe it wasn’t as dirty as he might have intended, but it was enough to make your cheeks flush to life with their usual color these days. Your mind was still racing with an appropriate answer for Mr. Choi. You were taking so long you were ready to blurt out anything he might want to hear.

“Seonsaengnim.” Jungkook gave a respectful bow and lifted his head. His full attention now resting on the impatiently waiting man at the front of the class. “We were discussing the fact that you, respectfully, have written the equation wrong on the board.”

The entire class seized up. A collective air was taken at Jungkook’s bold attempt to correct him. It was awkwardly obvious that he wasn’t happy at the idea of being corrected. However, Jungkook remained unfazed and waited for the right time to speak.

“Is that so?” He snapped. “If it is so wrong, Jeon, then please, come and fix it for me.”

You were sure his order for Jungkook to go to the front would make him back down . No one enjoyed doing class work on the board up front for all to see. But you’d forgotten Jungkook wasn’t like everyone else. He kept his head high and moved to grab his cane; his hand wrapping tightly to its handle. Jungkook stepped out from inside his desk and let his feet carry him forward. He walked with a noticeable lack of a limp and you were willing to bet that strike of pride was costing him.

It wasn’t that you couldn’t believe that Jungkook was able to walk without it. It was just that your memory forced you to recall the pain he was in during the field trip. The flashes of frustration as his eyes threatened to spill over with tears.

Jungkook came to stand beside Mr. Choi. His hand reaching out to take the marker that the older man had held out waiting for him to prove his equation wrong. He plucked it from the older man’s hand and moved the last few inches to stand in front of the board. His eyes scanning the problem quickly. Your breath held tight in your chest as you watched him get permission to grab the eraser. The class transfixed on his every movement.

You wondered how many of the girls in your class focused on him like you were. The same way your eyes ate up every simple movement he made. The notable flex of his back while he stretched to erase the middle and last part of what Mr. Choi had written out.

“You had a good start here, Seonsaengnim.” Jungkook paused to stretch out his hand. Fingers marking underneath the start of the problem. “But you didn’t multiply these after they were divided, and because of this the middle became wrong. With your core of the problem being wrong the solution was never able to end in its final conclusion.”

With every word, Jungkook’s voice became more self-assured. His presence enveloping the room and demanding the attention he’d already received without question. Mr. Choi watched on with his arms crossed; index finger hugging his mouth in concentration as he watched Jungkook work. From the back of the class, you could see students writing down the new formula. Some of them realized the obvious error Mr. Choi had made.

Jungkook looked at the problem over again on repeat. If it’d been you, you would have left it where it was knowing you’d done what no one else did. But Jungkook wanted to know, for himself, that it was correct.

Finally, he stepped back from the whiteboard and handed the marker back to Mr. Choi. Who looked measurably impressed with him. His index finger he’d used for thinking now covered up a timid smile before he dropped it to grab a hold of the marker.

“Go ahead and have a seat, Jungkook.”

Jungkook gave him a passing bow as he made his way back towards the back of the class. Back to you. It took everything you had not to notice how everyone’s view of him seemed to change. Even the honor students; the ones bound for scholarship glory to prestigious colleges now seemed to take new interest in him.

You’d heard stories about Jungkook, like everyone else did. The Boy Wonder. The boy who seemed unfairly good at everything. Before you’d ever met him, a part of you believed there wasn’t a way the universe would seriously do that. And yet, as he moved to sit back down beside you, you suddenly felt the overwhelming sensation of being below average. Your subconscious rose up to stop whatever sunlight you’d felt at his earlier words, and crushed it until it began to dim. All but snuffing it out.

Jungkook fell back into the seat at his desk riding the high of confidence he’d gained from proving he’d know how to fix the answer. Not just know it; teach it. The air around him completely changed. He was the sun and the rest of you were becoming helplessly lost in his orbit. From the backwards glances of the others around you, you were pretty sure they weren’t going to mind one bit.

Either Jungkook was honestly oblivious to all the attention or he just didn’t care. He practically beamed as he leaned himself closer to you completely unaware at how breathless he made you. That smile you’d admired during your field trip showed itself beaming and bright. He was so damn pleased with himself his eyes sparked with joy and you wish you could’ve pouted. Maybe found the strength not to care or to wonder if he could see how he affected you.

You wanted to pout and be in your own bubble, damn it.

“Don’t worry, Y/N. I don’t think he’ll bother us again.”

Us.

Those butterflies you’d sworn to yourself you were not feeling towards him began to come to life. Or were they butterflies? You weren’t sure what to call the feeling Jungkook gave you.

Sure, Jungkook made your heart thunder in your chest like a caged animal. And yea, maybe you swore to yourself there was an attraction there that you couldn’t explain, but that was just your dopamine talking. That didn’t mean the two of you were soulmates or the universe decided to bring you both together by a mess of unseen choices.

But...when Jungkook looked at you this way it was hard to tell your thundering heart anything else.

The two of you continued to look at one another. A heartbeat of time passing between you with Jungkook waiting for your reply. You watched the edges of his smile start to wilt as realization set in that you weren’t planning to reply. No smile or teasing remark was headed his way, and just as fast as he noticed it, determination swiftly replaced the light weighted joy he’d shown moments earlier.

“Hey, you don’t have to worry. I’m positive he will leave us alone the rest of the class. I promise.”

God, why did he have to make things so difficult? When Jungkook spoke the words, “I promise,” they’d been so earnest. He meant them. Here he was trying to turn the tables and be your knight, instead of you being his. It would have worked, but what he didn’t know was that you weren’t worried about Mr. Choi. Not really.

No one could tear you down further than you were able to do to yourself.

He was still waiting for the answer that you would never give. You turned to face forward in your chair and tried to forget the ripple of sadness that moved over his face. The cost of your stubbornness suddenly felt too high. No matter how it made you feel though, you refused to look over in his direction.

An awkward chasm had built between the two of you. Mostly, well, obviously it was all because of you. You figured Jungkook would eventually stop looking at you. You prayed he would stop. Every time he did it your body became painfully aware of his gaze, and the longing it held for you to acknowledge him. And every time you remained facing front. You no longer could pretend to focus, however, and that seemed to be all the signs Jungkook needed to know you were in some way paying attention.

Your notebook that’d been left unattended on the desk became his private art museum. The doodles started off silly and slowly morphed into small faces and objects that held impressive detail. You tried your best to ignore it; his arm practically took up most of the space on your desk. The angle forced him to shoulder into your space to the point that if you did finally turn to look at him you’d run inches away from his cheek.

You were doing your best to pay attention to whatever your teacher was doing at the front. Your eyes watched as a wave of hands went up to answer questions you’d never heard. Yours kept sliding back down to the latest doodle he was making. The latest one he was working on had forced Jungkook to move further inland on your notepad. His forearm getting dangerously close to having to rest in your lap.

It continued like this the remainder of class. For all the effort you’d put in the last half hour of pretending he wasn’t there, Jungkook shattered it within seconds.

He’d repositioned himself with each new doodle he started. His shoulder wedged itself against yours and his forearm had completely taken up what little space was left on your desk. You were trying very hard to not pay attention to how said forearm was dangerously close to your chest. There was no hiding the redness of your cheeks.

Without thinking, you whipped your head to look at him and almost yelled. You knew he was close, but nothing prepared you for this.

“Excuse me,” you whispered, voice incredulous.

Jungkook turned to look at you and...was he pouting? His eyes played up on the childish quality as he turned to you and batted his eyes.

“Can I help you?”

“Ugh, can I help you? Do you need paper or something?”

“I have paper right here. Thanks.”

Jungkook patted the notepad with the end of his pen. Satisfied with his answer he turned his attention back to his latest artistic endeavor.

“You know this is my desk. Right?”

“I like to think of it more like our desk. Sharing a space like we shared music.”

“Ya, Jungkook. You realize you blackmailed me into using my ipod.”

Jungkook feigned shock. His mouth dropping open and his eyes brows going too high up into his hairline. The entire scene was exaggerated and ridiculous. The scene forced you to roll your lips against your teeth to keep from smiling. The effort it took to hide your grin wasn’t unnoticed by Jungkook, and you couldn’t help but wonder if that’d been his goal all along.

“Blackmail sounds so crass. I like to think of it as bargaining.”

“So we agree it’s called blackmail, then.”

The theatrics of his face dropped into a serious stare that left his face completely blank. Void of all emotion except the annoyance that drew a heavy frown from his face. It was stupidly cute and this time you did allow yourself to smile. Your fingers reached out to grab one of his puffed out cheeks and gave it a sweet pinch, like a grandmother, and cooed in his direction.

“Oooooh Jungkookie, don’t frown. We’ve all gotta be wrong sometimes.”

He playfully nipped at your hand to make you snatch it away. It took everything in you not to make a sound at his sudden movement. Your mouth hung open in an awkward smile-shout as you brought your handle against your chest.

“I think you’re misinterpreting the facts here. Maybe you hit your head on a small pebble or something when you fell in the mud.”

“You mean when you pulled me in.”

He shrugged and replied nonchalantly, “I don’t think I recall any force being used yesterday. You just fell on my chest trying to take advantage of me in my time of need.”

Now it was your turn to look deadpanned in his direction. Jungkook didn’t try to hide his wicked smile, however, and the cage of butterflies that were housed in your gut were released all over again.

“Your appa must be a lawyer. It’d explain why you’re so good at bullshitting.”

“CEO, actually. But I would say you’re close. They are also full of shit.”

You weren’t sure what to say to this omission about his father. Underneath the sarcasm felt like a heavy chasm that spoke of the death of a relationship. Your curiosity threatened to get the best of you, but you decided to just throw it away. Filing it away inside a little folder you’d made for little known facts about him.

The bell rang and the mass of bodies in class all began to rise from their seats. All of them eager to rush from the classroom and do whatever plans they’d made to enjoy their little bit of freedom. You were reaching for your bookbag when Jungkook’s hand was just there. A part of you worried he’d decided to play a game of keep away, or something that fit his playful mood, Instead, he placed it down on the desk.

“Oh, thank you, Jungkook.”

God. Why were you staring? Why was he staring?

The room was still filled with the small display of chaotic teenage energy. Most of them had already filed out of the classroom, while some were still putting things away. Honor students were arguing with the teacher about markings he’d left on papers. Small groups of friends chatting happily as they moved in tight clusters through the door. So much was going on around you, and yet the only person you were aware of was him.

“You’re welcome. Have a good lunch, Y/N.”

The playful air that’d been around him had completely disappeared. This boy who stood before you now was more reminiscent of when you’d first met than the boy you’d grown to like. What had made him grow so distant?

“You too, Kookie.”

It slipped out. You couldn’t stop yourself. He’d already started to walk away in his retreat. As soon as his pet name you’d given him hit his ears he completely stopped moving. His head whipped around to glance at you with that devilish grin raised high on his cheeks.

“Kookie? Are you calling me a snack?”

If your eyes could’ve gotten any wider, they would’ve left your skull. The embarrassment was hot on your cheeks and you knew Jungkook would tease you without mercy for the slip up. By the look in his eyes you could tell he was never going to let this go. Not ever. He would be too happy to remind you of this until the day you died. Or until graduation. Whichever came first.

This time you scooped up your bookbag and snatched your book off the desk clutching them to your chest. In your haste to grab them and go, your knee collided with the edge of the desk, but you’d worry about that possible bruise later. You just needed to flee before Jungkook got any closer.

“No, no. It was an accident.”

“You called me a snack by accident?”

You were backing up towards the safety of the open hallway. Your shoulders shrugging too high and your laugh too high-pitched in your attempt to play it cool.

“No snack nicknames here. It was just a slip of the tongue. I must just be hungry, ya know.”

“Are you hungry for me?”

Oh, he was intolerable sometimes. It didn’t matter how flustered he made you. A part of you knew his endless teasing was growing on you. You liked it, and the sane part of you wondered if you’d gone crazy.

“Ya, Jungkook-”

“I think you mean, Kookie,” he cut in.

Jungkook held a single finger up to silence you. He’d stopped moving towards you and let out a laugh as you tried to swat his hand down. He looked so much happier than he did moments ago. That alone made his teasing at your expense worth it.

“No I mean, Jungkook. It’s the name your parents gave you.” You stated, proud that your voice sounded more stable than you felt. “I’m gonna go eat my lunch now. You should do the same and I’ll...see you later.”

You waited for him to argue. To continue to make comments in passing to keep your face rosy and flushed. He surprised you by just standing there in silence. His smile wide on his face and eyes looking at you like you’d held the moon. A look you weren’t used to and made you unsure how to respond.

You started to walk back towards the door and found yourself disappointed when he didn’t follow. You sent him an awkward wave as your arms still held onto your things from your desk. Jungkook showed his amusement by giving you a wave in return.

“See you later, Y/N.”

At his words you turned on your heel and headed out towards the courtyard. No longer eager to eat your lunch that you’d packed. Your mind replayed his words and knew, without a doubt, he would keep his word.

—————-

Lunch went by as quickly as it came. Instead of eating your lunch with friends, you’d opted for sulking in the auditorium. Absentmindedly taking small bits off your food as you considered what had happened between Jungkook and you.

There was flirting there. You may be a little delusional, but you weren’t delusional about this. It was obvious to anyone who witnessed it and yet you tried to deny its existence at every turn. Of course, you knew why.

It just didn’t make logical sense. You were two opposites that shouldn’t be in the least bit interested in the other. Well, that didn’t really seem correct when it came to Jungkook. He was attractive to everyone and probably even inanimate objects. But you...you just couldn’t see yourself that way. You’d only ever had one relationship in your life and it had been short-lived and in the third grade.

Throwing what little was left of your sandwich back inside it’s little brown coffin, you removed yourself from your spot. A huff left you as you reached out to pick up your mess and started to hop back down the steps one-by-one.

You weren’t sure what walking around was going to do. For the hundredth time since this day started, you were lost in your own head. The only thing you knew for certain was that you’d hoped to run into him again. A thought came to you that maybe, just this day, he’d shown up in the school's cafeteria.

You could think of a million excuses for why you’d need to go into the cafeteria and it wouldn’t be weird. Just the thought of not coming off weird, while most certainly being weird, made you beam at your own creativity.

You’d reached the last step and we’re crossing the field when you noticed, on the other side, the very boy you were looking for. He was alone and sitting under the shade of the only tree next to the amphitheater. His back against the bark and a knee drawn up to give his notepad a place to perch. Whatever he was writing, drawing, or formulating held his interest and refused to let him look up.

All your previous bravado deflated in a second. It would be harder to deny you weren’t actively seeking him out if you went to him now. But, who said that you wanted too?

Grabbing the strap of your book bag tight, you started back on your mission. Your legs made quick work across the field. It wasn’t until there was only a few feet left between you that he looked up. His brow still furrowed in tight creases of concentration as he decided if you were a friend or foe. Your feet almost tripped over themselves when he smiled at you.

“Y/N!” He called happily. “What brings you over here?”

“I came looking for my snack.”

The surprise on his face made your bold choice of a response worth it. Jungkook, being who he was, quickly recovered and set his notebook and pencil down beside him. He placed his arms casually on his propped up leg and leaned forward as if he was about to tell you a secret.

“Well, you found me. Why did you come looking for me? Really.”

You tried to think quickly of what to say. The idea of telling him the truth, that you’d just wanted to see him, felt painfully honest and might press him to ask for you to explain. How could you explain that in the short time you’d met him he was both the most interesting and infuriating man you’d ever met. But he was also the most beautiful, and had a delicate softness under his hard exterior that you were growing to love. He was basically the perfect description of the onion from Shrek.

An idea clicked in your head and your hands quickly moved inside your bag and produced another brown bag.

“I wanted to come see if you’d eaten. I had some spare kimchi rice ball’s my omma made.”

You extended the bag out to him. Your eyes locked together as you waited for him to either accept it or deny it. Jungkook surprised you by leaning forward and taking it gently from you. It took some effort, but he crossed his legs -his bad one in an awkward position - and plopped the bag down between his legs.

You moved to sit beside him in the grass and took your book bag off your shoulder and into your lap. You watched as he moved to open the bag and peered cautiously inside.

“It’s not a bomb,” you chided.

“I never know with you.”

You rolled your eyes with a smile spreading like wildfire across your lips. Jungkook was so charismatic it felt inevitable and fighting against it was futile. He took a large bite of the rice ball and practically swooned. His eyes had fallen shut and a ridiculous chanting of endless “Mhm’s” had started rising up around you.

“Should I leave you two alone?”

Jungkook’s eyes snapped open and for a moment you were worried maybe you did pull him out of some weird food ritual. His eyes were blank and then, all at once, he was back to being his usual animated self. The hand that held the rice ball shaking in your direction before shoving what was left inside his mouth.

“This is unbelievably delicious.” He mumbled around his food. “You said your omma made these?”

“Yup!”

You’d said it in English just to dramatically pop the P at the end. Extending out your own kind of dramatics to match Jungkook’s. You leaned your hands back into the grass and noticed Jungkook watch your every move as you did.

“Is your omma married?”

Your face fell into a deadpan stare as you replied, “Seriously? Of course her and my appa are still married, you creep.”

“If you can cook like your omma, Y/N I’m willing to lend you my amazing tutoring services. All for the low price of making things as delicious as this.”

He was already mid-way through shoving the second rice ball in his mouth. His head tilted back to drop it down. A piece of rice must have dislodged itself from its balled shape, because he erupted in a coughing fit. You couldn’t help but laugh as you handed him your water.

“I think I’ll steer clear of rice treats. Just to make sure you don’t kill yourself.”

Jungkook was about to lift the bottle up to his lips and stopped. His eyes falling on you with a playful glare. You held your hands up in mock surrender as you leaned forward. Your hands clap together to get pieces of grass and soil from your hands.

While he drank the water you’d offered up the two of you fell into companionable silence. You didn’t mind waiting and Jungkook was happy that you did. When he’d finished with the bottle, he set it down beside him. His hand moving like a flopping fish in your direction to make you give him something that you’d had no idea he’d asked for.

“Come on. Let’s see your math homework.”

“For what?”

“To start your tutoring. Duh.”

You hated how cute he’d made the word sound. The way his lips smiled around it and left him beaming at you like a little kid on Christmas.

“Can we pass? We just left the class and I hate math. A lot.”

Jungkook tsked you but didn’t look disappointed.

“You can’t get better at something if you give up on it. Luckily for you, you’ve got the best person in the subject to tutor you.”

“For a fee,” you pointed out.

“All the best things come with a price. I’m most definitely one of them. Now. Book.”

His hand movements were more controlled now. His fingers simply waved once -twice- for you to hurry it up and place what he’d asked in his hand. You really didn’t want any part of this. The thought was sweet, but when you said you hated math you meant it. So yeah, maybe you were grumbling a little as you reached inside your book bag and taking a little longer than was necessary to hand it over.

Jungkook took it from you in one smooth motion and had it open to the spot previously in class. All your homework problems you’d left unfinished glaring against the white of the page. His eyes were already scanning over what little problems you’d written down. A clicking noise from his closed mouth reminding you why exactly you hadn’t finished more of it. The reason was sitting right in front of you.

His hand flicked back out and he held it open. His eyes never lifted off the page as he demanded, “Pencil.”

“What the heck? Why am I supplying everything.”

“Cause I’m supplying myself,” he shot back. His hands taking the pencil you handed over to him. “Plus, I also can’t seem to find any in my bag.”

“You didn’t even look.”

Jungkook gave a graceful shrug. His attention was fully engrossed in the problems. You weren’t ready for how cute he looked. How adorable those concentration creases in his forehead made him look, even deadly serious, with his fingers tapping the pencil absentmindedly on the paper. When he figured out what was missing from the equation he quickly erased and reconfigured everything on the page.

You were staring intently at him, both because his angle’s were ridiculously handsome but also, the way the sun fell down on him here, peaking through the trees, felt like magic. It was hard to believe the universe was more than just molecules and that luck was thrown out randomly. If it was, maybe you’d caught some.

Your thoughts were running wild and your concentration was no longer in the safe zone. Maybe that’s why when he finally looked up from the notebook and found you staring he’d smiled. Not his teasing one. Or the condescending either. This smile was soft like a secret, and directed only at you. \

“See something you like?”

His voice was gentle in his playfulness. As if he wanted to take the cautionary approach in case you were spooked.

“Maybe I do.”

A smile of your own spread to match his and Jungkook wasn’t surprised. He was just happy, and it was a lovely sight to see. He looked away from you with his hand moving up to smooth out the hair on the back of his neck. He flicked the pencil down on the notebook and brought it forward for you to see.

“Let’s get back to this. I’ll be honest with you. It’s pretty bad. You missed a whole line on the third problem that left you with an incomplete answer. Not to mention,” he lifted up the notebook and motioned towards the whole page, “Where is all the rest of the homework?”

Jungkook’s voice was filled with the beginnings of laughter. Not specifically towards you, but just the blatant fact you did not care. You gave him your best nonchalant shrug. In reality, you did care. It bothered you it wasn’t finished.

Your fingers were digging in the grass and ripping some of it up and throwing it out into the field.

“I had a hard time concentrating last night. Plus, if I’m being honest math has always been the hardest subject for me.”

“And that is why I’m going to help you.”

“For a fee,” you reminded him.

“I’ll teach you the easiest way I know how to do these and I promise you, you’ll be flying through these problems in no time.”

The sincerity in his voice was evident. Jungkook really believed it and he wanted you to believe it too. You just couldn’t understand why and you found yourself speaking your mind.

“Why are you wanting to help me?”

It was his turn to shrug his shoulders. His face went blank as he looked at you one last time before he looked away. Whatever he was looking at he wasn’t really seeing. He just needed someplace else to look than the person he was talking to you. You did it plenty of times yourself.

Whatever he’d decided on to say had caused his shoulders to square. Determined that whatever he needed to say he would make sure it meant something.

“I like spending time with you.”

The smile you’d worn completely shattered as you stared at him. The butterflies rushed up and up until they trapped themselves in your throat. Jungkook’s admission was basically three words dropped away from just saying he liked you.

This surprising admission should’ve been enough to make yourself not care who you saw walking. Or care when he stopped, his small mob with him, and start gesturing at his imaginary watch. His fingers rubbing together for money owed.

It was worse when Jungkook looked back and took notice. Even worse when he looked back at you with questions swirling in his eyes.

“Everything okay?”

Your eyes looked down to the safety of your hands. The way they were helplessly fidgeting back in the grass and tearing it apart like a miniature tantrum was brewing inside you. You hated that after all this time, you let Lee Kwon upset you by making you feel embarrassed about your dad. That he felt the need to tell everyone the business deal between his father and yours. How every time he told it he’d turned him more and more into a villain of his own misfortune.

Without a reason why you took back your notebook from Jungkook and shoved it inside your bag. You were ready to leave. You didn’t want to explain, but you knew Jungkook wouldn’t let you just leave without one.

He reached out and his hand gently wrapped around your wrist to stop you. There was no force. Nothing that hinted that he would keep you there if you didn’t want to be kept. Looking at him felt harder. His genuine worry almost threatened to let the tears from your frustration spill forward.

“Hey, Y/N, what’s wrong?”

You shook your head. Your vision dragging away from him and back to the retreating back of the sociopath, Lee Kwon.

You didn’t try to shake him off. You actually felt comforted by his worrisome touch. The way he leaned in closer as if he would pull you into his arms at any moment. As much as you wanted that to happen, you knew it wouldn’t happen. A deep sigh had built up in your chest and you released it while you looked back at him.

“Look. Eventually, I know you’re going to hear about it: my dad, I mean.”

“That’s kind of odd high school kids would talk about someone’s appa.”

“You and me both,” you agreed. “But Kwon’s dad is a banker who doesn’t believe in client confidentiality. So he tells his son about his day over dinner and-“

“And he decides to bring it to school to make your life miserable,” Jungkook finished for you.

He understood and didn’t need you to simplify it anymore. His hand left your arm and you suddenly found yourself missing his comforting touch. It was still there, that comfort, in the way his eyes softened and he leaned in intent to listen to whatever you needed to get off your chest. You appreciated his attention, but also hated it at the same time.

“What’s your Appa’s thing?”

God. He did understand. Maybe just a little too well for your liking.

“Gambling. It started when I was in the seventh grade. At first it wasn’t anything too crazy. He’d always been able to even it out. But then he became obsessed with the idea of winning big. Kept betting on things we couldn’t afford to lose. Eventually, he bet too high and ended up losing the business he and my mom built together and our house. They had to pay the bank back.”

“A bank this dude’s Appa works at.”

“Correct. My Appa...he isn’t a bad man. He’s paid his debt and hasn’t gambled since. What good is it for me or anyone else to make him feel bad for the rest of his life?”

“I don’t get it. Why does that have to do with you, though?”

You’d wondered the same exact thing half of your adolescent life. You shrugged and looked at Jungkook wondering if maybe he’d be able to make sense of it better than you could.

“Twelve year old boys enjoy making up stories. First it was that we became so poor we lived with pigs. That's why I smelled.”

You put air quotations around smelled and Jungkook practically howled with laughter. You tried your best to show no emotion, but could feel the corner of your lips threatening to curl into a smile.

“He probably said it because you didn’t know how to wash back then and, judging from earlier, I still don’t think you do.”

You moved to playfully shove at his shoulder. A scoff of laughter leaving you even though you told yourself you wouldn’t. Jungkook was waiting for you to make a move and when you did he easily grabbed a hold of you. The feeling of intimacy, just like yesterday in the mud, was swimming back to the surface.

Your eyes looked up into his with your laughter being met with a wide grin. The way he was looking at you now made you believe in fairytales and left your lips aching to be kissed.

Before either of you could decide what to do next, the bell for the end of lunch sounded. You could hear it going off all around you, but still the two of you stayed holding each other. Your bodies close enough that if he wanted to make a move all Jungkook needed was to lean down. To say your heart dropped a little when he moved away was an understatement.

You focused on getting up from the grass. Your hands patting down your uniform as you struggle to find something not so awkward to say. You wanted to sound confident. You wanted to sound like you weren’t affected by him at all.

“Well, I’ll see you around.”

God, you sounded awkward. You turned to start heading to your next period. You closed your eyes tight and mouthed, “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” You’d gotten a few feet away when you heard him call to you.

You turned to look back at him and found him still standing under the tree. His hands in his pockets and his eyes solely on you.

“Would you let me walk you home?”

Did he really have to ask? You’d let him walk you to the edge of a volcano. You didn’t say that, however. You wanted to play it cool, but on the inside you were screaming.

“I’d like that.”

When you turned back around to make your way to class, the memory of how his face had brightened at your reply, stayed with you. You couldn’t wait for the day to end.

_________

True to his word Jungkook waited for you after school. You couldn’t help looking for him over the countless shoulders as you walked with the sea of students towards the entrance. The hole in the pit of your stomach opened back up from the underlying dreadful thought. That he wouldn't show up. You’d be left standing there waiting for him forever. But Jungkook continued to prove your pessimism wrong.

The closer you got to the school’s gate, you were able to spot him instantly. He was leaning coolly against the gate. His bag at his feet and his cane positioned strategically out of view. If anyone just casually walked up, they would’ve never been able to tell he’d needed one. Maybe that was why he’d done it.

He looked to be searching for someone in every face that passed him. It came to an end the minute his roaming eyes found you. No longer did he appear cool and composed. His body became animated with what you could only explain as a giddiness at your oncoming presence.

By the time you reached him, Jungkook was wearing his backpack on his shoulder and his cane in his hand. He was standing and waiting for you. The happiness at being next to you was intoxicating and you could only hope you looked the same.

“It felt like I was waiting forever,” he admitted.

The two of you started in sync out the gate and turned left onto the main road.

“It felt like an eternity just to get to you. I have Mrs. Chun’s chemistry class for the last period. The classroom is pretty far.”

“Mhm, like on a planet far far away.”

Your eyes rolled up to look at him. The affection you found in the warmth of his eyes was startling, but not a surprise.

Your mom used to tell you to always be careful with smiling. It caused laugh lines. It helped make crows feet. That smiling was a woman’s secret enemy she never knew about when it came to aging. She told you over and over to be careful who or what you wasted smiles on. Smiling up at him now, Jungkook was definitely worth it just to see him respond with his own.

“Don’t be so dramatic. It’s only, like, one planet away.”

A soft hush of laughter left him as he looked away. His gaze roaming around the street signs and their multiple names before looking back at you.

“Are we going the right way to your place? I just realized I never even asked for your address.”

“Does it matter? I mean, with your leg and all.” You hated yourself for spoiling the moment by bringing it up. You knew it was a touchy subject when it came to his leg for Jungkook. So you weren’t surprised to see that spark of warmth fade ever so slightly from his face. His smile wilted at the edges of his lips before it all but disappeared. “You know I’m sorry I said anything. I shouldn’t have. I mean obviously you know yourself and your limits. You wouldn’t have asked if you weren’t able to do it.”

You were rambling. You were fidgeting and waving your arms around while you talked, because why not? You were doing everything else besides hyperventilating at this point. All you knew was that you felt like a jerk for even bringing it up. When all you wanted was to know he was okay.

You were so lost in the space inside your head and worrying that you didn’t notice him laughing at you. You were mid-arm swing. Inhaling for another round of mouth babble to start asking for forgiveness when he waved for you to stop. A finger tip landing on your lips to quiet the words in your throat by shocking you into silence.

“You really don’t have to apologize so much, Y/N. It’s alright. I understand why you would ask.”

You were tempted to lick his finger away, but it felt too intimate. But so was a finger on the lips. Before you could decide your next move from your internal dilemma, Jungkook solved it for you. His finger detaching from your lips as quickly as it’d come.

“No, you don’t. I’m just worried about you. I know I should trust you to know yourself better, but-“ you did an over exaggerated shrug as you finished: “I’m a worrier.”

“I’m flattered, I have you to worry over me.”

You knew he was teasing you and you couldn’t have been happier. You preferred it to making him sad. Plus, he was back to looking at you like you controlled the stars and oh, what a wonderful look it was.

“You should be. I’ve only got so much extra space up here.”

You tapped your head for added effect and were rewarded with a soft laugh that was followed up by a smile. God, you could get used to this.

“I guess I need to work harder to take up more space.”

“Please, no. Let’s not do that. I need my sanity.”

You couldn’t believe you were doing so well at flirting. Usually, your sarcasm won out and you resorted to awkward winking, but this was definitely an improvement.

“I’m not sure you have much of that left either,” he joked.

You tried to hide your laughter with a scoff. You knew you were failing miserably at being offended. Your mouth fighting too hard to ward off a smile as you playfully bumped your shoulder into his arm. Jungkook was ready for you with his cane digging into the sidewalk to give him extra stability.

“Ya, if I do finally go crazy it’ll be your fault, specifically.”

“I think you’d have a hard time proving that in court. My counter argument would be pretty persuasive.”

You looked at him in shock.

“Court? Wow...that escalated quickly.”

Jungkook nodded his reply. He stopped in front of a bookstore and pointed at a manga in the window. You weren’t too familiar with the title, but it's a cover you’d seen plenty of.

“It would happen as quickly as an infection from a zombie’s bite. It would seem all slow until suddenly you jumped up and tried to eat me.”

You couldn’t keep the amusement off your face as you glanced at him and back down to the manga. A part of you wondering if it was one he’d read before or just wanted to use to make his point.

“Question: why are we together during a zombie outbreak?”

“Isn’t it obvious? It’s because I’ll be walking you home. I’ll try and save you and while feeling all heroic about it, I won’t even realize you’d been bitten until it’s too late.”

The two of you moved away from the bookstore window and began to walk back down the sidewalk. Your mind trying to dissect what he was trying to say, but all it left you with was imagining a zombie version of you trying to take a bite out of him.

“You must watch too much Walking Dead.”

“It’s a good show,” he shrugged.

“Did you know that there’s actually a fungus out there that’s sort of like a zombie infection. It’s called Ophiocordyceps. It basically infects the host and within nine days of infection it takes control of the host's body movements.”

You were still walking and looking around while you spoke. Your fingers running gently over a row of gardenia’s that were planted in carefully placed pots in front of someone’s home. You were aware Jungkook had left your side by the sudden coldness of his absence. You turned to look for him and found him standing a foot away from you. A mixture of astonishment and amusement etched on his face.

“Why do you know something like that? Actually, how do you know something like that?”

His eyes were dancing with curiosity as he moved to fall back into step beside you.

“Let’s just say I like to read. I like strange things and facts. And science is full of both facts and strange things.”

With each small statement you held up a finger. When you ended on the third and final small fact about yourself, you wiggled all three fingers at him. The motion earned you a giant smile that only seemed to grow wider as his head shook slightly back and forth.

“You are the strangest girl.”

“How am I strange?”

“You just told me about a body snatching fungus,” he chuckled. “What other girl is going to do that?”

Jungkook had a point. A very strong point. For all your new found confidence when it came to him, you couldn’t keep the heat from rushing to your face. Or the back of your hands from trying to hide it.

“I would tell you to stop being embarrassed but it’s cute when you blush.”

The two of you came to a complete stop at the crosswalk. The red light blinking to tell you two it wasn’t safe to cross. It felt like a weird metaphor for this moment in your life.

Stop! Do not keep staring back at him as if he strung every star in the sky. Stop! Don’t continue to entertain the thought that he looked like he wanted to kiss you or that you desperately wanted to kiss him back. Stop! Even though you already knew it was too late.

You had plans. It’d all been strategically mapped out in your head until you could read it forwards and backwards to yourself. Do your best to graduate high enough in the percentage range to get into a decent college. Get a degree for a job, it didn’t matter what it was, that made enough money to help your parents. For all your careful planning, none of it had included him and yet, the universe had you both standing at a stoplight looking at each other like there couldn’t be any other reality where you weren’t meant to end up right here. Standing at this exact light and looking at one another like no one else existed.

Luckily, the light changed signaling for you to begin to cross. The mass of bodies that had accumulated behind you began to push you both forward and, reluctantly, broke your gaze free from him. Your brain was scrambling to pick up a conversation you weren’t sure how to resurrect. Your mind too busy daydreaming all the scenarios you would’ve taken in different realities if you were braver. Clearing your throat, you did your best to wipe the thought clean and focus on your current reality.

“If it makes you feel better,” you started your body turning to consider him as you spoke, “the study was only ever done on the tropical ants that resided in the forest. The actual effects and what it could do to humans has never been studied. Yet. But I’m willing to bet it would take longer than nine days for it to take hold of a grown adult's nervous system and larger batches.”

He was looking at you in inspired mock horror. You weren’t sure whether it was a good thing or a bad thing. Or if your unusual fact telling about zombie fungus had completely killed the mood. You got your answer in an excited hush of, “Holy shit it’s like you’re writing your own super villain backstory.”

A smile erupted on your face as you playfully rolled your eyes away from him. It was hard to miss the mischievous glint in his eyes or the way his whole face still swam with the playfulness that lurked underneath his teasing. Jungkook was so alive. A force that required you to hang on or else you would get swept up in him without even realizing it’d happen.

You wondered if this is what falling in love felt like.

“I would make a terrible villain. I’m too clumsy,” you stated. Your weak attempt at downplaying yourself being met with a stern look.

“How clumsy are we talking?”

“Hmm, I would say, ‘Kronk giving the llama potion to Kuzco,’ kind of clumsy.”

A hiss of air whistled between Jungkook’s teeth. A mock look of worry on his face as his hands moved to reposition his bag.

“Can we call that clumsy, though?”

“What else would it be?” You asked.

You could feel the lines grouping together in your forehead just trying to figure out what he was getting at. Jungkook didn’t seem to be in any rush to answer you. The two of you walking a few feet before he must have decided you’d waited long enough for him to reply.

“I always thought Kronk was stupid throughout the whole movie, but really, he was just a good person. He’s a good guy tasked to do a bad thing and he just wants to make people happy. Even if it means doing the wrong thing.”

You wanted to ask if maybe he was talking more about himself than The Emperor’s New Groove at this point. He faced forward with his brow creased in deep thought and whatever it was that held his thoughts didn’t appear to be anything good.

“Or,” you started, voice light enough to drag him out of his head, “it’s just a kids movie.”

Sure, Jungkook was looking at you, but he didn’t seem to actually see you. Somewhere inside his head, he was reenacting or seeing something that ate up all the sunshine that lived in his bones. It felt silly to feel a sense of panic about something that might not even be true. And yet, you couldn’t stop the awful thought that sadness was trying to make a home inside his soul.

Without giving it another thought you reached up and pretended to wipe away a pretend rogue eyelash from his cheek. The suddenness of your fingers brushing on his skin jolted him from wherever his thoughts had held him hostage and back into the present. His eyes darted around your face and his own hand came up to gently take yours.

“Sorry.” Your words came out breathy as you struggled not to focus on how he was practically holding your hand. “There was an eyelash. The wind must have blown it away.”

The earlier sadness that’d hollowed out his eyes was gone. What replaced it was one of knowing you weren’t telling the truth. His head tilted slightly down to inspect your empty finger of the proof you knew your words didn’t have whose eyes sparked with his usual teasing and something else. Something that left a different kind of heat flooding your cheeks.

“I’m sure there was.”

Reluctantly, you removed your hand from his and continued to walk. It only took him a couple seconds to fall effortlessly into step beside you making you wonder if his leg was as injured as it seemed.

A warm silence swelled around you as you continued to walk. A comfortable pace setting between you as he looked in the windows of every store you passed in between the changing streets. He never once asked if you were getting close to your home or how much farther it might be. It was like the moment on the back of the bus. The two of you enjoyed that the other was there without ever feeling the need to say it.

But you knew it was soon coming to an end. In only a few blocks, you’d be home and your fairytale moment would end. You were struggling on how to break this, more to yourself than Jungkook, when you noticed he pulled a Nikon camera from the side of his bag. He was squinting through the lens and taking photos of something up ahead. Of the landscape or the people and buildings that framed it you weren’t sure.

He must have sensed your silent question as he snapped a few more quick photos before turning to acknowledge you.

“Y/N, I have a serious question for you.”

It was hard to keep the amusement off your face as you both came to a stop. The place felt random, but it was anything but that to Jungkook. Whatever he saw in this space you both inhabited must have felt like magic to him.

“Okay. Shoot.”

“Do you think we have enough time for me to take some photos?”

It felt like such an odd request. Why should anyone have to ask to do something that they loved? Jungkook didn’t fully say he loved doing it, but no one spent that much money on a nice camera if it wasn’t something they enjoyed doing. The look on his face was just an added bonus of proving your answer meant something. One that made you wonder why he felt like he needed your permission at all. And then it hit you: he wanted to stay in your company while he did it.

You considered teasing him, but he looked too vulnerable standing there. You weren’t even sure if he was breathing. A pleading in his eyes that reminded you of a child asking a mother to go on just one more ride before they were forced to go home. You considered giving him the bad news that you had more than homework to do when you arrived home. But that could come another day. On this day, with him, you could spare an hour just to make him happy.

Instead of coming right out and letting him know you’d made up your mind, you decided to play coy. A soft, “Hmm,” hummed around you as you looked everywhere but him. Your index finger tapping on your lips for dramatic flare.

"Ok," You shrugged. "I think I have some free time I could spare."

His eyes squinted in question as you moved to stand in front of him. The movement simply to let a couple go by in peace, but somehow placed you closer in front of him. Jungkook’s gaze was roaming your face to find an answer to a question he hadn’t yet asked.

“You planned on saying yes this whole time, didn’t you. You were just trying to make me suffer waiting for you to answer.”

You gasped in pretend shock and did your best not to smile at his accusations. By the growing smile on his face you knew you were failing miserably.

“Me?! I would never do such a thing.”

“You’re secretly a sadist!”

Jungkook’s smile only widened as a scoff of disbelief passed from your lips. Your own smile grew to match his own when his hands lifted up his camera. Seconds later the sound of the shutter clicked and you felt your soul leave your body. The earlier playfulness was swiftly swept in your own dark cloud and the idea you probably looked hideous in that photo.

“Oh god, Jungkook delete it,” you pleaded.

Your hands were reaching out to grab tightly at this shirt. Your fingers curled in the white fabric until there was a small chance you could tear holes. The camera in question was being held far from your reach. His hand easily held it above his shoulder as he used one hand to steady you against him. You’d invaded his space without even realizing, but you had no time to be embarrassed. Not when he had a picture of you forever saved on that camera.

“Why would I delete it?”

He was his usual amused self you could tell, but he wasn’t egging you on. His question was out of curiosity. His own eyes brimming with it as you considered keeping one hand tightly wound in his shirt and the other to jump up and reach for the camera.

“Because Jungkook I’m not cute. You’ll be lucky if it doesn’t ruin the camera.”

All his earlier playfulness drained from his face and what was left made you instantly feel like you were about to be scolded. His hand that had firmly planted itself on your hip was achingly apparent now as his fingers gripped you closer to him. Your own awareness at how close you actually were to his chest made your lips feel dry. Your tongue flicked out to wet them and god, it took everything in you not to focus on the fact his eyes had followed the movement.

“Y/N, why would you say that? You shouldn’t let anyone talk down about you, and you shouldn’t do it to yourself either. You’re beautiful.”

He spoke like it was a fact. A statement that not just the two of you knew, but the universe did too. And what were you supposed to say back? While you were held captive to the thought he was still looking from you to your lips. The determination for you to understand his words and believe them setting soft lines in his face. You tried to keep looking at him, but under his watchful gaze you couldn’t keep yourself from fidgeting. Your eyes moved down the line of his body until it landed on the tops of your shoes.

You weren’t sure what to say back. Thank you didn’t fit here. It didn’t feel like a moment where he was trying to boost your confidence the way a friend did. This felt more like someone who noticed something in you while you hadn’t been looking.

So instead of saying anything remotely clever back you began to dislodge yourself from him. Your hands releasing their hold on his shirt and forcing his hand off of your hip. Standing there with only inches between you, your body was achingly aware that his hand was gone. It’s weight leaving a burning of longing to have it back forced your hands into your pockets and your body turning away from him. You waited for him to start moving back down the road. The motion forced him to either join you or stay where he was.

“We should get going before we run out of time.”

You hated yourself for dismissing him. For not being bolder like you’d promised yourself earlier in the day. It would’ve been the perfect time to thank him. To tell him how you were pretty sure there wasn’t a soul on earth more attractive than him, but that what made him beautiful is what he refused to let people see. The soft tone of his voice still singing along to the songs on the back of the bus had ended up being an unspoken lullaby when you’d gone to sleep.

A part of you considered turning on your heel and telling him this. To tell him that you saw him; actually saw him for who he was and not who he felt like he needed to be. But you just kept moving forward and weren’t surprised when Jungkook found a steady rhythm back beside you.

The both of you stayed quiet. This time it felt more forced than the easiness of earlier. Like the two of you had so many missed starts at creating a conversation that neither of you could understand why it ended.

You watched him as he focused on the area around him. His camera training on an old couple who sat waiting for the next bus. The husband had clutched his wife’s arm close to his side. In his hands he was peeling what appeared to be an orange and with each freshly peeled slice, he gave one to her and one to himself. No one knew what they were conversing about, but it didn’t matter. To them, they were the only two people there. The wholesomeness of the moment made you wonder what they were like back in their youth.

You listened to the flutter of the shutter click repeatedly. His hand twisting on the lens to bring it in and out of focus, while he himself remained deadly focused on capturing their moment in time. You were curious how the photos would turn out in the end and wished there was a way to show them how their love translated on film.

You were in the middle of watching Jungkook turn his attention to a couple birds inside a cherry blossom when he spoke.

“Thank you for agreeing to walk with me while I do this.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Jungkook.”

A sad smile curled his lips as he dropped his camera down in front of him. His thumb skimmed over the buttons to quickly go through what he’d previously taken. The last one he landed on made his entire face light up and you felt a pang of jealousy at what it could be. How you wish he would look at you like that.

“Maybe, but I feel like I do. Ever since my accident, my appa hasn’t been able to force me into things. For once, I get to just do what I want. Sucks it only had to cost me a friend and a leg to get some freedom.”

Your feet had carried you to the next stop sign. The sudden halt in moving forced you to look at him, really look at Jungkook, like you’d never seen him before.

He wasn’t looking at you now. His ears a screaming red while his fingers danced over every part of the camera. His eyes roaming over its edges and flicking too fast through pictures to actually even be looking at them. For the first time since you’d met him Jungkook was scared to look at you. Scared for what you might see if you did.

Looking at him now, you couldn’t have been happier to indulge him. You’d indulge him for the rest of your life if he’d let you.

“Well, I’m happy to be of service.”

You mentally smacked yourself at your choice of words. Jungkook, however, was backing to his beaming self as he finally glanced in your direction. His eyeing ate up your embarrassment as it was your turn to face forward. Your feet hopping in place as you waited for the light to flash it was okay to walk.

“I’m supposed to be at physical therapy right now.”

“Wait, what?”

The light was flickering finally for you to all move. Your feet moved to carry you forward unintentionally, just to keep with the flow of traffic, as Jungkook gave you a small shrug for an answer.

“Did you say you were supposed to be at physical therapy?”

Another shrug and another long pause with no answer. It seemed he had been waiting for you to round the corner onto a quieter pedestrian free street before he replied, “After school. I have appointments almost everyday and I never go.”

“But why? It’s meant to help you get better, isn’t it?”

“Get better to do what, exactly?” He huffed. Jungkook’s entire body took on a broodier tone. His cane practically dug small holes with each press into the pavement. “Who even says that I can get better?”

“Well, doctors for one,” you pointed out. “I’m sure they wouldn’t have signed you up for it if they didn’t believe you could get better.”

“If I was going to get better it would’ve happened already.”

It felt like walking on eggshells. This side of Jungkook was the boy you’d met on his first day of class. His guarded demeanor up on high alert, as he kept his gaze stoically forward and his chin held high.

“You’re not an idiot, Jungkook. You know injuries take time to heal from. It doesn't just magically happen overnight.”

“Who says that I want to get better?”

The coldness in his words forced your legs to stop working. Your feet were unable to move as he continued to push on ahead of you. His own movements became slower now as the long walk was beginning to take its toll on his leg. He knew you weren’t beside him anymore and still he tried to keep pushing forward, before eventually he had no other choice but to turn around.

The look on his face was as defiant as ever. Underneath that defiance was a sadness so raw you only wanted to reach out and hold him. If just to remind him that he was seen and that his pain mattered.

That’s when the realization hit you.

“Unless you feel like you deserve this.”

The stone façade he’d worked so hard to create in the past few minutes began to chip. His eyes being the first to show by the soft uprising of tears that you were right. Somewhere deep inside Jungkook believed that he deserved what happened to him. That this was punishment for losing a friend at his own hands, even if it wasn’t his fault to begin with.

The tears that threatened to spill never did, but they were there. They floated dangerously at the surface of Jungkook’s control and he refused to let go. The rawness of his pain hit you and all you wanted was to help ease it. You weren’t sure if he would accept any kind of affection, even in a small hug. So your only option was to move closer to him. As close as he would allow without pushing you away.

With each step you could see his jaw clenching tighter; pulsing like he was fighting from saying something wicked to send you skirting back. He was just as afraid of what you were about to do as you were at being the one to do it.

When the tips of your shoes nudged against his you drew your eyes up until they landed on his. A spark of something; fear or uncertainty, flashed in his eyes. Was he expecting you to be cruel? To yell at him to stop being a child and to grow up? How much had he already heard those words shouted by adults? How long had he been standing there like this, in a world full of grief, and no one there to pull him out to breathe before the next wave suffocated him once more.

You weren’t sure if it was you or if what you said would matter, but it was important he heard it. It was important he knew that this was okay too.

“You got to forgive yourself sometime, Jungkook.”

The words themselves were simple. Simple and spoken between you as if there was a secret meant only for the two of you to hear. All you really wanted was for him to feel the sincerity of your words for him to know it was okay. Okay to feel sad, unsure, and helpless at times when all the world felt against you. It was okay to not know your first steps and okay to take those first steps when you were ready. Eventually, we needed to forgive, if only to give ourselves the chance to heal and move on.

His gaze was still misty with unshed tears and still they refused to fall. The pain and defiance that had turned his features harsh began to soften. All that hardness he struggled to keep himself in and others out was beginning to fade and the only thing left was him. All that sunshine that you’d seen lived in his smile and echoed in his laughter that crinkled in the corners of his eyes. The way he cared for others and making them feel cared for. The softness of his singing and the way he eagerly filmed people at their most vulnerable: at their most beautiful.

It was at this moment you felt your universe shift and tip until it realigned itself. With your fingers back to holding the edges of his shirt it took everything in you not to close those final inches and hug him. Jungkook closed that distance for you instead.

His lips crashing down on your cheeks causing a soft squeak of surprise to push free from your lips. A chuckle came as he came back into view and your mind struggled to comprehend what happened.

It wasn’t a kiss on the lips but…

“Did you just kiss my cheek?”

Your hand was up to the aforementioned spot. A wicked smile wiping away all of his sadness until you weren’t sure if it had been real at all or if you’d imagined it.

“I could kiss your lips if you’d like that instead.”

If your cheeks could get any hotter you could’ve fried food on them. You felt a surge of disappointment when Jungkook took a reluctant step back from you as his eyes dropped to check the time on his phone.

“As much as I hate to say this: I have to go.”

“All of the sudden you have to go,” you huffed.

Your words felt brave, but inside your heart was thundering wildly against your chest.

“I could stay if you want?”

Smoother than expected, Jungkook slid his way back to you. His chest bumping against you making you lose your footing just enough that it forced you to grab on to his shirt. Jungkook’s own hand had moved behind your back to steady you and bring you closer to him all at once.

You playfully smacked his chest and earned a soft laugh from him. Unfortunately, you found yourself peeling away from him. Your hands grasping at the strap of your bag to keep them from reaching back out for him.

“Not a chance.”

Your reply earned a playful pout from him as he started walking backwards away from you.

“I’ll remember that, Y/N!”

You rolled your eyes and turned around to start walking the rest of the way home. You didn’t get more than a few feet before he called back to you. Your eyes found him instantly in a crowd of people that continued to pass in front of him.

“I forgot to ask: what’s your number!”

He held up a pen expecting you to come back to him and write it down presumably on his arm or hand. You didn’t see any paper and could only assume. You knew it was all just a ploy to get you to come to him. The knowledge evident by the wicked grin on his face.

“You’re a math wiz, right?” Jungkook was perplexed for a second before you started reciting your number as loud as you were willing to shout it. The wind blew it away as he no doubt struggled to listen.

“Wow! What a way to play dirty.”

“If it’s meant to be you’ll figure it out.”

And maybe that was true. Maybe you both had a chance to write your own love story like from the movies and shows you used to watch with your mom. Like Rose and Jack from Titanic or Ross and Rachel...okay...maybe more like Chandler and Monica. Or maybe you were an idiot and should’ve just gone and wrote it down. It was too late now as he was already on the other side of the street.

You were ready to walk the rest of the way kicking yourself for being so lame when you heard him call your name again. When you turned you didn’t expect him to be trotting across the road. You didn’t expect him to stop in front of you and give you another quick kiss on the cheek, this one gentler than before, with every fiber of your body remembering just how soft his lips felt.

“I could fall in love with you, ya know.”

You watched as in the same breath he hopped back across the street and couldn’t help but think you already had.

————-

Later that night you were snuggled up inside the sheets of your bed. The only thing sticking out was the current book you were reading and the top of your head.

You hadn’t heard from Jungkook the rest of the day. Your heart hammered inside your chest every time your phone chimed with a new message only to deflate when you realized it wasn’t him. You loved your friends and all, but they weren’t who you’d been looking forward to all evening.

Maybe you should’ve just gone to him and written down your number. Like a normal human being would’ve done. You just had to be clever and yell it out like a lunatic. For all you knew, you could end up with a random stranger texting you at all hours.

Your current book that you were supposed to be reading but couldn’t really read because you couldn’t focus was now face planted onto your nose. A soft groan echoing into its pages as you fought not to close it and throw it somewhere in your room. You were a hundred percent sure you’d read the same sentence a few dozen times at this point.

In the morning, you decided, you most definitely were just going to write it down. Like a sane person would’ve done. You closed your book and placed it down beside you. Your eyes roaming up to stare at your ceiling and wondering if you were ever actually going to go to sleep when your phone chimed off.

You weren’t in any hurry to look. It could just be your parents from the restaurant making sure you were in bed. It could be one of your friends asking about making plans this weekend. It was probably still everyone but Jungkook and yet…

Your curiosity got the better of you. You shuffled inside your comforter, reached an arm out to grab your phone from the nightstand, and quickly pulled it back inside. You waited for your facial ID to unlock the screen to see who or what you’d received. Your own mind hyping up the suspense of the moment until it read over a reminder text from your dad about your chores for the upcoming weekends.

You hated you’d let yourself have even a glimmer of hope. It was official. You’d ruined your chances when it came to giving out your number. A groan was creeping its way up your throat as you quickly sent back a text. You knew your chores took over almost every weekend. Even when you’d made plans with friends, you’d ended up never going.

As soon as you’d hit send you were rolling over to put your phone back on your nightstand. The shrill sound of pinging messages stopped you cold. There was no way your dad had learned to text back that fast. You laid yourself flat back against the mattress and brought the phone to hover above your face.

Y/N?

Is this the right number finally?

Hello?!!

If this is the wrong person, I’m sorry. I swear I’m not crazy. Just looking for a girl.

Your heart leapt into your throat. It was beating so hard you were scared it would burst from your chest. Your eyes were still skimming over the line of text messages when another one sounded. You were so caught up in reading the next line you weren’t aware your clammy fingers had let the phone slip and it crash landed down on your face.

“Ooow!”

One hand scrambled to pick it back up off your face, while the other massaged the now swelling brim of your nose.

How many people have you texted before me?

There wasn’t a need to send a hi. To give him a coy response to continue to tease him or make him believe he’d gotten it wrong again. Your curiosity at the desperate way he seemed to have been looking for you was endearing. The thought that he’d spent so much time sending out random messages for a response, no matter how crazy he looked, felt silly but cute too.

Jungkook thought you were worth the trouble.

OH MY GOD IS IT REALLY YOU?! And maybe like... seventeen.

You snuggled deeper into your comforter as a soft giggle joined the growing smile across your face.

I’m sorry I should have just wrote it down when you offered the pen lol

It definitely would’ve made it a lot easier.

You’d asked yourself that question all evening while you’d waited for him. You bit your lips as your fingers hovered over the keyboard. Unsure if you should take the chance and tell him.

“Screw it,” you whispered as you typed.

Took you long enough. I’ve been waiting forever.

Well, I’m sorry to keep you waiting. This girl thought it was a good idea to shout random numbers at me 😅😂.

Your head was shaking as you tried to figure out something witty to say. You couldn’t believe you were here. Inside your comforter cave smiling at your phone like a lunatic and wondering if maybe Jungkook was doing the same. Or what was he even doing? You were getting ready to type out that exact question when your phone pinged to life.

So, ugh, on to more important matters. It read. I was thinking about your love of random facts and I think I got one for you.

Ooooooo kekeke this should be good

Do you want to know it or not?

Okay okay! Lol please tell me Kookie

You could practically feel him screaming through your phone as a sideways glance emoji was sent back in a long lined response. You wondered if you’d completely ruined his fact telling when your phone went off.

I found this article that said the chances of finding your soulmate out of 500,000,000 people was impossible. But, if you just place it to where you are, to your age group, and timing it narrows it down to a 1 in 10,000 chance. What I’m trying to get at is...I think your my 1 in 10,000

You read the message on repeat. Over and over until you were sure you’d practically memorized it front and back. You wanted to ask him for his source material. Where such an article could exist. None of that really mattered to you and how could it?

You must have spaced out because you never sent him a reply. Your thoughts were still spinning in a world all their own as you wondered if he was sitting at his desk doing homework or lying in bed. If he was inside or outside and what had made him so brave to send that message: believing you felt the same.

The vibration of the phone brought you back down to earth. You expected to see question marks or another line of, “Hello?” To have left him on read. Instead, the only thing that greeted you was a simple, Goodnight, Y/N.

This time there was no hesitation from you.

Goodnight, Jungkook

See you in the morning ?

His text felt so hopeful. A silent undertone that if you said no there was a chance you’d break him. You bit your lip as you thought about what this meant. The beginning of small promises that eventually grew into bigger ones.

I’ll meet you at the gate

You both finished up with another round of good night’s that felt like the embarrassing texting equivalent of “no you hang up! No you!” And placed your phone back on your night stand. It took forever for the sandman to finally claim you. Your dreams consisting of the magic of being Jungkook’s 1 in 10,000.

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tender-rosiey · 4 years

Note

hey dear (yeah im deffo addicted to your writing) just checking on you i hope your doing good and taking care of yourself. I would also like to drop a one shot request of Chuuya falling for mori's god-daughter (also an executive) who has an ability which allows her to summon and control demons while singing but she ends up getting captured and goes missing for 2 years then one day they find her and he confesses to her after she gets rescued (rlly fluffy). thanks in advance love Safiyah <33

❥—Cassiopeia

❥—Chuuya Nakahara x Reader

❥—Fluff

ᴀ/ɴ: i am glad you enjoy my writing and i hope you are doing great as well; hopefully you like this one too 🥺💘 also let this cure your hearts after the last one- also the chant is inspired by Obey me ❣️

“Chuuya, I would like for you to meet my daughter.”

Right then a beautiful and fair lady came out of the door. Chuuya beweildered by her beauty went silent; such a beautiful creature existed?

“Y/N, meet Chuuya; he is one of the best executives here!” Mori introduced you smiling, to which you wave your hand to the ginger and smiled warmly “Hey Chuuya! Pleasure meeting you.” Chuuya smiled shyly and waved back “S-same here..”

Mori then smirked and questioned “Chuuya what’s the matter? You seem rather uncollected.” The said male waved his hand around in denial as he was stopped by a giggle from the lady beside him. “You are quite cute; I hope we get to know each other more.” You said before exiting for your mission.

Chuuya let out a sigh of relief putting his hands on his knees as blush crept onto his face. He made a total and utter fool out of himself; Isn’t he the strongest executive? Why was he so damn shy around you? The thought started clouding his mind until Mori snapped him out of his daze and asked “Are you perhaps interested in Y/N, Chuuya?”

Damn right he is. You were so sweet and kind and that just hit bullseye in his heart. Ever since then he would take almost any opportunity to be with you and talk with you. You were slowly getting to know each other better.

You have been together through tears and giggles and pain and sniffles. He knows you deeply and you know him just as well. After all 3 years of friendship isn’t a minuscule period of time; there multiple moments he had seen you in that made just how much of a wonderful person you are even clearer.

You got along with everyone.

Akutagawa, you both were like best friends and would tell each other everything. You were one of the few he accepted help or their company and you were always a great duo in battle.

Kouyou, the woman that took him in adores you. What more could he ask for? Kouyou helped you and guided in your times of unknowing what to do and how to do it. You were sisters and she valued you deeply, she would always hang out with you and talk with you about anything and everything.

Mori, the man who you addressed as your father. Despite Mori not being biologically him but he treated you as such, as if you were his daughter. He gave you all his love and made you feel appreciated and took care of you.

Seeing your kindness towards your allies Chuuya was dazzled, how could someone so sweet and kind be in the Mafia? His thoughts were completely erased when he saw you in battle.

Multiple screams, all saying the same thing “Beware of the Port Mafia’s devil!” Chuuya was wondering about who are they referring to, was it him? He suddenly heard someone singing behind him.

“Hear me, denizens of darkness, you who are born of shadow and you who give birth to it. Hear me and do as I command! I, Y/N, call upon you to send forth one of your number! I summon the demons of chanting despair!”

That voice, it sounded so angelic but the words were venomous. He turned around to be met with the sight of you floating, eyes glowing purple as demons from around you rose from the earth and attacked all the men in front of him.

‘Woah..’ He couldn’t be more in love. Your elegant movement while fighting were a sight to behold. Your voice was enchanting yet deadly, he would be grateful if it was the last thing he heard before his death.

He loved how there was a total difference between the way you treat your peers and your enemies. Did he really deserve if your feelings were mutual? It was new for Chuuya to doubt himself. But there wasn’t any route to choose when his heart now belonged to no one but you and that made him helpless before you.

“Look at the stars, Chuuya !” Right, you loved looking at constellations, and he loved how the stars shined and danced in your eyes as if they were their ball room.

He looked up and saw a weird look star, maybe a constellation? He then pointed at it and asked “Y/N, what constellation is that?” You smiled brightly before answering “That’s Cassiopeia! It represents love.” You then turned to the ginger finding him close to you and somehow both of you involuntary moved closer, slowly about to close the gap between you.

“Hello Y/N.” You both jumped and looked at the owner of the voice to see that it’s Mori. Chuuya saying every cuss word in his mind while you both were as red as roses, however Mori was grinning mischievously. It’s nice being a party pooper at times.

However that’s all in the past.

Now you were gone, no one knew where you were taken and if you were even still alive. 2 years too long for the ginger, too long because of his suffering and sadness through them.

When he first found out you were taken he was devastated and went on searching everywhere with the mafia men; everyone in the Port Mafia was searching for their Y/N.

At the night he found out he couldn’t sleep, and wanted to start the search as soon as possible but days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months and then into years. Chuuya was starting to lose hope but still searched. Everyday he thought of you, he would drink wine and anything to wash it all away.

Even now after all what happened and the two years that had passed since then they still didn’t stop searching. He didn’t stop searching.

He was walking down the streets returning back from a mission as he came across a warehouse, it looked rather sketchy so to quiet down his thoughts he entered it and his eyes could not believe what he saw.

You all beaten up and bruised. Body looking as weak as a stick and something to silence your screams and chants on your mouth, his body loved involuntary and hugged you tightly quickly freeing you from the chains that hampered you from fleeing from your misery.

He sent the location to the Port Mafia and now everyone was going to come and make who did this to you pay. He picked you up and as he looked behind him he found Mori with wide eyes barely himself believing that indeed you were alive.

The old man took you from the hands of your savior and inspected your face, those who did this to you will go through hell. “Chuuya take her back.” Mori said sternly and Chuuya nodded, he wasn’t going to let you go out of his sight again.

And there he was with you on a bed, multiple tubes sticking to your skin and a oxygen mask. You looked really weak and pale, but it didn’t stop him from loving you. He loved you even more because you managed to live through that and made it back to him at the end.

Chuuya fell asleep as he was waiting for any sign of your awakening, and you woke up instead adjusting to the light and your surroundings. This wasn’t the dark and frightening warehouse you were in...you were finally saved. After two years of misery you were finally saved.

You looked to your side to find the ginger fast asleep alongside you, you smiled softly and gently played with his hair. Chuuya felt something on his head and slowly woke up to see you pulling your hand away, but he held it tenderly and put it back.

“I have to tell you something when you recover, Y/N.” He said as he was enjoying the feeling of your touch. “Why not now?” You questioned while he looked up at you with a smile and mumbled “because it’s something you need to be told outside of this white chamber.”

And so as time passed you were finally back to how you were. He blindfolded you and led you to a garden and went behind you. “Chuuya where are we?” You wondered while he chuckled and took your blindfold off and said “See for yourself.”

Your eyes were now looking at the garden you last saw Chuuya before your disappearance, but right now there was a picnic set and surrounding it were petals on a shape of a heart and candles lighting up the the space. He then pointed above and looked at you.

There it was, the constellation of love, Cassiopeia. He placed a hand on his heart and softly said “Love is what I feel for you. Very deep and strong love.” He walked towards you and held your hands between his bringing them up to his lips and placed a light kiss to them.

“I never stopped loving you, and from the moment I saw you took my breath away, you made me the prisoner of love and the poor who seeks for your love and touch. Everything about you is beyond description, I can’t find the words to describe it and I am afraid that it had already eaten me up. I am afraid that now you are the only who can calm the beast of love and adoration that only wants you and won’t accept anyone but you. So will you please give me a chance and let me show you how much love my heart feels towards you?”

A smile made its way into your face and vision getting glossy. You pulled the ginger towards you and connected your lips as gentle as one would touch a flower’s petal. The light of the stars shining on both you, it looked like a scene from a movie.

A portray, a beautiful portray, that could be drawn by millions but never be as beautiful. And Cassiopeia was the witness of their true and never ending love.

“once I believed

love poems were foolish

now I read love poems

just for the sake of it

and yet perhaps I want

to reach a higher state of poetry

I don't know if that's right or wrong

but such a feeling persists anyway

and sometimes irritates me

provoking outrageous desires

once I believed

love poems were foolish

yet now I do nothing

but dream about love“

-from “Exhaustion” by Nakahara Chuuya

do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

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wisteria-lodge · 3 years

Text

exploded bird + lion secondary (badger model)

Good afternoon Wisteria! I was hoping for your input with my sorting. This MAY become a novel, and i apologize ahead of time for that. Hopefully its interesting, if nothing else.

I am having trouble with both my primary and secondary. Ive thought i had it figured out so many times and then i would reanalyze myself and get confused. So i guess ill start with primaries. I can tell you for sure that i am not a snake primary. I just cant love another person quite like that. I grew up in a very snake primary environment and never felt i really fit in. I really appreciate snakes and i understand them, but i dont think i am one. I also very much pride myself on my individuality and dont bond to groups so i believe that may rule out badger. I think ive narrowed it down to exploded bird or really confused lion.

Interesting. So far so good. Let’s hear what you’ve got.

Right now in life, with all the information coming at me, all the data, all of the twists and turns, media bias, conspiracy theories, rabbit holes and objective realities, i cant figure out the truth.

… sounds like an Exploded Bird to me.

I think all theories are worth investigating and rabbit holes are fun. But i hate hypocrisy. And its everywhere.

I mean, everyone hates hypocrisy… but I think Birds find it *unforgivable.*

I cant organize all of this information.

Exploded Bird.

Dude. Whats gonna happen if deep fake becomes the norm?

eh, Photoshop has been the norm for a long time and we do okay. Some fakes have always been better than others, and there have always been fakes.

I feel like the safest thing to do is to fully understand myself. Then i can analyze and understand the world.

I would agree with that.

I would say that hands down i was an exploded bird, but i feel very strongly about things right away. But then i learn about them more and if my feelings were wrong, ok. Whatever.

This is still Bird. It’s not that Birds can’t feel strongly about things right away. They do, they just don’t feel safe TRUSTING those feelings. Instead they do… exactly what you’re describing here. Learn more, and then if it turns out their initial feelings were wrong… that’s fine, actually. The feelings are of secondary importance.

BUT i also WANT black and white. I want right and wrong. Grey, though necessary and true, bugs me.

… there’s a reason why I call young Birds Black-and-White Birds.

Deep down i crave to just understand something as it is. But one persons truth is not anothers. I get that. But it still bothers me in my bones.

That’s a very Bird primary angst. Birds can have this *fantasy* that if only everyone had all the information and thought it though properly, that everyone would come to the same (correct) conclusion. And then have to grapple with the fallout when they realize things don’t work that way. As a Lion… I’ve never had to fight that particular monster.

I can also seem like i make snap decisions based on feelings to others, but i just know what i want. If something sounds good, i want to do it. At that moment. No hesitation… i think im meshing into secondary territory here

I agree. Improvisational secondary, sounds like.

so ill just go with it. So my bedroom walls are lilac purple and my kitchen is BRIGHT yellow, because those colors sounded interesting. At that moment. I tend to jump into a project having no idea what im doing. I just thought it sounded like fun.

Comfortable making decisions on a whim, just jumping in. Very improvisational.

But thats not really a way to problem solve. When i start said project and then run into a problem, usually ill read about it, or ask someone who knows more than me. The “i know a guy” bird kind of applies here. I know how to make connections within my community and i plan for that. I think about who would be useful to know, based on my goals.

You know, this could be Bird. But I’m kind of skewing more Badger because of the emphasis on community and asking for help. And keeping an eye on ‘who is powerful, who is useful to know’ is a pretty common Badger secondary model manifestation.

But i dont think i build tools like a bird. In fact, binge watching videos on how to do something annoys me. Takes all the fun out of it.

I still think you’re an Improvisational secondary - and a Badger secondary model is *more* likely than a Bird secondary model.

I am always honest with people and i like that about me, but its not out of some need to stay true to myself. Its just because i have learned that honesty works the best most of the time.

So not Lion *primary* then. This is all about method. You don’t lie, because you don’t find it to be a very practical problem-solving method. Being very direct does work, so at this point… Lion is more likely than snake.

Now, dont get me wrong, i am an excellent liar. But only if its on the fly.

Hmm. Maybe a Snake who’s in neutral all the time?

This conflicts big time with my primary, however, so i rarely ever do.

Interesting. Lying conflicts with your (hypocrisy hating) Bird primary, so you don’t do it. Instead you are very direct, and that works well for you. You *can* lie (on the fly) but you generally don’t. Neutral Snake? Snake secondary model? Depending on how you define lying, could even be Courtier Badger. (I am ruling out constructed Actor Bird.)

I feel like ive gone all over the place in a highly disorganized way, so i will state that now i am going to give some anecdotal data. One time, as an adult, i was hanging out with a bunch of kids on a hayride. A little boy killed a butterfly. I was outraged. I called him out. I told him that he just took away the only life that creature would ever have and that was cruel.

Very loud Idealist primary.

This somehow turned into a question and answer school session about human biology, mammals and why on earth is water in a cup clear, but when you dive into the ocean, its blue?

Some kind of social secondary… and I know the obvious thing is to say 'trotting out a lot of facts, that’s bird.’ But I’m seeing you defuse a situation by leveraging your immediate community (Q&A session)? Badger.

I like being the person that gets the scary bugs out of the house because i feel brave when i do.

Sounds pretty Lion secondary.

When in an emergency situation i completely disconnect and become a calm, knowledgeable person.

This is actually a pretty common just, human thing. When things get bad enough, your lizard brain takes over, and everything is very calm and dreamlike.

I suddenly magically know what needs to be done and work with my environment.

Improvisational secondary.

Im also very aware of how everyone else is doing in that situation and i have an innate need to make people feel better so im usually the first to lighten the mood. Ill focus on others before myself if im hurt. Im more aware of how they are doing than how i am doing and i will make an effort to help them first.

Ah yes, the 'tend and befriend’ threat response. Very familiar. And yeah, going from this description I’m going to say very social badger.

In video games… skyrim is best here i think. I want to be a sneaky mage thief. But when something attacks me, without thinking i run right up to it and hit it with my fists without armor.

lol lion. (The classic Badger secondary strategy is BUFF ARMOR. I always play tanks.)

But i get really sad if its an animal.Those wolf whimpers get to me every time.

No one likes the wolf whimpers.

Ok. Ok. Ive rambled enough. Thank you for reading! Any input is greatly appreciated! Thank you!

Exploded Bird, easy. And probably a Lion secondary with a very social Badger secondary model that’s working well for you.

#sortinghatchats #bird lion #birdpri #lionsec #badger secondary model #courtier badger #sortme #wisteria sorts #exploded bird

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anastasiawrites · 4 years

Text

The Slytherin princess:

Y/N was looking around the shop for more books to buy when she bumped into someone, knocking all of her books to the floor.

“Oh I am sorry,” she said as she began to pick them up.

“You shouldn't apologize - it was my fault” said the person, Y/N glanced up for a second and saw that the person was a boy with messy hair, he began to help her by picking up the fallen books with her.

When they finished, she could finally see the boy properly.

He was about her age. The boy had messy dark hair, wore round glasses and had a lightning scar on his forehead that was barely visible due to his hair– Y/N instantly knew that it was Harry Potter. But the most beautiful thing about him was his green eyes, she found herself staring at them for a few seconds before she could finally speak again.

“You must be Harry Potter, I am Y/N” she smiled, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

Harry nodded, a small smile appeared on his lips, “Nice to meet you, are you going to Hogwarts too?”

“Yes, I am really excited! I will start that year.” she smiled, “Well, I am going to continue searching for other books in case there won't be any left, I will hopefully see you there.”

Y/N couldn't help but internally squeal, she met Harry Potter.

It was now September the first and Y/N was standing in front of the Hogwarts express. The students who recognized her and her parents were staring at them while pointing and whispering excitedly but Y/N didn't mind that much, she was used to that.

“I will miss you.” said Y/N as she hugged her parents, “I hope to see you on Christmas.”

“We will miss you too, dear.” said her mother gently.

“Don't forget to Owl us and tell us what house you will be sorted in” said Y/N’s father, smiling “–Of course it doesn't matter what house you are in but we will be really proud if you are sorted into Slyther-”

Her mother elbowed him, giving him her infamous harsh glare, he smiled innocently making Y/N giggle.

“We will always be proud of you, no matter what house you are sorted in” said Y/N's mother, “But I will be extremely disappointed if you don't have good marks and, expect a howler if you don't owl us at least three times a week”

“Yes mother, expect me to have the best grades, I will work hard and Owl you many times per week.” grinned Y/N.

“Don't forget where I told you the kitchen is.” laughed her father making Y/N grin even more and nod.

“I think that the kitchen will be my favorite place in the castle,” she giggled, “I will see you both on Christmas, goodbye!”

They hugged one last time before she left towards the train to find a place to sit.

Y/N passed many full compartments when she saw the same black-haired boy from last time, Harry Potter, seating alone in one. She opened it, catching his attention.

“Mind if I sit here?” she asked nicely, Harry shook his head and gestured to the seat opposite his, “No, not at all.”

Y/N sat down at the seat opposite his and saw her parents searching the train's windows in hope of seeing her one more time, their eyes landed on her compartment’s window, she waved, smiling.

Her mother mouthed 'We are already missing you.'

'I am missing you too' Y/N mouthed back.

Harry felt a small pang of sadness as he saw the way Y/N was close to her parents - he wished he also had someone to miss him.

The train started moving and Y/N waved one last time at her parents before they disappeared from sight.

“So how are you-” before Y/N could finish, the compartment door slid open, revealing a red-haired boy.

Y/N had the feeling that it was a Weasley due to his hair color and the state of his robes.

When she was younger, her parents taught her how to recognize most wizard families if they could be identified, from their hair color to how they carry themselves, it came really useful for her.

“Mind if I sit here, everywhere else is full.” He said as he gestured to the seat next to Harry.

“No, not at all.”

The red haired boy smiled and sat next to him.

“I am Ron, by the way. Ron Weasley” said the red-haired boy.

So Y/N was right, he was a Weasley.

“I'm Harry. Harry Potter”

Ron's eyes widened and he went agape as he stared at Harry.

“So-so it's true? I mean, do you really have the...the…” stuttered Ron.

Harry looked confused, “The what?”

“I think he meant your scar.”

Harry made an 'Oh' sound and lifted his hair bangs to reveal the lighting scar Y/N faintly saw in the bookshop.

“Wicked” said Ron and then turned towards Y/N.

“I am Y/N, it's a pleasure to meet you.” smiled Y/N.

“You seem familiar.” said Ron as he looked at Y/N with a frown, trying to remember where he saw her.

“Must have seen me somewhere. Maybe in Diagon Alley, I do remember seeing a family of redheads.” she shrugged.

“Did you see Mrs. and Mr. Y/L/N outside!? Do you think their daughter will be attending Hogwarts with us? I heard that she is eleven or twelve year old - like us.” said Ron excitedly, Y/N giggled while Harry looked confused.

“Y/L/N?” he asked.

“The most powerful wizard family in the world! They are part of the sacred twenty-nine and have powerful ancestors and many special gifts.” said Ron.

“Gifts?” asked Harry, curiously.

“It means that they have some abilities that others don't - like talking to certain animals or more advanced in magic than other wizards since a young age - The rumors are that their daughter is even more powerful than her parents at their age! They are also known for their ancestors, the father of the Y/L/N girl has for ancestor Salazar Slytherin, the founder of the Slytherin house and her mother has Merlin for ancestor.”

“Oh okay, that must be amazing.” nodded Harry, Y/N shrugged.

“How would we know? But yeah, maybe it is amazing.” she giggled.

Just then the trolley lady came by the compartment.

“Anything off the trolley, dears?” Said the plump lady.

Y/N noticed Ron holding up mushed sandwiches “No thanks, I am all set.”

She decided to buy some candies for the boys too. “I would like ten – “'

Harry interrupted her by pulling out coins, “We'll take the lot.”

“Whoa!” both Y/N and Ron said, amazed.

The three first years started eating bundles of sweets.

“Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans?” asked Harry, curiously.

“These aren't real chocolate frogs, are they?” said Harry looking at a blue and gold package of chocolate frogs.

'It's just a spell. Besides, it's the cards you want. Each pack's got a famous witch or wizard. I got about five hundred myself.” Said Ron.

Y/N took one and opened it, a chocolate frog jumped towards the seat next to her. She looked at her card and laughed, it was her ancestor, Merlin.

The train ride was quite nice, the three first years had joked around, telling each other a few stories, time passed fast and they were now waiting to be sorted.

A tall platinum haired first year and his two goons approached Harry who was talking with Y/N nervously, he was scared of how they were going to get sorted.

“It's true then, what they're saying on the train. Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts.”

Y/N noticed that most of the students started whispering excitedly.

“This is Crabbe and Goyle. And I'm Malfoy...Draco Malfoy.” He said presenting him and his two big friends behind him.

Ron snickered at his name.

“Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask yours, my father told me all about you. Red hair, freckled face and a hand-me-down robe? You must be a Weasley. Well, soon find that some wizarding families are better than others, Potter. Don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there.” He said, glancing at Y/N and Ron, who were standing next to Harry.

Y/N grinned.

“Wrong sort you say?” she chuckled, “Blond hair and a bratty attitude – you must not be wanted.”

Ron and Harry both snickered that time.

Draco sneered at her, “You shut up!”

Y/N’s grin widened, “Oh - such a hard insult! I am literally crying.”

“My father will hear about that.” he sneered before extending his hand to Harry.

“I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks.” Said Harry making Y/N giggle and high five him.

Just then Professor McGonagall came back.

“We're ready for you now. Follow me.” She said and started leading everyone through two large doors and into the Great Hall.

The great hall was one of the most amazing places Y/N had ever seen and she had seen quite a lot of extraordinary things. From the bewitched ceiling to the carpeted floor, everything around looked straight out of the most creative person on earth's mind.

“Wicked!”

McGonagall leads the first-years to the front where an old rat stood on a stool.

The old hat twitched slightly and it opened its mouth - which was reap.

'Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,

But don't judge on what you see,

I'll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,

Your top hats sleek and tall,

For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And I can cap them all.

There's nothing hidden in your head

The Sorting Hat can't see,

So try me on and I will tell you

Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor,

Where dwell the brave at heart,

Their daring, nerve and chivalry

Set Gryffindors apart;

You might belong in Hufflepuff

Where they are just and loyal,

Those patient Hufflepuffs are true

And unafraid of toil;

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,

If you've a ready mind,

Where those of wit and learning,

Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin

You'll make your real friends,

Those cunning folk use any means

To achieve their ends.

So put me on! Don't be afraid!

And don't get in a flap!

You're in safe hands (though I have none)

For I'm a Thinking Cap!'

The students around the hall clapped, “When I call your name, you will come forth, I shall place the sorting hat on your head, and you will be sorted into your houses.” Said McGonagall.

Y/N wasn't really keen on having to put on a dirty old hat that was worn by hundreds of thousands of students...What if she catches lice?

Hannah Abbot, a pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails was the first to be sorted, she got sorted into Hufflepuff.

Bones, Susan also got sorted into Hufflepuff but as Terry Boot placed the hat on his head, he was the first to be sorted into Ravenclaw, Mandy Bucklehurst was sorted there, too. Lavender Brown was the first to be in Gryffindor while Millicent Busltrode got sorted into Slytherin.

“Y/N Y/L/N” called McGonagall, she couldn’t hide the curiosity in her voice as she said her name.

Everybody, including Ron, Hermione and a horrified looking Malfoy gasped while Harry stood there confused, not understanding why everyone looked so shocked but then remembered what Ron and Y/N told him in the train compartment – even some professors looked excitedly at Y/N.

Whispers broke in the hall as the hat got placed on her head.

“Did she just say Y/L/N!”

“Merlin! She is THE Y/N Y/L/N!?”

My my that is quite a mind,' said a small voice – the voice of the sorting hat, A descendant of Merlin and Salazar Slytherin with so much ambition and leadership – Cunningness, yes there is some cunningness and lots of creativity, I would say Gryffindor for your bravery but your ambition beats everything else...You are definitely a ...

Y/N grinned as she glanced at the green table, green definitely suited her.

“SLYTHERIN!”

“Thank you!” She whispered to the hat and gave Harry and Ron thumbs up, wishing them luck.

The Slytherin table was clapping loudly - the loudest they have clapped in a long time as they all eagerly looked at her.

“The wrong sort you said, Malfoy?” she said to Draco as she passed him, smirking.

A few Slytherin perfects shook her hands, as did many other Slytherin students.

#Harry Potter #harry potter x reader #harry x reader #fanfiction #potter universe #Draco Malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #The golden trio

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johnismyreason · 4 years

Text

Hell on Earth (TWO) // KOH!TOMHOLLAND X HUMAN!READER

Summary: Tom, Prince of Hell and only heir to the throne, is sent to Earth by his parents as a punishment. He ends up in an odd city full of the worst humans, except one, who, despite not knowing who he truly is, decides to help him.

Note: Well, well, well... It’s been a while. I’m sorry but a lot of things happen and honestly I wasn’t in the mood to write anything. Anyways, I hope I didn’t loose everyone was reading the first part of this Koh!Tom series. Let me know what you thought and if you have ideas for next chapters. And send me an ask to be added to the taglist :) Love you !

words: 2.3k

Warnings: panic attack, cursing, fluff-ish?, bad english bc im french

First part

Tom was so nervous. How the hell was he going to tell you where he is from. He doesn’t have much time to think about it, since you seat in front of him. “Here you go” you said, placing the tuna sandwich and a cup of coffee before his hands. Seating down, you create a slight draft, giving Tom the chance to breath your smell. Honey and apple. Not too sugary, not too strong but present enough to be under your spell for a spilt second.

“Thank you” Tom said taking a bite in the sandwich. The taste of tuna on his tongue repulses him but he fakes a smile “’S really good” he lied his mouth full, before swallowing with a hard gulp.

“I’m glad you like it” you smile back laying down a bit, your elbow on the table and your hand in a fist holding your chin. “So... what’s going on, Tom ?” the sound of his name on your lips makes it hard for him to concentrate. It almost sounds like a prayer or a blessing, instead of the curse he always heard when his father called him.

“Right,” closing his eyes and shaking his head, Tom tried to regain his composure “Um, here’s the thing. I don’t have anywhere to go. My parents kind of kicked me out” You blinked a few times trying to process what he just said. You’re surprised and shocked, you didn’t expect that at all.

“What ? W-why ?” you let your hand that was supporting your head, fall on the table, a few inches from his.

“Uh...” now is the tricky part. Tom has to think fast but coherent. "I was not the best son” he confessed. By the confused look on your face, the prince of Hell understood that it wasn’t enough of an explanation “I- uh. I didn’t take my responsibilities seriously and partied too much. So I fucked up everything.” Tom felt shame thinking about the look on his parents’ faces before being banned. “Basically, if I want to come back home, I have to change. Like, everything about me must be changed” Tom let his head fall forward, to avoid your gaze.

His head snapped back up when he felt your reassuring hand on his wrist, the veins of his heart loosened at the sight of your compassionate smile.

“I’m sure not everything is good to put in the bin” you said softly.

“How would you know ?” Tom almost whispered. “You don’t know me”

“I can see it. The good.” you replied pointing at his heart. “You’re just lost. You’ve done some mistakes, what about it ? A few of them doesn’t make you a bad person. We're not perfect. We’re just humans after all.”

“I’m not-” Tom cut himself from dropping his secret. But it hit him. We’re all humans. He’s human now. The loss of his powers, the bangs in his head after drinking the whole night away,... His parents made him human. Suddenly, Tom feels a rush of panic invading him. He starts looking around nervously, his palms become clammy and his madness takes control. Fuck, is what being human feels like ? Feeling weak and pathetic ? Succumbing to the unreasonable and to our every perfidious feelings ?

“Tom ?” you brung him back, your eyebrows furrowed. “Is everything ok ?”

The young boy’s wide opened eyes stare at you, scrutinising every detail of your face. Every stain, every barely formed line and indentation, every curve. Everything and anything that makes you... human.

“No.” he blurbed out, by freeing himself from your hand, which until now had reassured him but now made him feel like a prisoner. “I gotta go...” and with that, Tom stood up abruptly and left the coffee shop.

“Tom wait !” you tried to stop him, but he’s fast.

Tom sets off into the city, looking for a way home at all costs, even though he knows it's impossible. He bumps into things and people who then insult him for not paying attention without apologizing. He wants to cross the street and run away. He gets off the pavement and takes two steps when a van runs into him. Surprised, Tom holds still until a hand grabs his arm and pulls him back, causing him to fall with the person who saved him. It was you. Is she always going to save my life like that ?

Lying next to each other and trying to come to your senses, your breasts rise and fall in rhythm with your twin breaths. You turn your head towards him, the asphalt slightly scratching your scalp. His face is still tense but it hasn't changed. He is still beautiful, elegant, almost mischievous. His curls fall backwards against the ground and you notice the touch of red in his reflections. My God, how beautiful he is.

“Do you often have panic attacks ?” Tom's face gradually relaxes at the sound of your voice. But what frees him from the anxiety monster inside of him, is your laughter. Your sweet giggle. He almost killed you both, but you're laughing. Lying on the floor in the filthy street next to him.

“I’m so sorry...”

“Don’t be” you replied getting up. You then hold your hand for him to take it. “Come on, let’s go home” you smiled, putting the almost tragic incident that just happened behind you. Tom takes your hand and pushes himself off the ground with your help.

“Home ?” he asked confused without letting your hand go.

“Yeah, I mean at my place. You’re going to live there until you... um... change.” you pressed your lips in a tight but friendly smile accompanied by a small puff. That’s when he doesn’t understand anymore.

“Why are you doing this for me ?” he asks sinking in the back of his chair. “You don’t know me, I could be a sociopath !” or the prince of Hell.

“Well, First of all I don’t think that sociopaths know they are socipaths. And when they do, I also don’t think it’s something they want to scream everywhere.” you replied standing in front of him, your fists of your hips. “And two: It’s you who came to my shop and ask for my help. And it’s not like you have somewhere to crash, don’t you ?” you titled your head to the side as if you were playfully challenging him. Tom grinned a little, trying to hide his hint of embarrassment “But if you prefer, we can always find you a piece of cardboard that we will set you up in a not too badly famed alleyway, you'll love it, it’s-”

“Ok, alright you won !” Tom cut you placing his palms in defeat. “Hell, are you always like that ?” he chuckled. You just smiled cheekily and shrugged your shoulders. You took his arm and started walking.

You didn’t live far from the bakery, only 10 minutes walking, which was very pratical since, before going to the bakery, you followed classes at university and had to go change at your place before going to work. You led Tom to your appartment. The building was far from the ivory towers in which Tom had grown up. Yours was much more dilapidated, with a cold cigarette smell in the stairwell that you asked him not to pay attention to. Ms. McDougall had never learned good manners, and enjoyed smoking in the small lobby.

After going up the three floors without a lift, of course, you stop in front of the door of your flat to open it. “I wasn’t expecting someone today, so please forgive me for the old tea cups in the kitchen... and the living. And probably in the bathroom.”

“The bathroom ?” repeated Tom.

“Yeah. Don’t ask. I don’t have any excuse” you chuckled finding your keays at the bottom of your bag. “Ok. Here you go !” you invited him in with your arm extended so he can enter first. Tom thanked you before walking in, discovering your small but cozy place.

There was a main room which served as kitchen, dining room and living room. The black sofa in front of the television looked comfortable and could be folded out to make a bed. There was also a coffee table with books for the university, the remote control, chocolates, a cherry blossom scented candle and two mugs. A garland of light framed the window overlooking the street. The neighbourhood was not pretty, but at least it was quiet. Just like the flat which was very cozy. Tom already felt good there.

You took off your jacket and your bag and started to tidy up the room quickly. Tom looked at you with an amused smile. He looked how a few strands of hair fell on your face as you pick up the mugs out of the table and put them in the sink; and how your hands worked quickly to collect your books.

“What do you study ?” Tom asked pointing to your books that you held close to your chest.

“I am studying to become a nurse” you responded with a soft smile. “My finals are in three weeks.”

“Oh, that’s a noble job” said Tom, immediatly regreting sounding condescendin. “I mean, it’s a great one ! Better than selling sandwiches and croissants.” When he saw your lips thightening and your eyes squinting, he held his hands in front of you, trying to catch back his mistake “No, I mean, working in a bakery is great, it’s just... being a nurse is better for you !”

“How would you know what’s better for me ?” you teased. Tom felt his palms sweating and his cheeks redenning. You got him.

Why does he react like that ? He was prince of Hell, and soon - hopefully - king, for fuck’s sake ! He’s used to people being affraid of him and his powers. Used to spill his venom on any creature, human or not, using harsh, insulting and degrading names, without the shadow of an ounce of embarrassment. That's what he did. To be the cursed prince of Hell. The beloved child of death and eternal torture.

But with you it’s different. You are different. He feels deeply in his soul, that he would never use these words on you. You had a force on him that he couldn’t explain.

“I-I... I don’t, yeah you’re right. Sorry, I didn’t want to-” he stopped when he heard your light giggle.

“Tom, I was joking. I understood what you meant, I just wanted to mess you with. Selling sandwiches is great but it isn’t my professional perspective. Sorry for making you uncomfortable, that was dumb.”

“No, no, no ! It’s fine. It’s just a joke.” he puffed. What ?! In Hell, he would have sent the fool who dared messing up with him, in the worst session of torture of his entire eternity.

You smiled to him before heading to your bedroom, throwing your books on your bed. You came back with a blanket and a very soft looking pillow. You then walked to the bathroom with a new toothbrush and clean towel.

“My brother lived here for a while a couple of years ago and left clothes. You can take whatever you want, he’s not gonna come back.”

“Where is he now ?” you felt a hiver running through your body at the thought of him.

“I don’t know. Aaron never felt like he belongged in this society, that he had nothing to bring to the community. So he wanted to join the army. They know how to talk to kids who feel like him. Telling them that their lives will save thousands of others. I told him it would be the biggest mistake of his life, that he’s smart and talented but he didn’t want to hear anything. So he left one day, and I never saw him again.” It was the first time you talked about your brother in two years. You felt tears threatening to fall. “I don’t even know if he’s still alive.” you choked on the last word, unable to bear the very idea that he may no longer be of this world.

Tom looked at you not knowing what to do. He tried to remember an Aaron who would have gone to hell. The Prince has the ability to know all the deaths that fall and the division of souls between heaven and hell. This means that he knows every name, story and sin that enters his kingdom. Unfortunately, without his powers on Earth, he cannot know whether his brother is alive or not.

“Y/N, I’m sorry,” he murmured before clearing his throat. “I’m sure he’ll come back one day.” You raised your head with a heart-rending smile, trying hard to hide your pain.

“He’s in the past now. Let’s talk about something else.” You entered the kitchen, looking for something to eat, but you forgot to go to the grocery store today. Well, you didn’t really forgot, your plans just... changed a bit. “Um... I have nothing in my fridge and clearly I don’t want to grocery shopping right now, so is chinese take away is fine with you ?”

“Perfect !” He never ate chinese food.

“Great ! I’ll just call my favorite place after taking a shower” you said walking backwards to your bathroom.

When Tom heard the water running, he fell on the couch dramtically. His legs spread and his right hand on his forhand he stared into the void, trying to process what happened those two last days. Him being banned from Hell for an indefinite period almost dead two times on the road, loosing his powers, and ending up living in an girl’s appartment. Tom sighed loudly, wondering how all of this could happen to the fucking prince of Hell.

And now what ?

________________________________________________________________

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the-lost-lights · 3 years

Text

Beast Wars: More than Meets the Eye AU REBOOT: Part 1

Introduction

A long, long, LOOOOOOOONG time ago, I made an anonymous ask to @yes-i-write-fanfiction about an idea I had: what it there was a version of the Transformers comic Transformers: More than Meets the Eye with Beast Wars characters? I began working on it and soon, and with some help of yes-i-write-fanfiction, I made some profiles for the characters.

Despite my objective was to make all the profiles for an hypotetical “first season” of the comic, a variety of events caused me to give up the project.

Until now.

I’m going to give this project a second shot, rewriting everything and making it bigger and better than before (hopefully).

Wish me luck!

Story

The war against the Vehicons is over.

Optimus Primal, the heroic leader of the Maximals and the resistance, has defeated Megatron, stopping the Vehicon plague, healing everyone infected by it and turning the planet Cybertron into techno-organic paradise, at the cost of his life.

Despite the galaxy is now in peace, many tensions remain, making the hard-hearned peace fragile: the NAILs, led by Terrorsaur (that is unhappily sharing his body with Starscream) want that all Maximals and Predacons should not be allowed back on the planet after having caused the war, some alien civilizations accused the Transformers of having intentionally released the Vehicon virus and the Matrix of Leadership hasn’t been passed yet.

Cheetor, who became during the war the second in command of the Maximals, decided to try to open it because he showed multiple times the potential to become the next Prime, but during the public cerimony something unexpected happened: despite managing to open it, the Matrix rejeted Cheetor and merged with his best friend Lio Convoy, turning him into Lio Prime. Before anyone could react, the supercomputer known as the Oracle announced that Lio was going to be the last Prime and disappeared, causing chaos all over the planet.

Confused and in need of answers, Cheetor searched everywhere the Oracle and when he finally found it he asked why he wasn’t chosen and why lio was going to be the last Prime. The Oracle simply told him to search for the legendary Covenant, a group of twelve legendary knights created by Primus long before the birth of the first Transformers, and showed him the path for the planet where they sleeped.

Determined to accomplish the mission given by the Oracle (and partially because he hopes to avert its propecy so that he’ll be able to become a Prime), Cheetor decides to make an expedition in search of them, searching high and low for the best ship in the universe and Cybertron’s brightest and most heroic Transformers for the crew.

Shame that he only managed to recruit a bunch of weirdos, losers and misfits and the ship he found malfunctioned and sent them in the middle of nowhere.

Now Cheetor and his motley crew have to find where they are and how to reach the Covenant’s planet, all while dealing with lots of problems (both personal and not) and secrets, including the identity of the saboteur that is manipulating them for an unknown reason.

Characters

Cheetor (Rodimus):

Once one of the youngest member of the Maximals, he used to be a delivery boy before the war. One day, during a delivery, he discovered that the Predacons conquered his home town of Kaon and razed it to the ground, leading him to conscript in the Maximal army in search of revenge. Here he met Optimus Primal and Rattrap and despite the rocky beginning they became friends. During the war he slowly rise in the ranks and accomplish many impressive feats... and put himself in trouble lots of times. During one of his misadventures he met Lio Convoy, then known simply as Lio, and the two became best friends, having many adventures during the years until Lio discovered to have the rare potential to become a combiner, forcing Lio to remain in space with the other two parts of the combiner while Cheetor followed Optimus on Earth and was forced to enter into stasis when the ice age began.

He was one of the first Maximals to awake from slumber in the 19th century, and briefly acted as Rhinox’s second in command while he temporarely replaced the then MIA Optimus Primal as leader. When their existence became public, Cheetor began to act as the face of the Maximals and for a while acted as an intermediary between the UN and the Maximals, doing a decent job at preventing a war between the two species. During the Vehicon war he met again Lio, now having gained the rank of Convoy, and the duo managed to led the troops into saving some planets from Jetstorm. During the end of the war Cheetor became Optimus Primal’s second in command and temporarely guarded the Matrix when Optimus wasn’t considered worty of it anymore.

After the whole Matrix fiasco and the Oracle’s propecy Cheetor became determined to find the Covenant, no matter the hardships, but the numerous misfortunes made him doubt that he’ll be able to accomplish it and also convinced him that there’s a saboteur that is responsible for some of the incidents... or maybe he’s just paranoid.

He’s similar to Rodimus, personality-wise, but a little bit more responsible towards his crew and a lot more mature. The fact that the Matrix chose his friend hurt him a lot, and despite he claims to have accepted the Matrix’s decision and is very supportive for his friend, deep down a part of him despises him and wants to have his role, even if he knows that the Oracle’s propecies are never wrong. Despite he has many friends, the only bots he’s close in the ship are Tigatron and Rattrap and he also has a certain amount of respect (and fear) for Dinobot and Big Convoy.

He has a Transmetal body that grant him a flight mode, but after he is exposed to a mutagen he slowly starts to mutate into a stronger Transmetal 2 form, losing his ability to fly but gaining the ability to manipulate energy.

Big Convoy (Ultra Magnus+Fortress Maximus):

Originally a friendly and skillful, albeith a little strict, Maximal general named Slammoth (Big was a nickname given him for his size), he was put on charge of the special assault team known as the Wreckers shortly after the first Megatron took control of the city of Kaon. He was sent with his team to dispose of him and the rebellious Predacons by the government, but he secretly planned to simply capture him and force the rest of the rebels to surrender, preventing a possible bloodshed.

Unfortunately, his plan went very wrong and it ended up starting a million years long war in which most of his friends died and he saw and did horrible things, to the point that many Maximals want him dead. Despite this, Optimus Primal always defended him, stating that his strategic skills where unmatched by anyone and most of the time his actions ended up saving many Maximals.

Unfortunately, with the end of the war and the death of Optimus his situation soon became worse, and Big realized that he needed to leave Cybertron or else he would probably be condemned to spend what remains of his life in jail or be hunted down by vegeful bots. When he heard about the expedition, he begged Cheetor to let him join as head of security and he accepted, if only because he was afraid of what Big would have done if he said no.

He is very serious and takes his role of head of security very seriously, to thepoint that he put in jail half of the crew for having not properly saluted him. He suffers from PTSD and occasionally he has random bout of violence, and since his body is filled with weapons you can imagine what happens in those situations. He also enjoys metallurgy and writing poetry, but the sheer nihilism and lenght of it led to some poor bots that listened to it to enter into an angst coma.

He despises Rampage for having killed some of his closest friends during the war, and Waspinator because he keeps trying to analyze him. Most of the crew feels the same towards him, but especially Transmutate, who HATES him so much that she once almost killed him because she thought he harmed Rampage. The only bot that tolerates him and vice-versa is ironically Inferno, who shares his passion for metallurgy and has a similarly horrible past.

He turns into a mammoth and is classified as a living weapon of mass destruction due to his internal arsenal. He also owns an one-of-a-kind weapon called Matrix Buster that has enough firepower to destoy a star that he famously used to destroy a star system in order to not let it fall into Predacon’s hands.

Waspinator (Rung):

If you search “unlucky” on a Cybertronian dictionary you will find his face, and you also find out that his name is a synonym for it.

Nobody knows where he came from, not even him: all he knows is that he woke up with a big headache in a building in Kaon and before he could realize where he was Big Convoy demolished the building during the battle with the first Megatron. Extracted barely alive from the ruins by a group of Predacons, he was mistaken for one of the civilians that sided with them and recruited in their faction. Since then he got involved in many battles and many misadventures, from being stomped by an awakened titan to being possessed twice by the spirit of Starscream, being blown up so many times that you could make an army of him with his lost parts.

When he was forced to follow Megatron on Earth things for a while improved for him: after the ice age ended he woke up thousands of years earlier than the rest and ended up becoming the god of a tribe of hominids, leading an happy life until he run out of energon and was forced to enter stasis in order to survive.

And then he accidentally woke up in the 19th century and discovered that the other Predacons were awakening and he had to follow again his much hated leader, leading to him being blown up and beaten up again and again and again. Eventually he got fed up and in 1999 he decided to leave the Predacons and became a Maximal, who treated him much better than his former comrades despite they hated him for being a former Predacon. When the war apparently ended, he finally tried to relax a bit, but soon the Vehicon war began. Tired and not interested in fighting another war, he left the Maximals and Earth, becoming one of the ever expanding NAILs, and started living on a far away colony alongside them. While the universe was in chaos, he began studying psychology in order to help the many soldiers that wanted to have a better life and eventually he got a licence.

When Cybertron and the universe were saved he came back on Cybertron for an holiday, but when it was time to board the ship to go back home he mistakenly boarded the Lost Light and when he realized his mistake the ship’s engines malfunctioned and he found himself partially merged with a wall, dragged into a quest he didn’t want or meant to join.

On the good side, he now has lots and lots of patients, some of which didn’t blew him up during the war.

Waspinator used to complain a lot about his fate, with his famous catchphrase “Why universe hates Waspinator?” being a classic meme on Cybertron, but nowadays he’s mostly unfazed by whatever happens around/to him. It’s unclear if this is resignation to the fact that the universe hates him or simply he began taking things in stride, but one thing is for sure: he’s a massive magnet for weirdness and misfortune. He often spends time with the Survivors, a ragtag bunch of misfits (and Tigratron) that used to be Airazor’s crewmates and had similar misadventures during the years.

He turns into a wasp, but for a brief time he became a Transmetal and gained a jet mode. Unfortunately that happened by the time he got possessed again by Starscream, meaning that not only he wasn’t in control of his body, but technically it was Starscream that gained the upgrade instead of him, meaning that when he abandoned the body Waspinator was brought back to normal.

Rampage (Cyclonus):

One of the last remnants of a long gone era. The bot that became Rampage was once an astrophisician and a bot of culture that joined Galvatron’s (Beast Wars 2 Galvatron, not Generation 1 Galvatron) expedition to a newly discovered planet and got contaminated alongside the others by the highly dangerous Angolmois Energy, becoming an invincible beast with a thirst of destruction.

For a long time he was forced to obey his now insane and corrupted “leader”, who cut off part of his now immortal spark and put it in a device that crushed it if he tried to rebel, but he slowly planned his escape and revenge towards his oppressors. During that time, the only things that prevented him to slip further into insanity were books, which he stole from the ruins of conquered planets, and Depth Charge, the only bot that ever managed to fight against him and survive. They fought each other multiple times during the years, and Rampage always hoped that one day he would have been able to kill him, but that would never happen.

During the Vehicon war, Megatron managed to create an antidote to Angolmois and used it to cure Galvatron and most of his crew before slaughtering them. Rampage survived by destroying the hull of the ship, floating in the empthiness of cosmos until some members of the resistance found him and mistakenly thought that he was dead. He would have killed them in any other situation, but not then: most of the bots that tortured him for years were dead, including Galvatron, leaving him unable to get his revenge, and the only cure in existence was in the hands of Megatron. Furious, he forced his saviors to bring him to Optimus Primal and then offered to help him stop Megatron and then be dragged to jail for the rest of his life, but only if first he let him kill him with his own bare hands. Optimus reluctanctly accepted, and with his help the resistance managed to score some significant victories, but despite this no one was happy of him siding with them.

Especially Depth Charge.

Depth Charge hated having him around, since he killed billions of living beings along the galaxy and attempted to murder him more than usual. Megatron knew of this and decided to make Charge an offer: he would give him the Angolmois antidote to kill Rampage, but in exchange he would become a Vehicon commander. Filled with anger, he accepted, and in the span of a day Depth Charge almost caused the resistence to fall, causing the loss of lots of lives and resources. Rampage was devastated: he was healed by the effects of Angolmois, but the only bot he considered his rival betrayed everything he stood for and willingly sacrificed thousands of lives in order to kill him and the survivors blamed him for this. Rampage ran away and disappeared for a long while, crushed by the weight of his actions and the effects they had.

Rampage later reappeared on Cybertron in search of the few surviving members of Galvatron’s crew with the intention of killing them and then himself, but once he found them he discovered that Inferno mistook them fro bounty hunters and killed them. Furious, Rampage tried to kill him, but Transmutate’s attempt to escape from her capsule caused an huge explosion, knocking him unconscious. The trio got dragged on the Lost Light with the intention of treating and then leaving them on a civilized planet once they recovered, but the malfunction forced them to join the crew, which made Rampage very angry.

He hates being forced to partecipate to a mission he believes to be pointless and being surrounded by a bunch of people that either hate or fear him, but most of all he is tired: he lived a long time, spent most of his life as an evil insane monster and finally regaining his sanity at the cost of the closest thing to a friend he had. All he wants now is dying.

And yet he got attached to Transmutate, a defective point one percenter who most of the crew treats with a mix of pity and disgust, and developed a sort of respect towards Silverbolt, that was created in laboratory, forced to obey his mad creator’s orders despite he knew they were wrong and struggled to fit in the Cybertronian’s society.

Will he be able to redeem himself? Or he will remain the monster everyone says he his? Only time will tell...

He has a crab and a tank alt-mode, and lots of cannons and other weapons of mass destruction.

PART 2===>

#transformers #beast wars #beast wars: more than meets the eye au #cheetor #big convoy #waspinator #Rampage #reboot

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snickiebear · 3 years

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Hello hello nadia, i’m in a leesaku mood today so pls indulge me with a three-sentence fic for this lil prompt “you are my best friend and I’ve known you platonically for years now but every time you look at me I get fireworks in my chest and butterflies in my stomach” tysm ilyyyy ❤️❤️❤️❤️

haha... this is, two days late. NIASDUKDSK IM SO SORRY THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST YOURE THE BEST ILY

side note: this is.... kind of what you wanted? AND LMAO ITS NOT THREE SENTENCES AGAIN WHOOPS

side side note: this is now crossposted bc i liked it a lot tbh :")

a cocoon in the heart, a spark in the brain.

It starts with a glance. An innocent, fleeting look. Naruto’s smile is too bright to look at for more than a handful of seconds and Sasuke’s glare is too dark to find anything of interest, so Sakura glances away, as she always does.

She glances away and there is Lee, dirtied and bloodied but he holds Neji’s hand, Tenten tucked under his arm, and is laughing, tears streaming down his face. He must have felt her eyes because he looks over and sends her a beaming smile.

And. And her heart picks up, her breath catches.

She quickly looks over to Naruto and Sasuke, being blinded by the light and dark both, and tries her best to not think of why one look from Lee can breed butterflies and moths in her stomach.

They rebuild the village and everyone endures. Sasuke leaves once more because he is a boy who has never known staying, he has never stayed long enough to put roots in, to know how to stay. So, Naruto and Sakura let him go.

(If she is being honest, Sakura is more than happy to have him leave. Sasuke will always be a rotten fruit in the tangle of her feelings, something that she will never quite understand, something that will haunt her no matter what she does. If he is not there, she does not have to think about it. He’s like a curse, and it hurts her to think that but it is true.)

Kakashi is the Hokage and Sakura is still laughing at him, clutching her stomach and howling at her friend’s “misfortune” as he calls it.

“Mah,” Kakashi half drawls, half pleads. “Must you laugh at your poor ex-sensei?”

Naruto is losing his absolute shit as they clutch each other to stay standing. “Kaka-sensei you do not look good in white.”

“It,” Sakura gasps, wiping tears from her face, “It-It really washes you out!”

Naruto’s knees give out and they both tumble to the ground, a mess and tangle of laughing limbs and leaking eyes.

Kakashi sighs heavily from his desk but she knows he’s having just as much fun as they are. Kakashi is her best friend, she knows how he is when he’s drunk out of his mind and when he’s trying to bite back laughter.

The door swings open and Lee steps in with Team Gai flanking him. Neji recovered incredibly well thanks to Sakura’s magic hands (as Naruto has deemed them) and they’ve been taking low ranking missions since he was deemed fit to return to duty.

It takes a few moments for Sakura and Naruto’s heaving, snorting laughter to subside as Kakashi clears his throat, his eyes crinkling up in the way Sakura knows he’s really trying not to laugh.

She looks up and glances at Lee, to find him already watching her, his eyes soft and smile softer. Sakura is a God Slayer along with Naruto and Sasuke, she has faced down hundreds of opponents with only her raw fists and come up victorious, she has dragged people back from the brink of death with a tap.

Sakura does not blush. Out right refuses to.

“Hey,” All breathless and raw from laughter.

Lee’s smile widens as he steps forward to offer his hand, she takes it without hesitation and thanks the God whose heart she ripped out that he was wearing gloves. She can feel the heat through them nonetheless. Sakura does her best not to shiver as their eyes meet.

“You guys heading in or out?” Naruto asks after he hauled himself onto his feet, not hiding the way he eyes Lee and Sakura’s hands. The entire room’s eyes are on them.

“In,” Tenten says slowly, and Sakura does not blush as she carefully extracts her hand from Lees and does not think about why there are fireworks exploding within her mind, why she misses the heat and the way his hand encompasses hers.

She sees him everywhere now.

At the Rusty Kunai, at the training fields, at lunch, sometimes even in the hospital. And every damn time he smiles at her, she feels like she’s coming back to life and being stabbed in the heart.

Sakura has no idea if this was love or just lust. What she felt for Sasuke was not love, that was obsession and cruelty. She had crushes on civilian boys but they were too soft, unmarred compared to her countless scars, visible or not.

Ino stares at her as if she’s the stupidest person in the world and Sakura smacks her for it. She hopes it leaves a bruise. The Bitch. “Stop giving me that look, Pig. I’ll hit you again, don’t tempt me.”

Ino glares as she rubs her arm, sticking out her tongue. “It isn’t my fault you aren’t using that big forehead of yours! You’re telling me that you two drink together, train together, you go to lunch together, he even visits you at the hospital because he knows you haven’t eaten or slept. And then you tell me you get all those stupid fluttery feelings and you don’t know what it means?”

And well. When she puts it like that. . .

Sakura pouts and crosses her arms, “It's confusing!”

“You’re a genius. An actual genius, Sakura.” Ino deadpans. “Your IQ is literally right next to Shikamaru’s. Lee has been in love with you since we were twelve! There is no way you don’t know what this means.”

Groaning, Sakura slumps into Ino’s lap, hiding her face in Ino’s thigh. “When did you become so smart?”

“When I made out with Hinata and then fucked her.” Ino says easily and Sakura laughs. “What? Don’t laugh! It's true!”

Ino cackles when Sakura pinches her calf.

Lee moves with such elegance that Sakura aches with it.

This boy made man who had known nothing but sweat and hardship, who still cups things with such tender and care, who moves so fluidly and hits so brutally.

They are both the earth, solid and unyielding, they are the water, the hills, the mountains. They are unbreakable because they have broken themselves apart, pushed themselves past the very limit to reach where they are.

Sakura and Lee are 20 and they have saved the world.

Now, they tear apart the training grounds just to keep life interesting.

With every dodged fist her heart quickens because Lee is smiling and laughing, calling friendly taunts as she grins right back.

This is nothing like Team 7’s spars, all bloodied teeth and snarling as Sasuke underestimates her again and again and again. Kakashi, Sai, and Yamato know better. Naruto is learning slowly. Sasuke never pays attention enough to know.

No, sparring with Lee is like dancing, is like thriving, and a fresh breath of air at night as fireworks light up the sky and a butterfly lands on your nose.

She lands a kick to his ribs and spends him flying back as she advances swiftly, pinning him down with a hand on his chest, knees on either side of his hips.

A long pause as they try to catch their breathes.

They’re both breathing heavily, Sakura cannot tear her eyes away from him as he reaches a hand to tuck loose hair behind her ear.

“Lee,” She breathes, ignoring the way her face burns and the way butterflies have swarmed her insides, how her heart is raging against her ribcage. “Lee I-”

“Sakura.” Lee says, voice deep and rumbly and cracking. “Sakura, will you go out to lunch with me? Forever. Well, hopefully forever- you are so very Youthful, you are incredibly Strong, you do not need my protection, but Sakura, let me protect you anyways, just as you will me. Sakura-”

She channels her inner Ino and leans down to kiss him, all lips, teeth and tongue. His hands settle on her waist and he flips them without breaking contact and if they weren’t in public, well. . .

Sakura pulls back breathless and wide eyes before forcing the words out, “I’ve known you for years Lee, you’re one of my best friends.” Her hand on his chest can feel the way his breath catches, the way his heart is pounding. “Everytime you look at me I get fireworks in my chest and butterflies in my stomach. They’ve bred and infested my very insides, my brain blooms and rots with the thought of you.”

He is shaking beneath her, staring at her as if she is Divine and Righteous and she cannot think of anything else she would want except his eyes on her.

“Lunch?” She breathes, hand at the base of his neck. “I would like to have lunch with you. Forever. If the offer still stands.”

Lee smiles wide and bright as he stands, pulling Sakura up with him, “The offer will always stand, Sakura. For you, there is very little I would not do.”

She kisses him again and hand in hand they go to lunch.

Facts:

The very first day Lee saw Sakura a cocoon formed within his heart, everytime after that more would form, more would crack.

The butterflies and moths have a home in his heart but only come alive when they see her.

They never die, no matter what he does.

He saw her crack the world open with a first, saw her tear open a God’s chest. He was the first thing she looked at after. He thought he would become alight with it all.

Lee loves Sakura. He always has, he always will. His heart has a butterfly garden full of fireworks just for her.

Her laugh makes his skin prickle, makes his muscles loose. He is addicted to it.

She looks at him like she sees the green of the trees and the blue of the sky. Lee revels in it.

Sakura loves Lee and it nearly breaks him.

He will take her out to lunch until the day they die and well after.

The butterflies and moths and fireworks never go away for either of them. It is the beauty of it all.

#leesaku #silly things from silly friends #sakulee #a shared pen

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wickedmilo · 3 years

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SORRY, BAD NIGHT | MILO, BEX & MINA

PLACE: Bex and Mina’s house TIMING: 4:12 AM SUMMARY: After the cemetery with Metzli, Milo turns to Bex for help with his injuries WRITING PARTNER: @inbextween @drowningisinevitable CONTENT WARNINGS: Addiction tw, alcohol tw, medical blood tw, needles tw

Milo wasn’t in the greatest of moods, but the alcohol in his system was allowing him to repress the frustration, and pain that would otherwise cause him to spiral. Hiding his injury he had managed to pick up a fresh can of beer, and two cigarettes later he had very nearly reached his destination. With Harsh currently working a night shift, and his parents entirely unaware of his vampirism, he wasn’t sure where else he was supposed to go. It could probably wait until morning, but he wasn’t exactly sober, and sitting alone with his thoughts didn’t sound like his idea of a good time. Besides, he would rather deal with the issue now, while his pain receptors were out of action, and Bex seemed like the perfect person to ask for help. She always understood him, and over the course of the past few weeks they had grown far closer than he ever expected to. He had only ever seen her house from the outside, though he had no problem finding it again. Whether or not she was home, whether or not she would even be willing to invite him in, was another issue. She always assured him he didn’t make her uncomfortable, but part of him worried she was only telling him that so he wouldn’t feel hurt. The way she had first looked at him upon realising he drank human blood was permanently burned into his memory. He never wanted to see her look at him that way again.

Taking a long drink from his can, he stumbled awkwardly up the path to her front door, silently hoping she was already awake. Appearing outside of her house in need of medical attention was definitely bad enough, waking her up would only make him feel more guilty. Reaching out, he hesitantly pressed the doorbell, hearing it echo on the other side of the door. “Uh, Bex?” He called, his voice only a little slurred. “It’s Milo!” Finishing what was left of his drink, he balanced it near the entryway, just out of sight, forgetting about it almost the moment he set it down. “Bex?” He shouted again, seeing a light flicker on in the window of a house directly opposite. “Shit.” He muttered, knowing better than to say anything more. The last thing he wanted was to draw unwanted attention, and he was certain Bex felt the same way about her place of residence. Slipping his phone from his pocket, he carefully typed out a text, hitting send before taking a step backwards, looking up at the house looming over him.

Sory, bad night. Are yu awake?

I mightbe outside

Sleep was still hard to come by. Bex had assured Mina she was working on it, on sleeping more, but really, how was she supposed to when there was so much going on in her head? Dreams of her mother, of memories that weren’t her own, of Roy, of Mina dying. And sometimes, now, the worst dream was when her mother was replaced with Mina, and Bex’s hands were the things killing her. Those were the ones she woke up in a cold sweat from, and instead of checking Mina’s pulse, she’d scoot away and hold her hands close to her chest, afraid they might leak magic and reach out and hurt the girl she loved. That one day, they might be what gets Mina killed.

Sleep tonight was no different. She had slipped from the bed-- and she knew Mina was awake, and she was sure Mina knew she knew-- and gone downstairs to make herself a cup of tea silently. That’s when the loud knocking and voice sounded from the doorway, causing her to jump a little, nearly dropping the cup as tea sloshed out everywhere. “Fuck…” she muttered, fumbling with the mess, reaching for a paper towel to soak up the liquid before it dumped onto the floor. “Fuck, hold on--” she called, but she didn’t want to be too loud, and alert everyone in the house. She was already heading towards the door when the texts came in, so when she opened it to see Milo, she was only mildly surprised. The blood was concerning. Very concerning. “What happened?” she gawked, reaching for him. “Come on, come inside. Before someone else notices.” She pulled him through the door and shut it as quietly as possible, smelling the alcohol and smoke on his breath, soaked into his clothes. He clearly wasn’t okay, but who was she to judge? Sometimes the bottom of the bottle was her only comfort, too. She’d considered it tonight, instead of tea, but decided against it, if only because her stomach still churned at the thoughts of Mina’s eviscerated body.

“Sit,” she demanded, pushing him towards the couch before rushing into the kitchen to grab the first aid kit. Did vampires need first aid? Well, she’d find out. “Tell me what happened? Are you in danger right now?”

Milo felt a wave of relief wash over him when he heard the sound of Bex’s voice. It was soft, almost a stage whisper, but it still managed to reach him and fill him with a familiar sense of comfort. At least he was safe now, with somebody who wouldn’t let anything happen to him. Listening to her footsteps, he offered her a tired smile when she finally opened the door. “Oh-” For a brief moment he had forgotten the reason for his visit, but her question soon brought him back down to Earth. Glancing at his ruined sleeve, he wrinkled his nose as his blood glistened, black, and congealed in the light of the moon. “A hunter, I think… or slayer. I never know what to call them.” Waiting to be invited inside, he hurried to cross the threshold the moment he was able to, leaning heavily against the wall as Bex quietly closed the door behind him. “It’s not bad,” he assured her. “I just- ‘m fine. I’m okay.” Allowing himself to be pulled towards a couch, he had time on the short journey to take in just how big the house was, and wondered how many people currently lived in it. He was only just realising they had never discussed her living situation before.

“Okay, okay, I’m sitting…” He fell back against the cushions, watching as she disappeared, only to return with a first aid kit. His smile growing at her level of concern, he wanted to tell her how much he appreciated her, but refused to give away just how drunk he was. So he waited for her to settle before answering her questions. “I was with Metzli… some asshole came at us with… jeez, with wooden arrows. I mean what century is this?” Carefully shrugging out of his hoodie, he peeled the sleeve away from his arm, staring at his skin where the blood was beginning to coat it. “I mean, it’s deep, but it’s not bad… y’know?” He wasn’t sure he was making very much sense, but hopefully his confidence would assure Bex he wasn’t about to bleed out. With no heartbeat the blood wasn’t drawn to the site of the wound, and it definitely wasn’t actively trying to escape his body. That didn’t mean he could leave the laceration open, he had a strong suspicion he might need stitches. Or tacking, at the very least. “No danger now, no… Metzli-” He broke off, a frown creasing his brow as he remembered what had happened. He could still see them, still see the way they had kicked the hunter’s head, the way they had been more than willing to abandon the unconscious body. No empathy, no concern. Just a cold, unfeeling self preservation. “No… no danger.”

Bex sighed. “I think either is correct,” she answered, and she felt herself bristling again. Of course it was a hunter. Of course it was someone who thought they could just go around hurting people who weren’t doing anything to hurt anyone, just because they weren’t human. She felt the anger prickle in her arms, her hands, and she took a moment to collect herself, and push the magic that was trying to come out back inside to a simmer. Like Mina had said, she couldn’t just go after everyone who hurt the people she cared about. But it was so hard to do nothing, not when she could do something. She swallowed the thought. “You were with Metzli?” Bex hadn’t seen them since the kerashag incident, and their last messages had been filled with anger and hurt. She was supposed to go see them the next night, but right now, focusing on Milo was more important. “Did they get hurt? What happened to the slayer?” If Metzli had killed them, she didn’t think she’d mind. And she hated that thought She ducked her head, grabbing a gauze pad from the first aid kit and soaking it in the rubbing alcohol. “This...might hurt? I don’t know your pain tolerance. Zombies don’t feel anything, really, that’s my only scale.”

She reached out and dabbed the wound, finding the black, congealed blood rather thick and hard to wipe away. She sighed and sat back. She’d need something stronger than a gauze pad to wipe it away, it was just getting caught and sticking to her fingers. “I’m gonna go get a rag, I’ll be right back,” she said, standing back up and glancing over her shoulder to the stairs, before she went back into the kitchen and to the hallway. It didn’t sound like anyone else was up, and she wet the rag before heading back in.

Milo nodded, still annoyed by the way Metzli had brushed him off. “I was.” He agreed, his expression softening again when Bex asked if they had been hurt. “I guess.” He shifted awkwardly on the couch. He couldn’t help feeling partially responsible. If he hadn’t encouraged them to drink, if he hadn’t laughed at the situation, was it possible Metzli might have taken it more seriously? “A couple of arrows… I tried to help them but they got mad- something about me telling them what they already knew. They stormed off and I just… I let them leave.” Maybe he should have chased after them, there were so many maybes. “The slayer…” He chewed on his bottom lip for a moment before deciding to be honest. Bex had probably heard worse, as much as he hated that thought. “Metzli kicked them in the head, they blacked out… they were okay, they’ll be okay. I checked their vitals but… I don’t know, it didn’t feel good, leaving someone like that.” Even someone who had tried to kill him. Mentally preparing himself for the pain, he was grateful for the warning as Bex held up a bundle of gauze. “They don’t?” He asked, curious to know more about zombies. “I do… It’s just harder to do any damage, the pain is still there.” Wincing the moment the rubbing alcohol made contact with the gash in his arm, it stung but nowhere near as badly as he was expecting it to. He supposed he had his state of intoxication to thank for that.

Only feeling a vague tugging sensation, along with a few jolts of a dull ache, he realised at the same time as Bex did that the gauze wasn’t going to be strong enough. A breathless laugh escaping him, he hesitantly caught her eye. “I told you it was gross, huh…” He said, calling back to their text messages, the first time he had ever tried to explain his blood to her. “Okay.” He murmured, leaning back further into the couch cushions, attempting to get comfortable as she headed back into the kitchen. He noticed her glancing around as though worried she might wake somebody up, and wondered not for the first time who might be sleeping upstairs. He took a deep, experimental breath, trying to recognise any of the scents lingering on the furniture. He recognised Mina’s almost immediately, but he wasn’t surprised considering she was dating Bex. There were two other scents he recognised. Deirdre, who had an attitude to match his own. And Morgan. Morgan Beck. “Hey, uh… you don’t know Morgan Beck, do you?” He asked, as Bex reappeared in the doorway. “She isn’t like… here, is she?”

It wasn’t uncommon for Bex to wake Mina up in the middle of the night, or vice versa. Or, more often than not, they were both already awake and just trying to sleep. It was more comfortable for Mina to just stay in bed with Bex, most of the time. She was trying not to go for as many runs in the middle of the night. She was trying to be better, more settled. So she didn’t get up immediately when Bex did, instead waiting a few minutes before she got up and headed to the bathroom, splashing soothing water on her face, her arms. Scales appeared, but she didn’t immediately send them away. She was in the comfort of her own home, surrounded by people that she cared about, and she could show off the scales and wear tanktops and shorts and feel safe. She felt safe. Sometimes, she didn’t quite know what to do with feeling safe.

Hearing voices from downstairs, Mina wondered if Bex was talking to Morgan or Deirdre and decided to head that way. She headed to the stairs and walked down, rubbing at her eyes, feeling tired even if she was unable to sleep. “Bex?” she asked as she reached the bottom of the steps and looked into the sitting room. “Mor--” But it wasn’t Morgan that was sitting on the sofa, and all Mina could do was blink at Milo from the last step, taking in the dark blood and wounds covering him. Dark blood. Oh. Oh. Well, that made sense, didn’t it? Because he only wanted to meet to play piano at night, and she’d never even thought to see him during the day. And he was friends with Bex. Because of course he was friends with Bex. Somehow, someway, Mina’s girlfriend was a vampire magnet.

“Sounds like Metzli,” Bex mumbled to herself. But as she reentered the room, everything else she had been planning to say-- like, “No, you did the right thing. If they’re angry, let them go.” or “You were more than kind to check on that slayer. They’ll probably be okay.”-- fell to the wayside, because Mina was standing at the bottom of the stairs, staring at Milo, and Milo’s wounds, and Milo’s black blood. This probably wasn’t at all how Milo had wanted Mina to find out he was a vampire, but Bex’s eyes stuck to the scales on Mina’s arms and wondered if she should say something. This probably wasn’t how Mina would have wanted Milo to find out about her, and now Bex was stuck in the middle, wavering between the injured vampire, and her scaley girlfriend who looked perhaps a bit disgruntled. Probably because there was a vampire in the living room.

Clearing her throat, Bex continued her way over to Milo, glancing at Mina. “He needed help,” was all she could think to say, “he was attacked by a slayer.” Before she kneeled in front of him and pressed the wet cloth to his wound, wiping away some of the blood. She turned her attention back to Milo. “Uh, yes, I do. This uh--” her glance went back to Mina before it returned to Milo, “this is her house, actually. I live with her and her partner.”

Milo heard Mina’s footsteps before he heard her voice, but it was only when she spoke that he realised exactly who had made her way downstairs. He wasn’t exactly surprised, but he definitely hadn’t been expecting her to make an appearance. Even drunk, he was able to understand the current state of him would give away what he was. But he didn’t mind. He had been planning to tell her eventually, and Bex had assured him she was familiar with the supernatural. He heard Bex quietly explain the situation, and if there was any doubt in Mina’s mind it would definitely be chased away by the use of the word slayer. Turning in his seat, he offered Mina a smile as he laid eyes on her, quickly noticing the strange scales on her skin. She had always smelled a little different, but he had put it down to perfume, or washing powder, anything that could create a lasting scent. Now, he was wondering whether he had been oblivious to something that really should have been obvious. “Mina?” He asked, watching her carefully. “I… you aren’t human either?” There was something amusing about the idea of two supernatural creatures assuming the other was human. How many hours had they spent together, holed up in the uni’s little piano room. And neither of them had noticed? Neither of them had realised? He could act shocked, or confused, but was there really any point? White Crest was full of people who weren’t human. Even Bex was a spellcaster. So he laughed quietly, moving again as Bex made her way back over to where he was sitting.

“You don’t need to make it sound like I’m dying.” He murmured good naturedly, holding his arm out so that she could begin brushing at the dried blood with a damp cloth. His smile slipping temporarily as Bex answered his question on Morgan, he could only hope she wasn’t hiding upstairs. Even if the idea of irritating her was enjoyable, he didn’t know if he had the energy to deal with her incessant lectures. “Jeez, you invited me into Morgan Beck’s house?” Another laugh escaped him before he could stop it, but it turned into a quiet hiss as pain shot through his arm. “Ow,” he complained, before moving the subject back to his old professor. “You know she hates me, right?” He asked, certain he wasn’t exaggerating. “And you let me into her house, she’s actually going to murder you.”

All Mina could do as she looked at Milo was blink, trying to process his words, and Bex’s words, and just what, exactly, was happening. He’d been attacked by a slayer, and, oh, that upset her. And not in the way it used to. It was similar to the way she’d felt when a slayer had attacked Morgan, albeit maybe not as strong. It wasn’t an “I hate that the monster escaped” kind of feeling and more of an “I’m upset that my friend was hurt” kind of feeling. She was friends with a vampire. And a zombie. And other Fae. A werewolf. Sometimes, all of that was hard to wrap her head around. And then she looked at her arms. Right. Scales. She could have made them disappear immediately, could have tried to cover it up and hide, but, really, what was the point? Milo was just an injured vampire bleeding on their sofa. Milo was just a boy that she’d played piano with countless times now, who had kept her company when she couldn’t sleep and when running led her towards music instead of the forest. She shrugged. “I’m not, no.” And that was that.

She walked further into the living room and moved beside Bex, looking over Milo’s wounds with a practiced eye. She’d never treated undead wounds before; Morgan never needed it, and she’d never been around an injured vampire. The blood was darker and thicker, but she imagined it was treated the same. He likely healed faster than her. It might just be slow going without blood in his system. “Do you need any help?” she asked Bex. As the conversation shifted to Morgan, Mina could only raise an eyebrow. “What could you have possibly done to make Morgan hate you? She doesn’t really hate anyone?”

Bex let the two of the figure out each other in silence, and she couldn’t help but feel a little bit proud when Mina didn’t make her scales disappear. That meant she was getting more comfortable with them, right? Bex hoped so. She loved Mina and she, admittedly, loved her scales. They were such a pretty silvery-blue, and sometimes they would sparkle just right in the sunlight when they were out in the pool together, and Mina would look kind of like an ethereal angel. When Bex realized she was staring and hadn’t moved in a moment, she blinked and turned her head away, focusing back on Milo. “Uh, can you get some supplies out to bandage the wound once I’m done cleaning it? I...don’t know how fast vampires heal, but at least this way it’ll stop bleeding. Or...gushing.”

She looked up at Milo again, then to Mina, then to the stairs-- down that hallway was Morgan’s bedroom. “She doesn’t hate you. And she won’t be mad. She understands that it’s just me trying to help my friend. And even if she did hate you, I don’t think she’d turn away anyone who was hurt and needed help. That's the kind of person she is. She...saved me. I owe her everything I have right now.” It was a simple sentence to say, but the weight it held was inside of Bex’s heart and it clung to her and reminded her every day that she was loved and she was cared for, and she had someone in her life who would always help her, no matter what. She could have someone who was what a mother was supposed to be. Bex folded the rag over so that the blood was inside and reached up to wipe at his face. “You’re a mess. Clean your face off and I’ll get you some water.” She wondered if maybe Milo needed blood to help him heal, but there was no way Mina would let her offer her own. And she wasn’t sure Morgan kept blood around, only brains. “Do you need anything else?”

Milo appreciated the simplicity of Mina’s answer, and though he was curious to know more, he held his tongue, accepting the fact that she was willing to admit she wasn’t human. That was enough for now. No doubt the rest would come with time, and trust. He nodded quietly in response, offering her a smile as she moved to stand beside Bex. Resisting the urge to roll his eyes as he remembered his last conversation with Morgan, he exhaled a breath, his shoulders dropping. “It’s a long story.” He admitted, deciding now wasn’t the right time to tell it. For all he knew, he could be halfway through complaining about her attitude only to look up and find her standing in the doorway. Or he could say something to upset Bex, and Mina who were clearly close enough with Morgan to share a house with her. That was the last thing he wanted to do after disturbing them so late at night. Turning his attention back to Bex, he glanced back down at his arm again. “Pretty fast…” He admitted. “It’s like… you have to treat an injury in the same way a human would, but the healing is faster. I think I might need some stitches, but after that… y’know… I’ll be fine.”

His smile fading as the conversation turned back to Morgan, he wanted to tell Bex that Morgan’s saviour complex was exactly the problem. But even drunk, he knew better. He wasn’t about to hurt her like that after everything she had done for him. Whatever was happening between himself and Morgan could quite easily stay between them. And the way Bex spoke about her, the genuine love, and affection in her voice, almost, almost had him questioning his opinion on the zombie. “Wait- I am?” He asked, surprised by Bex telling him he was a mess. It made sense. After falling from a tombstone, and tackling the hunter he was probably covered in mud, and a few lesser scrapes. But he hadn’t considered that fact until now. Taking the cloth he began to scrub at his face with his good arm, pulling it away to see just how much dirt had stained the material. Taking a moment to contemplate Bex’s following question, he pushed his glasses further up his nose, and ran his fingers through his tousled hair. He knew what she was really asking, but he wasn’t thirsty. They were both aware he had a habit of overindulging, so he very rarely found himself desperate for blood. And there were blood bags waiting for him at home that would help to speed up the healing process. So he grinned instead, doing his best to utilise his charm. “Maybe a beer?” He tried. “If you have one?”

Mina would have asked about the long story if she was more curious, but this wasn’t the time or place. Milo was intoxicated and injured and likely not in any sort of state to be telling them just why it was that he thought Morgan hated him. Though, there really weren’t that many people out there that Mina was aware of Morgan hating. It didn’t seem likely. She nodded to Bex and gathered up the supplies, pulling everything out that would be needed. “I can do the stitches,” she said, quietly. “I’ve done them plenty of times on people that heal fast.” Both herself and other hunters. She was sure, though, that vampires still healed faster than both of them. But Mina stopped seeing him as a vampire and only allowed herself to see his injuries so that she could focus, taking in the wounds and figuring out how best to treat him. The deepest sections would absolutely need stitches, but the rest of it could probably be simply cleaned and bandaged. No point in stitching something up when they were just going to come out quickly.

“You’re a little messy, yes,” she added, finally seeing all the mud and blood on him. And how many times had she come home looking like that? Less so, recently, since she’d been trying not to worry people so much, but still. Long ago, something very similar to this would have been routine: walk in, treat injuries, help others, rest. Repeat. And repeat. And repeat. Add in hunting. Substitute hunting with Mina just standing there, turning away. Repeat. Repeat as necessary. She blinked it away, raised an eyebrow at Milo, at that easy grin of his as he asked for a beer. “You smell like a brewery.”

Bex didn’t know what “long story” meant, but she wasn’t about to ask about it, and neither did Mina. Whatever happened between Morgan and Milo to make her supposedly hate them could stay with them until either of them were ready to tell the story. She exhaled slowly, moving away from the worst wound so that Mina could asses it and start the stitches. She picked up some more rubbing alcohol and cotton pads, moving to work at dabbing the smaller cuts on his other arm and face. “You are. You look like you rolled down a hill made of mud.” They were all talking so casually, but the thought of a hunter, a slayer, going after two people Bex cared about made her arms buzz. She itched-- ached-- to do something about them. She could easily do something about them, like she had done so with the first warden that went after Mina, and like she had tried to do with Roy. But her magic still sat sour in her stomach, still recovering from the shock of the destroyed spell.

Bex furrowed her brow. She remembered what Milo had said when he’d gotten drunk with her in the park, that he didn’t need people judging him, that if he wanted to do it this way, then who was anyone to tell him no? “Sorry, I don’t think we have any. Morgan and Deirdre aren’t big beer drinkers.” It was enough of an excuse, and mostly the truth. They had other alcohol, but she wasn’t going to mention that. She got the glass of water instead and came back to sit next to him on the couch, holding it out. “What were you guys doing in the cemetery, anyway?”

“I guess I probably don’t want to know why you’re so good with stitches, huh?” Milo asked Mina, smiling sheepishly when she agreed with Bex. He had never been particularly vain, and he couldn’t bring himself to be embarrassed, or offended. Not after everything he had suffered through. His appearance meant very little to him, especially when he was under the influence, so he gave up on the effort to tame his hair, allowing a laugh to escape him at the mention of smelling like a brewery. “Guilty.” He agreed, shrugging off the comment. “But what’s a brewery without beer?” His eyes were shining, despite suspecting Mina might be avoiding his question in a bid to keep him from drinking himself into a stupor. Glancing back at Bex, his smile stayed in place as she commented on his current state. He wondered whether she was exaggerating. The cemetery felt like eons ago. The fear, and the adrenaline had long since faded away. He wasn’t about to pull out his phone’s front camera to check, and he could always shower when he got home. “I mean, I kind of did…” Technically he fell from a tombstone, and tackled a hunter to the ground, but the details felt unimportant in the safety of Morgan’s house.

Attempting to hide his disappointment when the one person he felt sure wouldn’t have an issue with letting him continue to drink denied him another beer, he tried to work out the probability of there being alcohol of any kind in the house. He didn’t see why it should be kept from him. He was fine. More than fine. There was no harm in having a little fun, especially after such a tiring night. “You don’t have anything else?” He asked, taking the water and staring down at the glass. He left fingerprints against the crystal, only realising as he stared at them that his skin was still marked by dirt, and dried blood. “It’s just- this kind of hurts, it would be nice to have something to… y’know- take the edge off…” The lie fell easily from his lips, he was far too used to finding an angle. Knowing what to say, and how to say it. He faltered, making it seem as though he was embarrassed to admit he was in pain, when in reality, he had faced far worse. “Oh, we thought it would be funny.” His smile only grew, he was still undeniably amused by the irony. “Two vampires in a cemetery… can’t say the ghosts were very glad of the company though…”

“Probably not,” Mina said quietly as she set to work, her fingers quick and sure as she started the sutures. The black blood still occasionally coming out of Milo’s wounds barely even stung, and she wiped away at it with the tips of her fingers. She was mostly worried about getting this done as fast as possible; without anything to dull the pain, it wouldn’t do to linger and draw it out. “Keep very still, please.” That was important, too. So was distraction from the pain, a trick that was hard to do when working on herself. When she first started tending to her own wounds, Mina would sing to herself. Now, focused on keeping up the conversation that Bex and Milo were having. As long as he remained distracted, it shouldn’t hurt as bad.

“We really don’t have any beer,” Mina said. “And I can’t lie. I’d have to tell you if we had any.” Not… exactly true, but it was true enough. There was no beer in the house. There was wine and stronger liquors, but no beer. The only beers that Mina had ever kept were the German ones that were still in her fridge at her little house next to the lake. “The pain shouldn’t last.” And, for a moment, she thought about offering Milo her blood. Fae blood was known for being sweet and addictive, and one of the better qualities of it was that it “took the edge off.” She’d been used to lure out vampires with her blood before. What was helping out a friend? But Mina had also been upset with Bex offering up her blood, so that was just an all around bad idea. “How quickly do vampires heal, anyway? I think I heal about twice as fast as a human, under certain conditions.”

Bex sighed. She remembered how much she would’ve liked something to “take the edge off” when she’d been half-dead in that cabin with Mina and the only thing there was an old bottle of what was probably homemade moonshine. And she wasn’t really one to judge Milo, was she? Plus, they were safe in the house. They weren’t away in the cemetery or lost somewhere or in a park. It was safe, right? As Mina started in on the stitches, she stood back up. “I’ll be right back,” she said, standing back up and heading into the other room. All the wine was kept downstairs in the cellar, but she knew where the liquor cabinet was, and she grabbed the cheapest looking bottle of vodka before making her way back. Cracked it open and took a sip before holding it out to Milo. “What do you mean ‘kind of did/? What happened? I thought you were just attacked by a slayer. Did Metzli do something to you?”

Bex didn’t look at Mina for a moment, watching Milo carefully before sitting back on her hands. Her eyes glanced back towards the stairs-- if Morgan came down, what would she think? Was Bex doing the wrong thing here? She bit her lip, she had to believe otherwise. All she wanted to do was help people, but, lately, it felt as if everything she did was the wrong thing. Her chest even still ached from her spell backfiring the other night. “Maybe you should chill on the hanging out in cemeteries for a bit? Even for the joke. Just, uh-- until you know the situation with that slayer.” And she was worried and she was tired and she wondered if she should offer to go check on him for Milo. “I-- could go see if he’s still there, if you want? Take him somewhere safe, if he is?”

Biting down on his bottom lip as Mina began to apply his stitches, Milo distracted himself from the discomfort by watching her focus. Now that he knew she wasn’t human it felt so obvious, not just in her scent, but in the way she looked. So ethereal and undeniably beautiful, he could understand why Bex wanted to be with her. Even now, after being woken up in the middle of the night to find out one of her friends not only needed medical attention, but wasn’t human either, she was soft, and gentle. Quietly sincere in her care for him. Forcing himself to stay still, repressing the desire to pull away from the needle, he exhaled a slow breath through his teeth. “Yeah, whatever…” He murmured, a frown creasing his brow. Why couldn’t she lie? He tried to run through the list of supernatural creatures in his head, despite knowing it was severely lacking. Maybe he didn’t know what she was, maybe she was something new. “It won’t…” He admitted, wanting to assure her. Waiting until she was pulling the thread taut, he shifted slightly, offering a one armed shrug. “It depends really… on how much blood I drink, and how bad I hurt myself. If I drink a lot and the injury is minor then it can disappear in, like… fifteen minutes? This one will probably take a couple of days.”

Glancing up at Bex, watching her as she left the room, he felt a spark of hope, followed by a wave of genuine gratitude. He grinned easily as she reappeared, accepting the bottle of vodka, not missing the way she took a drink herself before handing it over to him. “No, Metzli didn’t do anything to me.” He laughed, unable to help himself. It definitely wasn’t beyond the realms of possibility. “I fell from one of those tombstones, you know the big ones- above ground? And then I had to get the hunter off of Metzli somehow because they insisted on encouraging whoever it was… but they didn’t do anything to me.” Taking a long drink of vodka, he paused to wipe his mouth on the back of his sleeve. “Yeah, no shit.” He answered, smiling to let his friend know he wasn’t upset by her comment. “I stand by it being funny though. You know it is...” His smile fading suddenly as he processed her following words, as he understood what she was offering, the danger she was willing to put herself in, he shook his head, desperate to keep her away from any violence. Bex was working to keep him safe, the least he could do was keep her safe in return. “No, I mean… they’ll be okay, they were stirring as I left. I- you would really do that?”

“Fifteen minutes?” Mina asked, genuinely curious. She cut the string, the worst of the scratches stitched together. Fifteen minutes was close to the almost instantaneous healing that she’d witnessed with zombies. She wondered, briefly, what it was about the undead that allowed them to heal so quickly when they didn’t even have heartbeats to pump blood through their body. It was a kind of curiosity that she never really allowed herself to experience. “A few days isn’t bad, though. Do you-- I mean, you have ways to get blood, right?” She’d never considered the thought that her friend would have to go out and hurt people in order to live. It was hard to imagine, to rectify her image of this gentle boy that liked to play piano and maybe over indulge in things just a little too much with monsters that she’d been taught to kill. Shadows that lurked in alleyways that burst into ash when they were destroyed for the greater good. But that wasn’t Milo. It wasn’t.

Mina looked at Bex, then at Milo, and she couldn’t help but feel just a little exasperated at the whole situation. Frustrated, really, that other people that she was fond of were getting into situations that could get them hurt, especially so soon after Bex had confronted Roy. Of course Bex would offer to go do something. Mina hoped she knew that, if she tried anything, Mina was going with her. Instead, she told Milo, her voice light, “Hanging out in cemeteries would make you a horrible cliché, you know.” She relaxed as Milo said that there was no need for Bex to go back out there. There was no need. It’d be fine. Though, of the three of them, Bex would be the safest around a slayer. Still. She’d try to use her magic, Mina just knew it, and that wasn’t good so soon after she’d already hurt herself with it.

“Woah, fifteen minutes!?” Bex gasped, exasperated herself. “I don’t think my cuts even stop bleeding that fast. Jesus…” She ran a hand through her hair and shook her head. Life sure would be much easier if she had super healing, or even knew healing magic. But she didn’t and she wasn’t sure Nell could teach her that, so she let out a puff of air, furrowing her brow. “Well, at least there’s that. I would’ve had to kick their ass if they had.” Bex looked over at Mina, then, shrugging-- she knew she probably wasn’t happy with her for offering to go investigate, and would certainly demand to go with her if she did, but Bex didn’t really know what else to do in the situation. How could she not? How could she not want to do everything to make sure her friend was safe from a threat? She’d done the same with Mina, with Morgan, with anyone who threatened the happiness Bex had so painfully fought for. This town wanted to ruin it and she wasn’t going to let it.

“Of course I would,” she answered simply, then, taking the bottle back and having another sip. Maybe it could make her tired enough to actually sleep, even as visions of blood and carnage still sat at the edges of her vision. Breath still hard to come by when she found herself panicked and woozy. “Besides, I’m just human, so they wouldn’t hurt me. And it’s not like they’d know I was friends with you.” She still hadn’t decided what she’d do if she did go find them. She supposed it depended on what they said. They had gone after not one, but two of Bex’s friends, and she felt her knuckles tightening on the table, looking away to clear her thoughts before she spoke again. “But if you think they’re okay, then, we can just focus on you. Did you want to stay here tonight, then? Or do you need to get home?” And why hadn’t Milo just gone home in the first place? Was his roommate out, or was his home not safe? She glanced between the two, though, wondering if the offer to let him stay here wasn’t the best idea. Still, she wasn’t about to throw him out. She’d deal with Morgan later, if she got upset.

“Yeah, around fifteen…” Milo agreed, wincing as Mina cut the thread. It didn’t hurt as badly as he assumed it would, so he hesitantly glanced down to review her work. Honestly, his parents would be proud of her if only they could see it. Apparently she had a lot of skill. Catching her eye again, he smiled, needing her to know he was okay both physically, and in the context of sourcing blood. “I do. My roommate works in the hospital… though I should probably stop telling people that before I get him fired for stealing blood bags.” Laughing at himself, he took another drink, the vodka burning his throat in such a comforting way. “Maybe I was trying to be a horrible cliché.” He pointed out, his smile only growing as he remembered how much fun it had been. At least until a slayer had decided to interrupt the party. “But I get it, okay? No more cemeteries.” Nodding in response to Bex’s obvious surprise, he tugged his sleeve back down to hide his injury now that it was no longer an open wound. “Weird, right? I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to it.” Letting his friend take the bottle back, he held her gaze as she insisted she would check on the slayer if he asked her to. It meant more to him than she would know. Reaching out, he wrapped his arms around her, gently pulling her towards him and into a hug. Resting his chin on her shoulder, he murmured his thanks, forcing himself to let her go after a minute or two. If he could, he would stay in her arms for the remainder of the evening. She, and he supposed Mina now too, really did make him feel as though nothing bad could ever happen to him again.

“You shouldn’t be so quick to rush into shit like this.” He said, knowing he had no right to tell her what to do, but feeling the need to say the words all the same. “What if they do know you’re my friend? It’s a small town? Or what if they think you’re another vampire and shoot at you on sight?” Satisfied he had made a relatively decent case, he decided to drop the subject, turning to look at the nearest window. The drapes were shut, but he could see it was still dark outside. “I… I should probably go. Morgan wouldn’t want me here, and my roommate gets home around dawn.” If there was anything he could do to encourage the healing process then Harsh would be able to advise him. Home was probably the best place for him to be now that the worst was over. “Thank you though… for everything.” His gaze shifting between both of his friends, he let a few beats of silence pass before speaking again, allowing himself to fully process just how lucky he was. Some terrible things had happened to him, in fact they continued to happen to him. But without becoming a vampire, he wouldn’t have Bex and Mina. “I’m not just talking about tonight, although y’know… I guess showing up here was kind of a dick move.”

“I think it’s better to be stealing blood bags from hospitals as opposed to the alternatives,” Mina said. And maybe she should be more concerned for the humans that needed the blood, but this was better than Milo going out and attacking people, right? This was so much better than that. She’d rather him do that than just about anything else. She rolled her eyes. “If you were trying to be a horrible cliché, then you’d be sleeping in a coffin. Right? That’s what vampires do on tv?” She wasn’t particularly sure, only remembering one scene from Carmilla that included a coffin and a lot of blood. She started packing up the medical supplies now that they were done, adding, “Those are pretty basic, so they won’t come out on their own. If you need them removed, just let me know.”

Mina shot Bex a look before agreeing with Milo. “I think so, too, personally.” Then, to Bex, joking but serious, “At least put on decent shoes before you decide to pick fights with slayers in cemeteries. And allow me to grab a jacket.” Because if Bex was going to rush into this, then Mina was to, and she’d rather not do it with scaly arms exposed for the world. Not to mention that she’d like to grab a knife, just in case. But she didn’t think that going after slayers was on the agenda for the evening. She added to Milo, “They wouldn’t think that she’s a vampire. Slayers can sense the undead, so they’d be able to tell that she isn’t.” They also wouldn’t be able to tell what Mina was, which would be another reason for her to go. “Do you need someone to walk back with you? You’re still a little tipsy and wobbly. How far of a walk is it?” And she was looking him over for more injuries, just in case, even though she couldn’t see them. And then she was saying, quickly, “Don’t thank me. You don’t have to thank me.” Because it was important that he knew that. “Never thank me. Thank Bex.” She wasn’t unkind, but she wanted him to know. She needed him to know that, at the very least. “I think I’ve mentioned that before, actually.”

Bex thought back, for a moment, about what Metzli had told her about how they had solved their blood problem. Grimacing, she decided to keep that to herself. She was sure Mina would not approve, and Bex didn’t know how to tell her it was better than the alternative right now, too. Instead, she focused back on Milo, grabbing the bottle and taking one last drink before screwing the cap back on. With the injuries all patched up, there shouldn’t be a need to take the edge off anymore. And she didn’t want anyone to notice the missing amount, not that she thought they would, really. Or that anyone would get upset. This wasn’t her parents, after all. She was safe here. She let out a long sigh. “You so don’t wanna be a cliché,” she said, “then you’d have to sparkle and I think that might make you just a little too gay, if that’s possible.” She grinned, pleased with herself.

She was immediately ruffled, though, by the look Mina gave her and the two of them insisting she was being hasty about this. “I never said I was going to go after him,” she shot back, frowning, “I just said I’d check on him. See if he was still there and okay. Milo said he was worried for him.” Folded her arms over her chest. Mina explained why he would know she wasn’t a vampire and Bex was reminded how easy it was for people to underestimate her. She certainly didn’t look dangerous or act dangerous or feel dangerous. But sometimes, she wondered if the magic inside of her was more dangerous than a hungry vampire. Her eyes met MIlo’s. “It wasn’t a dick move. I’m glad you knew you could come to me. I-- want to be that kind of friend for you.” Words failed her, though, when Milo reached out and hugged her. She stayed frozen, unsure of what to do. She didn’t hug or get hugged often, except by Mina. Really, Mina was the only person she allowed to touch her that much, even Morgan was limited. She cleared her throat when Milo pulled away and just nodded. “We--” her voice faltered, “”we can totally walk back with you.” Because if Mina wasn’t going to let Bex go alone, then she wasn’t going to let Mina go alone, either. Not with a crazed bugbear hunting her.

“I mean they’re still donating blood, right? And it’s still potentially saving people… I consider it a grey area.” Milo teased, only half serious. If he was being honest he didn’t view his situation as any kind of moral, or ethical dilemma. Nobody was getting hurt, and people were always donating blood. A true victimless crime if there ever was one. Only if he and Harsh decided to deplete the hospital’s entire supply would he be able to see why it was problematic. “I wanted a coffin, my roommate said no.” He grinned, letting his company know he wasn’t being serious. He had joked on more than one occasion, and Harsh had always been quick to shut him down with an offhand comment and a roll of his eyes. But the idea of sleeping in a coffin, as trivial as it may seem in passing, made him uneasy. His memories of his death were hazy, but they were there, a constant reminder of how much he had suffered. A constant, physical reminder of that wouldn’t be healthy. “Jeez, a Twilight reference?” He wrinkled his nose at Bex, distracted from the medical talk. “I’m not drunk enough for Twilight references.” But he laughed regardless of his feigned distaste. Moving his legs so that Mina had better access to the table the medical supplies were laid out on, he hummed softly in response to her instruction. “Mom and Dad are doctors.” He explained. “I was practising stitches on orange peel as soon as I was old enough, I’ve just never actually had to give them to anybody, especially not myself…” He was confident he could remove them well, and if not Harsh would always be there to help him. “I’ll manage…”

Although he was glad to hear Mina agree with him, he couldn’t say he approved of her keeping Bex company. He would much rather the both of them stay at home, safe, and comfortable, and hidden away, than chase after a hunter who was probably long gone. “I know how it works,” he added, brushing off her explanation of the strange Spidey-Sense slayers apparently had. “I just meant- well, they’re probably on edge, right? If they’re still there. Regardless of whether their vampire senses are tingling they might try and jump you… it wouldn’t be the first time someone acted on impulse.” A laugh escaping him, it took him a few seconds too long to realise Mina was being serious. “Wait- I’m not tipsy.” He insisted. “This is my basically natural state of being.” He had been far worse on many occasions and somehow always managed to arrive home before the sunrise. He was falling into a routine. His smile slipping as Mina’s sudden concern pulled him out of his thoughts. He stared at her, his brain working to process what she was telling him, why her tone had changed so drastically. Almost in slow motion, everything fell into place, leaving him with a strange sense of clarity despite not knowing exactly what she was. Things were starting to make an awful lot of sense. “Shit, you’re the reason Bex keeps telling me not to make promises, aren’t you? And not to say thank you, or like- swear on stuff…”

Turning his attention back to Bex, feeling the need to make sure she didn’t decide to go and scope out the cemetery, he shook his head. “I know they’ll be okay… I just didn’t like leaving them behind like that, you know? But they weren’t showing any sign of trauma…” A smile tugging at his lips as she assured him appearing on her doorstep wasn’t unfair, he really wanted to believe her. Thinking about what he would do if she showed up on his doorstep made it far easier to accept as the truth. He would help her without question, she was only doing the same for him now. “You are that kind of friend for me… you already are.” Worried he might have crossed a line by hugging her, he gave her some space as she cleared her throat, composing herself after such an unexpected show of affection. “You don’t need to walk with me, it’s late for you guys... this was enough- more than enough.”

“A lot of things are a grey area,” Mina murmured, and she wasn’t really sure how to deal with that fact, despite being used to it for a while now. Everything was so much more grey that she’d thought it was when she was younger, the world of black/white morality and good vs. evil not really as simple as it should be. She wished it was simple. She just wanted things to be simple, sometimes. She was so, so glad it wasn’t simple. “Your roommate’s pretty smart.” And she tried not to be too disgruntled at the mention of Twilight, playing with the ring on her hand as she remembered the way that the rock trapped inside it had once made her sparkle similarly to Edward Cullen. Mina gave Milo a nod as she finished cleaning up, confident in his ability to tend to himself if he said that he could. Thinking about the slayer, she frowned. “They’re supposed to be trained not to go after humans, no matter what. If they don’t sense undead, they should… not retaliate.” At least, that was how it was supposed to be. She’d been proven wrong plenty of times, though, since she’d come to White Crest. She snorted. “I don’t believe you.” Mina scratched at the back of her neck. “Guilty as charged,” she said, her voice quiet. “You should never thank the Fae.”

Mina would have rolled her eyes at Bex if she thought she could get away with it. Because she knew how Bex reacted towards people that hurt people that she cared about. She might say she wasn’t going after them, but if she got upset, then Mina didn’t know what she’d do. Probably go after them. She watched the two of them interact, the tenseness in Bex’s shoulders, the way that Milo immediately let go when it seemed he was making her uncomfortable. She gave Bex a small smile, hoping to be comforting, before she looked back at Milo. Dryly, she said, “We don’t sleep much. It’s really no big deal. And we can handle ourselves on the walk back, if that’s what you’re worried about.” She let claws and webbing form on her hands. “Really, we can take you home.”

“Twilight is iconic whether you want to admit it or not,” Bex said with an affirming nod, as if there was no room to argue afterwards. But the subject had moved on quickly, even as she decided to hold her tongue when it came to black and white and grey matters. She had maybe too many opinions about it, but that was the thing-- morality was opinion, when it was all boiled down. She didn’t think either of them would agree with her, though, and Milo was right-- getting blood from the hospital was a much safer option than anything else. Certainly safer than what Metzli had figured out, but Milo had already said he’d asked if they would let him help with the blood source, and they’d refused. So, really, what was there to do. She let out a breath and noted Mina fiddling with her ring, letting her gaze drop to the matching one on her own hand. She suddenly wondered if using a rock that had made Mina so upset for so long had been a good idea, but she couldn’t forget the look on Mina’s face the first time she’d shown her the bit of meteorite she’d gotten for her. At least, before she’d told her how she’d gotten it, and about the redcaps. She frowned, when attention came back towards the hunter. “Yeah, well, seems like more and more lately, we’ve been finding hunters who really don’t care about all that,” she said with a sour tinge, before straightening up and grabbing the bottle of vodka. “But I’ll leave it alone for now, since you insist on them being okay.” Maybe she’d go check tomorrow, anyway.

Standing, she let out a huff, ready to change the subject again. “I’m gonna go put this back, then we’ll grab our coats and better shoes and walk you home. Or at least to your block. Is it far? Maybe we should drive…” Noting the way her head still felt light and her chest still felt heavy. She rubbed a hand over her sternum a second, as if trying to relieve the pressure, before she turned and went into the kitchen to put the bottle back. Mina was right, though-- neither of them slept much, and maybe Bex’s lack of it was finally starting to get to her. She felt exhausted, but, really, that didn’t matter when she had a friend in need. Brushing it off, she headed back in and put on a smile, wiping away the awkwardness her skin still buzzed with from the sudden contact. “Ready?”

“Yeah, he is.” Milo agreed, thinking of Harsh and how much help he had given him over the course of his time as a vampire. More than he probably deserved. Humming quietly as the conversation moved back to the hunter from the cemetery, he couldn’t help but doubt Mina’s confidence. Anybody trained in violence was going to make a mistake. Especially when their life quite literally depended on acting quickly, on acting without warning. Regardless of whether Bex looked threatening, the idea of her wandering into that cemetery made him incredibly nervous. He didn’t trust the hunter to have left, and he definitely didn’t trust their judgement. As if to prove him right, Bex decided to elaborate on her girlfriend’s statement, a dark undertone to her voice that made him wonder whether Mina had been hurt too, or attacked by somebody questionable. In spite of the subject, he couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of triumph when she admitted she was indeed the reason Bex insisted promises could be dangerous. And then she mentioned Fae. He didn’t know much about Fae, bar what Rio had told him, and he was infinitely curious. Ignoring the heartache he felt when his thoughts drifted to Orion, he forced himself to stay present. A difficult feat given just how much alcohol was currently in his system. So Mina was Fae, and Bex was a Spellcaster. He really was going to have to start making notes. “I really am fine.” He added, realising she had made it clear she didn’t believe his previous statements. “Besides, if you don’t sleep much that only means you need all of the sleep you can…” He trailed off, staring as Mina’s hand shifted, becoming claws, and webbing as he watched. He wasn’t disgusted, or horrified, only fascinated by what he could only assume was her true form.

Collecting himself, he pushed on. “I wasn’t saying that because... I mean, I know you guys can take care of yourselves… I just don’t want to be more of an inconvenience, y’know?” He did his best to clarify. He still didn’t know a lot about what Mina could do, but there was no question of just how powerful Bex might be. “Also Twilight is iconic. Rio made me watch it…” He lowered his gaze, a soft sigh escaping him. It had been so long now since he had last seen his friend, and he missed his company, the sound of his voice, how safe he felt in his presence. His expression briefly faltering as he realised the bottle of vodka was being taken away, he begrudgingly pushed himself to his feet. He was tired, and uncomfortable, he longed to crawl into his bed. “It’s not that far, maybe twenty minutes?” He guessed, feeling a spark of guilt as he realised they would have to walk back to their house again. It felt like too much, it felt too unfair, but they weren’t about to let him leave alone. There was absolutely no room for argument, and honestly, he didn’t want to argue with them. It would be nice to have company. It would be nice not to have to look over his shoulder every ten seconds for fear of being followed by some asshole who wanted him dead. “I’m ready,” he said, concern creasing his brow as he noticed Bex rub absentmindedly at her chest. “Hey… are you okay?” He asked, his voice low so that he wouldn’t alert Mina who had started to move towards the entryway.

“You had to have stitches and are wobbly on your feet,” Mina said to Milo, her voice deadpan. “I don’t think you’re particularly fine.” Especially not when he was a vampire of all creatures, someone that healed significantly faster than a hunter or a werewolf or herself or especially a human. Not to mention how shaken he was. If he was worried about their own well-being, then that meant that he thought this was a serious situation. And maybe it was, but Mina knew hunters. At the very least, she knew trained hunters. She knew that, as long as she didn’t reveal herself as someone supernatural, then she and Bex wouldn’t be at risk if they ran into this slayer. They. Plural. Because Mina wasn’t letting Bex go alone. The way Milo’s voice brought Mina’s attention to the fact that not many people were used to seeing silver scales and webbing and claws on people that were mostly human in appearance. He didn’t seem to be judging her, the look on his face more interested than anything else, but Mina still shied away from the attention, letting the inhumanity fade from her skin slowly.

“It’s not an inconvenience,” Mina added, giving Milo a small but sincere smile. The mention of Rio piqued her curiosity, remembering the rather thin but brave boy that she’d met who had been with her during the warden attack. The look of fondness and longing on his face was familiar, something that she could recognize. Still, she chose to address his next question. “Twenty minutes isn’t that bad. We should be able to manage.” She ran more than that some nights anyway. It was fine. She allowed the two of them to hang back as she moved towards the door, grabbing her coat off the rack and putting on a pair of boots, lacing them up as she waited.

“What Mina said,” Bex pointed out, but she did so in a lighter tone, a gentle smile, letting him know that even if he was in this condition, she didn’t mind. It was okay. “Definitely not an inconvenience.” She gave a little nod, glancing over at Mina as she headed towards the door to gather her jacket and shoes, noting as she made her webbing and scales disappear from her skin. She wished she could reach out and give Mina the confidence she needed to not be embarrassed by them, but slowly, and surely, she was getting more comfortable, and all Bex could do right now was support that. Her attention turned back to Milo as he hung back and whispered something to her. She hadn’t even noticed she’d been doing it until he pointed it out, and she dropped her hand, shrugging. “Fine,” she muttered back, not wanting to concern anyone with something so paltry, but wondering if Milo, with his superhearing, could hear her erratic heartbeat the way Mina could with her head on her chest. She’d pointed it out once or twice but Bex had brushed it off. It didn’t mean anything, not really. It wasn’t important, not when there were so many other things to be taken care of.

She gave Milo an apologetic look, though, and decided he deserved more than just a brush off. “Sorry, I--” she looked at Mina at the door, then back to Milo-- “I’m just having a hard time sleeping lately. It’s nothing, really.” It was just the nightmares and the memories and the headaches. She gave him a reassuring smile and motioned for him to follow her to the door. “C’mon, let’s get you home and worry about everything else in the morning, okay? I don’t know about you, but I could use a nice day to relax.”

Milo opened his mouth to argue with Mina before deciding he didn’t have the energy. Instead he shot her a look that made it clear he didn’t agree with her observations. Realising she had caught him staring at her hands, his expression shifted, and he offered her a sheepish smile. Any disagreements were quickly forgotten. Regardless of her assurance, it still felt like an inconvenience, but he was being forced to accept the fact that they were walking with him. There was nothing he could do or say to stop them at this point. “No minutes is better than twenty minutes.” He pointed out, but it was clear in his voice that he had resigned himself to their company. His smile growing somewhat as he watched Mina locate her coat in the hall, he turned back to Bex, who was smiling too. Jeez, he really was lucky to be surrounded by so many people willing to help him. Despite what he was, despite who he was. Surely he couldn’t be worth the stress he caused.

“Fine?” He echoed as her hand dropped back to her side. He had gotten remarkably good at tuning out the constant hum of heartbeats, but now he focused on the sound, listening to how Bex’s heart seemed to jump, wild, and inconsistent in her chest. Her pulse was clear, but it wasn’t steady, and he didn’t need to be the son of two doctors to understand that wasn’t healthy. “Is that normal?” He whispered, wondering whether Mina was aware. “Is that a magic thing?” His smile fading as he was overcome with concern, he longed to help, he just didn’t know how. Technically, he couldn’t even sleep anymore. How was he supposed to aid anybody else in getting rest when he could barely manage it himself? Following her to the door, he knew his words were useless but they fell from his lips before he could stop them. He wanted to say something, even if it wouldn’t make a difference. “Maybe you can get some sleep during the day?” He suggested, as though she hadn’t considered that thought herself. It was never going to be that easy.

Bex shrugged, as if trying to brush it off. She didn’t really feel like discussing the state of her health with anyone, let alone Milo. She didn’t want to worry him, or anyone, really. It wasn’t that bad, anyway. So her chest hurt a little sometimes, and she’d been having heart palpitations a lot, lately, but it would go away after a bit and then she’d push it out of her mind until the next time it happened. “Yeah, I mean, it might be-- could be,” she said back, nodding. She didn’t think that was really it, but she’d only first noticed it after Frank had electrocuted her and Nell had supposedly restarted her heart with her blood magic. So, maybe it was because of magic. Maybe she should talk to Nisa about it, she was a healer, after all. She turned back to look at Milo, giving as much of a reassuring smile as she could. “It’ll be fine, there’s no need to worry. It’s probably just cause I’m tired and stuff.”

She made her way over to Mina, then, and slipped her hand into hers gently, glancing back at Milo. “Yeah, maybe,” she shrugged, “you ready?” She held her free hand out to Milo, the hand that had her promise ring on it clutching Mina’s. “Let’s get you home. I’m sure tomorrow will be better for everyone, right?” At least, she could hope. She had to believe that it would be, otherwise, she wasn’t sure she’d get out of bed.

Milo frowned to himself. He didn’t like how unsure Bex seemed. She shouldn’t be so vague in her answer, not when he was questioning her on the condition of her heart. But he decided to let the subject go. She never queried his decisions, never asked him whether he really should be reaching for the bottle, or brushing off another hunter’s desperate attack. The least he could do was trust her to take care of herself. “Okay,” he said, his voice gentle, and hopefully comforting. He wanted her to know he wasn’t going to push for further elaboration. “I really hope you can sleep today…” He trailed off, holding back from apologising for interrupting her evening. She had already insisted he wasn’t being a bother, what more was there to say? Watching his friend as she made her way over to where Mina was standing, he felt a strange warmth spreading outwards from his chest. Together they were so soft, so aware of each other. And then Bex held her hand out, and he realised he was being invited into their circle. They knew what he was, they didn’t care. They saw every habit, every trait, every mannerism, and yet here they were; helping him heal, encouraging him to move closer.

Swallowing his emotion, he took a step without thinking, too drunk, and too distracted to watch where he was going. It would be less ridiculous somehow if his foot had caught on an object, or a platform. He had the excuse of being unfamiliar with the layout of the house. But even he knew, as he lost his balance and fell to the floor, hitting it with a resounding thud, that he had undeniably tripped over his own feet. Too clumsy, and sluggish to coordinate his limbs, entirely unaware of his own body, pain radiated outwards from a few points of impact, and he hurried to stand, brushing himself off before anybody could make a comment. Letting out a huff of breath, his annoyance genuine, but also playful, he looked Mina in the eye. “Maybe I’m a little drunk.” He admitted begrudgingly. “But only a little.” A smile tugging at his lips, he finally moved to take Bex’s hand, walking with care, glancing down so that he wouldn’t trip again. Slipping his fingers between her own, feeling the heat of her blood beneath her skin, her scent washed over him and he realised in some way she had become home to him. For the first time since leaving the cemetery, he knew he was safe. “Come on,” he pulled her towards the doorway, a laugh escaping him as he considered the teasing he was undoubtedly about to face. “Let’s get outta here…”

#c:bex #c:mina #milo and bex #milo and mina #addiction tw #alcohol tw #medical blood tw #needles tw

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paintdface · 4 years

Text

moths to a flame: one

“i know you don’t like to think of it as a celebration, but i couldn’t help myself.” he shrugs his stocky shoulders. calloused hands reach for the crystal and holds it in the air. “because if anything, we can celebrate that night bringing us together. i’m happy you’re in my life.”

reader x din djarin horror/thriller modern au.

tw: blood, kidnap, hospital mention, some mentions of nsfw content.

word count: 3.4k.

A/N: i hope you enjoy this story as much as i enjoy writing it. i would love to hear what you think of it! a pinterest board for this story is here. the preface to this part is here. the header is by @/packsparadise.

… twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty, thirty-one, thirty-two.

your eyes fly open beneath the surface of the water. everything above is obscured by the bath water. you can barely make out the tiles on the walls or the color of your shower curtain. you wait a few more seconds to see how long you can stay underwater before you spring to life. bath water sloshes over the sides with a quiet splash. you gasp for air like the way you did years ago on that godforsaken road. this time you don’t feel the icy air fill your lungs and you’re grateful. gripping the sides of the tub, you fix your gaze on the dripping faucet, feeling your heart race in your chest. your ex-therapist told you to focus on something when you felt this way— when you felt like your heart was going to leap out of your chest.

that was the only good thing they ever taught you.

sinking back into the water, you let the bath water sit at your chin. it’s cold now. cold and still. you’ve been in the bath so long your fingers are pruny. a foot peeks out of the water, painted toes curl around the shower valve to turn on the hot water. you welcome the feeling of warmth again.

your gaze drifts from the faucet to the phone resting on top of the bathroom counter. although it was turned off, you kept it close just in case. you dreaded the inevitable moment you’d turn it back on. you would be greeted with missed calls, texts and emails. some from the few friends you have left, some from reporters, some from family and one from him. from the man who saved you on the worst night of your life.

you said he didn’t have to keep in contact with him even though you wanted him to. you understood that he had a life of his own; one that didn’t involve sticking around for you when you needed comfort. but, he insisted. he said he wanted to keep track of you. he wanted to make sure you were safe. after all this time he cared.

once the water runs cold again, you finally rise from the basin. water drips off your skin, the droplets echoing in the empty bathroom. you grab the towel from the rack and wrap it around your body before stepping out. the bathroom mirror is foggy making your face look distorted. your features are no longer visible. you only see a silhouette and hair— not the slope of your nose, not the mascara smudged around your sleepless eyes, not the scars littering your skin. reaching forward, you wipe at the mirror until familiar pieces of you are revealed.

you’re grateful you recognize yourself today.

reluctantly, you grab your phone before exiting the bathroom. instead of getting dressed you collapse on to the unmade bed. your finger holds down the on button of your phone and you place it face down on your chest. it only takes a few seconds for it to begin buzzing. notifications light up the screen.

“shit.”

you could turn it off. you could ignore the prying questions and condolences. you could run away. yet, you turn it back on and look.

the date lights up the screen. the anniversary of the day you were saved. it should be a day for celebration. after all, you survived. but the way exhaustion clings to your limbs and sleep is heavy on your eyes puts you in no mood to celebrate.

combing through the endless messages, you skim the sentences and delete almost half. emails from curious journalists make you roll your eyes.

sent at 8:03: hi my name is amy daniels from the new york times and i was wondering if i could get a comment about the anniversary…

delete.

sent at 10:36: good morning, i am the producer of a nightly news talk show at cnn and i wanted to know if you would be interested…

delete.

sent at 11:17: this is jose ramos from realtruecrimefans.com messaging you again about your thoughts on your kidnapper, riley williams, current whereabouts…

your heart clenches in your chest at the sight of his name. you try to avoid thinking about him. you avoid saying his name. the last time you said his name is when you wrote about him in your memoir. his name wasn’t worth the energy it took to say his name.

riley williams was dead. at least to you he’s dead. no one has seen or heard from him since you ran away. the police searched for weeks to no avail. search parties went out at night combing through the woods to search for him. it didn’t take long for the media to pick up a story of a beautiful girl gone missing and found in the woods after breaking free. for weeks after your escape, his picture was everywhere. it was a nation wide manhunt. it continued once you wrote your memoir titled “forty-seven days in hell: my personal journey” and everyone wanted to be the one to put him in jail.

yet, no one found him. he was gone.

a few deep breaths later and you’re continuing to weed out messages. everything felt like bullshit. even the texts from the few friends you had left lacked genuineness. you sent back half-assed replies and listened to the voicemails, but never called anyone back. there was only one person you wanted to hear from today.

din.

you scroll until you see his name. he texted you early this morning. he texted you when he knew you would be asleep.

din: hey, darling. hope you slept well. call me if you need anything.

you smile. something you loved about din is he never pushed your boundaries. he gave you your space, but knew if you needed him, he’d be there. even though he didn’t live in the city, he always came. he was always there when you wanted him.

you hit the call button and listen. it only takes a few rings before you hear the low, steady tone of his soothing voice.

“hey, you’re up.”

“i am… are you surprised?”

the sound of his muffled laughter chimes on the other end. “maybe a little,” he pauses for a moment. “how are you holding up?” you can tell he’s nervous to ask because he’s not sure what the answer will be.

you sigh. rolling over on to your stomach, you shrug like he can see you. “i’m okay.” you’re not sure what to say. deep down you’re not fine, but you crave normalcy. you want to feel normal. “it just feels… weird. today should be like any other day, but it’s not.” your confession surprises you.

“we can make it normal.” the sound of ‘we’ makes your heart flutter. “i was planning on coming to the city for business. we can meet for dinner?”

you know he’s probably not coming to the city for work, but he’s coming for you. every year since he saved you he came into the city on the anniversary. he’d meet you for dinner at the same restaurant, at the same table and you two would act normal when you really weren’t.

“i’d love that. same place?”

“same place at seven.” you can hear movement on the other end. the sound of grogu barking in the background makes you happy. you miss him. “hey, darling?”

“yes?”

“if you need me to come earlier, i will. just say the word and i’m there.”

your eyes flutter shut. god, he was the only one you ever wanted. the only one who treated you like a person. “i will.” but you know you won’t. “i’ll see you then.”

“i’ll see you then. take care of yourself, darling.” and then the line goes cold and the familiar beep tells you he hung up.

—

shaky hands reach for the heat pouring out of the vents. your hugging the heat and the door; both for warmth and for a quick escape in case your hero turns out to be a villain. you’ve already learned your lesson about trusting people. the only sound filling the truck’s cabin is the engine revving as the driver tears through the roads, your teeth chattering and the dog at your neck happily panting.

it’s only until he finally says something. “what’s your name?”

“d-darling.”

he quickly glances away from the road and in your direction. “what kind of name is darling?”

“my name. that’s my name.” you hate how bitter you sound. you should be grateful.

“okay…” he clears his throat and continues driving for awhile before finally breaking the silence again. “what happened to you? who took you? who did this to you?” he sounded concerned and calm, yet there was a hint of anger lacing his words.

you’re reluctant to say anything, but you knew you should get used to telling your tale. you’d have to say it a hundred more times: to police, to journalists, to your family. “he said his name was riley,” you shudder at the name. hopefully, you’ll never have to say his name again. “we met at a bar and i thought he was nice, but he— he—” you can’t get the words out. the sound of sobs cut through your words. everything was catching up to you. the gravity of the situation weighed you down, tying you to earth. tethering you to this smelly truck with a big eyed dog and a pair of mysterious brown eyes. “please just get me out of here!”

you can hear him swallow hard. “it’s okay. just stay calm. we’re almost at the main roads.” he glances over at you. you can barely make out his face in the dark, but you still see those beautiful brown eyes. something to cling to— another beacon of hope. “there’s a police station a few miles out. i know the captain. he’ll help you.”

shaking, your arms wrap around you, like you’re protecting yourself. no matter how tight you hug yourself you can’t stop trembling. your feet are numb, your eyes are heavy, your head hurts and the emptiness in your stomach catches up with you. weakly you utter, “wh-what’s your name?” “din. my name is din.”

despite your better judgement your eyes begin to flutter and your body goes numb. it gets harder to breathe, but you’re too tired to care. it’s easier to give in to the darkness. you’ve done enough; there’s no more fight left.

“din.” it’s the last thing you say before your eyes flutter shut and pass out. you don’t wake again until you’re in a hospital bed. you scream his name until a nurse runs in and you demand to see the man that saved you. you pull at the i.v. needle in your arm, thrash in the scratchy sheets and rip at the oxygen at your nose until they sedate you.

hours later you’re awake and he’s at your bedside. he doesn’t leave until visiting hours are over. he’ll keep coming back until you ask him not to— which is never.

—

it takes you a long time to peel yourself off of the bed. your silhouette is imprinted on the bed from lying there in a wet towel for so long. the white cotton towel falls at your feet. it takes you forever to file through your closet to find the right outfit. you’re looking for something in between fancy and not trying too hard. you wanted to look good; you’re not sure if it’s for din or yourself.

you settle on a dress and boots. the dress had been worn a million times and the boots had walked miles through new york, but they’re your favorite. it’s like wearing a safety blanket. you take your time getting ready considering it’s hours until seven. you drift around your apartment with a glass of red wine in hand. your biggest vice is cheap red wine. it was something to make you forget. a glass of hope, you lovingly told your concerened best friend.

the more you drink the more you feel like you’re floating. you have plenty of room to roam considering how spacious your apartment is— it’s far too big for a single person in new york. you were only able to afford it from the royalties you made off your book. turns out writing a book about your trauma and exposing your open wounds to the world had its perks. who knew?

—

you ended up dancing barefoot in your apartment with a glass of red wine spilling from your glass as you moved. you didn’t care about the stains on the overly priced rug in your living room, you were just happy to feel something good again. the future of seeing din again and the warm feeling the wine gave you was your miniature escape. when you glance at your phone you realize you’re almost late. curse words are shouted out into your apartment as you stumble your way towards the front door, balancing your bag and putting on your shoes as you went.

despite your late start, you make it to the restaurant on time. the minute you walk in your eyes are settled on the table in the corner. it’s the same table he always got for you. din’s back is turned to you, but you notice the familiar mop on his head and the broad shoulders enclosed by the only suit he owned. same old din, you think. sighing, your chest rises and falls as you watch him. you watch as he talks to the waiter and sip at his glass, occasionally looking down at his watch, wondering if this time you’ll be late. smiling, you walk to the back of the restaurant.

“hi,” you greet him. it doesn’t take long for him to stand up and pull you into his arms. you collide with his strong torso and your arms circle around his middle. you bury your face into his chest and his chin is tucked in to the top of your head. his cologne lingers on his collar— warm spice and must. your favorite. it feels perfect. it was what you longed for all day. you wished the embrace lasted longer, but he pulls away and gestures towards the seat across from him.

“hey, darling.” he finally says. “glad you could make it.”

you almost roll your eyes. he knows you have nothing else going on. you don’t have a traditional 9-5, you keep to yourself and you never miss a meeting with din. but, he’s nice for saying so. he’s always so nice— a lot nicer and more trusting than you’ve ever been.

“how’s my boy?” you eagerly ask, shedding yourself of your coat.

“grogu?” his brows raise, asking as if there isn’t another floppy eared boy you’d refer to. “he’s good. even though he’s an old man, he still acts like a puppy. it’s like it’s the first day i rescued him from the shelter.” his eyes light up as he talks about grogu. the well trained dog was din’s life. you fell in love with him, too. he made you feel safe the same way din did.

“i miss him…” your words trail off. your eyes peer up from the menu at the other. “i missed you.”

din wets his lips. his eyes are soft as he gazes at you, trying to see if you’ve changed at all since the last time you got together. “i missed you too. it’s been too long.”

“it has.”

you two catch up and go through the pleasantries. you ask about grogu and work and the shitty truck he refuses to give up. he asks you about your writing and if you’re still going to therapy and you lie and say both are going well.

you haven’t written in weeks and stopped going to therapy three months ago.

it doesn’t take long until two champagne flutes are placed in front of you and you can’t help but scoff. of course he would.

even though you didn’t feel like tonight was a night for bubbles and toasts, you grab your glass and mimic him anyway. you don’t do much for other people, but you’ll do this for him.

“to us.” your glass collides with his and you empty its contents.

—

dinner was lovely. you two reminisced on all your memories together, drank too much wine and ate too much food. he watched you devour chocolate cake and cheesecake. you laughed about how you only live once and he was less than pleased with your joke.

afterwards, he insisted on walking you home. you wanted to say that you were fine walking alone, but you’re too selfish and you wanted him around a little longer before he had to go home. you walked in silence, shoulders brushing against one another. occasionally his hand would rest on your lower back to guide you across streets or to pull you closer when strange men got too close. his touch was something you craved.

sometimes, late at night when you were alone and couldn’t sleep, you thought about his touch in other ways. your mind drifted when it skimmed down your stomach and under the covers to travel in between parted thighs. you thought about the sweat on his brow, his worn hands on your hips and his breath hot on your neck. his usual calm, sturdy voice turned more needy and soft— longing for you the way you longed for him. your name falling from parted lips to say, “darling, darling, darling.” just like the flames did. it felt wrong to think of din that way, but you couldn’t help it.

some nights you wondered if he was thinking the same thing, too.

your walk together ended all too soon. his hand removed from the small of your back and were stuffed into his slack pockets. he let out a long sigh before breaking the silence, “guess this is where i go.”

you frown. “din, you can stay the night. i have a couch you can crash on and in the morning you can go home.” you hated how you sounded like you were pleading.

his head dropped. “i gotta get home to grogu and i have work in the morning.” he sounded like he was trying to convince himself not to stay the night.

“can you at least walk me to my door?”

he silently nods and you’re happy for the small victory. the elevator ride up to your apartment is silent just like the walk home and for a moment you feel a tension. it was palpable. you swore you could touch the energy between you two.

or were you making it up?

he walks you to your door and you stop short. there’s an envelope lying on your doorstep. carefully, you approach it, nearly tip toeing it like you’re afraid there’s landmines. like the parchment would blow up in your face.

bending down, you reach for the paper and examine the outside. there’s no address, no postage stamp, nothing. it said: to my darling.

your heart sinks and you can feel din at your side. his hand curls around your forearm. “are you sure you want to open that? could be a stupid prank.” but you don’t say a word. you only proceed to open it with shaky hands. the envelope falls at your feet and you read the contents of the page. a single sentence written in blood:

i’m always watching you, my love. - r.w.

your hands shake and your crumble the paper into a ball and sink to your feet, din is there to catch you, slowly lowering your body to the ground.

all of that work you did in therapy, all the glasses of wine, all the dinners with din went out the window. you felt as small as you did that night. riley williams was alive and he knew exactly where you were. you were no longer safe. you never really were.

one thing was for sure, din was not going home tonight.

#the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandolorian x reader #the mandalorian au #pedro pascal fanfiction #the mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian #mine #moths to a flame

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vaire-gwir · 4 years

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Some Cat and Wolf fanfic I had in mind pt.4

I wanted to write why Aiden didn’t kill humans anymore, so here it is, I tried. At least it can’t be worse than that horrible attempt at smut, right? Right?

Everytime I think I’m finished with this I get new ideas and I have to write them or they keep me up at night. There is plot if you squint, still not canon, but as always, I hope it makes sense and you like it <3

Edit: Sorry I forgot the title, you wouldn’t believe how stupid I am.

***

Alps were a bit of a pain in the ass to kill, just like every other vampire. Tricky, loud, and cunning things they were, not incredibly dangerous but granted to give you a good rattle and one hell of a headache. Years ago, he shared his first kiss with Aiden after they cleaned a nest and now he thinks about it every time he's disposing of one. It's weird, cause who would think of sharing a first kiss in front of a pile of dead vampires, but it was one of his best memories.

Then again, the first time he told Aiden he loved him, the Cat was almost dead in a grimy cave, covered in blood, and Lambert was panicking cause the gash under his ribs was bad enough that no potion in the world would buy him the time to find a healer.

Toussaint didn't disappoint him: three days after arriving in Beauclair and he was already waiting for 200 easy crowns. The prospect of payment should be enough to lighten his mood, but his mind is elsewhere, namely on the black cat running around the garden he saw last night before entering the crypt where the Alp was praying on ladies and princesses. Another cat, another pair of stunning green eyes, another painful twist in his heart. He even asked the guard currently stationed outside about it and the idiot said there were no cats on the property, something about ruining the lawns or whatever, as if Lambert didn't see the animal with his own eyes.

It was the second beast with disturbingly familiar green eyes that he saw, and it's two cats more than what he had seen in months. Lambert wasn't even sure if he was hallucinating or if the boy was making fun of him when he said there were no cats. Maybe both. Is this what happens to people that go mad, they start seeing things, they hear voices, and next they're wandering in villages alone at night muttering nonsenses?

Is this what is going to happen to him, he'll start seeing cats with green eyes everywhere and people will pity him? He was already hearing voices in his dreams, this was just one step further toward insanity, and the path to get there looked suspiciously short.

Lambert picks himself and his headache up from the tomb and walks to the marble arch covering the entrance of the crypt, where an over-enthusiastic guard is waiting for him, hopefully with his money.

"So, is the beast dead? You must have been very brave!" Lambert would laugh if his bones weren't aching so much. He knows that look: he's too young to know that what witchers do has nothing to do with bravery. Even the night before with all his questions he made the job sound fascinating and charming, probably someone didn't explain to him the difference between Witchers and knights in shining armor. He was hoping to see a hero but all he got was a dusty, cranky and hallucinating witcher with the beginning of a headache throbbing in his skull. Not exactly the heroic stuff fairytales are made of. There was nothing charming about this life.

Lambert ignores the voice and grits his teeth at the sudden burst of light and sound that overwhelms him as soon as he steps onto the paved path that leads to the house. Being subjected to the creature's horrible shrieks and screeches for half of the night has his nerves fried and now everything is too loud and too close even if it's barely past dawn. He wants to hear nothing but blessed silence for the entire day or he's going to seriously hurt someone.

"I'm curious, have you been here before?" Lambert starts moving in the general direction of the mansion chasing the promise of quiet and the soldier scrambles after him. He's still staring expectantly, as if he thinks he's owed something.

It annoys him, that for one reason or the other people are gawking all the fucking time. He learned to disregard it with experience but he never fully discovered how to ignore the stares. His brothers get them too, and he knows for a fact that it often bothers Eskel, but for reasons unknown to him, Geralt never seems to give a fuck. He's slightly jealous of that talent. He'll see them next winter if he's not completely out of his mind by then.

When they finally leave behind the crypt where he just killed the Alp, Lambert has regained enough presence of mind to check the garden again, hoping to catch a glimpse of the black cat he saw earlier but it's like the feline has disappeared from the face of the earth.

The luxurious garden that surrounds the old house is perfectly still, the gardeners are not at work yet, the only note is the faint buzzing of birds. He tries to catch any sound or scent resembling the one he felt before but it's like the cat was never here. Probably he wasn't. What if there was no cat at all and his mind was just playing more tricks on him? He's not sure Witchers can go insane, he can't recall any lore on mad witchers, but maybe he'll be the first one, just his usual luck. He tunes out the noises around him, trying to detect a trail of the animal when the voice of the guard breaks his concentration again: "You have been here before, haven't you?"

Regular people seemed to have a hard time shutting up, he should know this after an entire winter with Geralt's bard, the Gods know he never kept quiet for more than 10 minutes unless he was sleeping. Maybe he even talked in his sleep, go figure. It's not like he asked Geralt.

"I've been everywhere. Listen, I'll take what I'm owed and leave. Got things to do." Lambert answers this time just to make him shut up. No one needs to know that the things he has to do include tracking down a disappearing black cat. That is if there was one at all.

"Oh, of course, you must be very busy. Here it is, though I think my Lord wanted to see you tonight, throw a feast for the Court, but if you insist you can't stay it's better to..." "I can't." Lambert takes the velvety pouch and stuffs it in his pack, eager to put some distance between himself and the rambling man before him. He knows all about feasts in Beauclair, he suffered through them enough for a couple of lifetimes already.

He's about to turn away when the guard exclaims: "Wait, I remember! You were working for Lord Launfal with the other Witcher, green eyes, very pretty thing, if I say so myself, you..." He makes a pitiful weak noise as he doubles over himself, words dying upon his lips as blood trickles from them. Lambert is on him in a second and pins him to the nearest wall, he's not thinking about anything except that he wants to hurt him. Before he knows, he's hitting him again and again, driven by some fucked up instinct kicking in cause this idiot is talking about his best friend and he has no right to do so, especially not in that way. He doesn't get away with describing the best person in his life as a pretty thing, not in front of him, not like that.

"Shut your damn mouth, you don't fucking know what you're talking about!" He can hear the faint sound of a bone breaking over the boy crying "Please," and "Stop," and spares a look at the bloody mess he made of his face. He lets go of him as if he's been burned and he sees the guard collapsing to the ground. He fucked up.

He feels like his mind is swimming and he can't focus on anything but the blood on his hands. He stares at the unconscious form slumped against the wall and takes a step back, streaks of red marking the gray stone. Lambert knows he went too far. His hands moved of their own accord when he realized that man was talking about Aiden. A pretty thing, he said. Lambert can't tell why those words were so painful, but it felt like pouring salt into an open wound.

Of all people in the fucking Continent he had to run into someone that remembered him, of course, he had to meet a guard that was here the last time he was in Toussaint with Aiden, cause apparently the universe, chaos and the Gods were having a field day of messing with him. Again.

He spares one more glance to the guard just to make sure he's still breathing, collects what he's owed and leaves in haste. When the boy wakes up and tells everyone what happened Lambert knows he won't be spared. He almost killed that stupid boy, not much he can do about it now. He just wanted him to shut up and stop talking about Aiden, the fucker didn't even remember his name.

He's past the iron gates when he finally manages to stop his hands from shaking. It scares him how dangerously good it felt for a couple of minutes to make the man shut up, it scares him to the point he just wants to forget it happened. For a short time, he felt like he had complete control over something, and that was rare for him. He enjoyed being in charge, knowing that whether that man lived or died was in his hands, it was like playing God and winning. It was like having a choice.

He may have a couple of hours before someone decides to hunt him down, which is plenty of time to find work. Before taking the Alp contract Lambert overheard in a tavern not too far from the market about an archespores problem in the valley where a certain Lord keeps his precious vineyards. With a little bit of luck he can go back to the main square and someone will point him in the general direction of this new Lord's palace. He just needs a few hours, and then he'll have the perfect excuse to stay out of Beauclair for a while.

***

Lambert prefers the nights when sleep eludes him, they're more peaceful than the ones filled with ghosts and blood, or as close to peaceful as he can get. He was never very good at meditating like his brothers, something about how his stupid brain would not shut up long enough for him to fall into a proper state of reverie. Both Eskel and Geralt never had any problem with that, he had seen Geralt kneeling in the same spot without moving until morning, absolutely unbothered by anything that happened around him, as if he was in his own world.

In a patient attempt to help him, Eskel told him once that meditation works better if you try to recall a state of peace or calm you already experienced and lose yourself in it. Peace and calm was not something Lambert ever experienced, at least not back then. Not before Aiden.

The room he's currently occupying is surprisingly comfortable, he even had a bath, but his brain still refuses to relax. Finding his next contract proved a little more complicated than he expected, he wandered around the narrow streets for a good while before arriving at the indicated house, growing more anxious by the hour, expecting someone to chase him down at any turn of the road. Luckily the man he found outside a heavily guarded black gate was the old farmer in charge of the orchard, and he was as eager as him to go back to the valley.

Lambert joined him on the trip, but he instantly disliked the place: whoever needed that much security was not just a simple vineyards owner. Thank Gods the old man was not the chatty type, and they reached the old castle in silence just before nightfall. When they arrived the farmer pointed to a small house next to the main castle, told him to find an empty room and disappeared immediately after. Lambert was grateful for the silence.

He washed the blood and the dust out of his clothes but he couldn't wash the feeling of it from his hands, his ears still ringing with the sound of some bone cracking as he hit that stupid man just for talking about Aiden.

Lambert feels weary and worn but it's not because of the vampire last night. It's not the monsters that tire him: killing is easy, but the rest, traveling, talking, living and functioning in a world where he has no place, it all leaves him drained, that type of bone-aching exhaustion that's beyond physical, it keeps you awake even if you're spent and it gnaws away at your nerves.

He still can't figure out why Aiden would go after (possibly) two griffins all on his own, the Cat was careless and a bit reckless but not completely stupid. He was pretty smart about his work, he had to be, all things considered. Aiden was the one that at the beginning insisted on how they should stick together just because some jobs were easier that way.

Besides, he was supposed to spend the last week before spring traveling north with the Caravan. There was no deep sympathy between Aiden and most of the other Cats, cause many were not particularly pleased with his decision to stop taking contracts on humans, but traveling together was still supposed to be safer. Lambert tried for days to put the pieces together but the more time he spends thinking about it, the less everything makes sense: Karadin told him he was there when it happened, but he finds it hard to believe he killed the two monsters all on his own.

Lambert remembers one winter Eskel and Coën went off to fight a pair of griffins in the mountains and they came back three days later, bloody and with a good amount of soon-to-be-scars that needed to be patched up immediately, a broken shoulder (Eskel) and four cracked ribs (Coën). He had seen what griffins can do to experienced Witchers, there was no way a Cat the same age as him disposed of two monsters like that without any serious injuries. He even had time to take the medallion! And if it was not just the two of them, how did Aiden sustain wounds that couldn't be fixed by two or three other witchers for the short time it took to get to a healer? Griffins were only dangerous to humans when they ventured past the mountains and closer to the villages, which meant they were not too far from the possibility of getting help.

His brain keeps churning an explanation, keeps conjuring up different scenarios but nothing he can think of leads to Aiden's death.

Lambert knows Aiden killed people too, but most importantly he knows why he stopped. They both found out very early in their relationship that confessing things in the dark, naked and hidden by the blankets, worked for them. They could say whatever was on their mind and come morning things were still fine between them, they could look at each other's in the eyes without shame, cause things said in the dark were like spirits disappearing with the sun, they couldn't hurt them anymore. The ghosts of their pasts and their fears had been there, and now they were gone, chased away with burning lips and soft touches. It was during one of those nights that Aiden explained why he couldn't kill humans anymore.

They were back at the inn after killing a striga but two innocents died and Lambert knows Aiden blamed himself, he could feel how shaken he was in the way his kisses were almost too harsh and he was tearing away at their clothes. Aiden tastes of something almost-burnt when he's angry, but much later, when Lambert hides his face in the crook of his shoulder, sore in all the right way even if he'll never admit out loud that Aiden fucks him even better when he's like that cause he's less gentle, the taste is gone, and only the honey remains. That's when he can start talking.

The Cat told him that he was fine with being considered a monster by everyone else as long as he didn't feel like that. He was just doing his job and it was not his fault people were too judgemental and prudish to accept that, it's not like he asked for a mage to play with mutagens and mess up his blood. He woke up one day outside of Stygga and he was too young to have any memories of how he arrived there.

He didn't remember his family, or where he was born, his first memories were of the Cat School, there was nothing before that. He liked to say he had no past, but everyone has it, and they're usually running away from it. And no future too, cause there were not many options for a witcher. Still, not his fault the same people he worked for, the same ones that begged him to get rid of a monster or paid him handsomely for killing a problematic cousin, were also the first ones to throw stones at him or ask a Lord to imprison him cause he was a danger for the town. Not so much of a danger when they needed him for their dirty deeds. But people were quick to forget and even quicker to point their fingers, and after so long Aiden couldn't find it in himself to care anymore.

He didn't feel like a monster just because they said so. But he certainly felt like a monster for killing innocents. He was taking away their choice just like a mage took away his. He was no better than the people he despised so much.

It all started when he was sent to kill Lord Darnay cause his own family decided he was no suitable successor to the name and heritage they represented. Aiden was presented with 1000 crowns to get rid of the unwanted heir, and he was not in the position to refuse. His last contracts were unsuccessful, he had run out of money weeks before arriving in town and now even his potions were running low. It should have been an easy job, kill a dumb Lord who probably never hold a sword in his life. It should have been easy, but that's not what happened.

Right after entering the royal chamber, Aiden faced a wide-eyed kid staring at him. He was no older than 7, maybe 8 years old, but he was not terrified, a little surprised yes, but not scared as everyone would be after seeing a stranger entering through their window. No one mentioned that this Lord Darnay was a fucking child! There was absolutely nothing in the world this boy could do to represent a problem, for anyone, he was barely old enough for school for fuck's sake.

The knife in his hand felt like lead rather than silver. The room was utterly silent, Aiden looked at the kid expecting him to scream, but he didn't. He simply said: "It's my turn now?" Aiden stared back disoriented, he refused to believe this kid understood why he was there.

"Uncle sent you?" His throat was not fully cooperating and he had a hard time finding the words to answer, he nodded, the dagger in his hand felt heavier by the minute. The kid sitting up on the huge bed keeps worrying a loose thread in the blue blanket above him, he speaks as if he's confessing a terrible sin. "He doesn't like me. He did something to my father but I'm not supposed to speak about it. Dad was very brave. Are you brave?"

Brave, as if! He was sent to slit his throat, that was not bravery. Brave means you have a choice, he never had one. He could choose between Ghouls and Bruxae and humans for his contracts, that's how far his decisions could go. He could pick whether to stay with the Caravan and risk being killed with his brothers or he could travel the Path alone and be killed by a monster or zealous townfolks. At best, he could decide how he dies, certainly not how he lives. No one with a real choice would turn into what he is or do what he does.

In that room with the boy, in the deep silence of the night with a sliver of moonlight illuminating their surroundings, Aiden felt like a monster. He hadn't felt that way in a long while. It was the first time he was sent to kill an innocent, all the others were different, he felt that the assholes he was sent to murder deserved to finally meet their fate. Not this time though.

A servant entered the room unexpectedly and held back the scream already on his lips. He frantically moved his gaze between the child and Aiden as he started muttering something about how Lord Havilland already killed his own brother. Finally, he understood.

He was sent to kill this kid so a rich Lord could become even richer and more powerful. He couldn't fake another hunting accident so he sent the Witcher to do his bloody job. Great, just great. Nobles and their obsession with money and titles, what did they even do to deserve all they had? Killed someone, won a tournament, led soldiers to be slaughtered in a war for a nameless King that didn't give a fuck about them? They had wealth, titles, castles, a legion of slaves and mages at their service, and yet it was never enough, they wanted more, more wealth, more slaves, more titles, more. Disgusting. They could be anything they wanted to be and yet they decided to be awful.

Aiden spared a glance toward the kid and decided right there and then that this kid was not dying because his uncle was an asshole. "Another one will come to finish my job, he can't stay here." The butler is faster than what he gave him credit to be and answered immediately: "I have a sister in Oxenfurt, she can take care of him."

"Go then. Get as far away from here as possible." True to his word, the servant took the child and was out of the door in a heartbeat, minutes later Aiden saw them riding past the southern gate. He didn't feel worse, at least and that will have to do for now. The kid will live to see another day. His uncle won't though.

#lambden #lambert x aiden #aiden x lambert #witcher lambert #witcher aiden #the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #the witcher fandom #fanfiction #fanfic #I lost a friend I lost my mind #still trash and not the sexy kind

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you-know-like-the-bird · 4 years

Text

It Gets Bad Before It Gets Worse

A/N: Right so... hello. Been a while since I last posted anything. But! Anyways! This is my little take on Deku joins the League of Villains and how that works out for him. This is only just the USJ incident, and that to not the whole thing, but that’s because I’ve still got to write the last bit (where All Might fights the Nomu) and I really wanted to post this now so... yeah.

I copied this from my word document, but tumblr just- ate up my italicised words? Like they’re still there, but nothing’s italisiced except for this author’s note that I’m typing straight out here on tumblr. I really don’t have the patience to go through this and re-work everything, so I hope it doesn’t mess with the flow of words too much.

But besides that, I hope you enjoy!

Edit: I fixed stuff.

"Kurogiri."

Shota sends out tendrils of his capture scarves and grabs onto two villains, swinging feet first through the space between them and right into a third. By all means, his attention is mostly on the b-lister villains surrounding him, but he's been careful not to let the three bosses out of sight. They haven't tried anything yet, which just mean that they're going to be more trouble later on.

"Take the brat up with you, won't you?" The man with the hands scratches at his neck, a contemplative tilt in his voice as he keeps Shota in his sights just as much as Shota keeps handsy in his.

There's warning lilt in mist-man's tone when he speaks, who Shota silently renames as Kurogiri for when he has to recount this incident for the police reports, hopefully with the villains locked up somewhere near. "Shigaraki..."

"Don't give me that tone!" The hands villain- Shigaraki- snaps, "You're not the leader of this operation. I am."

Kurogiri lets out a weary sigh just as Shota is forced to twist around to dodge a swipe of metal claws meant to dig into his torso, and regrets it immediately when he hears, "As you wish, Shigaraki."

When Shota turns back around, the Kurogiri is gone.

After the shock of, 'holy shit, this is really real' has passed, Class 1-A follows after Thirteen as they all run towards the entrance. They never quite make it there, when purple mist flickers into existence just ahead of them and starts to expands, bigger and bigger until it's like a swirly purple wall towering over them. That's not the last of it though, when Class 1-A watches a teenager who looks about their age step out from the mist.

"Is it time then?"

This is said to the owner of two yellow eyes that blink open in the mist, and voice that seems to come from nowhere and everywhere at the same time. "There was a change of plans. Shigaraki... wished to have you called in early."

It's the last bit that has all eyes watching the boy, as he in turn watches Kurogiri from over his shoulder. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Deku?"

The boy slowly turns to meet a violent red gaze, and Class 1-A hold their breaths.

For one Izuku Midoriya, it’s like the world slowly halts to a standstill. Suddenly, nothing matters much anymore, not the fact that this is the first attack he's been allowed to participate in, and that too only to watch. Not that he was nervous why Shigaraki wanted him 'called in early'. Not that he was finally supposed to get his irrefutable proof that he hadn't lied to Sensei about All Might's weakness, that he had been loyal. No, none of that matters because Izuku doesn’t even look at the crowd of hero students, just the figure right at the front, with sparking hands that's more flash than boom, for now, and an expression that seems almost surprised to see him.

Izuku looks at Bakugou in fascinated horror, "Kacchan?"

This wasn't- this wasn't how this was supposed to go. Izuku was supposed to pop in and take notes, not come face to face with his childhood bully after almost a year.

Predictably, like it always happened when Kacchan was caught off guard, his expression twists from one of surprise to anger, like how dare Izuku try to pull a fast one on him. If only someone would tell Kacchan that Izuku is just as surprised to see him as Kacchan is to see Izuku, but good luck getting him to believe you.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

"I-" There's that same adrenaline, pumping through using veins, the kind he always got when Kacchan had him by the front of his shirt and was screaming right in his face. But unlike before, where when the anger would come (‘What did I ever do to you?!’) and Izuku would push it down, he doesn't this time.

He hasn't in a long time pushed the anger down.

His eyes narrow and its hard, harder than anything Izuku's ever done, to keep his composure. His voice still trembles, threatening to betray the red-hot fury he feels curling in his gut, but he just about manages to keep that poisonous feeling contained in his hands, in his erratic breathing, but never seeping into his voice, onto his face, into his actions. "I could ask you the same thing Kacchan."

Kacchan goes to speak, give it back to him twice as hard because he never listens, does he? When Kurogiri draws a close to this verbal match of spitting bullets with a polite. "Sorry to interrupt, but me and comrades would appreciate it if you take this seriously."

Kurogiri has the kind of influence that is quiet but intense, which means people listen when he talks. Not only that, everyone realizes that he's clearly the bigger threat between being the warper and the dude who looks like literal middle schooler blocking their paths. Izuku knows rationally that this class of hero hopefuls' best bet right now would be to try and get past him and Kurogiri and to go call for help, but Izuku has enough faith in Kurogiri to handle that. Not that he can do much else, or think much else, because of the anger that just keeps building and building the longer he stands here with Kacchan's red hot glare pinned right on him, greater threat be damned. It should feel gratifying, that he's finally gotten Kacchan to look at him, not just as another thing in his way but a person, but maybe he hasn't. Maybe it had meant nothing at all to Kacchan, when Izuku Midoriya had disappeared off of the face of the Earth about ten months ago, taking nothing but the words of an angry bully with him.

Yeah, that fits the bill, doesn't it? Izuku may have known Kacchan for over 14 fucking years, but he's only ever been just another thing in Kacchan's way to step over on his way to glory. As if Kacchan noticed he was ever gone.

The only time Izuku ever gets to have Kacchan look at him again, acknowledge him again, and Izuku is just another obstacle in his way. Just like it's always been.

"We don't mean to be rude by intruding, but my comrades and I have taken the liberty of paying your school a visit in hopes of putting an end to All Might and his legacy. It seems, however, that he is not currently present."

Izuku can practically see the hypothetical steam of anger coming from Kacchan with his mouth twisted into a fearsome scowl. The boy beside him, with bright red hair that stands straight up as if cut from the face of a rock, mashes his fists together and shouts back, "What makes you think we'll just let you?"

Kurogiri only narrows his eyes, "We were not expecting you to. You are a class of foolish hero hopefuls, after all."

Izuku just about manages to tear his gaze away from Kacchan when Thirteen lifts a finger, and Izuku realizes what's about to come next. Just before he can warn Kurogiri, however, his attention snags on something else. Like Kacchan can't stand attention not being on him for even a second, him and the boy with the tall red hair have launched themselves forward, straight towards Kurogiri, though Izuku barely manages to scramble out of the way when Kacchan points one hand straight in his direction and uses the explosion to boost himself further, uncaring if Izuku gets caught in it. Probably hoping it hit him, actually.

They both manage to get what they think is a hit in and jump back, and the red head shouts, "We're not going to just let you waltz into our school to hurt All Might!"

When Kurogiri clicks his tongue, unhurt because it’d take more than that pathetic display of ego to even bother him, Izuku immediate knows that he's annoyed, but it's especially evident in his flat tone of voice when he speaks. "Very well. If we are clear on our roles." Purple mist sweeps out and covers everybody in a thick cloud. Izuku knows better than to resist it, only hoping that Kurogiri's kind enough not to drop him from somewhere high.

Izuku stumbles when he immerges from the portal, and it's all he can do not to trip and fall face first on the ground. Sensibly, Kurogiri hasn't come with him, probably still handling the handful of people left up at the entrance, because Izuku really still feels like he's going to explode at someone. Logically, he knows that it probably isn't Kurogiri's fault, that the poor man is just following orders and not much else. He may have more sense than one Tomura-fucking-Shigaraki, but that doesn't mean he's the one Sensei favors most.

Of course, speaking of the devil...

"Why did you send me up there?" Each word is bitten off and chewed before being spit out like poison. Izuku wished he could grab Tomura smug fucking face and break it over his knee.

Shigaraki’s smirk is the asshole-ish kind Izuku wished he could kick in, "What? Didn't like the surprise, brat?"

Oh ho ho, it's a very close thing Izuku doesn't just start screaming at this point. He's so angry, "That was not part of the plan."

Shigaraki scoffs, "I'm in charge, I can change the fucking plan."

If Izuku was keeping his cool before, he certainly isn't now, "You can't change it whenever you feel like it Shigaraki!"

Izuku is suddenly grabbed by the throat, and there's a terrifying moment where he wonders if this is it, this is how he dies. At the hands of who's supposed to be a comrade, with no thanks given for the certainly valuable information he'd brought to the League. He'd thought it be enough to get them to trust him, because really, what else did a quirkless loser like him have to offer? But it wasn't nearly enough, not by word of mouth alone that All Might was slowly dying of a grievous old injury that Sensei himself had given him. After all, what argument Izuku have to justify just why All Might would give that information to some random middle schooler he once saved?

But while Tomura looked like he would gladly put down his raised pinkie against Izuku's throat to complete his set of five, he doesn't yet. "Don't talk back to me like you've got any authority, brat."

Izuku's breathing has slowed to a halt, painfully aware of the fingers around his neck and the one finger that isn't, could so easily be put down and turn him to dust. But, even then, with nothing much left to lose except a mother who will now know for sure her child is dead instead of just missing, Izuku meets a single red eye peeking out from under a severed hand with his own determined green ones. Shigaraki doesn't scare him, and even if he does, like hell Izuku will give him the satisfaction of seeing the proof of it on his face.

"Are you just going stand there boss? We're not doing quite so well here." This comes from a woman who's desperately trying to keep an eye on the pro hero culling their ranks with extreme prejudice while calling back for help. But Izuku knows Shigaraki, full on expects the scoff that comes from him as he doesn't move a single fucking finger to help his 'party'. He just watches, with that hungry red gaze of his, as if all he wants is to hold the world in his hands and watch it crumble, cannot fathom why this vision of his has not yet come to fruition. As if the world should come to serve him, and only put up just enough of a challenge to make it 'fun' for him. Izuku manages to turn his head, neck still under Shigaraki's hands but as if this is the first time he's pushed the man hard enough to come close to death by decay, and watches as not a moment later Eraserhead swiftly takes out the woman who had dared to call out for help.

Shigaraki clicks his tongue, and spares a glance at Izuku, "You were told to watch, weren't you? Then watch how a real villain does it."

He pushes Izuku back roughly, leaving him to stand there with a hand rising to carefully press against his throat with the threat to it finally gone, as Shigaraki takes off straight for the pro hero standing ready for him, thinking he's prepared for someone as bat-shit insane as Shigaraki Tomura. From what little Izuku has seen, Eraser's doing pretty well so far, especially for an underground hero who specializes in stealth and springing surprise attacks onto villains from the cover of the shadows. He'd almost think that this was where Eraserhead thrives, except he knows better, can see it in the desperate way the man moves that this is far from his kind of game. No, as heroes do still surprise Izuku from time to time, Eraserhead’s probably down here trying to buy time for the students to get away, which they probably won't, not if Kurogiri's got anything to say about it.

Shigaraki grabs onto the first tendril of Eraser's scarf sent his way, and Eraser sends another only to duck under it as he manages to elbow Shigaraki right in the stomach. It's when this happens, that a flash of green against the plain brown terrain and a muffled croak catch his attention. Izuku looks to where the sound came from and sees round green eyes poking up from the edge of the raised platform, and feels his own eyes widen first in surprise, but then in panic.

Oh no.

He wonders if the girl crouched at the edge of this fight is alone, only to catch sight of something round and purple just behind her. What are these kids doing? Don't they know it's dangerous to just stand there like that, begging to get noticed by the manic villain willing to fell anyone and anything just because he finds them annoying? Don't they care that they're teacher is trying to give them a chance to get away, and they're squandering it by crouching at the edge of this fight?

The girl's gaze catches his and her own eyes widen. Probably because he's a villain too and he's obviously seen them. He looks back at Shigaraki just in time for the villain to say, "You're getting slower Eraserhead. It's hard to tell with those goggles of yours, but I've figured out your tell." He glances back at Izuku, and Izuku manages to wrangle his expression into something carefully blank. Shigaraki continues, having made sure that Izuku's watching, "Your hair falls back down in the intervals when you stop using you quirk." Izuku let's out heavy breath, because he knows Shigaraki is right, he'd noticed that too. And its then that Eraserhead's hair falls back over his face, while Shigaraki still has his elbow in a five-finger grip, and oh- Izuku knows what comes next. He tries to catch the girl's gaze again, but she's watching in horror as first his sleeve and then Eraserhead's skin starts to crumble away at the elbow. The hero jumps away, but Shigaraki's point has definitely been made.

A few of the low lifes that they most definitely picked from the streets for the sole purpose of playing cannon fodder surround Eraser again as Shigaraki carefully backs away. Eraserhead doesn't notice Shigaraki make a subtle gesture at the Nomu that has the tall beast finally move from somewhere behind him. For how big it is, the Nomu can be pretty sneaky when it wants to be, because Eraserhead doesn't notice it take position a few feet behind him as he handles the few of the street thugs still left standing.

Shigaraki has a smile in his voice, which Izuku can only tell because he sounds real fucking smug when he says, "If you think I'm the final boss Eraser, you're sorely mistaken."

And really, Izuku should have seen this coming, but he doesn't, and flinches back when Eraser turns back just a second too late, because it doesn't matter anyways when the Nomu is built to match All Might's speed. The Nomu puts the hero to the ground faster than Izuku can blink, the arm with the decayed elbow in gripped tightly with one of hand and his other holding Eraserhead’s head down. Izuku wonders how the girl and the other person with her are taking this, and if they regret sticking around for this final act, but he can't take his eyes off this scene without the fear of missing something important. It feels... wrong. Putting down a hero like Eraserhead, who only ever jumped into this fight to make sure his students had a chance, who's a great fucking hero anyways. The part of Izuku that will always be a fanboy seethes that this his own fault, that if he can't deal with the consequences then he shouldn't have made the choice to be here in the first place, but it's never that simple, not really. So Izuku watches, some part of him begging him to step forward and maybe try to reason with Shigaraki about sparing Eraserhead, but the more sensible part of him knows it's pointless. Shigaraki only ever does what he wants to, and there's a huge chance that if Izuku tries to tell him not to do something, he'll only ending up doing it just to spite him.

The Nomu slams Eraserhead's face into the concrete and Izuku let's out a shaky sigh, a sick feeling starting to churn in his stomach at the pool of blood that slowly inched outwards from where Eraser's head hit the ground. He glances back over to where the girl is and sees her staring at the scene with wide eyes, two hands clasped over her mouth in horror.

There's a flicker of something purple somewhere behind Shigaraki, which grows outwards in the air like how moss spreads over a stone wall, until Kurogiri stands there in a cloud of purplish smoke and intones, "Shigaraki Tomura."

Shigaraki slightly tilts his head to show that he's listening.

Kurogiri sounds almost apologetic, which is rare enough that Izuku's temporarily distracted from keeping an eye on the girl and the person with her that he's only caught a brief glimpse of until now. "I'm afraid that I let one student slip past. I believe he has most likely gone to get help."

Shigaraki's hands suddenly jerk up until the fingers dig into the sides of his neck, and Izuku can't help but make a face as he starts scratching them with slowly growing intensity. It's a habit of his that Kurogiri has been trying to get him to break, but has been unsuccessful so far.

"Kurogiri..." Shigaraki's voice is dark with malintent, "If you weren't the warp gate I would kill you."

Kurogiri shows no outward reaction to the threat, except the shifting of his features like a turbulent sea of purple. It makes it hard to get a read on him, without facial expression to use as a gauge of his mood, but Izuku likes to think he's gotten to know Kurogiri well enough to think he might just be the slightest bit amused right about now. None the less, familiar with the sentiment of Shigaraki being upset with him for one thing or another, Kurogiri ignores the murderous gleam in Shigaraki's eye and simply continues, "The other pro heroes will most likely be arriving soon, and we are not equipped to handle them with our... dwindling numbers. It is best if we take our leave."

Shigaraki lets out a low growl, his eyes pinballing wildly between the Nomu, Eraserhead and Izuku. "Game over, huh? Fine, we'll wrap up."

And Izuku doesn't even get a chance to relax at the prospect of Shigaraki finally being sensible for once and retreating at a fortunate time, because there's a mean look in his eye as his gaze lands on Izuku, then past him. Right over to where...

The girl.

"But I think we should leave behind a message for All Might first."

In the blink of an eye, Shigaraki has sprinted half the distant to the girl who just stands there, frozen in shock. That's when a harried cry rips from Izuku's throat as he goes stumbling after Shigaraki, "No!"

But it's too late, because Shigaraki already has his fingers splayed over the girl's face, and it never gets easier. That heart wrenching terror of the just before, a nanosecond where after Shigaraki's quirk kicks in and turns everything to dust.

Except that this time, it doesn’t kick in.

Izuku, frozen stiff and expecting a dead young girl with her head turned to dust in the air, but instead meeting eyes blown wide in terror but still very much alive, watches Shigaraki turn slowly to look behind him. His gaze stalls on Izuku just for a second but a second is enough to tell Izuku that his little outburst has not gone unnoticed, before passing over him over to where Eraserhead's face is lifted off the ground. It's nothing short of a miracle, how he's managed to look up even with the Nomu's death grip still wound into his hair, and his eyes are an angry bloodshot, but he's still here, still looking, still having saved that girl's life.

"You're so cool Eraserhead."

And finally, Izuku finds his voice, "L-let her go Shigaraki."

Shigaraki's lilting tone immediately sours back into a scowl, but he still doesn't let go. "Nobody asked you, brat."

It makes Izuku's resolve only steel, because he didn't sign up for anyone dying today except maybe a fully-fledged pro hero, "I'm not asking either, Shigaraki, let her go."

"You-" Shigaraki's angry snarl is cut off when there's a loud bang from the direction of the entrance that draws their attention. It's also at this moment that the girl flinches back, no longer frozen in fear like she had been before. Or maybe she was afraid Shigaraki would so something much worse if she had moved, which she might not have been wrong about. The girl leaps back, far enough that Izuku knows her quirk gives some sort of boost for that jump, but Shigaraki only watches her go, half his attention still on the sounds coming from the entrance.

They don't have to wait too long to find out what happened, when a figure larger than life steps into view at the top of the stairs and booms, "So fear not students! Because I am here!"

But oh, Izuku realizes with a sliver of fear even with an insurance like the Nomu to back them, All Might is not smiling.

A/N: I’m so sorry for people who didn’t want to read this and had to scroll all the way dow but I cannot for the life of me figure out how to insert a read more right now. I’ll edit this later to do that when I can.

#bnha #villain Deku #villain Izuku #Izuku Midoriya #my hero academia #Bakugou Katsuki #All Might #shigaraki tomura #League of Villains

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