#i actually wish i could’ve kept some i didn’t realize they would become rare

[sheyshen]

I’ve read it a handful of times, edited it and now subjecting you all to it, so a short post EW Gaius/WoL (though not the main wol, that’s raya) fic : some werlyt chain spoilers but other than that nothing specific.

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“Do you regret the choices you’ve made til now?”

Vincent mulled over the question Gaius had asked him that morning as he looked out over the water. The low rumble of thunder drew his eye towards a storm brewing on the horizon. He leaned on the balcony, leaning his crutch on the stone and taking a deep breath, savoring the rising winds bringing in a cool ocean breeze while he could. His leg already ached, it would be a bad night.

It was unusual for his partner to ask such things. Their eclectic group tended to keep their past to themselves, and while the pair had spoken of things like their home and family, it rarely became deeper than that. He knew Gaius struggled with the choices he’d made over the years, and he’d seen the guilt he carried, hate directed as much at himself as towards the Ascians. He had seen him coming to grips with the truth of what he had done to Eorzea, at the orders of his superiors, sure, but he had believed in what he had done at the time, and now he had nothing but doubt and a drive to make amends even if it was only on a small scale.

So when he asked the lancer such a question, Vincent had no answer for him. The moment had dragged out almost awkwardly before a knock at the door drew them both away for other matters. The question kept popping into his mind as he worked around Werlyt, moving supplies, helping Allie and the kids, checking provisions, and only needing to stop after his leg started acting up. The prosthetic had been in need of repairs for some time now, but between the final days and getting the city back on its feet he hadn’t had the time to get it looked at. He counted himself lucky that some of Cid’s crew weren’t too busy and could fix it for him. Magitek never did make sense to him.

So now he was stuck. No longer able to distract himself with busy work, and everyone else too busy to talk to. Nothing to do but actually think of an answer to Gaius’s question.

Lightning flashed in the distance, the bolts dancing amongst the clouds as it grew darker. He contemplated what the question was meant for, the wording was so vague that part of him wondered if he had meant their relationship, but if that was the case, that would’ve been easy to answer. But deep down, he knew that was likely the only thing they both were sure of.

His life before was… messy. He had spoken about losing his family and village to the poachers that roamed the shroud and of how he lost his leg, but he hadn’t told him much else. Did he have regrets? Absolutely. But would he go back and change them? He doubted it. Though much of it was painful, it also was what made him who he is today and led him to make the friends he has now. Back then, he wouldn’t’ve ever dreamed of seeing everything he had, going to the places he’s been. His road has been long and difficult, but even through it all, he likes the man he’s become.

So wrapped up in his thoughts he didn’t realize he was alone until Gaius cleared his throat. Vincent started, mentally cursing his waning reflexes. Sure, he wasn’t nearly the fighter he was prior to Carteneau, but he didn’t expect his senses to be dulling so soon after deciding to retire. He wasn’t even that old yet….

Glancing to his right, he gave his partner a smile that was meant to be reassuring, but the stormy look on his face rivaled that of the rumbling in the distance. He supposed that he wasn’t about to get out of giving him an answer that easy.

“I.” He started, letting out a breath. “No. I don’t.”

Gaius leaned on the balcony next to him, clearly in thought.

Vincent took his silence as a cue to continue, “There are plenty of things I wish I had done differently. Plenty of ways things could’ve gone better. But I don’t regret how my life has gone, even with the pain. I’ve hurt people because I thought I was in the right, for money, for revenge. But I’ve also grown past that, done good, helped people, saved them, and found people I care for that I never thought I would.” He paused, “Just as you have I’m sure.”

Gaius let out a breath. “If I had done things differently, perhaps Allie wouldn’t be alone.”

“She still has you.”

A slight smile appeared for a moment before fading, “Raya said the same when I asked her.” He didn’t continue, the pair just watching the storm rolling across the sea. The silence was comfortable, familiar, and Vincent reached over to grip the other man’s hand, threading their fingers together before squeezing.

“Then perhaps you should listen to her.” He grinned, “She is the Warrior of Light after all.”

That pulled a huff of a laugh and a hum of acknowledgment from Gaius before their attention was pulled away by a clattering of supplies falling and a squeak of surprise as one of the ironworks engineers tripped and dropped the tools she had been carrying. She looked at the pair in surprise, likely having expected the area to be empty, before gathering up her fallen gear and bolting for the G-warrior hangar. They let her go without a word, though a few raindrops warning of the imminent downpour did make them decide to head indoors.

Pushing off the balcony, Vincent used the stone to help keep balance on his one leg as he turned, finding Gaius already holding his crutch out to him. Thanking him, he secured it on his arm and gripped the handle, getting his bearings before they headed away. He paused a moment before speaking up. “I’ve never regretted my time with you.” He watched for a reaction, knowing the older man tended to keep his emotions close to his heart, unlike himself. But after having spent so much time together, he had come to be able to read him well enough, or at least well enough to notice the look that flashed across his face that made him close the distance to pull him into a tight hug with his free hand, leaning to press his forehead firmly on his partner’s and repeat what he said.

Gaius didn’t say anything, but he leaned in, mirroring, and reached up, settling his hand firmly on the back of Vincent’s neck and closed his eyes.

[6pck]

the fact that i could’ve made a lot of money off of my mh collection…

[mysterystarz]

the romance checklist:

summary: a chance meeting with kageyama has you striking up a bet to see if one of you could fall in love with the other before the year was up. cue the romance checklist, a piece of paper that molded your fate and his.

pairing: kageyama tobio x g!n reader

word count: 3.2k

genres + themes: literally pure fluff, reader is a first-year karasuno student, reader is also kind of a romantic

warnings: none

a/n: so this is my first time writing for kageyama and i know he's probably pretty out of character, so my apologies!! this was inspired off some headcannons i wrote for one of my irl friends, and this wiki-how article which i used to structure the actual checklist! to all my lovely kags simps, this is for you <3 (also to all the people who hate angst, you lucked out bc i was about to add an angst part but got lazy)

You had never thought a trip to the vending machine could be so eventful.

It had been lunch break, and you found yourself wandering towards the machine, money in hand as your eyes trailed the snacks. It had become routine to sneak away during lunch hours for this, enjoying the fresh autumn breeze as you bought your snacks. It had always given you time to think and the time to recompose yourself when you didn’t have a clue what to do.

Usually it also provided you with time alone.

That wasn’t the case today though. Standing in front of the vending machines was Kageyama Tobio, frantically pushing the button for milk with a grumpy sort of scowl on his face. From the distance you stood, you could make out his height and the way he tapped his foot continuously, as if he didn’t have the time to wait for the milk to be dispensed from the spot.

Strolling up to the spot, you stood silently next to him, watching the way he retrieved the milk from the slot wordlessly as he walked away, not even a glance in your direction.

You knew full well who he was. In fact, you could barely walk through the halls of school without hearing a murmur about the prodigy setter and his closed off ways. The girls found him intriguing from afar, and while they never dared to approach him, they all wanted to.

You hadn’t really understood what they saw in him. He was average...if not below that in academics, and he seemed to dedicate most of his time to volleyball, not caring much for other people. He didn’t seem to have many friends, and was almost always grumpy.

All of this should’ve been reason enough to avoid him, and yet you couldn’t help but be intrigued. There was something about him that was different. You just needed to find out what that was.

The next day came around, and sure enough, he stood at the machine again, toe-tapping as his milk was dispensed from the slot. This time his eyes scanned the courtyard as if he was seeking something before they finally landed on you.

You weren’t prepared for the full impact of his gaze. It was calculated and pointed, with some sort of intent that was expressed in every inch of those dark blue eyes. You weren’t put off by it.

In fact, it was charming in its own way.

“Are you looking for something Kageyama?” You asked as you walked towards him, pulling a few yen out of your pocket. “You’re staring.”

“I’m not.” He deadpanned, his eyes still trained on you as you selected a snack from the machine’s buttons. “I see you everywhere. Who are you?”

You hadn’t expected that. You knew he was observant...when it came to volleyball specifically, but never realized how it translated anywhere else. “I’m Y/L/N Y/N.”

You weren’t sure what else to say to him. Gently grabbing your snack, you politely nodded at him before leaving him behind, the thoughts rapidly accumulating in your brain. Did he notice you the entire time? Why did he ask? Did he know something? Was he planning to use you as some example to the other girls who wanted to know him?

You wish you had an answer.

Unfortunately, you couldn’t think of any.

It had been two weeks since you had met Kageyama by the vending machines. It had now become routine to expect him there during your lunch breaks, milk box in hand as he regarded your very presence with something that felt a whole lot like curiosity. Every now and then he’d offer commentary on the mundane happenings of Karasuno, or ask about you, but you weren’t sure how you could hold a conversation with just these things.

“Kageyama.” You nodded, strolling towards the machine as you always did. He whipped around almost immediately, offering a solemn nod in return, clutching his milk box.

“Y/L/N.” He murmured, taking a sip of his box.

“Have you ever thought about love?” You found yourself asking, internally screaming at the word choice. Great, now he was going to think that you were some crazy person.

“I think so…?.” Was what he offered in response. His features seemed to soften at this question though as he scrunched his brows in thought. “What type of love?”

You raised a brow at him in question. “Kageyama...what type of love are you talking about?”

“Well...I love volleyball and milk.” He shrugged. “That counts.”

“That...wasn’t the type I was referring to.” You said, suppressing the laughter that bubbled into your chest. “I was talking about the other kind.”

“The other kind is stupid.” Kageyama replied instantaneously. “There’s nothing special to it.”

You felt confusion seep into your system before you quieted it, letting your mind wander. With Kageyama’s status, you assumed that he’d at least thought of the concept at least once, although it seemed that he’d never even pondered the idea altogether!

“You’d have to feel it to come to that conclusion,” you countered, “Have you?”

“No,” he scoffed, “It’s still stupid.”

“Why?” You asked, feeling the curiosity surface. “Any specific reason?”

“Why would anyone want to dedicate all their time to another person?” Kageyama asked straight back, his gaze unwavering. “I just don’t see the point.”

You stared back at him, feeling the challenge bubble in your veins. “I bet...I can make you fall in love with someone by the end of the school year.”

At that moment, the boy in front of you looked thoroughly surprised, throwing his empty milk box at the garbage can nearby. He seemed speechless to some extent, as if he wasn’t able to process the words that had just left your mouth.

“And what happens if you can’t?” He asked, hesitantly bringing his gaze to your face. “What then?”

“I’ll buy you milk for a whole month.” You placed your hands on your hip as you kept your glare firm. “I stick to that.”

“Okay then,” he sighed, “Game on.”

With a shake of your hands, you cemented your fate.

You would win that bet. That much was certain.

“What’s this Y/L/N?” Kageyama asked, pointing at the piece of paper you held at him. “How are you going to win a bet with this?”

The two of them stood in the courtyard of Karasuno, the fresh autumn breeze rippling the paper you held in your hand. It had been a good day so far, and Kageyama had surprisingly stuck to his resolve, meeting you at the vending machine when he could’ve easily avoided you.

It was always more fun to challenge a competent opponent.

“This is the romance checklist.” You grinned proudly. “This has all the things we need to get you to fall in love.”

“How is it fair if you don’t do the checklist’s things too?”

“Well, that’s why I’m doing them with you.” You responded, already anticipating these types of questions. “I drafted the checklist off of the things I’ve observed over the years that should totally lead to feelings of love!”

“Whatever.” Kageyama said, his blue eyes scanning the paper’s contents. “How do you plan to do this?”

“We follow the steps.” You nodded. “Since I’m doing this with you, it’ll be foolproof.”

“Y/L/N...what if we competed against each other?” He mumbled. “We follow the checklist and use it against each other. Whoever falls in love first loses.”

“Do you really want to risk that?” You smirked, “That’s a bold move you’re making.”

Kageyama stood up straighter at this, the challenge burning deep in his eyes. “I’m going to win, so it won’t be an issue.”

“Suit yourself,” you grinned. “I’ll be winning this anyways.”

He simply smirked as he looked down at the paper, the promise of a challenge fresh and bright between them.

STEP ONE: MEET SOMEONE

After a long time, you had finally gotten some free time away from schoolwork and the obligations that pinned you down. It was a rare occurrence with the amount of pressure that the college prep class placed on you, and you intended to make the most of it.

You found yourself on the pathway of a cafe you used to frequent in the summer with your friends. It had always been a place to collect your thoughts and let your worries float away with every sip of one of the immaculately crafted beverages that they offered there. You felt your lips twitch in an involuntary smile at the memories.

“Y/L/N?” You heard a voice call out, a shocking contrast to the normal chattering you heard within the shop. Looking up, you were met with Kageyama’s eyes, narrowed and confused as you sat at the table frozen. “What are you here for?”

“It's a break for me,” you shrugged, “I come here all the time. I haven’t seen you here before.”

“They have good drinks,” Kageyama replied bluntly. A few beats of silence passed between them, with neither of them knowing what to add to the conversation.

“You can sit down with me.” You offered, gesturing to the empty seat across from you. “The more the merrier.”

He didn’t question this as he slid into the seat, fingers drumming on the table as he looked at the window. From your point of view, it was almost picturesque the way he managed to appear. His blue eyes were focused on the trees outside, and his posture was ever so casual and relaxed as he sat there, as if he had no other care in the world.

It was unfair how model-like he managed to appear, even despite the fact he wasn’t trying.

Ah. Perhaps this is what the girls at school noticed.

Once the drinks arrived at your table, the two of them drank in comfortable silence, admiring the flavors on their tongues as their surroundings continued on as normal. You didn’t feel the need to contribute anything to the silence, finding it calming in its own right.

“So Kageyama, are you feeling anything yet?” You teased, setting down your half-empty cup.

“No.” He admitted, setting down his drink as well. “I am supposed to?”

“Well technically no, but it’d be good if you did.” You chuckled, finding amusement in the cluelessness of his ways. “Step one of the romance checklist: meet somebody.”

“We already met though.” He countered, “How does this count as anything?”

“Well, we just encountered each other out of nowhere.” You smiled, “That counts as a meeting in my book.”

He wrapped his mind around this information, nodding solemnly. “I guess so then. I still don’t feel anything.”

“Neither do I.” You said, willing the slight butterflies in your stomach to subside. It was really nothing. This was simply a chance meeting, nothing more than luck and fate that had you encounter each other today of all days.

You shouldn’t have been affected this quickly. You felt far too warm, far too...fuzzy, for a meeting of chance. It was simply far too intimate.

Well, it seemed that Kageyama had gotten the one upon you at this stage.

You’d beat him next time. You knew you would.

STEP TWO: FLIRT

“You look good today Kags,” you smirked, feeling a sense of satisfaction creep up in your veins at his flushed cheeks,

Over the course of the weeks spent together, you had been able to learn more about the mysterious boy in front of you and had even formed a friendship of sorts. For starters, he was flustered very easily, which is why you decided to make your move so early in the morning.

“I look like how I do every day, dumbass!” He growled, the red deepening in his cheeks when you merely winked in response.

Ah yes. He tended to insult those he befriended. That was yet another endearing thing about the boy in front of you.

“No, something is different today,” you commented, “Did you do something with your hair?”

“No,” he frowned, the flush never subsiding from his cheeks. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“I’m just saying genuine things you know.” You laughed, punching his shoulder casually. “Besides, I think I’m succeeding so far.”

“Succeeding? This is that stupid checklist again, isn’t it?” He sighed. “Step two: flirting. What is the point of this again?”

“It’s to show interest.” You remarked. “Besides, if you want me to fall for you, you’re going to at least have to act like you’re interested in me. I know it’s working on you so far.”

“No it’s not!” He yelled, although the defense was half-hearted. You knew he was merely putting up a front. You could tell it from his body posture alone.

You had the upper hand right now.

You waved him goodbye as you entered the Karasuno grounds, climbing the stairs to reach your class as he walked in the opposite direction. Even if you had the upper hand right now, you knew that you had to be on-guard the rest of the day.

If there was one thing you knew very well in the time you had spent with Kageyama, it was that he was extremely competitive. There was no way he’d ever go down without a fierce fight, especially when a month’s worth of milk was on the line.

You had been absolutely right to doubt him.

When lunchtime rolled around, he stood at the vending machine like he always did, leaning against it casually as he waited for you, his focus placed on the entrance.

The first thing you noticed was how calm he was. There was none of his usual frantic energy or the practiced insults that you threw back at one another. He simply stood there, content, as he watched you make your entrance.

The second thing you noticed was how an unconscious smile crept onto his face when you waved at him and slipped away the minute your eyes darted to his mouth. He sipped his milk casually, although you knew that internally, he was definitely scheming.

He could be a gremlin if left untapped.

You were about to purchase your snack in silence, thinking about all the ways he could win against you when you felt his hand on your shoulder. Turning around, you saw him holding out a container of your favorite snack, handing it to you wordlessly.

What?

“I thought I would get it today,” he shrugged, taking a sip of his milk. “You’ve bought me milk sometimes. It’s only fair.”

He didn’t consider it much of a big deal, but you felt your heart begin to accelerate in its pace at the thoughts that came flying into your head.

He had paid attention to your favorite snack? He had actually cared about when you bought him milk?

He noticed all of this?

“You...have a nice smile.” He mumbled, a flush rising onto his cheeks once again. You felt yourself fluster a bit at the compliment, not used to hearing it that often.

“Uhhh thanks.” You exhaled, not knowing how to respond to such an out-of-the-blue remark. “Your smile looks a lot like the Cheshire cat you know.”

For a moment his face was contorted into an expression of horror before he laughed a bit, the low chuckles sending heat straight to your cheeks.

Damn it. His laugh was adorable.

It was a low chiming sound, but it still managed to uplift your spirits in the brief time that you heard it. It was absolutely perfect.

You’d like to hear it again if you could.

A small smile was on his face as he looked to the ground, thinking about something while you took the time to really look at him. Behind the stone exterior, was someone talented, clueless, and amusing in every way you could possibly imagine.

You noticed how his posture mirrored yours, and the way how he smiled when your eyes finally met his own.

Damn it! He got the one-up on you. Again.

STEP THREE: GO ON THRILLING DATES

“Tobio! Let’s go on this one!” You yelled as you dragged him towards the large rollercoaster that caught your eye.

It was a beautiful Saturday with the most perfect weather. Sunny skies met a fresh breeze as you dragged Kageyama around the amusement park you had insisted on going to together. He kept with your quick pace as you went from ride to ride, never once letting go of his hand.

If anything, you were more confused why he didn’t comment on the fact that you had been holding hands that long. Rather he silently followed you from ride to ride, occasionally commenting on how small it looked for them.

From where you stood, the rollercoaster looked positively incredible with the multiple loops and drops in its track. This certainly fit the bill for thrilling. Maybe Kageyama could finally agree to ride this one.

“Y/N, do we really have to do this one?” He asked, his gaze not tearing away from the ride. “Doesn’t it look a bit too small for us?”

“Well if it’s too small, then we can still ride it as a joyride, don’t you think?” You grinned as you shoved him into the line of the coaster. Soon enough, it was your turn as you were ushered into the seats while the employees strapped you and Kageyama into the rollercoaster.

The wait was excruciating, with every second that passed sending a wave of anticipation and adrenaline through your system. Looking to your side, you saw Kageyama’s face, which was composed, even though his fingers drummed rapidly on the bar.

Was he nervous?

Hesitantly, you reached to clasp your hands together, relishing in the feeling of your palm on his as the rollercoaster suddenly began moving, bringing you up the tall lift hill.

“Tobio, are you okay?” You questioned as you neared the top, the grip he had on your hand tightening ever so slightly.

“I’m fine!” He yelled, just as the roller coaster fell over the lift hill, sending them into a plummeting drop.

You felt the exhilarating feeling of soaring as the ride propelled you forward, shouts of glee leaving your mouth ever so often. On the other hand, all you heard from Kageyama was the occasional shout of horror when they encountered yet another drop on the track, the grip he had on your hand deathly tight.

“Tobio! You’re afraid of rollercoasters?!” You shouted as you were guided into a loop.

“No I’m not!” He shouted back, shutting his eyes when he was finally upright again. “They just make me feel like I’m about to die!” When he opened his eyes, they first found yours in a look that was both petrified and fond. “I think I lost the bet!”

“You did what?!” You yelled as the wind rippled in your ears again.

“The bet Y/N! I think I’m in love with you!” He yelled. “I thought I should tell you before we die!”

You felt your heart soar at the words that had just been exchanged, a testament to the budding feelings you had felt for months around him.

“We’re not going to die.” You sighed as the ride finally slowed, feeling exhilarated as you smiled at him. “I love you too.”

Stepping off the rollercoaster, Kageyama was more silent than anything, red flush adorning his cheeks as you massaged soothing circles onto his hand. “We both lost it in the end.” You laughed.

“I think it was worth it,” he chuckled, the beautiful chime, showing you that he meant every word.

©mysterystarz all rights reserved, please do not plagiarize, translate, or modify my fics in any way even if credited

taglist (bold cannot be tagged): @moi-bunni @kousukii @littlecatfairy @iwasunshine @kawaii-angelanne @haikyuutothetop @dearkousei @catchmewiddershins @perqabeth @sunarinluvr @elektrosonix @milktyama

reblogs are very appreciated <3

[funtimebunnyblog]

I'M BACK!!! 🥰😍❤ Did you all miss me? I'm happy to say that I've finally gotten some WiFi where I'm currently living and updates are gonna try to be more steady here in the future but I can't make any promises because I get very busy with my work 😅😇 Please continue to bear with me!

In other words, a while back I wrote the OG version of this little short fic on A03 but I realized that I had never posted it here! 😱 Nevertheless, I decided to write the Part 2 to this and then decided to remaster that first part before posting it here! 🙂🙂🙂 I'm thinking about turning this into a little mini series 🤔🥰

Anyways, I'll stop rambling! Please enjoy! 😚

Pillarroomates (Chapter 1: Roommate wanted)

(This is dedicated to Dagdoth and Sureynot; 2 of the best bad influences I could ever ask for 🥰😍❤)

The steady click-clacking of keys filled the pleasant silence of the little kitchen, Kars typing away on the laptop before him at the table.

It was just a little after noon, a time where he usually put down his work for a brief session to sit back in silence and enjoy a cup of coffee, or maybe a mug of tea depending on his mood, with whatever baked-good had been whipped up recently. Today however, he chose to cut his little break out of schedule completely to get a jump on the deadline of the month that he was currently picking away at.

Hunched over, eyes glued to the screen, one could've swore he was a living statue perched like that so quietly if it weren't for his typing fingers.

The sweet smell hanging in the air came much closer as Wamuu strode over to the table, a soft smile was painted across the mans lips as he placed an oven fresh cookie on a plate down next to the mug of black tea his Master was letting steep at his side.

"Thank you, Wamuu." Kars said quietly, watching the blonde depart in his peripheral vision for only a beat before regaining his sharp focus on the sea of numbers staring back at him.

Kars had his own room with a desk to work in of course but he always found himself enjoying doing work down here this time of day. The heavenly smell of the kitchen when something was being baked and the pleasant background noise of the radio chiming softly, sometimes accompanied by Wamuu humming along, was something sort of relaxing to Kars.

Relaxing around here tended to be something rare too, as there never seemed to be a dull moment in the lives of the Pillarmen these days.

Not in this neighbourhood, no.

The younger man hummed in response, heading back to the stove to finish scraping fresh cookies off the pan to place on a rack to cool. He was sure Santana would make an appearance soon to try one, with the lovely smell filling the air and all.

Santana could never stay asleep (as heavy of a sleeper as he had the tendency to be) holed up in his room when there was something yummy being cooked.

The times where he appeared the quickest was when Kars flicked on the coffee machine first thing in the morning, the red-head manifesting at his side at the very first spew of hot caffeine never failed to nearly give him a heartattack; especially when it was 5 in the morning in a dark kitchen.

Kars' head lifted, cocking an eyebrow as there suddenly came a knock at the front door; three evenly spaced thumps on the wood. The thought of another complaining neighbour was the first thing to cross his mind, making him sigh as he moved to get up from his chair.

"PIZZA'S HERE!!!"

The sounds of heavy footfalls coming at a rapid speed from down the hallway accompanying the cry stopped him in his tracks.

The plum-haired man grimaced, Wamuu glancing over his shoulder with a frown, as none-other-than Esidisi sped by; the one hand clutching the towel around his waist was the only thing keeping it from blowing away completely.

Despite only catching a glimpse of his speedy companion, Kars didn't miss the fact that the other was sopping wet and trailing water.

Esidisi had simply lept out of the shower the second he heard the knock at the door, leaving with only a towel (just barely even) and the foamy suds that were still clinging to his hair and his body.

No doubt about it, he was dripping all over the place.

And all over his clean floor too.

Kars clicked his tongue, more than tempted to sigh again.

"Really, Esidisi?" He called out to the other.

It was hard to tell whether he was more displeased with his state of soapy undress or the fact that the oldest Pillarmen had gone and ordered yet ANOTHER pizza this week with only God-knows-what on it.

Sure, he the others found themselves actually partaking in "Human food" casually these days. Wamuu even went so far as to teach himself how to cook as a hobby to fill time around the house when he wasn't going to the Gym or to work, but Esidisi had become something of a strange enthusiast on the matter.

Some people in this world got a little riled up over something as simple as Pinapple being added as a topping on a pizza but Kars had a feeling those people would have an absolute fit listening to Esidisi's phone order of a multi-fruit pizza (consisting of: oranges, apples, watermelon and strawberries) with cheese, olives and pepperoni.

He was starting to wonder if his longtime companion was simply doing it just to see how far he could push a Pizza place with his barrage of odd orders until they yelled at him or worse, barred him completely from the place.

His question was only met with laughter. "I decided to ask for Mac and Cheese and Jalapeños on it this time!" Esidisi called back, voice echoing off the walls, as he finally reached the front door.

Wamuu's nose crinkled at the very sound of that, choosing wisely to direct his attention to his cookies once more.

Kars decided to follow suit and do the same with his own work.

He supposed it wasn't really his problem, therefore; he shouldn't say anything.

☆☆☆

The advertisment had been a strange one for sure, but really, you had no choice but to at least look into it. It never hurt to try and you were already desperate enough as it was.

Apartments and open housing in the area was becoming a rarity at best these days, this busy time of year didn't help things either, and you had been scouring the internet for every opportunity or opening there was to move in with someone in this portion of the city.

Sadly, you had turned up empty handed quite a few times.

The last one you had looked into had been great; a nice building, nice seeming people, decent budget; but alas, the people who put out the advert took it down just a day later.

They had decided to give the opening to a close friend of theirs who wanted to come across the country and live with them instead.

You had been starting to consider checking the complete other side of the city and trying to squeeze yourself in somewhere there or maybe even just going with the option of moving cities completely! The hassle of finding a place was just becoming too much until... this one happened to pop up.

☆ Roomate requSWIGGITY SWOOMATE, WE NEED A ROOMATE!!11!!!1!

We are Four Men seeking out a Human roomate to live with us in our rented house.

4 bedroom, 1 bath, 1 kitchen; upstairs, downstairs and basement.

Location: Western side of the city, 929 Bizzare av.

Rent and chores are divided equally among us.

Requirements as followed:

• Must be a CLEAN Human.

• Human must not bear the surname of "Joestar" under ANY means necessary.

•Must be actively working and have claims to have the ability to hold their job.

• Must be willing to contribute to the household via chores and yard work when necessary.

• must be CUTE!!!

• Mus

•

• Must like llf6io78fjjl0

•

• Jo9sjw6jnsjej27ebeolu

• Jsjsij wkk d18kkjs lkdjsjsns52jsjjsnend2njsmdv 6272jsndbdhs2672 jd Djjsija bsij eeskdnne9s782728 jd bjejrn rnusjjsj

• the human must not be loud

• It would be most appreciated if the Human was a mannered person, who holds appreciation for similar hobbies we do. -W

•

Ask within to apply! ☆

You couldn't help but wonder if whoever had written this advert had been drunk at the time by looking at the grabbed mess that took up half the page.

Better yet, you could only hope this was a real advertisement and not some sort of stupid prank.

Either way, you were determined to find out today and claim this oppertunity before anyone else got the chance.

Glancing down at the print out you had made of the ad at the Library, you sighed as you kept going down the street. You had been walking all morning and were beginning to wish you had the foresight to pack a snack or a drink for your seemingly endless sojourn for this supposed place.

There was no picture put onto the advertisement, even a proper description of the place would've been nice, and finding a direct address wasn't exactly a piece of cake to you.

Nonetheless, you kept going. Stopping at every house you passed in hopes to spot a matching address; finding nothing but different numbers and barking dogs tethered in yards.

With every different number meeting your eyes, the possibility of this just being a fake ad just kept growing and growing in your mind.

You were even starting to consider just giving up entirely when, at last, there it was. "292" the numbers were bolted to the front porch, the 9 starting to tilt to one side.

It seemed nice enough. The lawn was well kept, the walkway however looked as if it needed to be redone. The building was a sunbleached blue, probably a nice clean periwinkle once upon a time, but now leaning a tad white and staring to flake. The place was definitely in need of a touch up.

This was the place, now if someone was Home to even just talk to you about this ad that would be great.

You gathered up the courage to leave the sidewalk and start up the overgrown walkway, the wood of the porch whined under your feet as you stepped onto it. A couple of chairs, a book carelessly left behind in one, a little cage sat all by its lonesome in the far corner, and a big unmissable stain (probably coffee) caught your eye on the wood.

The word "Pillarmen" was scrawled on the name card over the mail slot of the front door.

A strange surname, you had never heard of it before, but it must've been safe to assume that it belonged to someone here. Presumably one of the men who had made this advertisement in the first place.

With only a moments hesitation, clutching the print-out in hand, you reached out and rapped on the door hard with your knuckles, then stood back and waited.

Silence... You took the opportunity to fix your appearance slightly, suddenly becoming a little self-conscious, smoothing out your shirt before clasping your hands behind your back neatly and putting on your best smile.

First impressions were important, most especially a first impression made at the door after all.

There came the sounds of voices, too muffled for you to hear through the walls, followed closely by the unmistakable thundering of footsteps coming closer and closer from within.

Finally, the door flung open.

You felt your eyes go a little wide, the smile drained from your face as you craned your neck back slightly to meet the gaze of the very tall and very muscular dark-skinned man that now stood before you.

Belatedly, as your eyes followed the droplets of water that were dripping off him, trickling down every inch of his muscular body and pooling at his feet, you realized he was practically naked; clutching only a fluffy white towel around his waist.

The towel didn't look nearly as fluffy and white as his hair, however.

"Uh--" Your tongue swole in your mouth as you both found yourselves staring at one another, seemingly sharing a similar dumbfounded moment.

He blinked owlishly.

"You're not the Pizza delivery." He said matter-of-factly, breaking the tense silence that had fallen between the two of you.

Your head shook violently, broke from your sudden stupor, pulling out the slightly crumpled piece of paper out for him to see.

"Uh-- I--... N-No! I'm not-- I'm uh.... here ab-about the-- the roomate ad...?" You sputtered, the words felt as garbled as alphabet soup falling off your tongue, you felt a nervous sweat beading on your skin under your clothes as it hit you for a second time that wasn't wearing any. "Oh! If uh-- this is a bad time I-- I can come back later!"

His face lit up suddenly, eyes shimmering like sapphires. "Oh!" He cried. "I forgot about that!"

The massive man turned, calling back over his shoulder deeper into the apartment.

"Kars! There's a Human here, they saw our advert!"

You happened to be so gobsmacked, still reeling from the slight shock of the very first of your encounter, you hadn't even noticed he distinctly used the word "Human" there.

"What?!"

You couldn't see past the mans hulking figure but you could very well hear the scraping of a chair in the distance, followed by more thundering footsteps heading towards the door.

You blinked as yet another larger-than-life sized man made his appearance, pushing past the first with a frown. The both of them looked almost comically squashed where they stood taking up the whole doorway.

This man was just as tall and as muscular as the first. His skin was like ivory, framed by dark cloth wrapped from his neck to the top of his head with only a tuft of deep purple hair dangling precariously out over his pointed nose.

More importantly, very much unlike the first, this one was fully clothed.

Clad in a dress shirt that matched his hair, slightly unbuttoned to just give you a peak of the buldging muscles he had underneath and the sleeves rolled up to the elbow, neatly pressed black dress pants and house shoes.

Kars blinked in surprise as he caught sight of you at last, eyes scanning over you. He honestly hadn't expected someone to come to their door about the advertisement they had put out so quickly, they had only put it out less than a day ago.

If anything, by the way it had turned out, he was surprised someone responded to it at all.

"Please, come in." Kars told you, making his best attempt to save this lousy first impression.

His surprised look was short-lived, turning sharp as he directed it onto Esidisi. The other man smiled sheepishly, turning and retreat back to the bathroom to finish his shower without the pizza he had left it for...

☆☆☆

☆Previously...☆

Kars hummed, reading over the advert for a 4th time with pursed lips.

He had listed all the necessary information about them and the living situation and even put down a few requirements to set the bar for any Human who would happen to want to apply.

However, even with the ground rules set, it still just seemed a little too bare to him.

"Hmm," Kars peered over his shoulder towards the living room doorway; he swore he could hear more of the crunching of the flaming hot cheetos Esidisi was enjoying rather than the actual program he was watching. "Is there anything specific you would like to add to this before I post it?"

"Shay they mush be cute!" came the reply though a mouthful of spicy junkfood. Kars could only hope he wasn't getting crumbs all over the couch again, not to mention getting too handsy with the T.V remote eating those things...

"That isn't what qualifies as a 'requirement', Esidisi..." he sighed.

The other swallowed, now blessed with the ability to speak much clearer; the crinkling of the cheeto bag hit Kars' ears next.

"Well excuse me for having standards." He heard his oldest companion grumble, drowned out by the crunch of more food.

Wamuu's head peered out of the kitchen, the pie he was just about to place in the oven cradled in oven-mit hands. He had decided to try his hand at fudge pie this time, having mastered apple so quickly.

"It would be nice if the Human were a Warrior as well," he said, disappearing from Kars' sight again as he went back into the kitchen, carrying the pie to the awaiting oven. "Or perhaps if they were interested in going to the Gym or baking as I do..."

Kars sighed, "Wamuu, I understand you would like someone to train with but this--"

"The Human must not be loud."

The Pillarman practically jumped out of his chair, the tiniest yelp escaping his lips as he swiveled his head to find none other than Santana looming over him. The sheet lines imprinted in the others face indicated he had just arisen from a deep sleep; most likely venturing out of his cave and into the kitchen to see what Wamuu was up to.

Even after thousands of years, he still couldn't get used to the youngest Pillarman sneaking up on him.

It probably didn't even count as "sneaking" anyways as Santana was just so naturally quiet he just happened to go unnoticed until he spoke up.

Kars opened his mouth to make an attempt to speak again, only to be cut off one more time as Esidisi finally made his own appearance; leaning over the purple-haired man to see the advert in the works.

"See, this is all wrong." Esidisi told him, frowning at the screen. "This is too formal! If we're going to get someone at all, we need to grab their attention somehow. Here, I'll fix it!"

The other practically clamored over him, cheeto bag tucked under arm as he reached over to type on the computer, deleting the majority of the title Kars had written out and already replacing it with one of his own creation.

Kars belatedly realized the others' hands were still coated in hot cheeto crumbs, smudging the keys of his pristine computer with imprints of red and orange as he typed away.

"Esidisi, stop this at once!" He commanded, trying to push him at arms length, only to be met with a hand pushing back and smooshing against his face. The smell of spicy cheese flavoring hit his nostrils, only fueling his fire. "This is my work computer! I'm the one writing this advertisement!"

Santana merely stood back, watching the two elder Pillarmen fight over the computer in silence. Esidisi was pushed by Kars into the keyboard a handful of times before their focus was solely on one another and no longer the ad.

"Get your grubby hands off me!" Kars growled as the other straddled him in the chair, his face now smudged like his keyboard. They kept pushing on one another, a clumsy slap war already underway, obscenities and curses getting mangled as they argued back and forth.

"You never let me--"

"I told you that--"

"I wanna do it! Just let me--"

Santana peered down at the computer curiously, uninterested in watching the display before him any longer.

The red-head typed out his own request before picking up the device and carrying it to the kitchen for Wamuu to see and whatever he wished; Santana ignored the sound of two bodies toppeling out of the chair and hitting the floor as he left.

Kars didn't even get to see the ad (or rather; the remainder of what qualified as an advert) before it was posted online by Santana.

[judediangelo75]

Crushed

Okay, so I mentioned an a random post that I wanted to show the two halves that make, well her.

A painfully timid and skittish side (which mainly developed when she started living with her mother when she came to London. While she can hold her ground against her a bit more, she still fears her mother) and the coldhearted side (which developed at Hogwarts, where all the issues, tragedies and so on harden her).

I was on my Wattpad where I can a collection of Judith and Talbott stories (though there’s not much backstory or structure on there) and this story definitely would show that timid side of her. I tweaked it so it can be better than what I have posted over there.

Just to be clear: This side DOES exist. It’s her most vulnerable side of her. The reason it’s not shown is because Judith doesn’t like showing that side of her. Where she feels like a piece of glass that can break at any second.

She struggles with anxiety. She doesn’t like having too many eyes on her, she feels like people are constantly watching for any mistakes like her mother and exploit it. It gets pretty bad to where she gets anxiety attacks (she usually runs and hides out for awhile until it’s over. Like I said, she doesn’t like showing this side of her, and WILL NOT share this side unless you pry it out of her).

While she doesn’t show it often, she does talk peoples’ words to heart at times. Which doesn’t help her low self esteem.

She does her best to find coping mechanisms to help over the years and does build genuine confidence. But it takes time.

Alright there, you have a back of backstory of that side of her.

Just FYI, this is just to show that side of her (like if her more dominant side; because usually when you push her, that cold side would seep through a bit. You would hardly ever see her skittish)

Okay, I rambled on enough. ON WITH THE STORY!

(Judith Harris)

"There goes Demented Harris," I heard someone whispered to their friend before they broke out into snickers as I walked out of my Transfigurations class. I just kept my head down and walked past them. 

Sometimes I think that coming to Hogwarts was a mistake.

Ever since the incident with my brother years ago, everyone suspects that I'll be just like him. 

Become hellbent on finding the Cursed Vaults, getting expelled, and disappear. Never to be heard from again. 

I have broke a few curses since my second year but I stayed pretty sane. I’m a good student and sought to become a Healer when I graduate. I don’t plan on dropping off of the face of the Earth...

Even though I’m sure nobody would miss me if I did...

I sighed. I would’ve thought some people would at least be a bit grateful for what I’ve done for them, for the school, thus far. But like my mother always said, I’m asking for too much in life. 

It’s fine though. If I can't find love and appreciation in people, then I can in magical creatures at least. 

"Miss Harris?" I blinked, coming out of my thoughts to look down. Professor Flitwick smiled up at me once he saw he had my attention.

"Good day, Miss Harris," he greeted. I gave a shy smile and nodded, whispering a soft hello.

"If it’s not too much trouble, if you're free, I was wondering if you can assist me in a class for first years. One of my top students already agreed to help, but I would love one of my favorites to join in on the lesson," he said. My smile widen a bit before I nodded once more, following the small man to the Charms classroom.

There were times I wished I joined Ravenclaw. I enjoyed spending time with the ex-Dueling Champion. He was one of the few people who treated me with kindness. He didn’t see me as my brother, but for me.

I loved to help him, when it’s for tutoring, helping for the younger students or even for helping the Frog Choir whenever he needs extra help (he’s disappointed that I didn’t actually join, but settled for this arrangement).

I even spend my birthday, which was also his, with him. Something I haven’t done since Papa died.

I let out a mental sigh. But I wasn’t a Ravenclaw. Which might as well be a blessing, seeing how I have an easier time avoiding him.

"Ah, here we are!" I almost missed Mr. Flitwick's delightful cheer when we entered the classroom. All I could focus on what the feeling of my blood going cold when I saw who was the other teaching assistant. 

Talbott Winger...

I quickly ducked my head when he turned to look over in Mr. Flitwick and I's direction. How did that saying go?

Speak of the devil and he shall appear? Whoever said that was on something...

"I hope we didn't keep you waiting, Mr. Winger," Mr. Flitwick said as he hopped up on his tower of books. From the corner of my eye, I saw Talbott give him a small smile.

"Not at all Professor. What will we be helping you teach today," he asked. As Professor Flitwick explained today's lesson, I stood quietly a few feet away from Talbott, trying to make myself as invisible as possible. Flitwick pointed to the basket of feathers and had us place one at each seat. I remained silent as I handled my task from one side of the room.

I developed a crush on Talbott when he helped me become an Animagus. To this day, I don't know why he agreed to help me. Maybe because I have access and knew things that he didn't? 

Either way, I couldn't help but to fall for him.

He just seem so handsome to me. From his neat, slicked back hair to his beautiful red eyes. 

I appreciate the fine art of sarcasm, which he seems to be a master in (next to me of course). I find him hilarious whenever he’s feeling sassy or playful.

 Helping him find his mother's necklace made me realize that there is a beautiful heart and creative mind that he hides under that aloof and unapproachable exterior. 

Which made me fall faster. 

The smile that spread on his face when he said that we were friends just melted my heart in a helpless puddle of love...

But I wouldn't really go as far we were "buddy-buddy". More like acquaintances, hell I'll be lucky enough to call us that even. I would see him around, maybe give a wave. Half of the time he rarely sees it though, making me look awkward in the process...

I don't know why I try to get his attention. It doesn't matter because I know he doesn't feel the same way about me. I remember his reaction when I confessed to him, clear as day.

--------------------------------------------

Flashback

"Rather than erase pre-existing memory, it might be easier for you if you tell Mr. Winger a new piece of information. Something that he didn't know before and won't forget, then use the Memory Charm to erase that memory," Flitwick suggested. I heard Talbott made a noise of agreement. I turned to find him sizing me.

"I'm okay with that. If you're just gonna erase my memory of it, you might as well tell me an interesting secret, Judith," Talbott suggested, a hint of mischief dancing in those red eyes. I bit my lip and shyly glanced at the Ravenclaw boy. Maybe I can confess my feelings and see how he feels about me...

"Th-Then this might be a g-good opportunity to tell y-y-you that... I-I-I fancy you, Talbott..." Flitwick and Talbott looked at me in shock.

"Oh my!" Flitwick gasped. I felt my face burn with embarrassment and shame as Talbott looked anxiously at me.

"Wh-what? Are... are you serious," he exclaimed. I rubbed my arm sheepishly, waiting for him to say more.

"Why? I mean... er..." I felt a bit of dread build in the pit of my stomach. Was he surprised? Or was he uncertain on how to let me down gently?

"Thank you," he finally said, though it came out more like a question. I buried my burning face in my hands.

"This probably wasn't the right time..." Or any time for that matter. 

The boy rarely looked in my direction, why would I even think he would express some kind of interest in a witch like me?

"Ahem, perhaps now would be a good time to try casting Obliviate..." I never agreed with Professor Flitwick more. I quickly pulled out my wand, pointing it at Talbott.

For a moment, I could’ve sworn a look of protest in his red eyes, but didn’t want to dwell on it too much.

Talbott was not leaving this room with that memory, not if I can help it.

After casting the spell, Talbott looked lost then a little frustrated, like he was struggling to remember something.

"What do you remember, Talbott," I asked as I withdrew my wand. I needed to know if the spell worked or not so I determine if I should go into hiding for the rest of my time at Hogwarts...

"I remember you choosing to cast Obliviate on me, then... nothing," He replied. I let out a sigh of relief.

"That means Obliviate worked," I cheered. Talbott looked at me suspiciously.

"Now you've gotten me curious. What did you tell me," he asked. 

Ha! You're hilarious if you think I'm repeating that situation twice. I'd sooner jump into the Black Lake.

"I'll tell you later," I smirked. By later, I mean never. 

Like ever. 

He returned the smirk.

"I'm going to hold you to that..." Over my dead body, Winger...

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Ever since then, only two people know of my crush on Talbott. 

Professor Flitwick and Penny. 

I'm pretty sure he forgot about that whole situation and I'm more than grateful for it. I wasn't gonna confess again back then and I'm not looking to confess now.

Once the classroom was set up, the first years filed in and took their seats. Professor Flitwick introduced both of us to the class. As Flitwick went over the basics of the lesson, Talbott turned to look at me. I almost jumped out of my skin.

"How are you, Judith," he asked, a small smile tugging on his lips.

"I-I'm o-okay... and yourself," I stuttered. Judith, words! Use them!

"I'm doing good... I must admit, being here together brings back memories," he said. I fidgeted, already knowing what he was implying.

"O-oh," I asked, trying to play dumb. He looked me in my eyes.

"Yeah, where we came to Flitwick to learn the Memory Charm... I'm glad you talked me out of using it on Merula by the way," he admitted, his smile growing. I felt a blush blossom on my cheeks. 

Gods, why is he so handsome?

"It's not a problem, Talbott," I said softly, looking down so he wouldn’t see my red face. He hummed before saying,

"You know, you never told me what you said to me when you erased my memory.”.

"Miss Harris, do you think can come and demonstrate the proper stance and help the class correct their stance?" I darted away to help Professor Flitwick. The Gods are looking out for me today.

------------------------------------------------------

(Talbott Winger)

I frowned when the young Hufflepuff basically ran away from me to help Flitwick. 

Judith seems naturally shy, but never have I ever seen her outright run from something. She took on Cursed Vaults, but she runs from a simple question.

Ever since she erased my memory of whatever she told me, the situation would pass through my mind from time to time. I just wasn't sure how to approach the topic with her. Today seem like the perfect opportunity to broach the topic with the cute Hufflepuff.

Yes, I said cute. Because she is.

I admit I didn't like how she was so pressed to help me in the beginning but I slowly grew fond of the girl. 

Plus, she was very beautiful.

Ever since I hit my growth spurt, I towered over the Hufflepuff by at least a good 5 to 6 inches. She was a bit on the short side, but where I was standing, she seems small and it was adorable. 

Her sweet face was one of my favorite things to look at. Despite her shyness, her facial expressions usually spoke for her sometimes. The way her nose would scrunch up in distaste when she heard something unpleasant or she didn't like. The way her brow would crease in concentration when she's in class or studying. The way she would hide her flushed cheek behind her hand when she's embarrassed. The way her eyes would speak for her when she can't formulate words...

I normally wouldn't pay much attention to the opposite sex as far as physical appearance but I must admit, there was a time or so where I wondered what she looked like in more form fitting clothes, instead of her House robes or her trusted yellow hoodie.

Her shyness made her all more endearing. 

The way her gold eyes would widen slightly when someone focuses their attention on her. The way her sweet voice would sometimes stutter when she tries to talk. Sometimes hitting a higher octave when she feels insulted. How she would bring the bottom half of her hoodie to cover her face when she's blushing. How she fiddles with her dark brown hair when she's nervous.

She was cavity-inducing...

"Mr. Winger, can you come up with Miss Harris to cast today's spell?" I heard Professor Flitwick call. 

I smiled as I walked up to stand beside the suddenly flustered Hufflepuff. Together we were able to levitate our own feathers, flying them across the room. I peeked over at Judith, seeing a beautiful smile spread on her face. My heart fluttered at the sight. 

Such a shy and quiet beauty.

"Excellent, just excellent," Flitwick praised. Judith looked down, shuffling her feet. We soon went on the opposite sides of the room to help any students with the spell. I stole some glances at her, finding her smiling and laughing with the first years, applauding them when they successfully cast the spell. 

She looked so happy...

--------------------------------------------------

Once class was over and we finished cleaning the classroom, Judith was already gone before I could question her again. I softly cursed beneath my breath.

"Is something the matter, Mr. Winger," Professor Flitwick asked. I perked up a bit. Maybe he knows, he was there after all...

"I was wondering if you could help me with something... about Judith," I said softly. He nodded.

"Do you remember what Judith told me the day you taught us the Memory Charm?" He looked surprised and mused over what I said.

"So I'm assuming Miss Harris never told you what she said that day," he said. He shook his head.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Winger, but it is simply not my place to tell you," he sighed. I rubbed a hand over my face, suddenly tired. Will I ever know what that girl said?

"May I ask you something, Mr. Winger?" I looked up the the short man.

"Is it possible you fancy the girl? I've noticed how you looked at her during class," he asked. I felt a blush working its way up to my neck. 

Am I obvious?

"Of course not, Mr. Winger. But you are in my house, I take the time to learn my students throughout the years," Flitwick chuckled. I glared at the man's teasing.

"Yes... I started to grow fond of her and she is rather endearing," I admitted, rubbing the back of my neck. The professor smiled at me.

"Although I can't tell you what she said, I'm sure you can get your answer if you spend some more time with the girl," he offered. I frowned.

"But I rarely see her around, except for class and in passing," I said. The girl was extremely scarce, despite having her own friends. Flitwick looked thoughtful for a few moments before saying,

"Why not ask Hagrid for her whereabouts? I know she spends a decent amount of time with the man." Not a bad idea...

"I'll go do that now, thank you Professor and enjoy the rest of your day," I smiled, walking out.

Time to catch me a little Hufflepuff.

--------------------------------------------------------

"Hello, Hagrid," I said, approaching the giant man. Hagrid turned to me with a big smile.

"Hello there, Talbott! What can I do fer ya?" Fang barked and ran up to me. I chuckled and bent down to pet the dog.

"I was hoping if you could help me find someone," I said as I rubbed Fang's belly. The man laughed cheerfully.

"Why of course, m' boy! Who are you lookin' fer?," he asked.

"Judith, have you seen her," I asked, silently praying he'll agree to help. Hagrid looked taken aback at my request.

"I- er..." I rose a brow at him.

"I don't know Talbott... Judith made me promise not to tell anyone where she goes when she has free time," he said, looking a bit sad.

Here I thought I preferred being alone, but clearly she has me beat...

"Why is it that she wants to be alone so much," I asked. I was a bit upset that I couldn't find the girl as easily as I would like.

"There are some cruel kids in this ‘ere school, Talbott. The girl has a lot more weight on her shoulders than anybody realizes," Hagrid sighed. I frowned.

"What does that mean," I asked.

"Pay close attention to what people say when she's around," Hagrid simply said.

---------------------------------------------------------------

Taking the man's advice, I watched the girl as closely as possible the next few weeks. I must admit, it hurt me seeing the girl being pushed around.

Demented Harris.

Jinxed Judith.

Jamal #2.

The shoves.

The laughs.

The public humiliation.

Those hurt gold eyes, shimmering with unshed tears.

No wonder she's so quiet and hardly around. Any form of attention brought to her is negative. 

I miss seeing her smile...

Today I planned on confronting her, hopefully to provide some comfort. 

In my Animagus form, I silently followed the girl as she walked out of the castle in the direction of the Magical Creature Reserve. Perching myself in a tree nearby, I watched as she walked in a grassy field, carrying a bag of creature feed. 

As she approached a Niffler, Knarl, Porlock, Diricrawl, and Abraxan all perked up at the sight of her.

"Feeding time, my loves," she called, her voice sweet and full of affection. The creatures all bounded towards her. Her Niffler, bounded up her legs, torso to rest on her shoulders. The Knarl rolled around her feet before bumping into her left foot. The Porlock trotted up to nuzzle her right calf, it's tail waging. Her Diricrawl nuzzled her left leg, flapping its small wings. The Abraxan trotted around her, nuzzling her hair. 

The girl was giggling at her creatures’ enthusiasm.

"One at a time, everyone. You will all get your turn," she said. She looked so cute, surrounded by all these creatures. 

Once she fed them all, she and them all walked around the field and to my hiding place. The Abraxan looked directly at me and huffed. It turned and used its hide legs to kick the tree. I let out a surprised squawk and flew out before I could fall.

"Angel! What's gotten into you, it's just an eagle," Judith cried, running up to the winged horse to soothe it. I landed a few feet away and her Porlock stared at me warily. 

Can her creatures tell I'm not really just an eagle? The Porlock went up to me, sniffing me before letting out a soft huff of distrust. 

Yeah, they can...

Giving up the act, I transformed back into my human form. The Porlock let out a small startled cry and ran to Judith, hugging her leg.

"What's wrong, Baron-" Judith froze when she saw me standing there. I let out a bashful smile.

"Talbott! Wh-what are y-you..." she trailed off, looking down. I slowly walked towards her, doing my best not frighten her.

"I just wanted to see you, Judith," I said softly.

"Why," she asked firmly, turning to face me. I took in her full appearance and blushed a bit. 

She was wearing a floor length sundress, white on the top that gradients to a soft shade of yellow. It was form fitting, hugging her curves perfectly. Her full chest, small waist, her abs, her slowly rounding hips. 

Her hair was in twists. Most of it was pulled back in a low ponytail while the rest formed her bang that occasionally sweep over her right eye. 

Her face was free of makeup, save a gloss over her plump lips. Her skin was basically glowing...

I swallowed thickly. 

She was...uh... rather developed for someone was just 16. 

Oh boy...

"I want to spend some time with you," I said, reminding myself to breathe. Her pretty gold eyes widen and she shifted uncomfortably on each foot.

"S-spend time with m-me," she repeated, sounding lost. I nodded, getting closer. We were only less than a foot apart now and I could smell her perfume. I tried my best to keep my breathing even, even though I was to take in more of that pleasant smell. 

I held out my hand. She looked down, extremely confused.

"We could start with a walk around the Creature Reserve... if you'd like," I suggested, silently hoping that she'll say yes. 

A few moments past and I could feel my nerves starting to take over. Before I could pull back, Judith laid her small hand in mine, stepping close.

"Okay... but we're visiting the rest of my creatures in the meanwhile," she said, staring at my chest. Slowly, I grasped her chin to tilt upwards so she can meet my eyes. 

She had one of prettiest eye colors I've seen, I could get lost in them all day...

"Of course, anything for you," I said with a smile. Her eyes went wide and she abruptly buried her face in my chest. I felt my heart stutter at her unexpected closeness but didn't push her away. 

Gods, she was so cute...

"C'mon, what other creatures do you have," I chuckled, gently nudging her from her hiding place. She flustered at our proximity to one another and simply held my hand, leading me to other parts of the reserve.

The entire time, I couldn’t help but to notice the feeling of her hand in mine.

Her hand had a few callouses on her fingertips and a bit on her palm, assuming from all the writing and physical work that she does. But her hand felt soft overall. 

To me, it shows how strong she is, all while still having a gentle touch.

Perfectly her...

--------------------------------------------------

I made some decent progress with Judith the next few weeks. 

She was able to open up to me and allow me to help her take care of the creatures she adopted. It was nice to see her laugh and smile around me. 

There was moments of slight awkwardness, like some of her creatures pushing us closer together. The bigger creatures were especially known for this. One time, Griffin, her Hippogriff, purposefully picked up the girl and set her on his back, as if going on flight. He never gave her adequate time to properly hold on, so when he took off, she would fall over and I have to race to catch her. I always found myself holding her protectively against my chest, our faces just an inch or two apart. 

More than once, I've been tempted to kiss her. 

But I simply set her down while she shyly thanked me and scurried off.

We were sitting side by side each other, under the shade of a large tree. Another sundress hugged her frame, this time white and royal blue. Her Porlock, Baron, was cuddling up against her as she scratched behind his ears.

"Hey Judith," I called out softly. Her pretty gold eyes shyly glanced at me.

"Yes," she answered. Taking a deep breath, I brought up the question,

"Why wouldn't you tell me what happened in Charms class that day?" she stiffen a bit and Baron let out a soft huff of worry. I reached out for her hand, intertwining our fingers.

"Please don't shut me out, Judith. I just simply want to know," I said softly. I watched as she gave the young Porlock a final scratch behind his ears before sending him off.

“I-I... I’m scared to see your reaction again,” she quietly admitted. I gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

“Hey, we’re a bit older and mature now. I’m sure I can handle it better this time,” I told her. She peeked at me from her short curly lashes before looking away.

She mumbled something under her breath.

"What was that," I asked, scooting over closer. The sweet smell of coconuts and cocoa butter greeted my senses, and I wanted to close my eyes in bliss.

"I...Talbott," she said a bit louder. Growing bold, I gently grasp her chin to look so she can face me.

"One more time for me, Judith..." Tears welled up in her eyes, and she let out a soft whimper.

"I fancy you, Talbott," she quietly sobbed, trying to pull away from me. I froze. Judith likes me...?

She feels the same way.

My lack of response made things worse as her eyes grew wide and frantic.

"I-I-I'm sorry! I di-didn't- you-you don't ha-have to-" her ramblings with a soft gasp. I pulled the girl into my lap, hugging her. 

Judith went still, her nerves undoubtedly getting the best of her.

"There is nothing to be sorry for, little bird... I fancy you too," I whispered into her hair. She shyly met my eyes, hope shining brightly in those gold orbs.

"Y-Y-You do," she asked, trying to blink away any tears in her eyes. I gently wiped her tears away from my thumbs, she let out a soft breath at my touch.

"I do, Judith. And I want to prove it to you. Everyday... While at Hogwarts and beyond," I said softly. Feeling bold, I peppered kisses all over her face. Her eyes fluttered closed as I did this, her breathing slowly evening out. When I pulled back a little, she clenched at my robes with a whimper, pressing herself against me.

"T-Talbott, I-I-I..." Her expression was uncertain and fearful. I noticed how her gaze would land on my lips before darting back up to meet my gaze. 

Rubbing her back, I leaned in and pressed my lips against hers. 

She readjusted herself so she would be straddling my lap, her lips still moving shyly against mine. I groaned a little and squeezed her a bit closer. My hands followed the outline of her waist and hips, memorizing it. One of her hands was clenching at my robes and the other fisted in my hair. I groaned throatily. Gods, she's so perfect...

I pulled away, kissing the tip of her nose.

"You're so beautiful and perfect, darling," I cooed, nuzzling her cheek. I could partially feel the temperature rise and chuckled.

"And adorable," I added, pecking her lips. She pouted at me when I pulled away. I chuckled again.

"Don't give me that cute sad face," I told her. She grumbled but snugged against my chest. I sighed and ran my fingers through her hair.

"Talbott..." I hummed, letting her know I was listening.

"I like you," she said, kissing my cheek. I smiled and squeezed her tight.

"I like you too..."

[pinkanonwrites]

love me, please love me

Akaashi x Reader

Happy belated Valentine's day! I wanted to write a bittersweet piece for the occasion, but I caved right at the end and made it 100% sweet instead. Basically Akaashi is a delight and I wanted to see him pine, and pine hard. I hope you'll enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it!

(also the song title is from a song of the same name by Michel Polnareff, which I highly recommend listening to in order to get that yearning vibe)

Akaashi had already decided by himself at an early point in his professional career that writing romance, for all intents and purposes, was easy.

Sure, there would always be details and characters and overarching, more interesting plot to work out, but the overall premise was always the same. Two characters with undeniable chemistry, kept from admitting their true feelings because of Person X or Situation Y, rinse and repeat misunderstandings and 'almosts' until the manga was ready to end. Maybe even leave room afterwards for a cute, episodic spin-off.

Easy.

The real world, however, rarely offered such simplicities.

For example, Akaashi was in love with an office worker whose desk was once across from his, and he was pretty sure they didn't even know his name.

It's not like he'd known he was going to fall for you. How could he have? There was no chorus of angels, no heavenly light from above as the world seemed to fall into slow-motion. No. On his first day in the office you had been late, stumbled in with messy hair and a haphazard stack of manuscripts that you smacked down onto your desk, and had nearly tipped your overfull coffee mug all over the floor. He could hardly call it a good first impression. And yet…

The other workers on your floor seemed to hold you in a very high regard. He'd barely been there a week when one of his concerns had been directed to your desk.

"Ah, excuse me. Takaoda-san told me you could help with this?"

Your attention snapped up from your screen to Akaashi and the folder tucked in his hands. Noticeably confused for a split second, it took a moment before realization dawned on you.

"Oh! You're the guy who just joined! Kashi-san, right? Yeah, I can help you with that!"

You didn't even give him time to correct your butchering of his name.

Not only had you solved his problem, you'd scooted your chair to the side a bit and motioned for him to drag his own over and seat himself beside you, carefully walking him through the entire process.

"There you are! I'll just email this over to you so you have the file on your computer then."

"Yes, thank you very much."

"No problem! If you have any more questions, I'd be happy to help you out."

Your kindness, it seemed, extended to the other members of your office floor as well. Not a day would go by without Akaashi seeing at least one person hunkered down beside you at your desk in various states of disarray, waiting for your kind and composed words to soothe their frazzled minds. Clearly you were a cherished member of this office.

He was sure that the warm stirrings beginning in his chest were no more than admiration at that point.

Mostly sure.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

As his status with the editing company and his understanding of the industry began to rise, Akaashi was swiftly moved up to higher departments and higher pressures, longer meetings and tighter deadlines. He no longer spent as much time on the main floor where he'd started. But he still noticed you.

You'd been the first on the floor to cheer for him when it was announced that he'd be moving to his own private office. You patted him on the back and wished him well with a big, bright smile that made his stomach do something funny he tried to ignore. Occasionally you bumped into each other in the elevator, the break room, in meeting rooms as clusters of overworked people filed in and out.

And sometimes, on darkened evenings when he was leaving the building in the dead of night, he'd see you still sat at your desk. Alone in the office space, you continued to tap away at your keyboard. He'd never considered that for all the time you spent helping others with their problems, that was time unspent solving your own.

"Kashi-san?"

He faltered a bit under your tired gaze, lurking in the doorway of the floor, having finally caught your eye. He didn't even remember to correct you, again.

It didn't matter that much, though. Not when his body was already moving without him thinking, standing at the side of your desk and placing the canned coffee he'd just bought from the vending machine on its corner.

"It's almost 10. I'm surprised you're still here."

You blinked, then laughed, a sweet melodic tune. The coffee clutched in both hands, you looked up at him so sweetly that his heart hammered in response.

"Yeah, there's a lot to get done."

"Please be sure not to overwork yourself. You're a vital piece of this company."

I will, thank you… Hey, have you eaten?"

He startled, checking his watch. "N-Not since lunch."

"Let's grab something. My treat. Consider it a thanks for the coffee."

"Ah… if you insist."

Not that he needed much insistence.

And so began a comfortable pattern as late night dinners between the two of you became all the more common. It was rare that a week went by that didn't end a long and tiring day with ramen in a cozy booth, or snack foods scarfed down outside a 24-hour convenience store, your smiling face all the warmth he needed to stave off the evening chill.

Perhaps this was where he'd first realized, when you'd held a napkin out to him to dab away the teriyaki sauce smeared at the corner of his mouth: A sudden, longing lurch to do the same, to cup your cheek gently in his hand, to run the pad of his thumb over your soft lower lip. He walked home in a daze that evening, dusted with snow and brimming with warmth and confusion.

Realistically he knew that office romances weren't uncommon. He'd read enough manga and watched enough dramas to know that. And yet, he couldn't shake the concern so easily. What if your bosses found out? What would your co-workers think?

...What if it didn't work?

The only glimpses of yourself he'd gotten outside of a workplace environment were those short, shared meals. How could that be enough to judge whether you two were really meant to work well together? Was it worth risking the fallout?

No. Certainly not. Not for a silly crush. Akaashi could wait this out, he should wait this out. Keep his distance and wait until the butterflies faded and the fires died and he was left with the same feelings he'd felt for you in the beginning, appreciation and the occasional concern.

He would be fine.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

On the dawn of week three of minimizing contact with you, Akaashi Keiji was decidedly not fine.

He hadn't realized how dependent he'd become on your presence until it was unceremoniously torn away from him. Is a grown man meant to crave another person's voice so much? Their smile? Their laugh? He felt like a schoolboy again, flustered and frustrated and brimming over with emotions he wasn't sure how to outlet.

On Tuesday morning you'd come in early, clearly dressed for a date. Takaoda confirmed his suspicion a moment later when he complimented your outfit.

"I've got a blind date tonight, actually."

The butterflies in Akaashi's stomach choked and died, falling like stones into the pit of his gut. He nearly shocked himself with the single word that screamed across his rushing mind, that he didn't dare speak aloud.

No.

He felt like a jerk. He felt like a coward. He felt like a horrible, selfish child. But when you saw him standing in the hall and lifted a hand to wave, Akaashi ducked his head and hurried to his office, pointedly and obviously ignoring your greeting.

Well done Keiji, surely they would return your feelings now.

Very little got done that day. And as the clock ticked ever and ever closer to 5pm, Akaashi knew he needed to make a choice. And he knew he needed help making it.

Lifting his cell phone, Akaashi called the one person he knew could give him an easy answer.

"Hey, hey, hey! Akaashi! How are you? Aren't you at work right now?"

"Yes, Bokuto-san. However, I had an important question I was hoping you could help me with."

"Of course! Must be real big if you're calling me about it, huh?"

"Yes, it is."

Faced with the possibility of finally having an answer to his concerns, Akaashi found himself at a loss of where to start.

"Bokuto-san, have you ever had feelings for someone but weren't sure if telling them was the best idea?"

"Oho? Romance questions? Now I'm real interested!" He could hear Bokuto's big, silly grin even over the phone. "Well yeah, some of the cheerleaders are pretty hot. And you remember that guy at the ramen place who always gave me extra coupons? Pretty sure he could've been my soulmate!"

"Bokuto-san, I believe my situation is a touch more serious than a waiter who gives me extra coupons."

Bokuto maturely responded by blowing a raspberry into the receiver.

"Well, if it's that serious why haven't you asked them yourself? You've gotten this torn up about it to call me, so it must be the real deal."

"It really isn't that easy…"

"Isn't it? I mean, they either like you or they don't, right? If they do, great! If they don't, well then you can just start getting over them faster."

Akaashi found himself struggling for a reasonable response to that.

"Hey, all I can say is, you miss a hundred percent of the shots you don't take! Someone famous said that. Shakespeare, I think."

"Wayne Gretzky."

"Bless you."

Sighing, Akaashi glanced at his watch. You would probably be leaving soon. You might even already be out of the office. "...Thank you, Bokuto-san. If you'll excuse me, I need to catch an elevator."

"Sure thing bud! Lemme know how it goes!"

Click.

Akaashi's office door swung shut alongside the soft click of Bokuto hanging up. He skittered on the tile, trying to right himself as he sprinted around the corner, stopping only for a second at the window to the office floor. No one there.

He was probably too late already, why wouldn't you have left early on the night of your date? You worked so hard every other day, surely you would take the few extra minutes to prepare yourself. You were smart like that. Smart, and beautiful, and considerate, and there was no way Akaashi was going to just let you walk off with another man, not without even trying…

Around the corner, standing at the door to one of the elevators, there you were. Why did you look so… grim?

"Oh, hey!" You forced a smile onto your face as you gave him a little wave. "Clocking out on time? That's not like you."

Akaashi opened his mouth. Nothing came out. He tried again, clearing his throat hard.

"Oh, damn. Here."

You pressed a half-empty water bottle into his hands.

"Were you running? You're wheezing like crazy."

Staring down at the bottle in his quivering hands, his mouth moved before his mind could work.

"A date!"

You froze, finally focusing up on his face, staring so, so deeply into his eyes. Or maybe you were just looking at him normally. He could no longer tell. "Oh, yeah. I had one. He had to cancel."

The water bottle clattered to the floor as he gripped both your hands in his.

"Would you consider dinner, then?... With… me? Not like we usually do, this one's…. It's…."

Your hands were so warm. You could probably feel how sweaty his were. Gross. He should probably let you go before you got creeped out or-

"A date?"

"....Please."

A giddy, boisterous laugh bubbled out of you, one he had only heard after you'd downed a few drinks yourself. You squeezed his hands tight, giving him a smile that washed his anxieties away like chalk beneath the rain.

"I'd like that."

"Ah. Yes. Shall we go then?"

"We shall." You hooked your arm around his elbow, giving him a playful grin. "Lead the way, good sir."

Akaashi had already decided for himself at an early point in his professional career that writing romance, for all intents and purposes, was easy.

Living it, though? That was much harder. But he couldn't find it in himself to mind.

"Oh! Takaoda finally told me I've been getting your name wrong this whole time? Why didn't you say anything? I feel like such a jackass!"

"There, uh, a good time to mention it never seemed to come up?"

"Well I have a lot of making up to do, don't I Akaashi?~"

"I'm looking forward to it."

[dindjarindiaries]

Collide - Chapter 5

summary: Bella tries to remember what happened the night before, and fails to seek answers from the one person who knows them.

warnings: vomiting, angst, trauma, sexual talk

rating: R

word count: 3.840k

masterlist

chapter 5

You wake up the next day with nothing but regret—and a hangover from hell.

The good part of your morning is spent hunched over the toilet in your clothes from the night before. Your head feels much too heavy for your body, and you try to clear the fog to figure out how the hell you ended up back home—but you can barely even make a coherent thought. Thankfully, the three of you managed to get today off work as if by a stroke of luck, and so you don’t have to try to suffer your way through a work day in such a horrible state. Once you’re sure you’ve emptied out at least half of your guts and managed to pay for your dumb decisions the night before, you finally stand up and make a bolder attempt to get things straight. You hop in the shower, hoping the water will also wash your mind clean, but only get part of the way there by the time you’re slipping into your most comfortable clothes.

It’s when you’re making your light breakfast of toast that it starts coming back to you. You’re sipping gingerly at the water in your glass when you remember the same glass sitting on your bedside table this morning. You have no idea how it got there, or who could’ve put it there, but you assume it was by whoever managed to get you home. The last thing you can remember is dancing with Connie, and even that’s a little fuzzy. But the rest isn’t. You wish it was, because all your mind decides to remind you of is the way Javier was dancing with that stranger.

She’s probably in his bed right now, you think, scoffing to yourself as you take another sip of water. You try not to empty your stomach once again at the utter thought of it.

The sound of your toast popping up scares you out of your thoughts, causing you to jump a bit as you turn around. You chuckle at yourself and shake your head as you lightly butter it and start to chew on it, not necessarily wanting to do so but also knowing you need to get something in your stomach. It’s starting to drive you more and more insane that you don’t know how you got home. You assume it was Connie with the assistance of Steve, since Javier was too wrapped up in his conquest of the night, but you agonize yourself at the thought of what you could’ve said along the way. You never get drunk—it messes with your ability to control yourself and the situations you’re put in—so you’re fearful you let something risky slip while you were blacked out.

Knowing you can’t wait any longer for confirmation, you finish your toast quickly and reach for your pair of sunglasses, using them to try to ease your headache as you leave your apartment. You choose to ignore the fact that you’re solely in a pair of athletic shorts and an oversized college t-shirt as you make your way up the stairs, knocking at Steve and Connie’s door before you can convince yourself to leave them alone.

Connie’s thankfully the one who answers, her eyes widening as she sees you. “You’re alive!” she exclaims jokingly, causing you to laugh lightly. “But I can tell it’s a miracle.”

“Yeah, you can say that again,” you mutter, thanking her as she lets you into the apartment. You look around, furrowing your brow when you don’t see your partner. “Is Steve here?”

“No, he’s runnin’ errands with Olivia right now,” Connie informs you. “He was beggin’ to get out of the apartment for somethin’ other than work.” You nod understandingly, sitting at the counter as Connie raises an eyebrow. “Did you need him?”

“Oh, no, not really,” you assure her. You clear your throat, swallowing your pride as you accept the glass of water she’s poured for you. “I just, well, I need someone to fill me in.”

Connie tilts her head at you. “Fill you in?”

You bite your lip, running one hand over your neck in your nervous manner as your other hand grips the glass of water. “I… don’t remember anything after we danced.”

Connie’s gaze flashes with understanding. “Oh, I see.” She giggles to herself, taking a sip of her coffee as she gives you an impressed expression. “You surprised me with that, I can’t lie. I didn’t take you for the type.”

You exhale deeply as you release your neck and the glass, dipping your fingers under your sunglasses as you run your hands over your face. “I’m not. Last night was a rare occasion.” You reopen your eyes to see Connie’s expression morph into something more of sympathy.

“Already feelin’ the toll of work?”

You scoff. “That’s one way to put it.” You pause, studying Connie from behind your sunglasses for a quick moment as you ponder going on. She’s already become quite the confidante for you during your first week, and you know she doesn’t have anyone else to tell about your troubles—aside from Steve. But you feel that if you make it obvious you don’t want him to know, she won’t tell. So, with a deep breath, you decide to push forward. “It was because of my partner.”

Connie’s brow furrows. “I’m gonna assume you don’t mean my husband.”

“That’s a correct assumption.”

“So, Javi, then?” When you nod, Connie’s gaze flashes with remembrance—and a look of panic that you don’t necessarily like. The latter reaction, however, disappears quickly, and you choose to ignore it as she goes on. “Oh, yeah, I saw him, too. But that’s not out of the ordinary. Must’ve been weird for you, though.”

You shake your head, taking a sip of your water as you prepare yourself to fill her in. “Connie, it wasn’t just ‘weird.’ It was… well, heartbreaking.” When Connie gives you a look of confusion, you continue elaborating. “There’s a part of my and Javi’s story that you haven’t heard yet. But, please, don’t tell anyone.”

Connie lifts her hands in mock surrender. “I’ve got no one to tell but a man who probably won’t care to hear it, girl. Go for it.”

You snort at her comment, clearing your throat before speaking again. “Javi and I were best friends growing up, just like I told you. When high school came around, though, everything changed for me. I realized that I felt—well, much different than I did before. It was tormenting, really, to see him go through other relationships and also suffer through some of my own, knowing where my heart truly was. And then… senior prom rolled around.” You pause, feeling your chest get heavy as you recount the night that used to be so perfect to you—and now is so tainted. “We went together. As friends—I thought. And then we danced together, and we kissed, and we started acting like a couple, and then we… you know…”

Connie covers her hand with her mouth to suppress a gasp. You give her a knowing nod.

“I thought we’d be together after that. But Javi pretended that nothing ever happened, and I played along until just before he left for college. Our confrontation didn’t go as well as expected, and that’s the last time I saw him until a week ago.” You bite your lip for a moment, trying to collect your thoughts and emotions. “No matter how many years passed by, though, my heart stayed with him. I fuckin’ hate the fact that I can’t get rid of him. And now, having him back in my life, but having to see what I saw last night…” You trail off, shaking your head as Connie gives you a sympathetic look.

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry.” You smile a bit when Connie reaches a hand over to grab one of yours. “That’s real tough. I had no idea you two were that close.”

“I tried not to make it obvious,” you confess with a curt chuckle.

“Well… that explains a lot of the reason why Steve kept sensin’ tension.” Connie lets out a deep breath, and her eyes suddenly widen as she releases your hand. You feel alert at her change in demeanor, and you almost start to question it until she tells you herself. “Oh shit, girl, I hope you’re not a chatty drunk.”

You furrow your brow. “Why?”

Connie swallows hard. “Javi’s the one who took you home last night.”

Your heart practically leaps into your throat upon hearing her words. Javi? you ask yourself. But I thought he was with the woman. Why wouldn’t he have brought her home? “Really?”

Connie nods. “Steve asked him to, because we thought out of the three of us, he’d know the best way to take care of you. But if you got drunk because of him, and then you were talkin’ when you were with him and let it slip, I…” Connie trails off, and she doesn’t have to say anything else. Your fears are now laid out on the table.

“Fuck,” you curse, gripping your hair in your hands as you lean your elbows against the counter. “Oh my fuck, Connie, what if I said some dumb shit? We just came to a kind of truce and made it through the week, and what if I messed it up?”

“I’m sure it’s fine, sweetheart. We’re probably just stressin’ for no reason. You seemed pretty far gone when you left me.”

You shake your head, knowing all the frustrations that lay deep within your chest and would gladly jump out at Javier if you had the chance or the confidence. You don’t get drunk often—at all—but you do know that your confidence while drunk skyrockets, which means you might’ve actually had the balls to say something potentially damaging to Javier.

Before you have a chance to respond to her words of comfort, a knocking suddenly sounds at the front door. Connie excuses herself as she disappears into the hallway, and you listen as she pauses to look through the peephole and then unlocks the door. The voice that reverberates off the walls hits you directly in your chest, and you soon find yourself practically stumbling out of your chair as you dare to approach them.

“… seen her?” you pick up part of Javier’s extremely panicked words. “She’s not in her apartment, and I know that in her state, she wouldn’t have been able to get far—.” Javier stops when he looks beyond Connie to see you as you finally pop into the hallway. You try to still your heart as it thuds against your chest upon seeing his expression of pure worry—for you. He’s still in an outfit he would typically wear to work, and you would wonder if he ever wore anything else at all if you weren’t so wrapped up in the fact that he’s pursuing you. “Bella,” Javier finally breaks the tense silence, his voice sounding like a gasp of relief. “I… you scared me, there.”

“Sorry,” you manage to say meekly in response. “Don’t worry, I’m okay.”

Another silence persists, and this time it’s only broken by Connie as she clears her throat and gestures back towards the kitchen. “Do you want to come in for a drink or something, Javi? Steve’s out right now, but he should be back soon.”

You never break your gaze with Javier, trying to convince him to come in so you can clear your conscience about the night before with him. But all you see in his gaze is a flash of further fear, regret, and pain, and you know he’s not going to stay. On top of that, you know you must’ve said something utterly terrible to him last night, because the only other time you’ve seen his eyes flash like that is when you told him you never wanted to see him again. “I’m alright,” Javier finally dismisses Connie’s offer in his usual gruff voice. “I’ve got some errands to run. But thanks, anyway.” Connie nods, and Javier gives you a curt nod as well. “I’m glad you’re okay, bella.” With that, he turns away to leave.

Before he can go too far, you hurry over to the door, stepping outside to call to Javier where he’s descending the stairs. “Javi!” you exclaim, and he turns around quickly to face you. Your stomach sinks at the way his gaze practically begs you to let him go. “Thank you. For taking care of me last night.”

Javier simply gives you another nod, turning back around to finish going down the stairs. You try to swallow the lump in your throat as you retreat into Connie’s apartment, practically falling against the counter dramatically when you get there. Connie follows you with a grimace.

“Shit!” you curse angrily, feeling Connie place a comforting hand on your shoulder. You meet her gaze to find her sympathy, and you let out a heavy sigh as you shake your head at her. “I know I said something bad. I could see it written all over him.” You bite your lip, not wanting to dwell on the dark thought you’re conceiving of but having to face the reality of it. “If I didn’t ruin things all those years ago, then I definitely managed to do it, now—after only a week.”

Connie shakes her head as she invites you to sit back down, instead changing the subject as she tries her best to get your mind off things. But it’s too late—you’re already sinking into the black hole you’ve created for yourself. You’d broken things before you even had a chance to fix them, and that’s something you’re not sure you can ever forgive yourself for.

Later that night, you’re going onto your countless hour of despaired solitude, only able to sit on your couch and stare endlessly into the television screen as your mind continues to torment you. You’re still not sure what you said to Javier that made him feel so hurt and afraid. There are too many possibilities, and you don’t want to start considering which one you went for. Each one you manage to think of brings a sharp pain to your chest, so you decide to keep burying them deep inside and hope that he’s just gotten upset over something trivial.

Your thinking’s interrupted by the sound of clattering coming from the hallway. Immediately, you reach for the remote and turn off the television, freezing in place as you tune your ears into whatever could be going down. When you hear more chaos, you practically leap off the couch and hurry to your peephole, looking through to see if you can get a view of what’s going on. Your stomach twists into terrible knots when you finally observe the scene. All it takes is seeing an unfamiliar woman walk through the door of Javier’s apartment for you to understand what’s happening—and hope you don’t have to hear it, like Steve once said you might.

But you don’t even have to hear anything for the memories to start back up like clockwork, ticking to the sounds of the flashback you can never get out of your head.

“Are you sure you’re alright with this?”

You shake your head, closing your eyes as you lean your back against the door. You’re trying to shake it from your head, but you can’t—especially as you further picture what could be happening right down the hall.

“I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life, cariño.”

I should’ve said no, you lament to yourself. I should’ve fucking said no. You manage to make it over to your couch again, resting your elbows on your knees as you let your face fall into your hands. Your heart is screaming at you to remember anything, literally fucking anything, other than what your mind’s choosing to right now, but it’s got a chokehold on you. Now that you’re aware of what Javier’s up to, you can only picture that moment when you were in the same position.

“You’re doing amazing, bella. Fuck—you’re doing so good.”

You can hear his voice so clearly in your head. Still trying to be mindful of the migraine that’d radiated through your head for most of the day but needing to force something out of it, you take your hair in your fists and give it a firm tug.

“Eres mi princesa, bella—siempre. Good girl—God, you’re so beautiful. You always have been.”

They were lies! you want to scream aloud. They were all fucking lies! The way he’d comforted you, made you feel so special, and even murmured a forever—it was all bullshit. You know he’s probably saying the same exact things to the woman you’ve just seen.

“Javi… cariño… I—fuck—I—.”

“Shhh, I know, bella. I know, mi amor.”

Thank God he hadn’t let you say it. But having the audacity to follow it up with those promising words of mi amor makes you want to punch the wall. Upon hearing that for the first time, you truly thought everything was going to change—and instead, you’re here many years later, knowing he’s calling a stranger the same thing just a few feet away down the hall.

The voices have just started to fade into the feeling of your skin burning underneath his tender touch when another commotion outside your door interrupts you. Thankful for the distraction from your torment, you hop up from the couch and head for the peephole—already hearing a female yelling something in Spanish. Sure enough, when you look outside, you see the same woman from before storming out of Javier’s apartment and heading for the door to the outside. You raise an eyebrow, wondering how such a sudden turnaround could’ve happened.

You release a breath you never realized you were holding, glad that the memory’s starting to fade away as you head for the couch again. You stop, however, when you hear a hesitant knocking at your door. A pit forms in your stomach, and you turn around slowly to face the door yet again. You’re pretty certain of who’s standing there, and you’re not sure you’re ready to face them after the chaos they just unleashed on your mind. As soon as you open the door, however, you’re at their mercy—feeling your heart sink at the sight of their dark gaze brimming with unshed tears.

“Cariño,” you whisper, resting a gentle hand on his shoulder. You attempt to push past the fact that half his shirt’s unbuttoned, his lips are more swollen than usual, and his hair’s in quite a disarray, solely wanting to make him feel at ease. “What’s wrong?”

Javier shakes his head, biting his lip to keep himself from releasing the tears that still fill his eyes. You let out a soft breath and gesture towards the couch, seeing him head towards it with relief as you close the door behind him. You sit beside him gingerly, your gaze never leaving him. He’s leaning his elbows on his knees as his clasped hands rest over his mouth, his eyes looking endlessly into your coffee table. No matter how painful your latest memories of him have been, or how afraid you are of whatever you said to him last night, it absolutely devastates you to see him like this—so you let your hand fall on his back as your thumb rubs soothing circles over it.

“How can I help you, Javi?”

Javier blinks once, his gaze never moving as he finally rests his hands below his chin and offers an answer. “You can’t.” His gruff voice is broken, and the sound of it makes your heart absolutely shatter.

“Why not?” You keep your question gentle, to avoid provoking him by mistake.

“Because.” Javier pauses, taking a shaky breath before he finally looks over at you. The same fear, pain, and regret from earlier is in his gaze, and you wish you could just make it all disappear. “I don’t deserve it.”

You grimace, your hand slowly falling from his back. “Javi—.”

“I brought a woman in,” Javier cuts you off, clenching his jaw as he stares at something beyond you, “wanting to use her like I always do. To forget shit. To avoid it. But this time, fuck, all I could remember was you saying that I made you feel like a whore that one night, and I… I couldn’t help thinking, what if I make all of them feel like that? Because it seems I’ve sure as fuck made myself out to be just that.”

Your whole body goes cold, and you can barely speak around the lump in your throat as you dare to respond. “When did I say that?”

Javier’s gaze returns to yours, and you can see the horror he feels upon hearing your words. “Last night,” he breathes. “You don’t remember that?”

You shake your head. “I don’t remember anything after dancing at the bar, Javi.”

Javier looks away from you. “Fuck,” he curses to himself. “Fuck.”

You start to panic, realizing that this is the thing you’ve been dreading all day. “Look, Javi, I was drunk, and you know I don’t get drunk often. I probably didn’t even know what I was saying.”

“That was some pretty deep bullshit to have made up on the spot, bella.” Javier’s gaze snaps back to you, and those same three emotions are present in his eyes. “You don’t need to lie to me. I heard all your pain myself.” Upon saying that, you see his eyes widen slightly, and he stands up from the couch in a rush. You rise after him, watching as he rubs his hands on his thighs nervously and looks towards the door. “I don’t know why I came, I—I shouldn’t have come.” He looks at you quickly, averting your gaze as he gives you a nod. “Sorry.” Javier then takes off for your door, leaving you in a daze as you try to follow him.

“Wait, cariño!” you exclaim, trying to keep him from fleeing. He’s fast, however, and you only have time to get to your door when you see him walking back into his apartment and no doubt locking the door behind him. “Shit.” You slam your door closed and rest your forehead against it, closing your eyes and chewing your lip as you try to bury the sudden pain and confusion that’s rushed on like a wave.

You’re confident that you’ve managed to ruin your attempt at a second chance with Javier before you could even try to start it—and, in the process, contributed to the further damaging of his self-image. So much for leaving the shitshow in Texas.

chapter 6

translations:

Eres mi princesa, bella—siempre = You’re my princess, beautiful, forever

tags: @tarrevizslas @none-of-your-bullshit @lavenderl3mons @gooddaykate @flower-petal-blooming @stilllivindue2spite @mrsparknuts @fionnthebandersnacc @pisss-offf-ghostt @gaydreamland @longitud-de-onda @literallytrashhhhhh @kkgraham @arrowswithwifi @rage-isaquietthing @awesomefandomsunited @theforceofdarkandlight @murdermewithbooks @blushingwueen @rachelloveseveryone @madadlorian @ah-callie @mrsdaamneron @lokiaddicted @arcadianempress @benakenalove @wickedfrsgrl @pascalisperfect @absurdthirst @weirdowithnobeardo @lcandothisallday @sailorflowermoon @engineeredfiction @souls-rain @kaylaylaylayla @cailoleaf @unintentionalwriter @earthtokace @starwarsiscooliguess @xxlovingfandomsxx @theindiealto @mikahid @hiscyarika @burningsoulbloodyheart @youhavereachedtheendofpie @synystersilenceinblacknwhite

[vortexs]

I’m usually a vivid dreamer.

I’ve had dreams where I had powers. Or dreams where I saved the world. Or dreams where I go through an apocalypse.

Sometimes it’s just going through an exaggerated day. Sometimes it’s not me at all. I find that it’s an odd mashup of my feelings, stresses, and fears coming up & encouraging me to deal with them. More often than not, if I don’t deal with the issue, I continue to have the dreams.

Dreams are a fun place for me, and I haven’t had nightmares – true nightmares – in so long. But for the last year they’ve been more apparent, and for the last month, almost every night.

I know it’s because I’m grieving, and I’m not sure /how/ to grieve.

My grandma’s death was something I always saw coming. Looming over the horizon, peeking over the fence every time I looked at her. She’d been sick my whole life. Nearly every birthday wish I had was for her. Wishing for another year. Wishing for her health. I stopped wishing when I visited her one year and she was practically bed ridden, turning black and blue in the tips of her fingers and on the soles of her feet.

My stomach would fall, and my eyes would water. I knew it pained her to live more than it would pain me to see her go. I started dealing with her death long before she passed away.

It still hurt of course. But she lived a long life. A happy one. Full of love, and family. She loved me so much. I loved her so much. Its enough for me to know she is no longer suffering.

My cousin’s death gave me the entirely other perspective. He was young, younger than me. Still, we grew up together. He was the goofy one. The positive one. Always calm. Always kind. The kindest of his brothers, & the most determined to do life Right. No gangs. No violence. No drugs.

His death didn’t make sense to anyone. Didn’t make sense to me. His death was…complicated. Complicated because it was one of those deaths that many people wouldn’t feel bad for when you told them the story. One of those deaths where people /said he deserved it/ when it hit the news.

They didn’t know him. That’s what I tell myself. That it doesn’t matter what other people say, but fuck it still hurt. He deserved everyone to miss him. He deserved everyone to give their condolences and mean it. He deserved to graduate college, and achieve his dreams. He deserved to live longer.

This one hurts because I never saw his death coming. When I looked at him I didn’t see skeletons in the closet, or tragedy in his eyes. I dealt with this by trying to be there for everyone else. For my aunt and uncle who gave him his chance, for his siblings – my cousins who grew up with him. I wanted to be there for them to lean on, for us to celebrate him the way he deserved to be celebrated. That’s how I dealt with this.

But my dad. My father passing away. I don’t know where to begin.

It’s funny that I said my cousins’s death was complicated, because my dad’s feels 100 times more so. His is the type of complicated where I was told to lie. His is the type of complicated where I have to keep track of what I say, and who I said what to.

If I thought I couldn’t tell people how my cousin died, I definitely cannot tell people how my dad died. /Why/ he died.

I wish I could. I want to. But the reasons for it create complicated feelings in myself.

My dad was a great man. He raised me with stars in his eyes, & laughter on his lips. Growing up, I’d meet his friends or talk to extended family & they’d lean back, smile at me, and say “Ah, you’re definitely his daughter.”

My dad was goofy, and positive, and tough. Always encouraging, always behind my decisions. I adored him. I was a daddy’s girl through and through.

That’s not to say he was perfect. He wasn’t, and his faults are what ended he & my mother’s marriage. But like I said, he was tough, & he pushed forward. He’d tell me that later in life. To keep pushing forward. To not let anything keep me down.

“Look at me,” he’d go. “I’ve been through a lot. But I keep going. You have to do the same.”

As I got older, I could tell things were getting to him. Whether it was because life was harder for him, or because I’d been hardened, I don’t know. I began to see the tiredness in his eyes, the stress. Instead of him asking if I was okay, I started asking him.

“I feel bad,” he’d go. “I wish I could help you more. I wish I could be there for you. I wish you called me.”

I always told him that it was okay. That he was. He was there for me when it mattered, that I never thought of him and wished he’d do more. I told him that it’s hard for me to call anyone. He never believed it. That I knew. I chalked it up to some weird, macho man thing. You know, men always want to be the providers. Be the one for everyone to depend on. Everything I said was true. Still is.

He was remarried. He had a wife, and more kids. He did great with me, & I thought he’d be even greater with them. Everything that bothered him about our relationship he could fix and improve on with them.

And he did. For awhile. I like to believe it was all the way until the end.

The last time I saw him was on Father’s Day. My sister and I spent the day with him, and I could tell he was happy I came to see him. I was happy I did, too. He was very open this visit. I’d asked him for help (with getting my license lol) & he was very adamant that we would get it as he was teaching my step-sister as well.

“Of course! Come any time. I’ll teach you, and you’ll definitely pass.”

Maybe it was because it was the first time I’d asked something of him. Maybe he felt good that we’d share this milestone together. Maybe he was just happy I wanted to spend time with him.

I never followed through. The summer was so busy, and I was too short on money to make it back to him. I didn’t tell him this. Why? Because I knew he’d send me the money. I knew he’d give me the time. Neither of which he had much to spare (he’d vented to me many times about his money issues). I didn’t want to add to that.

I thought that once my job started I’d be able to go to him in the fall, instead.

He contacted me, which he rarely does. It was a strangely emotional text, in a good way.

“Hi baby! Are you still coming to see me? I really want to help you get your license!”

It made me happy, and I felt guilty I hadn’t told him why. I was reminded of how he felt like he failed me, and that I didn’t want to depend on him. That I thought lowly of him, or something. I told him I just didn’t have the money at the moment, but that I would see him as soon as I did.

“I want to get my license with you too!!” I’d said.

“How much do you need?” He’d sent back. I didn’t respond. I didn’t want him to send me money.

He still did.

A day later: $500, and a caption that read “My baby.”

I cried. I don’t know why, but I did. I think it was because I felt the weight of his love for me in that moment. Not that I ever thought he didn’t love me, but…he always struggled with showing his emotions. To me, this showed a lot. Not the money, but the caption. My baby. My baby.

I saw a lot of my dad in me. From his interests, to his ideals, to his personality. I never realized how much of me reminded me of him until he passed away.

It was a few days after my birthday. He sent me a nice message, & I told him how excited I was to see him. “See you soon.” I’d said.

A few days before he passed, I was informed that he’d done a terrible thing, & that he’d left his house & was unreachable. No texts. No calls. No tracker.

Knowing my father, as soon as I learned of the situation, I knew it was the beginning of the end. He was a prideful man. He wouldn’t want sympathy, he’d just want justice. He would never let himself get away.

I cried that day, when he was still alive. I just knew my father was gone. The man I knew, he wasn’t there anymore. The next few days were full of anxiety. I kept checking my phone, waiting for a call or text. About him. Or from him.

I actually did text him. I was afraid that if I contacted him & he knew that /I/ knew, that it’d speed up the process. That it’d send him over the edge.

I texted him, asking him to stay. Asking him not to hurt himself. Asking him to come back. I told him I loved him, that I appreciated him, & that I needed him.

He texted me back. He told me I was the best thing that ever happened to him. He told me that he wished he could’ve done more for me. He told me he was ashamed. Of what? Of everything, I think. Of his whole life.

He told me he only wanted 3 things from me. To be a strong, independent woman. To take care of my sister. And to always be grateful to my aunts.

I texted him multiple times after that. I never heard from him again.

A couple days later his body was found in another state. A “hiking accident” the police ruled it. I knew it was a suicide. I knew his reason for it. I knew that he said he didn’t want a funeral. I knew that he said he didn’t want us to mourn him. I knew that he didn’t want to be remembered at all, as he deleted all his social media, all his pictures.

Hardly anyone will ever know the man I adored ever existed.

The police said he needed to be cremated. They were adamant about how much we should not see the body. They told us that he was unrecognizable. That they only identified him through fingerprints. Out of everything I knew, I wish I never knew that.

I’ve never seen the body, but when I go to sleep at night I see it. I see him standing on the edge of the cliff. I feel his pain, his turmoil. I feel him thinking of his family. Thinking of his life. Thinking of me. I see him make the decision. I see him take the step. I see him fall. I hear him scream. I see him become mangled beyond recognition. I see him. I see him.

In my dreams I see him clear as day. In my dreams I speak to him. I chase him. I beg him to stay. He tells me no. He runs away from me. He tries to go away, but I see him.

I wake up, and I don’t see him. I wake up, and I know he’s gone away. I know that if there is an afterlife he will not see me, he wouldn’t allow himself that. I know that the last time I saw him, on father day, is the last time.

So then the dreams. The dreams where I chase him. Where I beg him. Where I look at him & he looks at me with pain in his eyes & guilt under his skin. Still, I wake up and fall into another nightmare where I lie about how he died and why.

I’m torn then. I want the dreams to stop, but I like seeing him. I’m scared to lose this, because then I will have lost all of him, maybe. I don’t know. Grief sucks. This sucks. I know I need to deal with this, but I don’t know where to begin. Or how. Maybe this is the first step. Getting this down. Even after writing this much about it I can feel how much more needs to be said.

Like, maybe I haven’t driven home how much he meant to me. Maybe I haven’t driven home how traumatizing it all is. Maybe I haven’t explained how my childhood was filled with him teaching me all the skills I utilize today, or how all my favorite interests started with him. Maybe I haven’t made it clear how I look in the mirror, or I speak, or I do my favorite hobbies and am reminded of him.

Grief sucks, but at least in my dreams, everyone is still there.

[miss-tc-nova]

Bad Game of Chicken - Xehanort x Fem!Reader Pt 4

I think this is my favorite part because...well you’ll see. A bit of cliche fun. 

~~~~~

Part 4: War of Attrition

Wearing down the enemy to see who will give first; can result in damages to both sides.

~~~~~

              Now a month has gone by since this stupid game began and still we persist. Somehow, I’ve become more comfortable with the boy than I’d ever care to admit. Thoughts of the whole thing keep me up at night, remembering how defensive he became over me. He would’ve just laughed at me four weeks ago but perhaps that’s part of his strategy. Assuming such things about him is still natural but now it comes with a disturbing twinge in my chest.

              Things go back into the bag once the bell rings. Xehanort waits for me as usual. “You ready, doll?” He still insists on being smug each time that endearment rolls off his tongue.

              “Yeah,” I answer, slinging the bag over my shoulder.

              “You okay?”

              His concern is confusing. “Yeah. Why?”

              Shoulders bounce. “No reason. C’mon.”

              We’re off to the library to get a start on this homework due next week—school work actually goes smoothly when we’re not at each other’s throats. Unfortunately, my head’s just not in it today. Perhaps two words into my studying, my sight wanders to the boy next to me. Another page turns lazily by his hand, eyes trailing along the lines written before him. There’s no sign of the contempt we’ve based everything on, just content—content that I also find myself comfortable in. When it dawns that my idiocy is both distracting and, well, idiotic, I force my focus back to the text before me. Then the cycle repeats itself.

              The clattering pen draws attention.

              “What’s up?” I almost wish Xehanort had snapped this at me to remind me why we’re here. Maybe he’s better at this game than I am.

              Rising from my seat, I sigh. “There’s just…something I wanna check. I’m gonna go see if I can find a book or something.” Well, I’m going to pretend to be looking for a book; really, I just need a moment away from him to clear my head.

              Rows and rows of books pass through my unseeing watch. Autopilot takes me through the aisles while memory leads me down lanes of history. Not only do I remember the stary sky and playfulness, but all the hate and aggression haunt me as well. Comprehending how two people so hostile towards each other became tolerant companions so easily is impossible. Yes, I like some of the things we did but there’s no way I can just forgive all the grief he’s given until now—a few friendly weeks can’t just make up for years of fighting.

              Can it?

              “I didn’t realize you were so interested in Master Gula’s cook book.” Whirling back reveals that the person I’d been trying to get a break from followed me.

              His statement is obscure. “What?”

              Fingers slide along the book I’d been mindlessly staring at. I’d wandered to the back of the library where collections of less-school-related topics are kept.

              Those mesmerizing eyes flitter across pages as he flips through them. “I could never imagine him as a cook but I guess even legendary masters have hobbies too.” The book’s sudden snapping causes a flinch. “But as I said, I didn’t realize you were interested in this kind of stuff.”

              “I…”

              “You’re not?” he finishes for me. “Yeah, I figured you ended up here by mistake.” Back on the shelf slides the book. “Which leads me to a different topic: are you gonna tell me what’s really bothering you?”

              Thoughts hesitate, but old instincts return. “It’s none of your business.” Other variants of food preparation distract my gaze.

              “Then why are you avoiding me?” I make the mistake of peeking back at the antagonist. That smirk, that smarmy simper of who he was before all this, easily sends my blood boiling. “You’re not finally starting to crack, are you?”

              I might be. “You wish, sugar. Just because I need a breather doesn’t mean I need a break up. Now back up.”

              Against my wishes, the gap closes. “Oh don’t be like that, doll. Maybe a kiss would make you feel better.” Rolling off him is the scent of peppermint. I love peppermint but on him it makes my stomach squirm.

              “Kisses don’t solve anything.” This situation is skyrocketing into a dangerous realm that demands I do damage control, but in the face of this challenge, I instead match his nerve.

              A step closer ruins any chances of escape. “Oh they can solve a lot of things.”

              You can’t be serious.

              “So, are you gonna give?” he whispers daringly. This is his desperation move—that last ditch effort to get me to cave. It has to be.

              Fuck that. Fingers travel along his chest, grazing his face, only to turn rough in snagging his hair. “Of course not.”

              A dip of his head brushes noses together. “Last chance, doll.”

              “Shut up and kiss me.”

              When I decided to call his bluff, it was repulsive and I’d been internally hoping he’d finally drop out—turns out he’s just as stubborn as I am. But now, nothing could’ve prepared me for the shock and the tension proves the same for him.

              Not about to be the weak one here, I let go of my surprise and kiss him. Xehanort’s rare dismay is the perfect opportunity to earn the upper hand; he blindly follows my every command. That thought—having the haughty, self-confident, strong Xehanort at my whim—is so satisfying.

              It all turns on its head when Xehanort snaps from his complacency. The kiss quickly fills with his attitude, quickly filling me with a craving I can’t say I’m proud of. Nevertheless, there’s a taste of desperation in each move that’s more gratifying than having him bend to me; so I let him enjoy his control while he attempts to win the duel.

              Sliding across my lower lip, his tongue throws me for a loop. I flinch away out of pure reaction.

              “Too much?” he chuckles lowly, wiping at his mouth Those eyes are practically glowing as he scrutinizes me like a starving predator; it’s somehow exciting. “Still want to continue?”

              In a heartbeat, I flip positions with the young man, forcing him up against wall in my place. A small stretch allows me to latch onto his neck, granting me a grimace. To be honest, I didn’t even hear what Xehanort said next, too preoccupied with the shiver wracking his body, no doubt against his will. Hands sit at my waist, prepared to put a stop to my antics, but they don’t. While I enjoyed letting him have control, he’s not going to get a chance at payback for this. Intoxicated by that mint I love, reveling in the feeling of his skin against my lips, spurred by those stifled puffs whispering in my ear, I’m fully committed—fully enraptured—in this moment.

              My hold released, I let my tongue swipe up the excess saliva from his neck, earning one final shudder. Pride overtakes my lips as I lean back, perfectly content with expression of mixed anger and apprehension he’s wearing for me.

              “Next time, try to pick a challenge you can win, sugar,” I say, taking my turn to wipe at my mouth before leaving him perplexed in his little corner.

              As I walk, I can’t help remembering the spot I’d left behind. That mark looks absolutely gorgeous against his skin—a beautiful, deep magenta. It’ll certainly be a few days before it fades, and each and every time he looks in the mirror, he’ll be reminded of how I had him pinned and helpless—he’ll remember that he’s mine.

              Mine…mine…oh no.

[iamtrebleclefstories]

Part 2 - Where You Find Out When You Kiss

I Was Made for Loving You - Part 2

Soulmate AU series of unrelated one-shots where Jo and Alex discover that they are made for each other.

.....

Also, I know I’m super late but... this is my first submission for TS x Jolex week!!

This ain’t for the best

My reputation’s never been worse so

You must like me for me

Is it chill that you’re in my head...?

Is it cool that I said all that...?

Is it too soon to do this yet...?

He was an idiot. He was in love with her but he took too long and lost her. And now she wanted nothing to do with him. It was hard. Going from being someone’s best friend to avoiding them so that he didn’t do something completely stupid and tell her that he was in love with her.

It would’ve been easier if he would’ve just slept with her from the beginning. If he would’ve just kissed her at Bailey’s wedding while they were drunk and trashing strangers’ hotel rooms. Because at least he would’ve known. He would’ve gotten it out of his system. Because that’s how you find out if someone is your soulmate. After you kiss. They say there’s this magical moment where both parties just know, and from then on it’s physically painful to be apart. You’re connected on every level. Every atom in your body is now attuned to the one you were designed for.

He’s kissed many women—too many women, depending on who you ask. He’s never felt that before. Not with Rebecca, not with Lucy, or Lexie, or even Izzie—who he had married for God’s sake. The fact of the matter was, that finding your soulmate was so rare, that you could kiss and sleep with dozens of people just like he did, and still find yourself utterly alone. He didn’t know many people that were with their soulmates. Just a few lucky couples that, were made for each other in every sense of the word. Meredith and Derek. Bailey and Ben. Mark and Lexie. Callie and Arizona.

It didn’t mean that these couples were perfect. They experienced pain and loss and heartbreak just like everyone else. But something was different about them. At the end of the day, no matter how much they tried to stay apart, the universe kept pulling them back together. It was different from a life mate. A life mate, you can walk away from. He did it. He divorced Izzie and was able to walk away a better man than before. It hurt, but it wasn’t unbearable. He didn’t feel this need to seek her out. Soulmates on the other hand, try and try to stay away from each other but keep coming back. No matter how bad that person may have hurt you, you forgive them. Because even a messy life with your soulmate is better than a life without them at all.

So he wished he would have kissed her from the beginning, because then he would know. Then he could get over her. A small part of him hoped that maybe she’d be it. She was the first person who understood him and cared for him without wanting to change anything. Sure, he had Mer and Cristina, but that was different. They had been through hell and back together. There were moments where they hated each other. Jo was different. He knew from the minute he sat down with her at the bar and she taught him how to fake cry that she would be special. Maybe she’d be the one. Maybe she would be his match.

But another part of him, the larger part, hoped she wasn’t. Not because he didn’t want her or didn’t love her. God knows he wanted her. He fell in love with his friend before he ever had a chance to complicate it or mess it up with something like a hook-up. That in itself was significant. Never in his life had he told a woman he loved her before he slept with her. Never in his life had he told a woman he loved her before they were even in a relationship. So the problem wasn’t that he didn’t want her. The problem was that he did. Him. The guy who screwed up every good thing in his life. The guy who screwed up every good person in his life. He didn’t want that to happen to her. He didn’t want to be the reason that she ended up more messed up than she already was. So as wonderful as it would be to be loved by her, he would resign himself to admiring from afar if that meant she got to live a happy life free of his baggage.

And he just pretty much ensured that he would be watching from afar. In retrospect, it really wasn’t his place to speak to Peckwell about her past. But honestly, he thought that if you liked someone enough that you were moving in with them, you would trust them enough to tell them about your past. He messed up yet another important relationship by not being able to keep his mouth shut. She didn’t want to talk to him or have him getting involved in her business so when he saw them arguing at the hospital on his way out with Jackson, he kept walking.

For the first time in a long time, he actually considered picking up some random chick at the bar. He hadn’t noticed but it had been months since he had sex. The last time he hooked up with someone was sometime around four months ago, before Cahill decided to try to liquidate the hospital. That was also before he realized he actually had feelings for Jo. Come to think of it, he hadn’t been with anyone since the day they took in the hit and run kid. The day that Jo surprised him in the storage closet with powdered sugar donuts and he started to fall for her. Things shifted that day. Sleeping around didn’t seem as important as it did before. Sex for the sake of satisfaction wasn’t as appealing anymore.

That was significant for him. Even when he was with someone he looked at other women. He’d cheated before. He wasn’t proud of it, but he had done it. He had done it to Izzie with that nurse Olivia. He wasn’t above that. He wasn’t a moral guy. Sure, he could be exclusive, but it wasn’t what he looked for. Hook ups were easier. Relationships were messy. So it kind of blew his mind that he hadn’t slept with anyone since falling for Jo. The thought of sleeping with someone who wasn’t her didn’t even seem appealing anymore. All he could do was compare every woman he met to the woman who had become the center of his affections. And that sucked because as much as he wanted and loved her, she didn’t want to speak to him because he was messing things up with her boyfriend.

He almost went through with a hook up at the bar. Talked a girl up for a minute and was about to ask her to come home with him when she mentioned that she was from Boston, and he decided the only girl he wanted that was from Boston was Jo. So, he finished his drinks with Jackson and decided to head home. The drive there was uneventful and quiet, a nice change from the usually busy roads that are characteristic of Seattle. He parked in his driveway and made his way up the porch to the front door when he saw a figure sitting on the swing.

He sighed, “Oh man, you’re killing me. I’m trying to leave you alone. I’m trying to get out of your life, but you’re everywhere. And now you show up here to tell me the same thing. Well, guess what...”

He stopped in his tracks when she lifted her head, exposing her bruised face. She looked at him with tears in her eyes, “Can I stay here? Please.”

He could’ve sworn his heart stopped in that moment. It felt like someone punched him in the gut. Seeing Jo like this wasn’t natural. Jo was strong. Jo was tough. Jo was nothing if not caring, and she didn’t deserve to be treated as anything less than priceless. It took him a second to process her words, but once he did, he was operating on autopilot. He doesn’t remember how he got her up from the porch and inside the house. He doesn’t remember taking her up the stairs or having her sit down on the bed or going to get some ice for her face. All he could focus on was the fact that her douche bag boyfriend hit her.

It made his blood boil. He was angry that a guy would ever think it was okay to hit his girlfriend. He was angry that someone would ever lay a hand on Jo. Jo. This woman that he was completely in love with but too scared to tell because like he said before, he always screwed himself out of everything good. Someone hurt her. Peckwell hurt her. He wasn’t going to stand for that. He tucked her into his bed and made his way down the stairs and out the door to confront Myers.

*****

To say he wasn’t expecting to find Peckwell in the condition he found him in was an understatement. The guy had been beaten half to death and was gonna have quite the recovery. Thankfully though, he wasn’t going to press charges. Shepherd may not have liked the fact that Alex threatened him, but he didn’t see anything wrong with what he had done. He felt good about it, because he was protecting Jo. He meant what he said to her when he got back to his house that night before the tree crashed into his living room. Peckwell might be dead if Jo hadn’t gotten to him first.

Part of him cursed the tree in his living room, while the other one felt like he had been saved by the bell. As he stood in the NICU watching Jo teach parents how to bag their babies, he shook his head and tried to focus on his best friend’s baby so that he wouldn’t do something stupid, like say, “I love you.”

Some hours passed and finally the NICU generators turned on. The babies were hooked back onto the ventilators and everyone took a sigh of relief, knowing that everything was going to be just fine. He did his rounds on the infants and proceeded to go check on some of his older patients as well. After some time of that, he decided to go look for Jo. He hadn’t seen her in the last hour since the generators turned on. He found her staring out the window of one of the storage closets that still seemed to be lacking sufficient electricity. He walked up next to her and stood there in silence.

“This place looks so different in the dark,” she exhaled, rubbing her hands together nervously.

“Yeah,” he agreed. There was a short pause where he could feel the discomfort and awkwardness radiating from the two of them. “You think the tree ruined my couch?”

His question seemed to have the desired effect because Jo let out a laugh, “I think it ruined your entire living room.”

“Listen, I have to tell you something.”

“No, you don’t.”

“You don’t even know what I’m gonna say,” He retorted.

“I think I do and you shouldn’t,” she turned to face him, pleading with her eyes.

“Jo...”

“I’ll mess it up, Alex,” she shook her head, voice cracking slightly. “I mess everything good in my life up and we work as friends really well and... I don’t want to mess that up.”

“You won’t mess anything up,” he assured her. “Last night before the tree, you asked me a question. You wanted to hear me say the words, so I’m... saying them. Right now...”

She watched him open and close his mouth dumbly, no words coming out, “I don’t hear anything.”

“Shut up.”

“Okay but...”

“I’m serious.”

“Fine.”

“I love you,” he stated with such certainty that she would never be able to question the sentiment. Her face broke out into a smile and his heart began to pound heavily. He didn’t hesitate in bringing her into his arms and finally kissing her.

He knew it instantly. In that moment, he knew exactly why every relationship he had ever been in never worked out. He knew exactly why he could never be his complete and authentic self with anyone else. He knew exactly why he couldn’t get help but love this woman. He knew exactly why he couldn’t get her out of his head. He knew exactly why he had to go through everything that he went through to reach this specific moment in his life.

Kissing Jo was like having a spiritual experience. And in a sense, it was. She was his soulmate, without a shadow of a doubt. She was the part of him that was missing all along. She was the one he had been waiting for all of his life. And now he had her, and she had him. That was everything.

Immersed in the moment and fueled by the small whimpers coming out of her, he deepened the kiss, hoping to express everything he was feeling. He’s sure she felt it too, because she kissed him back with just as much fervor and desire. When they finally broke the kiss, he rested his forehead against hers, breathing heavily. Opening his eyes, he looked to see her staring back him with the most tender look on her face. He gave her the tiniest smile, which sent her into a fit of giggles.

Taking a deep breath she opened her mouth to speak, “Woah.”

He chuckled and kissed her cheek softly, “Yeah.”

Her hands cupped his face and she rubbed her nose against his, “I can’t believe it’s you. I never thought I’d meet you. I thought I was too messed up.”

“If you think you’re too messed up, you obviously haven’t been paying attention to my life,” he pointed out.

She rolled her eyes at him, “Oh shush. I’m serious... I wanted it to be you, but I was scared. I was scared that I’d be wrong and that I’d be left alone, all over again.”

“Me too,” Alex admitted. “I was scared to try this and not be enough.”

“You’re more than enough, Alex. You’re everything.”

So this is what it was like to be with the right person. The irony dawned on him as his caressed her face and leaned in to kiss her again. His ex-wife had once told him that he wasn’t good enough and left him even when he had poured his heart and soul into being the person she wanted him to be. But Jo, oh Jo... she loved him for exactly who he was. For all the mess and crazy. For all the faults and less than stellar parts of his personality. And she never once made him feel like he couldn’t accomplish whatever he set his mind to. This is what it was like to have a partner in every sense of the word.

He’d be content to stay there forever, but the moment was cut short when his pager went off, signifying that one of his post-op kids needed attention. They broke apart and he let out a small groan, “I’m sorry. Mikey Nelson’s got some complications. I’ve got to go.”

“It’s okay, I should probably get back to the NICU and help Dr. Robbins prepare the nurses and doctors coming in for this shift,” she gave him a quick peck as straightened her scrubs. “But that shouldn’t take long so... meet me in an on-call room in an hour?”

His face broke out into a large smirk, “Oh... I’ll be there.”

God he really loved this woman.

[gloves94]

To Be So Lonely [Draco Malfoy] 13

Rating: PG-13 Pairings: Draco Malfoy/OC Chapter warnings: Bullying! 

CHAPTER MASTERLIST MY MASTERLIST

"Is it true she hasn't spoken to anyone since?" "Yeah," one of the Slytherin third years said before twirling a knot of red spaghetti on his fork and spoon. "Even past her birthday."

"Didn't even go to the Quidditch match no matter how much Davis insisted."

"What does Nott say?" Another asked as he drank his pumpkin juice.

The boy speaking shrugged and let out an incoherent sound.

"I don't think she's said much to either. She's mostly been keeping to herself," Blaise whispered as the four Slytherin boys kept a close eye on the dark-haired girl that was quietly eating just a couple of seats away from them. "Do you think she's-" Crabbe began his voice on edge. "Plotting something?" Goyle finished for him. "She hasn't been taking any clients either."

"I'm sure that must be especially hard on you," Malfoy sneered at his goons nastily. To this day he wasn't really sure if either of them actually knew how to read or write. He did know that the two had been almost singlehandedly funding Nel's underground empire of illicit homework and class notes. At this point she must've amassed at least a small fortune; he couldn't help but wonder just what she was possibly saving it for. She certainly hadn’t splurged on that fancy quill back at Hogsmeade.

They all once again turned to look at her in an indiscrete fashion. Nel could feel their eyes on her. This irritated her to no end. She fought the urge to tell them to take a picture or go flog themselves. It was then that their gazes shifted when they saw no other than Harry Potter turning around from the Gryffindor table. They all shot daggers at him.

"Hey," Harry greeted. She raised her head and looked at him with a dead expression on her face before taking a bite from a bread roll.

The humiliation from last week's incident wasn't what was keeping Elowen in an emotionally shut down mode. There were more than a handful of problems in Nel Saintday's hands at the moment that had seniority over whatever bullying the other Slytherins had done to her. She still couldn’t summon a Patronus or even think of one particularly joyous memory to use with the charm. The many Dementors in the area were beginning to become a problem once knocking her out on way to Herbology class. Not to mention Professor Snape’s “emotional control lessons” we’re going terrible. Also, what did he know about controlling his emotions to begin with? As far as anybody knew Professor Snape was a heartless, fowl nosed, prick.

Worst of all was that she still didn’t know who had dropped her off at the abbey. She doubted if Malfoy had even known from the start. She felt foolish for even thinking he could’ve been a friend to her. She tried not to remember how nice he had been that day at Hogsmeade or how lovely his music was. Just like her Patronus, this memory had been corrupted too, it wasn’t real.  

It wasn’t him.

“Did you hear that Professor Lupin is back?” Harry asked attempting to start a conversation. She said nothing in return and stared at him with a blank expression.

“I’ll see you tonight then?” He asked. She was quiet for a moment before speaking. “Harry,” her voice was hoarse at first. “What if I can’t summon a Patronus?” Her eyes filled with pain as she asked the question which had been burdening her.

The Slytherin boys kept a close eye in the Gryffindor as he turned and instead took a seat before her in the Slytherin table.

Draco couldn’t help but glare daggers at Harry.

Saint Potter.

So perfect.

So opportunistic.

Always so damn polite.

Can’t help but gloat his goodness.

All Potter wanted was a show, why else would he have actually dared to sit in the Slytherin table?  He wanted to be taught a lesson. He had to be asking for it. Malfoy was so sick of him. He seemed to be unescapable. He hated how much Potter was worshiped at school. How he couldn’t even escape him at home where his father seemed to be just as intrigued with Scarhead’s life; always probing questions about him and not his own son. It was the same thing with Saintday. He had never figured out why his father seemed to be so fascinated with the orphan girl. Why he spoke to her so respectfully almost as if he had some cold veneration towards her. Both Saintday and Potter were the same, they were names that were probably more familiar to his father’s tongue than Draco’s own name. Malfoy looked at the hopeful smile on Potter’s face as he interacted with Saintday. How dully typical of Potter acting in charity towards the most vulnerable members of the school.

Nel on the other hand…

His eyes shifted to the sad look in her eyes. He hadn’t meant to hurt her like that. He hadn’t meant for Zabini and the others to find out about their trip to Hogsmeade. That trip was something that was supposed to be his and only his.

He hated to think about that one Christmas Eve night the two had spent together last year. It had been his first Christmas away from home and from his family. The Ministry was running raids at the time seeking for cursed artifacts relating to the Dark Arts and You-Know-Who. Artifacts he knew were hidden home. One wrong move, a misplaced book, wand or item and his family would lose everything. His father would go to jail. Their name would be stained with disgrace. What would happen to his mother?  

He had written to his father that day concerned about his well-being and instead received a scolding Howler in return instructing him to shut up, not write home, and keep a close eye on the happenings involving the Chamber of Secrets. There had been no Happy Christmas wishes or loving expressed concerns for his son. He had been miserable that night. He had even cried in the second-floor girl’s bathroom where he knew nobody would see or hear him.

He still remembered the blank expression on her face when she approached him in the Slytherin Common room that night. He had seen her with the Weasley twins earlier. Two people who Malfoy thought were actually really funny although he would never publicly admit it.

There was no way he could’ve hidden his swollen red face from her. She had to have known he had been crying that night.

"Lost something Slugbreath?" He had insulted defensively hoping she’d go away before she laughed or mocked him.

"Are you okay?"

Nobody had ever asked him that simple question before. Not his friends, not his father, not a single professor least of all his family. Proper composure was simply something that was expected of him, emotional nonsense was absolutely unacceptable in the Malfoy household. It was seen as an unnecessary weakness.  

She didn’t have to stop and nosey in on his well-being. She didn’t have to drag him to the servant-quarters, feed him that disgusting looking sandwich that was warm tasted like Christmas and keep him company from his loneliness. This uncommon kindness was rare to him. Maybe some of the other Slytherin girls would’ve asked if he was okay. Maybe Parkinson would’ve attempted to snog him, but none would’ve kept him company like she did. He knew he certainly wouldn’t have done the same and least of all for her.

Like Potter, Saintday was an orphan. Something he partially envied. Both weren’t chain-balled to a golden name with high expectations and standards to maintain and live up to. Expectations that had been set for him from the moment of his birth into a life of privilege. As the sole heir of the Malfoy name, Draco had a lot to live up to. His friendships had to be well rounded with other members of the Sacred Twenty-Eight Pureblood families in England no matter how despicable or dull this company was. He had to be the best in class, Quidditch Team, socially agreeable, he was certain that in the future he’d even have to marry a Pureblooded witch. These expectations confined him since his infancy and allowed no room for second guessing or mistakes.

What would Potter ever know about that? Or even Elowen.

He hadn’t expected for the Three Broomsticks to blow up. For her to set him and Blaise on fire. He wasn’t even aware Elowen had those kinds of problems.

He wanted to be friends with her. Her pranks were funny, and she had been nice to him. Not to mention bloody brilliant at Charms. But how could the two of them ever be friends? How? What would his family think? His father had that morbid fascination for her. But his mother? His mother was the most important person in his life, and he was certain she’d be more than disappointed in him if he decided to willingly keep that type of company around.

Elowen would never fit in to his world.

Born with no name, no blood right, dressed in rags, possessing atrocious manners and an infamously ill temperament. The thought of having her for dinner with his family… It would be a catastrophe. He had no doubt plates would be thrown and something would probably explode.

He had long decided it was best to stay away from her.

The words left his mouth before he even realized.

“Come have lunch with your girlfriend Potter?” He butted loudly.

Neither acknowledged him. Regardless, the other Slytherins laughed at his comment. This only made Draco more determined to get under their skins.

"I can understand having your dog Weasley as your beating man, but isn’t it pathetic making your girlfriend fight your fights for you Potter?" He said referencing what had happened in Care for Magical Creatures the other day.

Last time Nel had met with Lupin he had advised her to try and see the best in people. Even in the worst ones. He had advised to try to be empathetic and think about what the other person could be going through. She guessed he felt that if she saw the world in a more positive light it might help come up with a Patronus worthy memory. However, when she thought of Malfoy… All she could see was a smug, spoiled thirteen-year-old. The boy had literally had everything and more in the world. He had absolutely no reason or excuse to act like such an arse all the time. In her eyes this made him disgusting.

“Sodd off Malfoy,” Harry shot him a glare before turning his attention to his friend.

“Wish you could’ve been at Hogsmeade Potter. The trip was a blast!” He said mockingly inferring to the explosion. Nel stiffened at the mentioning of Hogsmeade. Of course, Harry knew what Malfoy was referring too. Hell, the whole school knew.

Harry was about to retort something clever but instead Nel’s wand beat him to it. That had been more than enough empathetic thinking for the day. The noodles in each of their plates came to life and leeched over the Slytherin boys’ heads pulling them down suffocating them in a plate with sauce and meatballs. She didn’t stick around to wait and see their reactions leaving just as fast.

“I’m sorry about them,” Harry apologized as he jogged outside of the Great Hall to catch up to his friend.

“Why should you be? It’s not your fault they were dropped on their heads when they were born.”

Harry would’ve laughed if her expression wasn’t so sullen.

“I don't think I have a memory strong enough to cast a Patronus,” she admitted regrettably.

“There has to be something, Nel,” he insisted positively. It had also been hard for Harry to summon a charm of his own. “But like Professor Lupin said, we have to be positive.”

Professor Lupin had said a lot of things… “Maybe there is…” She spoke half-heartedly. “But bad things have happened to the people in them. They’ve all left my life. The root of the memory itself might be good, but by association it has become bitter.” Almost as if a mist of fear and abonnement corrupted and poisoned her Patronus.

“Why don't we go make some memories then?” Harry suggested optimistically with a friendly smile. She eyed him cautiously. Her nature of being doubtful and wary of other people’s kind gestures almost made her think it was probably some kind of trick.

“Sure,” She said after a moment of hesitation. Afterall what was the worst thing that could happen?

The two decided to go and play with some Gobstones in the courtyard before going to Lupin’s and it was actually a pleasant time.

“Don’t get frustrated,” Lupin said to her as she failed to summon a Patronus yet again. “Be patient.”

“Be good. Make good memories,” he kindly reassured her with a small smile before giving her a chocolate bar.

Part of her felt that the professor was slowly conditioning her to like him with the chocolate bars he gave her. He was also unusually kind. He almost seemed to genuinely care about her and Harry unlike most of the other professors. She hated to admit it, but it was working, he was starting to grow on her.

Nel was more than frustrated still at-least now she was able to stop herself before she released that ominous corrupted orb that seemed to emit from her Patronus.

Harry couldn’t summon one which was refreshing considering everything seemed to come easy to him.

Lupin’s lessons had been slowly progressing at the pace of a snail. Snape’s were practically advancing at the same pace.

“I told you Saintday to empty yourself of emotion! Fools who wear their hearts proudly on their sleeves, who cannot control their emotions, who wallow in sad memories and allow themselves to be provoked this easily — weak people, in other words — they stand no chance!” Snape instructed pointing his wand at her face from across his crowded office.

“Why do I have to do this?” She rasped as she looked at him with a wounded expression.

The Potions Master had been attempting to pry into her mind in order to agitate her explosive emotions. She found it disturbing allowing him to witness all of the terrible things she had endured throughout her life. Maybe this was an emotional control training but Nel almost felt as if it was more as if he was almost preparing her for something bigger. It almost seemed personal to him.

“Next time you go off like a firecracker somebody could die because of your infantile emotions. You must tame yourself! Empty yourself or emotion. Do not allow me to penetrate your mind with such absurd ease.”

“Please… stop,” she pleaded lowering her head as she sank deeper into the uncomfortable desk chair that was across from him. Sweat stains stained her clothes as she attempted to compose herself. "Brace yourself." He warned.

It was then that she felt him enter her mind again. She winced as he witnessed all of her most vulnerable moments. Good days at the orphanage with Lucy, being locked in and crying and banging on the door of the laundry room to get out, cheering for Tracey at the Quidditch try outs, consoling her when she didn’t make it for the second year in a row, Malfoy tapping her shoulder making me turn around in the middle of Astronomy and pretending he wasn’t the one doing it. Hexing some Hufflepuffs that were bullying Bullstrode during dinner, the time Parkinson made her barf slugs in the middle of the Common Room.  

“Make me stop!” She could hear Snape’s voice in her head.

The vials I’m the room rattled threatening to explode before she let out a throaty scream as she for the first time managed to successfully slam the door of her thoughts on him. She was exhausted, completely drained, cold sweat beads sliding down her temple as she caught her breath.

“Sir… this is unhealthy… I’ll be good. I promise,” she begged him to stop these torturous lessons.

“If this will keep you from blowing up yourself and the school it’ll be worth it. You did well, some progress for once.”

Snape raised his wand and pointed it straight in between her eyes. It might’ve been some progress, but it was not enough for him. He had to do his best in teaching her how to close her mind from others. She had to be at least good enough to keep You-Know-Who-Out…

“Again.”

Xxxxx

“Hey Saintday heard you-“ Pansy’s shrill commanding voice was interrupted when a yellow potion vial was thrown across the room and cracked open against her black bed post.

“Shut your beak Parkinson,” Nel said mindlessly not removing her eyes from the beanie she was attempting to knit. No matter how much she knit she was never very good at it. Maybe it was because she was usually distracted or trying to multitask which lead to most of her crafts having gaping holes or being wavy and uneven on the sides.

She didn’t even enjoy Pansy’s transformation into a large yellow canary.

“Will you two stop it?” Daphne snapped at the two girls looking up from a canvas she was currently painting on. “It is so annoying to see you two fight over the pettiest of things!” She huffed exasperated.

“You’re too sensitive,” Millicent said to Greengrass before helping the giant canary to Madame Pomfrey’s.

“Thanks Daph,” Tracey shot her a lopsided smile as she leafed through a Quidditch magazine.

“Can’t even concentrate with these two in the room,” she shot Nel a look before returning to her painting. The girl smirked slightly in her direction.

Like the past two years before, Elowen was to spend the Winter break and Christmas in the castle. She was hoping this would mean no more emotional control lessons with Professor Snape but boy was she wrong. Snape had instead cited her into his office every day to torture her with these painful lessons. He almost seemed to have an urgency in her mastering the subject. In her time with him she felt almost some empathy towards the older man. Why was he so bitter? Why was he so alone that he had nothing better to do but to educate her over the Christmas holiday? Maybe his loneliness had caused him to be this way.

It seemed like the only people that were staying over the break that Nel knew of were Harry and his friends.

Having a terrible headache and overall just being drained from working on her lessons all night Nel stayed in the Slytherin Common Room Christmas Eve. Loneliness had grown to be her only company. The dim green lights of the dormitory were soothing. It was unusually quiet, almost peaceful. That night Nel stayed up all night knitting one extra pair of black hand gloves. She later ventured into the kitchens to help herself to a Christmas leftover sandwhich.

The next morning, she awoke not expecting more than two Christmas gifts instead under the tree but instead there were a handful lot. Some chocolates from Professor Lupin, a chocolate frog from Harry, “The Tales of Beadle the Bard” from Theodore and a Quidditch t-shirt from Tracey's favorite team. Something Nel suspected she'd borrow often. Under the Christmas tree at the very end there was a small black box. No tag. It simply had her name written on it. She pulled the string that held it together and opened it to reveal the fancy black feathered quill she had been eyeing back at the shop in Hogsmeade. It came with a pack of violet ink and some parchment.

There was no way.

She eyed the quill curiously wondering if it was cursed.

There was only one other person that knew she had wanted this specific quill set. Nobody else knew. She hadn't mentioned it to another soul, but there was no absolute way. There was no way in hellMalfoy had bothered to gift her something so thoughtful. Again, she wondered if it was from Professor Snape. Considering he had actually been inside of her head. This was just like the sweater from last year.

Later that same day Nel arrived to Professor Snape’s office ready for her lessons. She’d ask him if he had been the mysterious character behind this year’s quill and last year’s fine sweater.

Snape didn’t look or act as if it was Christmas day. He was dressed in his classic noir fashion hovering over some parchments he was grading. Nel couldn’t help but wonder if her professor did anything for Christmas or if he even received any gifts. Did he have parents? Or was he an orphan like her too?

“Professor, sir,” Nel stood before his desk rolling her weight on the balls of her feet. She held the humble gift behind her back. Slowly he raised his head simply acknowledging her.

"Happy Christmas, Professor, I made these for you," She offered the gift to him. He looked at the knitted material in her hands. Standing up he rounded around his desk and took them from her hands hesitation. Snape looked down at the knitted gloves he was holding and clutched them tightly. It was probably the worst gift he had ever received. They had many small holes and he was sure the finger spaces were too short on some odd ones. She might as well have given him a lump of trash.

The professor said nothing, he turned around and placed the ugly gloves on the desk and turned his back to her. Nel looked at the back of his dark head oddly. Did he hate them? She knew she wasn't the best knitter but a thank you would've been appreciated…

"It…" He grumbled, his voice sounding loud and heavy in the silence that the two shared. "It may not have escaped your notice Saintday, but life isn't fair." He spoke ominously.

She blinked twice confused by his words. “Sir?” Snape always knew more than he was letting on. Specially about Elowen Saintday… It hadn't been a coincidence that Dumbledore had asked him to escort her to Diagon Alley when she was first introduced to the Wizarding World. He had connected the dots and knew it wasn't a coincidence that her wand was composed of omens of death, that she could see Therstals, that she could speak to snakes. He knew what was to come and what would be expected of the girl and he was sure he hadn’t been the only one who had connected the dots. "Get out," he said quietly his fingers pressing into the edges of his desk.

She looked at him with innocent concern. "Professor Snape?" She prodded sounding almost concerned.

"Get out!" He roared in a dangerous tone that made the girl flinch and scrambled out of the room. It was almost as if her small gestured had triggered something in the man. She closed the door behind her and looked at the closed wooden door. Half of her was expecting to hear violent crashing noises but instead there was only silence. She made a mental note never to gift Professor Snape anything ever again in her life. Specially gloves. Maybe Snape really was beyond reason. As she stood outside, she heard loud cackling. Looking up she saw Peeves translucent body levitating above her carrying buckets that seemed to swoosh with a dark foul smelling liquid. Smirking, having nothing better to do, she decided to follow after the poltergeist she felt a perverse fondness for.

Xxx

A couple of weeks later the school term resumed and the Slytherin girl was happy to see her friends. She was also happy to know that most of their knitted gifts had turned out alright and fit their heads well. Tracey specially loved her since hers had been made with the yellow and blue colors of the Puddlemere United.

Of course, that meant that her main tormentor was back. She suspected Malfoy had given her the quill she was using in class yet said nothing to him. She didn’t have enough evidence and the thought was offsetting enough it. Besides, next time the coward should put his name on the tag. She didn’t know why he had decided he was in a mood in the middle of History of Magic. He had been passing notes to her in the middle of class. She never bothered opening of reading. However, as the class passed by and she refused to give him an ounce of attention his teasing evolved from note passing to throwing balled up parchments to the back of her head and eventually tapping her shoulder and pulling her hair.

“You did your hair different today Saintday, any particular reason why?” He leaned across his desk and whispered. Of course, he had noticed that today she was wearing her medium length hair on a low ponytail over her shoulder.

“So, you won’t pull at it you entitled prick,” she retorted through gritted teeth shooting him a nasty glare her patience growing from thin to nonexistent.

You’d think Professor Binns would notice the two students bickering in the back of the class. Even Granger shot them a look to quiet down since they were disturbing her learning. At some point during the class Nel became so fed up she turned and casted a bat-boogey hex on Malfoy which made monstrously green bats made out of mucus painfully fly out of his nose. The students in the room roared with laughter at the painful sight.

“Merlin, you’re unbearable Saintday!” he managed to speak in a nasal voice both of his hands were attempting to cover his nose.

Served him well for being a snotty prick. Whatever it was Malfoy had been planning on snapping with she wasn’t expecting what he said next.

“This is why your parents didn’t want you!”

His words were sharp and dropped making the room immediately grow silent. You could hear a pin drop as the laughter in the room ceased. The only voice in the background being Binns dull lecturing about who-even-cares what. Even the Slytherins sitting around him looked at him struck by the cruel comment. The only person laughing was Pansy Parkinson. Nel visibly recoiled at his spiteful words.

He had struck a low nerve.

Just in cue class was dismissed and she quickly exited the room before the tears could begin to sting her eyes.

Draco watched her back as she left the room before anybody could say or do anything for her. It was then that he felt someone shove him.

“What is your problem?” He was surprised to see Theodore Nott out of all people aggressively shove at him. “She has feelings you fucking arse.” He glowered at him, a chilly green-eyed glare before stalking off after his friend. Tracey shook her head and followed after him looking almost disturbed.

Even Blaise looked at Malfoy with uneasiness. Maybe he had crossed the line this time…

“Don’t pay any attention to Nott,” Pansy snorted as she reached Malfoy’s side. “You know he chases after her like some sort of lovesick puppy. I thought it was brilliant!” she said giddily before hugging his arm.

Daphne shook her head lightly and left. Millicent and Goyle exchange a look in the background.

Moments later Nel was exiting the Slytherin dormitory walking towards Lupin’s office to prepare herself for her evening lesson with him and Harry. Malfoy’s words still stirring in the back of her head. It was every orphan’s worst thought being unwanted. The two people who were supposed to unconditionally love and care for you – even they didn’t want you. It made her terrible fear of abandonment more real.

“Oi,” She heard the one voice she did not want to hear. “Saintday!”

She didn’t turn around. Instead she gripped her wand inside of her cloak’s pocket tighter and walked faster ignoring the person calling after her. She didn’t react until she felt a hand come down her shoulder. “Dupulso!” She casted spinning on her heel.

Malfoy staggered and fell on his bottom from the impact of her spell.

“Elowen,” he managed to speak sorely before struggling back to his feet. She looked at him with distaste and wariness.

“Stay away from me!” She shouted at him cross once again before turning away. Regardless he persisted once again reaching for her arm.

“Don’t listen to a word I say,” he insisted.

He was conflicted. He hated himself for saying what he had said. The cruel words came out before he had even realized, but he was embarrassed, frustrated and beyond irritated. She wouldn’t even look his way; wouldn’t even read the notes he had been passing her way. Didn’t even realize he had been the one to gift her the quill set she was using.

She whipped her arm away from his touch and pointed directly at the wall behind him. “Confrigo!” She casted purposely exploding a brick in the wall which created a small cavity on it. Malfoy ducked and covered his head looking at her with a shocked expression.

“Next time I won’t miss,” She threatened before turning around for the third time.

“Saintday,” again he attempted to reach her.

“Flipendo,” She was fast in her casting and with that the boy was thrown against the opposite wall of the corridor where he painfully crashed and then pitifully slid down to the floor.

Her back was already to him as she continued in her trek. He didn’t have time. Especially when she wasn’t going to stick around and listen. Specailly not after he had behaved like an arse. “I want to tell you who it was.” He said loudly trying to get her to turn around and listen to him. “I don’t want to hear it or anything that comes out of your filthy mouth Malfoy!” She screamed. She turned and glared. “Never speak to me again,” she threatened.

“I didn’t lie to you,” He attempted to bargain for her time, for her attention. “No,” She agreed. “But you lied to everybody else!” She pressed on her threatening tone getting closer. “You made me look like an idiot- and you know what? I’m glad I blew up the Three Broomsticks. And I am especially glad I set you on fire. I hope it hurt!” She spat sounding hurt. “And then today-“ She thought of what he had said to her. It had been so childish, so unnecessary. He saw her lower lip tremble before she swiftly turned in the opposite direction.

Nott’s words echoed in Draco’s head.

“She has feelings you fucking arse.”

It was probably the first time he had ever witnesses such a strong vulnerable emotion on her features. But how could he even apologize or even begin to explain to her why he felt the need to be such a complete jackass all the time? “I want to be friends,” he blurted. He eyed her fearfully dreading for the expected rejection to come.

She gave him a sour look before beginning to laugh at his words in disbelief. Okay. Maybe he did deserve that. “You sure have a funny way of showing it.”

“Elowen,” he pleaded in a hurt voice.

“No,” She spat in a cross tone pointing her wand at his face dangerously close. “You will NOTcall me by my name. You are NOT my friend. I don’t want to ever hear my name come out of that disgusting mouth of yours!”

“Will you please listen to me?” He insisted getting closer.

She was ready to hex him. When her wand flew out of her hand.

“Not my Draco!” An unbearably familiar voice butted between the two of them. They both turned to see Pansy who was walking in the opposite direction of them. Neither had heard her enter the dungeon or even cast the Expeliarmus.

“Have your girlfriend to fight your fights for you Malfoy?” She seethed in the anger that was beginning to boil in the pits of her stomach. Tossing an insult he had once tossed at Harry. Nel wanted to hurt them both. Especially Parkinson, but she couldn’t. She let out a low breath as she attempted to rid herself of these impulsive emotions just like Snape had taught her. What reason did Parkinson have to be so vile? Raw insecurity maybe? Who knows?

To her surprise Elowen actually gained control of her emotions. She calmly turned to face Parkinson and simply glared before her head began to swell into a balloon. She cried out and Bullstrode began escorting her to Madame Pomfrey’s.

Malfoy had her want in his hand and handed it to her. She snatched it out of his hand and shot him a dirty look before finally leaving.

Xxxxx

Throughout the rest of the year Malfoy continued wanting to want to talk to her, but at this point Nel was completely disinterested in anything he had to say. Specially about whomever had abandoned her at the abbey. As he had said whoever had done this didn’t want her so why should she want them?

His bipolar personality in which he would be nice to her one moment and then terribly rude the next, especially when the other Slytherin boys were around, didn’t help his case.

She wanted to plan and execute her terrible revenge, but Lupin had advised her no to. He was right, no matter what she did or didn’t do they wouldn’t stop. Her vengeance would be terribly sweet, but it wouldn’t make things right. Oh, but how long she longed to watch them suffer- She was learning to try something new, she was learning empathy, she was trying to understand why they were the way they were- However, today would not be the day. After all learning was a long process.

Nel sat in the Slytherin Common Room waiting for the Slytherin boys’ rude awakening. Moments later rivers of large toads and frogs came sliding down the staircase. They were big, small, some were green, and others were murky brown. They croaked and jumped to the carpet. Moments later Crabbe came running down pulling frogs out of his pants. The girl’s in the Common Room shrieked at the yucky grossness glaring in disgust. Blaise Zabini threw up. Malfoy walked down with a large frog on his blonde head as he descended down the stairs. It seemed like he had given up on getting the frogs out of his robes.

Theodore looked beyond irritated. Sadly he had been collateral damage.

She said nothing to them that morning but would often smugly ribbit at them and swell her cheeks when things were awfully quiet in the middle of class or in the common room. It had been weeks and the staff hadn’t figured out how to disenchant the plumping from pouring out amphibians instead of water. She had a feeling that Lupin knew but he didn’t have any proof.

That had been a couple of weeks ago.

Presently, Nel was in the back of the library doing some research about the history of the Patronus charm when somebody slid into the chair in front of her. She wasn’t taking any clients at the moment and with the year ending people were beginning to grow desperate for her services. She raised her wand ready to attack whomever disturbed but instead she found she couldn’t move her hand. A hand slapped over hers and pinned it against the desk roughly. Her eyes snapped up from the text she was reading to meet a pair of grey ones.  

“Will you quit being a knob head and listen to me for a second?”

It was Malfoy and he looked angry.

She didn’t know if he was angry  because of the frogs that had been coming out of his enchanted bathroom for weeks or his frustration of being unable to communicate with her.

“Which one of your personalities do you want me to listen to? The one that’s an insufferable arsehole or the one that’s an arrogant son of a witch?” She challenged with a nasty look.

“Can you get your head of your arse for a moment,” he asked gruffly. He had been trying to have a conversation with her for months now and every time he got close he would get either embarrassingly hexed or tossed against a nearby wall. “Can you?” She shot back and pulled her hand back from his hand grip standing up and gathering her belongings.

“Elowen, please.”

That was it. He was on her last nerve. Sodd emotional control classes with Snape. She had been more than clear with him stating she didn’t want him near her.

“Stop calling me by my name Malfoy. Stop calling me at all! I already told you!” She slammed her books on the table angrily. “You are vile, and despicable and like to humiliate others because you are so small and insignificant it makes you feel better about your sad and pitiful life! You think you’re all that because you can trace your family back a couple of generations. Big deal! Whoop-de-doo. Congratulations. But guess what? Nobody cares you freakishly albino inbreed!”

She snapped angrily almost spitting fire in his direction. Malfoy was stunned, he had never seen such an angry look in her eyes, her neck so red from the word vomit she had just hatefully spewed at him. He thought she was going to stop there but she didn’t. “Your head is so damn big I sometimes wonder if it’s so swelled up because of your massive ego or because it is filled with air! Yeah- maybe you do have a fancy name and more money than I will ever have, but what’s the use of it if it can’t buy you any manners.”

Nel caught her breath and leaned her weight on the desk. Her shoulders slumped slightly. She couldn’t believe she had said such horrible things to him. So much for her emotional control lessons. On the brightside nothing had  exploded this time. She looked away from him not wanting to meet his hurt eyes. He looked pale, almost sick. It almost looked like he could have cried. She caught her breath and looked at him with hard eyes.

“Leave me alone,” she whispered hauntingly before leaving Draco alone in the library, just as Madame Pince was rounding about to ask the students to leave her library from the loud outburst.  

He knew she was never going to listen to him. She had given him no choice.

“It was Black,” he burst making her stop. “It was Sirius Black, that left you in the abbey that night.”

Not turning around she continued on her way back to the dormitory brewing on the name she hadn’t been expecting. Her heart hammering in her chest. Eyes wide in horror at the revelation.

[elareine]

clock ticking (sudden silence)

Chapters: 1/1 Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: Dick Grayson/Jason Todd Tags: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Timers, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Angst with a Happy Ending, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Temporary Character Death, Loss, Grief/Mourning, Age Difference, Identity Reveal Summary: For twenty years, Dick Grayson has waited for his timer to begin ticking. When it finally does, there are only two issues: Jason is thirteen. And the timer only reads eighteen months.

Read here on ao3

The thing about the timer was: It didn’t tell you anything about your soulmate, only how long you would have together.

Dick had heard people talking about how they ‘sensed’ who it was before they ever met the person, how they just knew their soulmate(s) would be sweet and gentle and fiery and perfect. Some even said it came to them in dreams, the vague shape of a face they loved more than anyone else.

Privately, Dick thought that was bullshit. It was a timer, nothing more. They all had the same lettering, the same number system, everything. There was no way of knowing what the other person would be like.

When he had been a child, he’d thought he would meet his soulmate in the circus for sure. He couldn’t imagine anything different. Perhaps it would be an audience member, coming up to meet him after the performance. Maybe one of the countless children that tried to sneak in to watch, one of the ones that looked so poor, the circus owners decided to turn a blind eye and allow them some joy, therefore helping Dick meet the love of his life.

But deep down, he’d always thought it would be another acrobat. Someone joining the circus. Someone who knew the sheer joy of flying, the thrill of danger and an audience. Someone to become part of his family.

That dream crashed spectacularly, of course. Try as he might, Dick never found quite another dream to replace that one. Would they be handsome or beautiful? If they were his soulmate, he would think so for sure, and that was all that mattered. Would they be kind? Supportive? A rock to lean on?

He’d told himself that it wouldn’t matter until his timer started, and maybe not even then.

Bruce’s timer, for example, was ticking. Dick had spotted it for the first time months into their partnership. He’d been confused, had asked if he had met Bruce’s soulmate—where were they?

In those days, Bruce had still been willing to answer Dick’s questions. He said: Sometimes, even soulmate relationships didn’t work out. It was a chance, a hint, nothing more. With him being a vigilante, the choice to be together wasn’t as easy as kids’ movies made it out to be.

(He had never actually mentioned the name of his soulmate. Back then, Dick had thought he knew anyway. Now, he wasn’t so sure.)

(He also thought Bruce had been full of shit that day.)

His teenage years were pretty good, romantically speaking. Sexually, too. Some lovely puppy love, a bit of experimentation, the conclusion that yep, he was going to continue using the gender-neutral ‘they’ for his future soulmate, but probably not in the plural sense.

Still, he kept waiting for his timer to start ticking.

He heard about the new kid before he ever met him. He and Batman weren’t exactly on speaking terms at the time, but. Rumors spread, and soon, so did videos of the kid in the Robin mantle. Seeing how Dick was now twenty and very much not built like that anymore, the conclusion that he had been replaced was pretty much inevitable.

It would be accurate to say Dick didn’t react well to the news. Bruce had every right to take in another child, but how dare he call him Robin? Nevermind that Dick himself had moved on from that title. It wasn’t Bruce’s to give.

So his first time meeting the kid was already tense as hell. The fact that his timer started ticking the exact moment he laid eyes on Jason didn’t help.

Dick was panicking.

Jason was thirteen.

He was tiny.

Okay, he wasn’t, he was pretty average for his age, he went up to Dick’s chest, even, but the keywords here were ‘for his age’ because Jason was thirteen.

Dick wasn’t a pervert, okay. There was nothing sexy about a teenager that had just hit puberty to him. His replacement, nonetheless. His brother.

But maybe all of that would’ve been fine. They could’ve become friends or made sure to meet up later in life when the age difference wouldn’t seem so monumental. Seven years wasn’t so much once both of you were out of puberty. Dick could’ve morphed from a big brother figure to something closer over time. He’d have enjoyed that, probably.

But none of that would happen because the timer only had 18 months left from the day it began.

Dick didn’t say anything to Jason. When the younger sought him out, he kept their interactions short. His ongoing problems with Bruce were a good enough reason to stay away from the manor, from Gotham, and to never talk about this. Either he would die far away from the kid, never to be mourned, or Jason himself would die, having lived unencumbered by soulmate that was way too old for him. It was better that way.

His friends found out in one of the worst ways possible: by accident, two days before the timer was due to stop.

Jason had disappeared over a week ago. Dick had tried to warn Bruce, had fully intended to at least be in Gotham and try to stop it from happening because although these things were rarely wrong, he knew he wouldn’t ever forgive himself for not trying—but Jason had disappeared so much earlier than he’d thought.

In a way, that made it worse. If Jason had indeed been kidnapped (and according to Bruce, signs were that he’d left on his own, but you never knew what the incentive for that might’ve been), then Dick didn’t want to imagine the torture Jason would have to suffer in the week before he died.

He still did, of course. That was why Kori and Wally had caught him staring at the ticking time bomb on his wrist.

There was no need to explain, no way to hide what was happening. Kori sighed, “Oh, Dick,” and Wally was wrapped around him in a hug faster than Dick could tell that he was fine.

“Is there anything we can do?”

Dick looked into Kori’s beautiful green eyes and seriously considered the question. A speedster, an alien, a man trained by the world’s greatest detective. Together, they had saved the city—heck, the world—from certain disaster more than once.

But they couldn’t fight against fate. Dick shook his head.

Eventually, they made to leave, and truthfully, Dick was glad. He didn’t know how to talk about this. How to tell them that no, he had no idea where his soulmate was because he had rejected him, hadn’t even kept a close watch.

But Kori turned around.

“Just,” she closed her eyes, “is it one of us?”

Understanding her fear all too well, he put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “No.”

At least there was that. No one here would miss Jason.

Bruce didn’t tell him when he found a lead, he just went. Dick wasn’t even mad about that. He hadn’t been entirely honest with Bruce, either.

Besides, when he got the alert that the Batplane had taken off and saw his timer tick down its last hours, he already knew that Bruce would be too late.

00:02.

Dick watched the last hours tick down on his timer. Now that it was happening, he would give anything to be in Ethiopia. He barely knew the boy—nothing beyond his history and that he was Dick’s soulmate; that he was Robin—but he knew that Jason didn’t deserve to die alone.

Bruce hadn’t reached out to him at all. Neither had Alfred.

00:01.

It was agonizing.

00:00.

Jason’s last hour had begun. Dick set the stopwatch on his phone for sixty minutes. The timer didn’t go into so many details. He’d tried to find out just how accurate it was; the results had been dispiriting. Jason could, as of now, be dead. Or he could live and breathe and hope for another 59 minutes.

The whole time, he prayed for his display to change. That Bruce would do the impossible once more, defeat fate, and buy Jason more time. Buy themmore time, now that Dick suddenly and painfully realized that he wanted there to be a them so badly, in any way he could get.

His stopwatch beeped. It was over. Dick hadn’t felt a thing, couldn’t have told you when his soulmate died, but it was over.

When he heard about what actually happened, it was worse.

Here’s a secret Dick never told anyone: He still wished Bruce had not even tried to revive the Joker. The old bastard had died that day like he deserved—unmourned.

Once Dick went through Jason’s things.

Bruce wasn’t home—gone on one of these trips he took these days, the ones filled with revenge and darkness in a way they hadn’t been before. If Alfred knew what Dick was doing, he didn’t comment. And after all, Dick thought mutinously, why shouldn’t he be here? This had been his room, once upon a time. He had a right to see what happened to it.

There were books there now. So many books. Jason hadn’t been choosy; classic French literature was crammed in next to space operas and cowboy romance. When Dick idly pulled one out, he could see scrawled comments in the margins. Apparently, Jason had considered “The Great Gatsby” to ‘suck ass.’

The room itself was much more orderly than when Dick had been responsible for tidying it. No way to tell if that was because Jason was a neat-freak or because Alfred had cleaned it out since his death, though.

It took Dick a second to realize what was missing. There was only one photograph, Batman and Robin heading into the night. Where were the family pictures? Dick remembered his own collection: his parents, the circus folk, his friends, Bruce and Alfred and Babs and Clark…

Maybe Jason had taken them with him when he left.

Still Dick’s eyes searched the room, hungry for something more personal than books and tidy clothes on a hanger. Finally, he saw it: a simple brown teddy bear, almost hidden by the curtains.

“Hey, little buddy,” he murmured, crouching down. “What’re you doing in the corner like that?”

In his mind’s eye, Dick could see Jason arguing with Bruce—or maybe just quietly seething in anger—, finally throwing the bear into the corner, his decision made.

Dick hesitated, but—he couldn’t leave the bear. It shouldn’t lie here, abandoned in a mausoleum. It went home with him that night, and to every home since.

It was such a fucking cliché, but after that, life went on.

Dick could see the empty space Jason left behind in Bruce’s life, in Alfred’s, hell, even in Tim’s, in Gotham itself—but the only thing for him that had changed was the nature of his guilt.

Eventually, he started dating again, unwilling to be chained to the ghost of a what-if. It was okay. People had relationships after their soulmates died. Sure, there were forums full of people complaining that nothing compared to dating The One. Wasn’t like Dick had anything to compare it to, though, so he was in the clear.

He and Babs really gave it a try. There was no universe in which Dick wasn’t glad that they did. She would always be one of the most important people in his life.

After they split up, the responsibilities keep piling onto him. Being a full-time vigilante with duties to more than city, to more than one team, heck, even to an international spy agency—it kept him busy. Distracted. Until fate found him again.

Dick’s timer was ticking again, only this time, he genuinely had no idea who had set it off. Maybe he’d been too busy, too numb to notice during patrol. It wasn’t unheard, people gaining a second chance at a soulmate. Dick just hadn’t exactly considered the possibility for himself, and he wasn’t quite sure what to do with it.

It read two years.

Dick wanted to throw something against the wall. Why? Why would he only be granted so little time? How much of it had he already wasted because he hadn’t noticed when it started ticking?

How many chances would he be granted, just for his love to leave him? Was this to be his doom?

You sound like Batman.

Dick stopped and pulled himself up. The last time this had happened, he’d been twenty, unsure of his place in the family and the world, ill-equipped to handle an already devastating situation.

That wasn’t him anymore.

This time, he would take whatever time they had. And when it ended, he’d be grateful for it, and keep living his life.

He just had to find them first.

There was a new vigilante in town. For months, he was but a rumor of a red helmet and dead bodies left in his wake—until he made his big move.

The takeover of the Penguin lounge had been well-planned and viciously executed, and there wasn’t a damn thing any of them could do about it, not when all the Red Hood’s minions were loyal to him and his precautions excellent. He stayed far away from Batman and Robin; he seemed to have an understanding with Catwoman; his policy seemed to be to protect the street workers.

Somehow, he’d moved himself to the bottom of Batman’s list. Still, Dick knew he made Bruce uneasy. All their attempts to find out more about the man failed. Even when Tim managed to listen in on the club’s communications for almost a whole day, all they got was a name: Red Hood.

He was a rumor, until the day he sought out Dick on the rooftops.

“Red Hood.”

“Nightwing.” The other man’s voice was metallic, a voice modulator giving nothing away about its original timbre. “What brings you to Gotham?”

“Helping out on a case.” Nightwing’s connection to Batman wasn’t a secret. Dick would be astonished if there was still a citizen left that didn’t know Nightwing and Robin I were the same person. “What brings you to this roof?”

“You’re going after Sionis.”

“Yes.” Or at least, he was now.

“He hurt one of my own. He’s mine now. Stay away.”

Dick did his best not to snort. That was bullshit. His own interest in the Sionis case had been cursory at best. If Red Hood had just waited three days to eliminate him, Dick never would’ve noticed.

“What about him is so interesting that it warrants you coming out of hiding?”

The helmet tilted to the side. Dick would be damned if he could tell you why he found the movement so provoking, but he did. “Who says it’s Sionis I’m interested in?”

“Uh.” Dick was sure his eyes were wide behind the domino. Was Red Hood… hitting on him?

“Tell Batman to stay out of my business.”

With that, the other man shot a grapple and vanished. Dick made no move to follow him.

Dick expected that to be it. He returned to Blüdhaven, leaving Gotham and its secrets for Bruce to deal with. Except that particular secret seemed to have singled him out.

The first time he saw Red Hood in a fight in his city, he did nothing, merely observing the other’s fighting skills critically. Not bad. He had clearly been trained in a variety of fighting styles and was quicker than you’d expect for a man of his size. His left hook was good enough to rival Bruce’s.

Dick was still pretty sure he could take him in a fight.

“Are you just going to watch?” Red Hood called out, gripping one of his attackers by the throat and dangling him into the air.

“I dunno, you seem to have it pretty well in hand,” Dick sniggered.

“Never mind.” Red Hood dropped the now-unconscious man, turning to disable the next one with a well-placed nerve strike. Dick noted that unlike some of the scenes he’d seen in Gotham, Red Hood seemed to have no interest in killing these men. That implied he had some sort of value system. Interesting. “Please leave. That was terrible.”

Dick eyes the entrance of the alley. A group of armed thugs was gathering, clearly ready to strike. Decision made, he jumped from the roof, landing right beside Red Hood. “Sorry, but I can’t let you have all the fun.”

“Spoilsport.”

“You come into my city and then complain when I help you?”

“Oh, is that what you call this? ‘Cause all I can see is you standing around and jibbering.”

Dick thought the criminals he was currently sending a few thousand volts through might beg to differ. Between the two of them, they had the entire gang out in less than ten minutes.

It was, Dick reluctantly conceded, fun.

It became something of a regular occurrence after that. Nightwing would drop by Red Hood’s territory whenever he was in Gotham, and Red Hood would return the favor with regular visits to Blüdhaven. They’d banter, punch out some criminals, collect whatever they had come for, and go their separate ways. Not exactly a friendship, but something easy. Comfortable.

Until the night they busted a heroin ring in an abandoned warehouse and found some kids hiding three rooms down.

Dick saw the boy first. He couldn’t be more than twelve. His body was skinny, and not in the way teens sometimes got after a growth spurt.

Not knowing what else to do, Dick gave a wave. “Hi. I’m Nightwing. What’s your name?”

“I don’t want to tell you.” As soon as he uttered the words, the boy tensed, visibly expecting punishment.

Dick smiled. “That’s okay. I’ll tell you a secret—Nightwing’s not my real name, either.”

“Well, duh.” The teen scowled, but he did look less afraid. Then he looked over Dick’s shoulder and asked: “Who is that with my sister?”

Dick turned around to see Red Hood kneeling and… wearing a blonde wig? He blinked.

The little girl in front of him hiccuped, still crying but visible distracted by the big shiny helmet. Wearing a wig. Where had Hood even found that?

“That’s Red Hood,” Dick told him, trying to sound as if all of this was perfectly normal. God, he hoped the kids hadn’t heard the fighting. What a terrible time to pick this warehouse.

“What’re vigilantes doing here? Is something happening? Were there guns?”

“Sort of. I’m afraid this place isn’t safe, but we can bring you somewhere else for the night,” Dick said.

Red Hood looked up and suggested: “The sisters on St John Street. They’re good people.”

“No one will separate you,” Dick added. “Just help. Get you some food, somewhere to sleep safely.”

The boy looked at them. “We’re not going back to—to—”

“You won’t have to,” Red Hood promised, and Dick nodded. Not if he had anything to say about it—and once he would investigate whoever it was that they were running from, he would have.

“How about we accompany you?” Dick suggested.

The boy looked hesitant, but the girl suddenly gave a giggle. “You can’t walk like that,” she told Red Hood.

“Why not?”

“You look silly, dummy!”

“Well, that’s very rude of you to say.” And just like that, the wig still perched on the helmet, Red Hood stepped out onto the street. He was walking rather uncannily like a model, Dick noted with some amusement.

The girl followed him, still laughing and pulling her brother along. “No! Take it off!”

“But I feel so pretty!”

The distraction worked, and the walk to the center for vulnerable children passed quickly. Only there did Red Hood take off the wig, making a big show of stuffing into his belt to hide his ‘shame.’ “Your wish is my command,

The girl’s priorities seemed to have changed, though. “C’mon,” told her brother, “they said there’s food in there.”

But the teenager hesitated, looking at Dick. “Are you sure they’re okay?”

Dick was about to reassure them again, heartbroken by the hesitant hope in their eyes, when Red Hood said: “Yeah. I stayed with them a few times when I was your age. They get it.”

He didn’t mean the boy’s age, Dick realized. Jesus.

“Okay.”

Dick let them head in alone. They needed to see that they would welcome on their own, vigilante accompanying them or not. He would talk to the workers in a minute or two.

Red Hood’s metallic voice broke the silence. “So, I’m assuming you’re going to look into whoever did this to them.”

“You bet. Aren’t you?”

“Oh, yes. You better be quick.”

Dick had already planned on that, but: “Why?”

“I do not like child abusers, and I clean up after myself.” With that statement, Red Hood gave a little wave. The casual movement was belied by the suppressed rage that suddenly seemed to pour out of his every pore. “See you.”

Dick stared after him, undecided.

He had allowed himself to be judge, jury, and executioner once, and never regretted it. Not once had he since felt the desire or need to be in that position again.

Didn’t mean he didn’t get it.

In the end, he decided to head inside. The kids needed him, and they were what was important here.

Still. Life had just become a lot more complicated.

“We should eat.”

“Sure. Let’s have a picnic. Just you, me, the stars, and the person we’re staking out. How romantic.”

“Shut up.” Red Hood casually dropped a lunchbox next to where Dick was sitting. “You haven’t eaten in all day.”

“I’m not in danger of fainting, you know.” Still, Dick couldn’t help but open the box. “Pasta salad?”

Red Hood shrugged. “Carbs.”

It honestly smelled terrific. Red Hood had even brought a fork. Dick was ready to dig in when he realized something.

Red Hood was still wearing his helmet.

“So… you’re just going to sit there and watch me eat?”

Red Hood crossed his arms. “Well, if you say it like that, it just sounds creepy.”

“Yeah, exactly. You don’t want any food?”

“I’ll eat later.”

Dick considered him. “I bet you I could get that off you in less than two minutes.”

“Believe me, you don’t want to.”

For the first time, the other vigilante turned his back to Dick. There was what Dick recognized to be a trigger device at the back of his helmet. Dick shuddered. Red Hood would rather have his head explode than someone see his face without his consent.

“Okay, don’t take it off then. That looks like it would spoil the meal.”

“My point exactly. Do you always talk so much when there’s food on the table?”

Dick grumbled, but he did start eating after that. Damn. That pasta was goood.

Three days later, Red Hood shot a man that was about to decapitate Dick with an ax. He even left the criminal alive. Dick tried not to be charmed.

“Well, fuck.” Red Hood stared at the little dot on Dick’s display in dismay. “Guess it’s back to Blüdhaven for us.”

“Looks like it.” Dick sighed. Just what he’d needed. His ride was back in Blüdhaven since he’d taken a detour through space on his way here. Looked like he’d need to borrow one from Bruce. It was that or public transport.

As if he’d read his thoughts, Red Hood asked: “Want a ride?”

“You got a car?”

“Don’t sound so surprised, but no.” Hood fiddled with something on his belt. For a minute, nothing happened. Then Dick heard the noise of a smooth motor approaching. Red Hood made a ‘ta-da’ motion with his hand as a red and silver machine turned the corner. “I got a bike.”

Dick whistled. “Wow, my little brother would love that.”

“He got one of his own?”

“Nah, he’s thirteen, just a kid.” That may be slightly too much information to give out, but Dick had honestly stopped caring at some point. “It’s all about skateboards for now.”

“Is he turning his sick tricks in the local park or on the rooftops?”

“You could always just meet him.”

Red Hood snorted. “I have no desire to meet any more bats or birds.”

“And yet you keep hanging out with me.”

“Yeah.” A sigh. “Dunno why I keep doing this to myself.”

Suddenly feeling defensive, Dick crossed his arms. “Hey, we’re not that bad.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

“You haven’t even met them.” Or Bruce wouldn’t be trying to milk Dick for information about their meetings.

“Oh yes I have.”

Red Hood froze. Dick pounced. “When?”

But it was no use. “Look. I’ll make you a deal. We don’t talk about Batman anymore tonight, and you get to drive.”

Dick considered that. “If I say no, are you just going to leave?”

“Yupp.”

“Fine.”

Ten minutes later, with Red Hood’s arms wound tightly around his middle, the bike humming between his legs, Dick couldn’t even be mad.

Sometimes, Dick worried. Red Hood was too casual about his own life. Even as he made friends—not just Dick, but Roy and Kori and Artemis and, somehow, a Superman clone—he threw himself into the kind of situations that made even Dick take a step back and evaluate.

He was too reckless. It was as if his life didn’t matter. If Hood went on like this, he’d be dead within a year or two—Dick froze.

Could… could Red Hood be his soulmate?

His timer had begun ticking again before he met the other vigilante on that rooftop. That didn’t mean he couldn’t have passed him on the street one day before that, though. Or rather, one night: It must’ve been in his Nightwing garb. If Red Hood knew, or suspected, that would explain why he sought Nightwing out.

Granted, the odds were slim. But it was possible.

Funnily enough, Dick never once asked himself whether he wanted Hood to be his soulmates. Why wouldn’t he? Underneath that anger, he suspected Red Hood to be one of the kindest men he’d ever met, and he’d been nothing but supportive to Dick.

Still. He had to treat this with caution.

Look. Dick knew he should be with his friends and/or family, celebrating his birthday, not out here, jumping from rooftop to rooftop in Blüdhaven. It just felt… right, this year. Days like these, Dick couldn’t bear looking at what was left of his friends. All he would do was count the empty spaces. Patrol was safer, somehow.

Of course, the one time he was looking for a distraction on his birthday, he didn’t find any. Blüdhaven was weirdly quiet. It took Dick two hours to figure out why.

“What’re you doing here?” he asked, bemused.

Red Hood, visibly startled, turned around—then swore when the two-bit criminal he’d been cornering took the chance to sprint off into the sunset. “Dammit, was that necessary?”

“Eh, you’ll catch him. So?”

“I was in the area, and I didn’t expect you to—never mind. What are you working on?”

Dick shrugged as casually as possible. “Nothing in particular. Just patrol, business as usual, you know. How about you?”

“I was following a lead, but it just fled for the hills.” Red Hood sighed, always a funny sound through the helmet.

“Ooops,” Dick said, not apologetic at all. “How about that. Whatever are you going to do with your evening.”

He’d meant it as a joke—there was always more crime to hunt down—but the other man paused. “Actually. There’s something I wanted to show you.”

‘Something’ turned out to be yet another rooftop perch, this time in one of the poorer districts. Dick didn’t get what was so special about this until the first family left their house. Another followed, and another, until there were about thirty people gathered, nearly half of them children.

“Watch,” Red Hood murmured.

One man put down a large bag and took out an object. For one terrible second, Dick thought it was a missile—but no. A rocket, but one of the harmless variety.

The kids cheered as several of the adults prepared the fireworks. The first rocket went up, bathing the street in the light of its beautiful golden rain. It was quickly followed by a serious of smaller, purple blasts, underlined by a wheel of blue lights.

“They do this once a month,” Red Hood told him. “To bring some light to the city.”

Dick pressed his shoulder companionably into the other man’s. “This is neat. Thank you.”

“What are you thanking me for?” Ah, there was the embarrassed grumbling again. Dick had learned to tell. “Shut up already and watch, you’re louder than the fireworks.”

He didn’t move away, though. Dick counted it as a win.

“It was supposed to be me,” the woman whispered, over and over again.

Dick kept his grip on her shoulder tight to keep her from running to into the fire and to her soulmate. He’d seen the body. There was nothing they could do. “I’m sorry, but—”

“You don’t understand!” she yelled, suddenly furious. “That’s my wife! My soulmate!”

He wanted to tell her: “I do understand.” However, did he really? Jason had been more of a concept than a real person.

(Red Hood, however little information Dick had about him, was very, definitely real. Dick tried not to imagine the kind of hole someone like that would leave in his life.)

Instead, he said: “She wouldn’t want you to follow her.”

With one last anguished cry, the woman collapsed against his chest.

As he watched the police car drive off, Dick considered going home. As far as he was concerned, this night could go fuck itself. But… he didn’t want to be alone.

“Can’t be easy, something like that.”

Relief flooded Dick at the metallic voice even before he turned around to greet the other vigilante. With Red Hood, he wouldn’t have to be alone. He knew that deep in his bones.

“No,” he replied belatedly. “No, it can’t be. Isn’t.”

“Are you alright?”

Dick frowned. “Yes? This hasn’t been a great night so far, but patrol is nearly over, so—”

“You’re bloody.”

“Oh.” Dick lifted his hands and studied the scratches that now marked him. “It’s fine.”

Red Hood, though, took one of Dick’s hands in his and studied it as if to inspect the wounds. “Those are gouges.”

“She was desperate.”

“Understandable.” Red Hood dropped Dick’s hand. It felt cold. “I think if I lost my soulmate, I would go searching for them in any way I could. Try to save them, somehow.”

There was something pointed about these words. Dick couldn’t quite grasp it. “Destiny doesn’t negotiate.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure. Brought me here, didn’t it?”

And that was—

Dick closed his eyes, just to think for a moment. The way the other man was behaving, there was good reason to think he might suspect himself to be Dick’s soulmate. All Dick would have to do was ask, and maybe, just maybe, something he’d wanted for a very long time would be within his grasp.

But Jason’s shadow still loomed over him. He couldn’t forget that boy. He mustn’t. It was the least of what he owed him.

“I had a soulmate before,” Dick told him.

Red Hood cocked his head to the side. “Had?”

Somehow, his tone was more surprised than emphatic. That didn’t exactly fill Dick with confidence, but he continued: “He died. My timer was set for only eighteen months. He was—he was just a boy, really.”

Suddenly he realized he was crying. It was the first time he’d let his guard down, really down, about this, and something about Red Hood made it impossible for him to pull it back up.

Embarrassed, he covered his face with his hands. “I’m sorry.”

Gloved hands settled on his shoulders. “Hey, no, it’s okay, you don’t have to—“

“I fucked it up, Hood. Left him alone. It was selfish and stupid and I—I can’t—” Dick stopped talking. It wouldn’t come out without sobs, anyway.

Red Hood’s hands stayed on him during the minutes he cried silently, pressing down hard enough to hurt Dick, to anchor him; but he didn’t say anything. He just waited, and when Dick was coherent again, he asked: “What happened?”

“He died,” Dick said simply. “I murdered his killer, but that does not bring him back.”

There was a long silence. It should’ve been tense, nervous, now that even the last of Dick’s secrets had been exposed. Instead Dick felt resigned. Either this would be too much, even for the Red Hood, or not.

This was who he was. There was no changing that, no matter how hard he’d tried.

“Well, fuck, now I’m not even slightly angry with you anymore, what the fuck.”

Dick frowned. That… wasn’t what he’d expected. “What do you mean?”

“You know I fully intended on some kind of revenge plot here? I thought maybe a dramatic reveal in front of all of the bats, you know, or at least something accompanied by a lot of yelling and triumph, not to mention bloodshed,” the Red Hood told him almost conversationally as he stood back and began fiddling with the mechanism at the back of his helmet. “But no, you have to go and be a much better man than I thought, Dickie. Of fucking course.”

All the alarm bells began to ring in Dick’s head. “What did you just call me?”

The helmet came off.

“…Jason?”

They were so different. Hood was taller than Jason; a man instead of a boy. His hair was dark, yes, but there was white streak running through it. His jaw had filled out, his bearing straightened, his eyes turned slightly greener.

And yet.

Dick knew.

“Yeah. Uh. Surprise. Guess you didn’t know? I wasn’t completely sure before today.”

Dick filed the notion that Jason thought him (or the rest of the family, for that matter) capable of just quietly ignoring his resurrection away for some other day. Right now, he was too busy trying to breathe.

“Dick?” There was concern in that voice now. “Are you okay?”

“Am I—” Breathing. “How?”

“Maybe you should sit down?” Jason looked like he expected Dick to faint any minute now. Dick admitted that might not be too far from the truth ‘cause what the fuck, but it didn’t matter right now, because: “You died.”

“Yes.” Jason ran a hand through his hair with a sigh. “Don’t ask me how or I got out of that grave, I don’t either.”

Dick didn’t know what to say to that.

“Talia al Ghul rescued me,” Jason continued, talking more quickly as if wanting to get it over with. “I wasn’t whole, so… Lazarus Pit. And then she trained me and told me a whole bunch of stuff, some of which turned out to be true, some of which didn’t. And now I’m here.”

“But—” he whispered. This was dialogue straight out of a terrible Hallmark movie, but he needed to know. “My timer—”

“Dick,” Jason looked at him with a steady gaze, “my timer has read the same time ever since I met you.” He lifted his wrist and pulled off the leather glove.

46:04.

Dick stared at it helplessly. That was the kind of number he’d only ever dreamed of. And it was supposed to be his and Jason’s?

His and Jason’s. Because Jason was his soulmate, returned to him from the dead without Dick’s knowledge or help. That, finally, what was got through the shock, rattling Dick back into reality.

Dick looked him into the eyes—and God, those eyes; if there hadn’t been that helmet, that modulator, Jason would’ve had no way of hiding himself—and said something he’d wanted to say for seven years: “I’m sorry.”

“I told you I’m not angry anymore.”

“I should’ve been there for you,” Dick insisted.

For the first time, Jason looked away. “In a way, you were.”

“I was what?”

“There with me. I can’t speak for what was happening when I was dead—don’t remember, mostly glad about that—but when I clawed my way out of that grave, I had no idea who you were. I had no idea who I was, really. But I saw that timer and knew that someone, somewhere, was waiting for me.”

Dick couldn’t help himself, reaching out with trembling hands to finally, finally pull Jason close. Burying his head in the other man’s shoulder, he whispered tremulously: “I was, Jason. I didn’t even know it, but I was.”

Strong arms wrap around him to hold on just as tightly. For the first time in years, Dick felt his head quieten.

Still he had to ask: “How can you forgive me?”

“Okay, one? As an adult myself now, I completely understand why you freaked out. Teenagers are babies. A+ not taking advantage of me.”

Dick chuckled wetly.

“Two… I’ve seen you open your heart again. Tim, he’s actually your brother. Your friends.” Jason was talking into his hair ear now. Maybe it was easier that way. “You keep doing that, Dick, just opening up and taking people in and being vulnerable, and I don’t know how you do that, really, it’s kinda worrying, but—I cannot blame you for being tired just one time of losing people.”

“You should,” Dick told him, “I do.”

“Yeah, well, no-one said you were smart.”

That got a laugh out of Dick. He let it shake through him, then asked: “Why did you hide when you came back?”

“I didn’t want to see Bruce. Still don’t.” Jason’s voice was matter of fact.

Dick knew they would have to talk about that. Not now. “Why come back at all, then?”

“It’s my home. Also, I didn’t want to just give up on you, you know?”

The side of Jason’s neck was naked and vulnerable without the helmet. Dick pressed a kiss there in gratitude.

“When I didn’t know if you figured out my identity or not, I wanted to see what happened,” Jason continued. “I figured, this situation is fucked up and all, but it’s also a chance.”

“A chance?”

“My last turn as a vigilante in Gotham was kinda a shitshow. So I thought I’d just prove that—that I could be what you want. That I could do better. I don’t know if I can ever be good, not the way you and Batman want me to be—”

“Jason,” Dick interrupted him, pulling back to look at Jason; his voice fierce with the obviousness of what he had to say, “you are exactly what I want. If I had ever taken any time to know you before, I’d have known that, and I wanted you since I got to know you as the Red Hood. If you think there is any way I am letting you go again—“

Now they were talking in circles. Jason seemed to notice that, too, for he cupped Dick’s jaw mid-sentence and kissed him.

It was a hesitant kiss, slightly at odds with the confident way Jason acted otherwise; Dick realized with a pang that, of course, his teenage years hadn’t lent themselves to the same experimentation that Dick’s had. Still, he was so gentle, not letting go of Dick even as his hand trembled on his face, and the soft sigh he let out when Dick cupped his nape was nothing short of sweet.

There was a softness in this that warmed Dick from the inside out.

When they pulled apart, Dick had to giggle. This night had been an emotional rollercoaster; he felt air-headed and silly with it. “We probably shouldn’t do this here.”

“Not good for the reputation,” Jason agreed, his voice low. Dick liked it.

“Come home with me?”

“Sure.”

When Dick looked surprised at Jason’s easy acceptance, Jason shrugged. “I’ve been dying to take that mask off of you. Knowing you, it’s glued on with a special mixture only you got the remover for, though.”

Well, he wasn’t wrong. “Oh,” Dick said, remembering something. “Actually, I got someone at home who would love to see you.”

“Don’t tell me you got a kid that I somehow missed.”

“Nah. Better.” Dick smiled. “A bear.”

The next morning, after he woke up in Jason’s arms; after they showered separately and ate breakfast together and just tried to parse out what this meant for the rest of their lives—that morning, Dick looked at his timer and saw that it now read 07:22.

Jason seemed fascinated by the change. “I think I read a study about mismatched timers before. There’s a theory that they reflect our choices really more than our fate, and are meant to influence our actions—maybe I should look it up…”

“I think,” Dick said firmly, “that we should cover the damn things up and never look at them again.”

Jason considered that. “Yeah, okay. Sounds like a plan.”

[whumpsideblog]

Previous Parts

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 ***

 He didn’t know what was going on, as the vampire sat him up, gently coaxing him to open his mouth. He could hardly think, just follow what he was told. When he brought his wrist to his mouth, urging him to drink from a deep gash, he couldn’t recoil in disgust, he simply did as he was told, too weak to even realize what he was doing. 

 Alastair’s blood didn’t have that metallic taste that Silas knew too well from constantly biting his tongue and biting his lip. It was like drinking something rotten, it was disgusting and he was surprised he didn’t throw up immediately. In fact, he was surprised that he felt better. His vision was clearing again, he could sit up on his own, he could actually think.

 He could realize that he was drinking a vampire’s blood. 

 He jerked away quickly, but deep down he knew it was too late. He could feel it spreading through him, a horrible burning pain that started in his stomach and spread to the rest of his body.

 “Now calm down love, there’s nothing you can do to stop this.” Alastair said when he saw the panic on his face. Silas quickly scrambled out of the bed, trying to put some distance between them, but as soon as he tried to stand he collapsed to his knees, clutching his stomach. 

 “M-make it stop, please!” He cried, breathing frantically. The pain was unbearable, he felt like someone had stabbed a knife into his heart and twisted it. 

 “But darling, didn’t you ask me to save you? This is what you wanted right?”

 “I didn’t know! I didn’t think you would do this!” He screwed his eyes shut, praying the pain would pass.

 “Oh, how else would I be able to do it?” He’d gotten out of bed, kneeling beside Silas. “Just calm down and don’t fight it, it’ll only make it hurt more and you’ll never succeed.” He pulled him into his arms, and Silas collapsed against him. 

 “No no no no… this can’t be happening, please, I- I can’t-“

 “Shhh, it’s okay.” He ran a hand through his hair, trying to comfort him. It wasn’t working. “Once it passes you’ll feel so much better.”

 He had no choice but to ride it out. He tried to get away from the vampire but as always Alastair was stronger than he was. His head was pounding, that moment of regained strength and clarity had long since passed. 

 “I don’t… I don’t want this…” He groaned. “This isn’t real- this is a nightmare, right? This isn’t happening, it can’t be happening…” He didn’t try to hold back his tears, he wished he’d just let himself die. This really was the worst possible scenario to him, and the pain was excruciating. He sobbed openly, hand clutching Alastair’s shirt, he didn’t care, it didn’t even matter anymore. He might as well have been dead, hell, technically he was, or, undead anyway. He didn’t care enough to think too hard about it. 

 Slowly but surely, the pain did pass. He no longer felt the need to vomit, the pain that gripped his heart slowly faded away. The pain was replaced by exhaustion, he could hardly keep his eyes open and barely move on his own. At least he was mostly aware this time.

 “Come on love, I’m sure you’re tired now.” Alastair slowly helped him up, helped him back into bed. “You’ll feel better when you wake up.” He smoothed his hair back, kissing his forehead before going to get into bed as well. 

 “I don’t think I want to wake up…” He murmured, covering his eyes with his arm. He never in his life thought he would wish for death, but it certainly sounded kinder than this.

 ***

  The first thing he realized when he woke up that evening was how hungry he was. He was still tired, but Alastair was already up and getting dressed and he knew he’d be forced out of bed sooner or later. He sighed as he sat up, running a hand through his hair. He’d had the worst nightmare, being almost killed, forced to become a vampire. It may have been a normal fear of his but he didn’t typically have dreams about it. 

 “How are you feeling, love?” Alastair asked, coming over and helping him out of bed.

 “Tired…” He murmured. He pulled away from him, he hated having to be helped to get dressed when he knew he was perfectly capable of it himself. “Hungry I guess.” He shrugged. He took his time getting dressed, before going to tie his messy hair back. He never really did feel like brushing it.

 “Come here, you look like a mess.” Alastair waved him over, having him sit down in front of a vanity table. As soon as he caught sight of his reflection, he screamed. “Oh calm down, I haven’t even touched you yet.” Alastair rolled his eyes, while Silas jumped to his feet.

 “No- no, that was a dream, it wasn’t real!” He was breathing heavily, already going into a full panic. 

 “What? Last night? I have a scar on my wrist that says otherwise.” He laughed. “Now come here, sit down.” He gently grabbed his arm but Silas jerked away from him.

 “Don’t fucking touch me!” He shouted. “Stay away from me!” He felt like he was going to throw up, it was supposed to just be a dream, a horrible nightmare. He couldn’t be a vampire, he just couldn’t. 

 “Silas,” He said gently, though he grabbed his arm more roughly this time, “Come sit down, you’re getting worked up. Remember, you asked me to do it.”

 “I- I didn’t… I didn’t know…” He allowed himself to be pulled back, forced to sit down. He stared at his reflection with wide eyes. He hated to see himself start to cry, but not as much as he hated the sight of bright red eyes and sharpened fangs. This wasn’t something he could hide, it wasn’t something he could forget about and certainly wasn’t something he could undo. Unless he could work up the courage to kill himself, he was going to have to live like this forever. 

 He furiously rubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand, while Alastair pulled the brush through his hair. He knew he’d have to face Dahlia, he’d have to tell her what happened. It would be impossible to hide this from anyone.

 “Why are you crying, love? If anything, this is an improvement.” He braided his hair back, while Silas had a hard time responding through his tears. “You’re stronger now, you’re immortal, doesn’t everyone long for immortality?” Silas shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut so he wouldn’t have to look at himself. “Oh, and the best part of course,” The vampire set the brush aside, draping his arms around Silas’ shoulders and pulling him close, “You have no reason to ever try to leave me.”

 ***

  Typically if Alastair brought Silas to see her, it was because one of them did something wrong. She was confused when she was woken up though, Alastair dragging her out of the cage. She saw Silas on the other side of the room, but he quickly looked away, almost hiding his face from her. She had the feeling something was horribly wrong. Alastair left them alone, which was odd, but she hopped that maybe things would be okay. He stopped to say something to Silas she couldn’t hear, before leaving the room.

  “Silas…?” She yawned, slowly getting to her feet. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?” She didn’t have to see his face to know something was wrong, she always knew. 

 “I… I made a mistake…” He started. “I, I tried to kill him last night, and I failed, and it… it’s bad…”

 “What? You look okay… Silas, look at me. What did he do?” She asked. 

 “I… I don’t want to tell you.” His voice cracked. She approached him slowly, cautiously. She had an awful feeling about this. 

  “Silas…” She said softly. “I’m going to touch you now, okay?” She raised her hand, resting it on his arm. “Look at me, please?” He hesitated a moment, before finally, reluctantly looking at her. She expected a lot, maybe a bloody wound, a missing eye, a horrible gash, something like that. What she didn’t expect though was ruby red eyes in place of bright blue ones.

 She didn’t mean to, but she couldn’t hide her reaction, gasping and taking a step back from him. He turned his head away again, but she’d already seen his eyes, seen fangs, all the evidence needed to know what happened.

 “I- I didn’t want this to happen, he almost killed me, and I, I was scared, I couldn’t think, when he o-offered to save me I just said yes b-because I couldn’t think, I just didn’t want to die-” He was rambling, he was going to start panicking if she didn’t calm him down. Despite her own rising panic, she forced herself to stay calm, for his sake. She’d have time to freak out later. 

  “Hey, hey, i-it’s okay…” She said softly. “Here, come sit down, okay?” She led him over to a couch in the sitting area of the large room, having him sit down and sitting down next to him. She kept a hand over his, looking up at him. “Tell me what happened, please?”

  “I… I tried to kill him… but he woke up, and he bit me hard, he’d never done it like this before… and I was dying, I know for a fact that I was going to die and when he offered to save me I just said yes because I was so scared of dying I didn’t even think about what he would do…” He wouldn’t look at her as he spoke, his voice shaking. Her heart hurt watching him, more vulnerable than ever. “I-I’m sorry… I didn’t want this to happen…”

 “Silas… please, don’t apologize… you didn’t mean for this to happen, I should’ve been there to help you, I shouldn’t have asked you to do it alone.” She squeezed his hand. “I promised we’d finish this together, I should’ve been with you. I’m sorry…” 

 “H-huh?” He looked at her, almost looking surprised. “No, no Dahlia, this isn’t your fault, please don’t blame yourself.” He insisted. She shook her head, blinking away tears.

 “I just… I can’t believe this happened to you… I wish I could’ve stopped it…” She quickly wiped at her eyes. “You’ll be okay, I know it, but… I’m sorry… I’m sorry he did this to you…”

 “I… I don’t think I’ll be okay.” He sighed. “I mean… I’m a fucking vampire now. I can’t, I can’t change this, I can’t fix this, if I want it to go away then I’ll have to kill myself and I just… I can’t, I don’t want to die!” He was beginning to panic again, running his hands through his hair anxiously. “How could I possibly be okay after this?!”

 “Well… you’re you. You’re very strong, Silas, you’ve always been okay, and I don’t think this will end you.” She assured him. “And… I’m here with you. I’ll always be with you, not matter what he did, no matter what you are, you’re still the same to me.” She tried to smile at him, holding her arms open for a hug. “Come here, please?” He started to lean in without hesitation, but suddenly stopped, pulling away.

 “It’s… not a good idea…” He frowned, moving away from her.

 “What? Why not?” She frowned, reaching for his hand again. He just pulled away though. 

 “I’m… hungry. I’m really, really hungry, that’s why he brought me in here, and I can’t do that to you…” He moved away from her slightly. “I can’t be like that, I can’t be like them, I don’t want to be…” She hesitated for a moment, she certainly didn’t want to have to do this, but if it was what Silas needed then she was willing to go through with it.

  “Silas… I know you won’t hurt me. If you don’t want to hurt anyone else, then you should do this now, before it gets worse…” She offered her wrist to him, watching him expectantly. “It’s okay, really.” She insisted. He looked to her wrist, only hesitating a moment before suddenly grabbing her arm, sinking his fangs into her wrist. She winced, biting down on her lip so as not to make too much noise. She didn’t want him to feel worse for this. 

 He seemed to relax as he did this, which made her feel better at least. It had been a long time since anyone had done this to her, in fact she’d hoped it would never happen again. She cared about Silas though, a lot, and if things got worse then he’d actually hurt someone, and neither of them wanted that. She knew one thing for sure though, as she watched the once human man she’d known for so long feed off her. She was going to make Alastair pay for what he’d done.

[megamanxfanfics]

Looking back at the 1st Nightmare Arc

Well folks, here we are.  It’s the end of the year and I successfully completed Season VI’s first arc!  Today, it’s all about celebrating with an honest take on how I feel it all went down. No backstories on what took so long this time.  Just all Mega lore and analyzing whatever I’ve managed to create in the Fanon.  So let’s dive into it.  This was an interesting one:

tl;dr?  -  Ep. 1: Boring Beginning, Exciting Middle Ep. 2: Steady Solid Stage! Ep. 3: Long Stage, Big Payoff Ep. 4: Strong Start, Very Expository Ep. 5: Another Long Stage, but not Draining Ep. 6: Reverse Pacing Ep. 7: Epic. As. Fuck.

Ep. 1:  I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but Boring Beginning. I wanted it to start just like the game with the exciting narrative intro, except.. written out, it’s not all that exciting, but instead - expected.  The same goes for Gate’s immediate monologue when you press start.  I took the safe, easy route and just added stage directions to his discovery of Zero’s “piece”.  Regardless, this was “A Broken World”, and I loved that title for a new Season #1.  Honestly, I feel like this one really picks up from the middle, onward.  Once we get into X’s first mission, the addition of the new reploids from the X5 ending didn’t really help at all.  I got rid of them almost as soon as I introduced them, but it was supposed to serve a purpose.  It was supposed to show us just how dangerous it is out there for noobies - especially the ones who think they know it all, like Cody.  Once X fights High Max though, we almost mirrored the X1 feeling, which is exactly what I wanted.  From here on, it’s pretty exciting and interesting to me.  Because now X is all intrigued and worried about these new “Investigators” that have sprouted up.  Giving X someone to fear again with High Max made for a really refreshing touch, too.  Once he gets home to learn about them from Alia, the episode heavily leans on flashbacks from Xtreme 2, but they serve as a nice re-introduction to our 8 Investigators. I also really liked their Re-activation scene.  That mirrored the vibe from Mega Missions when Doppler revived his select batch of Mavericks.  Once they pinpoint their locations and X finds out that 3 of the Investigators are in Brazil, he wants to go there first.  I feel such a hyped jolt of excitement at that Cliffhanger.

Ep. 2:  Steady Solid Stage! It took forever to write out, but upon reading it, the pacing is surprisingly smooth as X explores the Amazon Forest. Calling it “The Nightmare Is Real” based on a random Rescued Reploid’s words was a little weak at first, but it comes back around to get real meaning by the end. During the stage, X’s dialogue with Iso kept things interesting, while he pursued that near-impossible sub-tank. [I swear, you can only acquire this with a jump part equipped, or exposing AI with the fire blade or something...]. I really really didn’t want X to use his Ultimate Armor so soon, for nothing, because I’ve added stakes to such a game-breaking power up.  If he uses it, he blows out all of his stamina and needs to rest.  Period.  Using this to rescue Iso was not only a waste, but things probably would’ve gone down very differently, later.  Anyway, that fight with Commander Yammark was perfect. At first, I thought it was a little short, but looking back on it, I love how they both get solid blows in, but then come to a standstill when they realize they’re on the same side. Having Nightmare Zero intervene was absolutely the right choice!!  It gave us a new hook for something to come back to, as yet again, X had someone new to fear, like in X1.  Since it’s an evil Zero, I’ll even say like X2.  This is where the title “The Nightmare is Real” works, because... the Zero Nightmare was absolutely a sentient problem.  And it wasn’t going away any time soon.  X had to retreat and get out of there.  Thank God for Alia’s force-teleporting. Pushing Alia's Love Interest during the debrief was also a very exciting development.  I knew I wanted to do this, but at first I wasn’t sure if it was too soon to happen right here.  Now, I feel like it was just right. 

 Ep. 3:  Long stage, big payoff. Starting with Isoc’s report to Gate was actually not as boring as the 1st episode canon scenes. I made more of an effort to wake the scene up with stage directions or dialogue that makes more sense...  Them talking about the possibility of Zero still being alive also sets up mysterious intrigue.  Is he still out there??  And if so, how???  Will we see him???? Naming the entire episode, “The Outlier”, however is misleading.  I suppose that could connect to Ground Scaravich, who wasn’t one of Gate’s original creations (in my Fanon).  Still, giving X & Alia that slice of life romantic wake up scene at the near-beginning was absolutely refreshing.  Not only that, but I think it was very necessary. Things are all Doom and Gloom this Season, which is my forte, but this shows that at Home you can still find happiness in Loved ones.  The actual stage itself was an absolute pain in the ass and I knew it was going to be. I'm just glad it didn't completely burn me out.  His fight with Ground Scaravich was bad ass though.  X had the rare upper hand from the get-go as the menacer that Scaravich was afraid of.  So he came in with confident energy and tried to beat him down for information.  Of course, Scaravich didn’t let up and only revealed worse information, that those Reploids were being used for DNA Data.  But that cliffhanger I left at the end, with Zero Nightmare applauding X for his kill...!  It definitely helped me pursue a much sooner Chapter 4. 

 Ep. 4:  Strong Start with the Zero Nightmare fight. I had a big challenge here, because I didn’t want X to win yet.  We needed to build this feud and drag it out as much as possible. Zero Nightmare was gaining new motivation. He apparently knows about Zero’s existence, but thinks of him as a Fake.  And thus we have the title “Where Is The Fake?”. Having X get weakened and willingly teleport away was a really mature choice. I think it shows growth.  He could’ve done that plenty of times in the past.  But here we go, X is wounded again.. I didn't want this to become a trope or slow us down, but it brought upon some very necessary world building and character development for the new reploids. Very much, the expository episode, this was an important chapter, because it set up things for future episodes and kept me on track, months later when it was time to think about the bigger picture. Kassy & Hal went to the Magma Area while Tack checked out the Laser Institute.  The Nightmare System was in full effect now, and the goal was to show how dangerous the Nightmare actually is to some red shirts, before X goes in there.  How effective that actually was in my execution, remains to be seen.  At this point the episode title remains prominent, because X expresses sincere interest in finding the Real Zero, but they have... zero leads. (Sorry, I had to.)  The Villains even had an interesting follow-up about Scaravich’s death and there was an interaction, which vaguely eluded to something new happening, from Metal Shark.  So that will be something fun to look forward to.  Ending at the beginning of a new stage is always a cool cliffhanger. Believe it or not, I wanted this to go all the way through the Rainy Turtloid stage, which would have given the title prominence for a 3rd time.  But that’s okay.

 Ep. 5:  Another Long Stage, but its not half as draining as the Central Museum. In fact, all of the Reploid Interactions kept it really lively. Especially by the end. The Inami Temple was the first stage that I could hint at our location with the episode title - “Nightmare Rain”.  I wish I could’ve done that for the previous episodes, but it’s alright.  I took some interesting risks, during this stage write-through.  I almost forgot about that frickin Monbando Reploid unit. I took a real risk by giving him an AI, but he keeps things interesting, giving X someone to talk to, which actually added levity to the situation where appropriate. That Nightmare Zero encounter mid-stage was what it was all about for me, though. I'm really proud of that one, using the stage layout to my advantage in an innovative way. All of that Levy stuff with Rescue Reploid 6 was another interesting choice. I have more in store for her, but I'm really hoping there will be more of a payoff, than just an Easter Egg Cameo. We’ll see. I’m looking forward to seeing what else I can do with her in the next arc.  Need I bring up X’s Reploid rescues in the Gaia Armor!??  That was a bright idea that I came up with after post-planning.  The original plan was to have X revisit the stage later, but I thought about how this Acid Rain was killing them, so...  time to settle the issue of an unused Armor. [X6 granting us the gift of using a modified Fifth Armor was nice, but it made me wonder, why can’t he access the Gaia anymore?]. The answer was just that he doesn’t really like it.  But he used it to his advantage here, and now I had a new challenge ahead of me. I had to get rid of it. Another challenge was posed when X discovered a fucking portal in one of the tunnels.  I wasn’t prepared for that!  But thankfully, I was able to come up with a viable excuse rather than just X being scared of the portal.  He ran out of teleporter rings!!!!  This gave me new Fanon Mega-science to add to the stakes.  Teleporter Rings now need a day to recharge, and it was clear that plenty more needed to be made.  This gave Alia & Douglas something to do, so in the end, this was all good.  But now it was time for X to face off against Rainy Turtloid.  He’d have to come back for the others later. [Time will tell, how well or poorly that is handled, depending on how long it takes X to actually get back there.]

 Ep. 6:  This one basically had Reverse Pacing, but I liked it. It started with a Climactic, Rainy Turtloid fight. I mean, this was Epic and fucking Brutal.  Thanks to my brilliant bring-back of the Gaia Armor, now Turtloid had to take it away and break the shit out of it. This is where “The Fight Becomes Dire” and I thought it was amazing.  In my planning phase, that was never remotely on the table, but it worked out wonderfully.  What was on the table was X possibly using his Ultimate Armor if the battle got too brutal, but I wanted to avoid that.  [I had done practice playthroughs where I managed to get X to win in Normal Armor and definitely in Falcon Armor with some select weapon spamming and pattern memorizing.  I was open to keeping it simple, I really was.]. But after X got smacked around like a bitch, it was time for payback.  Especially considering Turtloid’s motivation to fight was “But I have to listen to Master...”  Here we had the interesting case that both Men respected each other and didn’t want to fight, but they had to. {Even though X thought the Reploid Trapping and Nightmare acceptance was reprehensible}. X primarily focussed on that and tried to change Turtloid’s mind, but once his Gaia Armor was destroyed and X nearly died, it was time for some Ultimate payback.  I’m really surprised by how epic and dark it got. I’m very proud of it.  After the mission, due to some very necessary stakes and power limiters, X had to sit out for a day again, once again slowing our pacing down to a screeching halt. This one hurt me, I think.  At least he wasn't injured this time... As I stated before, when I made the decision to include the Ultimate Armor into this Season, I did so knowing that there needed to be a price. It comes with him using up all his stamina. Therefore, he can't spam it with every mission or battle. The same rules applied to his shotokan moves in Season I & II, which have basically been replaced by the Ultimate Armor at this point. With more opportunity at exposition, however, I was able to follow up on the new reploids, who were now in trouble at their respective missions. [This is the stuff I needed to give X motivation for his mission choices during the planning phase, but it just wasn’t there]. And yet, one was debatably set up too soon. I had a new dilemma, where X was forced to sit out, while Kassy & Hal are stuck at the Magma Area, hurt.  The choice to show X training the recruits in the meantime was a fun risk to take though. It showed productivity and progress in the downtime, hopefully eluding to the idea that these newbies can fend for themselves, while it inevitably takes X a while to save them in the future. I also got to develop Levy more and even create some juicy tension between her and Alia, which wasn’t originally planned. I had intended for a 2nd sex scene with Alia to happen at some point, but I didn't want it to be forced. Just more of an implied - ‘this is what’s happening while we wait’.  But the addition of Levy’s flirting played into Alia’s insecurities, which gave it more of a purpose.  And poor Douglas! Hahahaha.  I was so tickled when I put that in out of nowhere.  We got some much needed levity when he wanted to show X a new part, but instead he overheard them having sex and walked away with a “Nope!” lol!!! Its becoming very clear that I enjoy the in-between mission slice of life stuff Way more than the missions themselves. But then, when we get back to it... after X gave it a night, he and Signas found every excuse not to save Kassy & Hal yet, because my Stage Order plan still needed to be in play...  At least Tack discovered that Portal at Sheldon’s stage. This saved my Stage Order Motivation, but it was still weak.  If only Zero was around, then they could split the difference.  But what I liked about this was that it showed just how bad of shape that X and co. were in.  Yet again, the episode title remained prominent.  “The Fight Becomes Dire”!  The truth is, they were all over the place and X didn't know where to go first. For the first time in a while, our Hunters are overwhelmed and understaffed. And that was really noticeable here.  I still think the ending is kinda weak though. There's no real cliffhanger other than knowing that X will pursue Shield Sheldon next. But overall, I liked the flow of this. There's a lot of forced slow downs in the momentum to have us sit with the characters and their decisions. It makes for a very different, sort of dismal pacing, which adds to the atmosphere of this looming Nightmare that won’t go away.  One noticeable thing, however is that I failed to follow up on the Villains this time around. I had an ample opportunity to follow up on Gate’s thoughts for losing Turtloid again, who was debatably his favorite creation.  I really botched that up, but I simply didn’t think of it at the time before posting.  So who knows?  That could be possible room for improvement in a future edit.  Either way, the Villains are sure to be due for a check in soon. 

 Ep. 7:  Epic. As. Fuck. But it took a minute to get there. Shield Sheldon's stage was more complicated to write through than I originally thought. Its the shortest stage in the game and yet all those damn lasers and their angles made for quite the challenge. This in itself, was a “Laser Light Phenomena”. Another immense challenge that I wasn't expecting was Sheldon's battle completely Flipping the Narrative on X. Admittedly, I really had a hard time finding motivation for those 2 to feud. Especially since he wasn't holding a grudge based on the past. I noticed a while ago, all of Gate's creations are so very willing to sacrifice themselves for Gate's cause. Like, to a nonsensical degree. Maybe that's their degree of Maverickism. They're just crazy... Anyway, this Deadlock Standstill might really play into my favor, since this recent Portal Experience is going to change X's motivations. I... don't want X to take a backseat, but... Rescuing the Reploids is going to be his 1st Priority from here on in. Especially since he wasn't able to save Tack and the bunch. Again, thats where stakes come into play. I didn't come into this episode knowing I was going to make that decision. But when I saw the layout of the "Pocket Dimension" as I'm calling it, and I factored in the time Tack spent in there, trying to rescue the Reploids by himself, there was no way I could have them all just hang out at a narrow ledge by the gate, or stuck in the gateway, scared. I wasn't gonna pull a lame idea that they managed to somehow unlock the gate, like I did with Data. (That can be the one trait that makes Data special and could play into his advantage in the future. But no one else's). Nightmare Zero wouldn't spare them either. He'd absolutely kill them in bloodlust. So... stakes were created. X took too long to catch up to him and thats what he gets. That last battle with ZN though... I'm really proud of where it went. I had some obvious limits this time compared to past Zero fights. That could be an analysis for another time.. But, I was happy to get pretty gorey by the end, there. And that pay off Cliff Hanger was so satisfying! It gives me all the feels. 

The 2nd Arc is going to feel very different. But we ain't out of the woods yet. Rereading the 1st Arc served as a dual purpose. Not only could I gush about my favorite moments or be open about my choices and how things came out, but it is starting to reveal where else it's going. Kassy & Hal still need rescuing at the Magma Area. Cody & Data are at the North Pole! Tekk is at the Weapon Center. X still needs to save whoever is in the portal at Inami Temple!  Let alone revisiting the Amazon and Central Museum again.  Exposition is just waiting to happen, and now that Zero is back?? Things are going to get easier, but also a little bit harder for X. One thing I can definitely say is that seeing him will bring back some Unwanted Memories. And its gonna be very interesting to see how he deals with that. I'm definitely looking forward to writing the 2nd Arc out in the New Year.

Until then, folks.  I hope you enjoyed reliving this with me.  See you in 2021, which should hopefully prove to be a far more stable year than 2020. [God, I hope I didn’t just jinx everything...]

[jawllines]

hey bub don't forget to post the met gala fic! xoxo ur reminder anon

tHANK YOU FOR REMINDING ME :D

“Holy shit.”

Y/N had seen Harry in a lot of things -- being his best friend meant experiencing his wardrobe, including but not limited to getting pictures of outfits laid out for something with question marks for her opinion, entering expensive boutiques with eyes averting from price tags in attempt not to panic, marveling as she walks through his closet to see pieces he’d purchased unbeknownst to her (plucking a few things from his drawers), and sending him links to things she think he ought to like just to see him in a photo online in it a week or so later. Despite how familiar she was with his taste in fashion and what he looks like in items of different colors, cuts, and fabrics, she is still often blown away with what he could conjure up. There was just something so. . .alluring, about the way in which he wore things with confidence without oozing any sort of cockiness that might turn someone off from him.

So when he’d invited her to come with him to New York for the Met Gala (in which she would not be attending, given she didn’t have thirty grand lying around to spend, but she got to sleep in a fancy hotel and eat like a King for a few days so she was happy), she’d been more than ecstatic. Was keen on seeing his outfits, hearing what he would do, what he’d have to say, and hope that he explain to her what even happens at the Met Gala apart from the red carpet. Even had fun with his impromptu ear piercing that she helped with (she’s got steadier hands than him). Her plan was simple -- to enjoy the luxuries of being rich without actually having to be rich, dawning one of the expensive hotel robes, slipping her feet into slippers and watch a livestream of the carpet while simultaneously pretending she would be willing to spend more than twenty dollars on a top as she scrolled through various clothing websites. Maybe take a bath or something and wait for him to come back, wondering what food they served at those kinds of events, if Harry would even like it, and if she should order room service (to which she would pay him back for even if it meant sliding money into his wallet when he wasn’t looking) and get him something in case he didn’t.

Though as the night continued on, picture after picture being released, videos and live streams from the event, everything seems so exciting and entertaining, she began to feel a small pit of. . .of something in her chest. She couldn’t quite tell what it was -- she was so proud of him and so happy to see him happy, that her cheeks could burst with a smile from it, but her heart weighs heavy. Harry makes good to rarely seem like he’s famous. Apart from the occasional fan picture or paparazzi hoard, he’s just normal Harry, who snores way too loud, has awful gas after eating jambalaya, picks off people’s plates without so much as a question to, and cannot sit still or keep quiet through a movie if he wasn’t interested in the subject matter. He was the Harry that shoved his head under her hand as his formal request for her to play with his hair and gave her drunken, emotional kisses because he’s “never felt so close t’a someone before”, and would rather sleep on her dingy old couch in her worn down flat than sleep in his multi-million dollar home if it meant that he didn’t have to be alone.

This Harry though -- famous Harry -- appeared to be completely in his element. Floating down the pink carpet with the man responsible for all things Gucci, dancing to Cher, mingling with celebrities, hosting the fucking event. It was like a whole different world he was apart of; one of glamour and opulence that she could only ever dream of. At that moment, for the first time, she’d felt as if she’d been holding Harry back somehow. She’s more than aware that she does not have that kind of power to do it on her own, but what about what he does for her? The nights that she wants him to come over, is he turning down plans with someone who might be more beneficial to his career? Or with someone who has much better, more interesting stories than what her professor tried to pull in her lecture? Maybe he was passing on drinks with stylists and people of greater importance because he’s far too loyal to pass on a romantic comedy movie night with her?

He deserved all good things; nothing but great, wonderful things and she feels endlessly guilty that she is unable to cater to that side of him.

That’s why when he returns a little earlier than he had expected, showing off the second garment he had changed into, his eyes wide and bright, “Get dressed, you’re comin’ with me to an after party!” He chirps after bursting through the door, walking towards the closet without a second thought and swinging the door open to reveal what she had presumed was a bag for one of his suits. Instead he pulls it from the closet, tosses it onto the mattress that she was sprawled on and points his finger at it, “Loads of people I wan’ you t’a meet, yeah?”

Her heart kicks up in her chest, not only because he is even more ethereal in person, nor was it just the fact that he had literally scared her phone out of her hand when he’d plowed in through the door, but because what in the hell? People he wants her to meet? At a met gala after party? Is she even allowed at those?

“Am  I even allowed at those?” She mirrors her confusion and he shrugs his shoulders.

“Don’t see why not; m’the co-chair, so I think I get a bit of leeway with a thing or two,” he pulls the zipper open to the bag, uncovering a beautiful glittery, chain detailed silver slip dress that she only distantly remembers stroking her fingers against on the mannequin, checked the price tag, and pretend it didn’t happen. Y/N couldn’t believe he’d remembered it let alone purchased the damn thing and now it was just sat on the mattress, waiting for her to put it on, “If anything everyone will suspect your just some smarmy socialite who doesn’t a hundred percent what Camp is and that’s’ okay. Hurry on then, I don’ want them to have too much fun without me.”

Her eyes were wide, “Holy shit,” sbe begins, placing her fingers to her temples, “Holy shit, Harry,” she shakes her head, “I can’t go! I’m not even -- I don’t even -- I took like a half assed shower at best!”

“And you look marvelous, Darling,” he took the liberty of withdrawing the dress from the bag, thrusting it out towards her with his fist around the sleek dark wood of the hanger, “I’ve been gushing about ya all night, and y’know I hate to be made a liar.” He motions towards the piece in his hand, brows furrowed as he becomes impatient, “S’been like two months since I bought this so if y’don’t like it anymore then --”

“Shut up, you know I love it,” she takes it from him, trying to ignore the way her heart swells when his mouth pulls up in a big, triumphant smile, “But it was at least one month’s rent, you’re asking me to go to a party with a ton of famous people and that’s something that I need to like prepare for mentally weeks beforehand.”

As soon as she’s got the dress in hand, he takes her by the shoulders and guides her towards the bathroom, “Yeah, yeah, Lovie, listen -- they’re all jus’ like me, yeah? Normal, dressed a bit fancy,” he squeezes her where his hands lay, “Loud as all get out, just like a good chat, will absolutely adore you if you get your arse ready in the next twenty or so minutes.”

He’d managed to close her in the bathroom, leaving Y/N to stare into the large floor to ceiling mirror illuminating every flaw she could’ve possibly thought to have all at once. She looks disheveled -- like someone who had only been planning on lounging around on a hotel bed and living simultaneously through Met Gala Twitter. Not somebody who was meant to get ready in twenty minutes. However, somehow Harry was incredibly persuasive without even having to be persuasive and she was sliding the robe from her shoulders, letting it pool to the floor.

She could get ready in twenty minutes -- she’s had worse time constraints in the past.

                                                                .                                    .                                       .

Y/N’s head is spinning.

Too much had happened in such a short amount of time; she’d met more people than she would have thought to be imaginable in a night than she’d ever met in her entire life. People of such fame and opulence she was certain that they would never cross paths, no matter the fact that she’s Harry’s right hand for most things. However, she realizes tonight as she’s mingling and meeting these people Harry has known for a long while and had never let the situation arise in which Y/N would meet them. Harry kept his personal life separate from his public life and if he could, she realizes, he kept her personal to him which simultaneously made her heart soften and ache all in the same.

She doesn’t think it would hurt too bad, until she had fluttered around the room with him and he had left her to her own devices for a moment so he could get them both something to drink. That’s when someone had turned to her (she wishes she could remember their name but after meeting so many people in a night, most of them escaped her) and said with a look of bewilderment on their face, “So you guys have been friends for how long? You seem so close, I wonder why he hasn’t really mentioned you before.”

It’s not like she expected him to be speaking on her twenty four seven, that definitely wasn’t the case! However, she talks about him a healthy amount to her other friends, and not even in a way where he’s Harry Styles -- again, just the boy who gets drooly when his face is smushed up against a shoulder -- they know that he’s around and is aware of his presence and their friendship. It makes her wonder if he’s ashamed of her or something. . .was being friends with a college student considered unclassy? Would it be better if she was some socialite who had infiltrated the world of celebrities and shared all their gossip at the first breath of their names? Because those are the friends of his that these people know about.

But he had brought her tonight, so that meant something didn’t it? It had to have, right? Was this a test to see how she would do in a situation where she was placed amongst people of such high regard? Or did he just feel guilty for inviting her then leaving? Or was he just riding off the high of the night and was making hasty decisions that he otherwise wouldn’t dream of?

There’s too many possibilities, it makes her head spin, more so than the apple flavored vodka she’d been sipping on. She needed to get out of her head -- she knows she does -- but it feels impossible when she so clearly doesn’t belong. And without Harry at her side, she felt even more misplaced than she had to begin with. The judging glances from people who couldn’t seem to decipher why she was there, why she was silent unless spoken to, and why it appeared like she wanted to jump from her skin. She had never been more uncomfortable in her life, and she decides then that maybe Harry keeping her away from this was best.

When she’d sought him out to tell him she was going to head home -- make up some excuse about a migraine or something -- she sees him speaking with Kendall, which only seems to further the wrench in her heart. All those teenage glimmers of hope that she could be his right hand are squashed because she’d only proven tonight that she couldn’t handle this side and this was such a large part of him. Not the only part, but big enough that she could understand if he didn’t want to bother trying to acclimate her to it. Why would he want to be with someone who he couldn’t bring to events without them starting to doubt themselves? And why the hell is she even thinking about being with him right now?

She retreats to the bathroom -- just for a little space, at the very least, to calm her down. Tears threaten to crawl up her eyes but she won’t let them. God! Why is she being so melodramatic? What’s her deal all of the sudden? She’s about three minutes from kicking her own ass -- surrounded by celebrities and idols she’s had for years, just to go to the restroom and sit still on the toilet long after she finished peeing? Just because she plummeted herself into her feelings about a boy? It’s like some twisted form of movie high school prom that she’d never, ever wanted to encounter.

Y/N isn’t sure how long she’d been sat there, until her phone dings a bright noise and startles her from whatever reverie she’d thrown herself into. She’s surprised to see Harry’s contact be what she sees, considering she didn’t even think he had pockets to keep his phone, so she swipes right on it quickly.

Where are you? Is everything okay?

And then the bastard had to be so damn sweet! Why should he care if she’s okay? He’d just hosted the damn Met Gala for Christ sake, she should be the last thing on his mind.

She feels her eyes well; here she was in the bathroom, feeling sorry for herself when it was Harry’s night. How could she run off to the hotel? She was here to support him and praise him because tonight is about him and she almost feels selfish for letting her emotions have her feeling like it was even remotely about her.

Deciding to no longer feel sorry for herself, she answers him back letting him know she was in the bathroom, stands up, finally wipes like she should have about ten minutes ago, and goes to wash her hands. She looks at herself in the mirror, very seriously tells herself to buck the hell up only to jump some when she realizes that Katy Perry is beside her in a burger costume. She nods politely, pulls a paper towel from the dispenser and pushes her way out to see Harry was standing and waiting for her, a dopey smile on his stupidly cute face.

“Are ya havin’ fun?”

Y/N musters her best smile and nods, “Loads,” she responds, “Are you?”

He nods enthusiastically, reaching out for her arm and giving her a small tug, “C’mon then, ‘ve been DJ-ing with Mark and I want you to have a go.”

                                                        .                               .                             .

By the end of the night it is very well apparent that celebrities party like college students. After the first afterparty he had taken her to, they went to a smaller one that he co-hosted, and it was a bit slower paced. Y/N felt more comfortable there at the very least -- maybe too comfortable, because several times she caught herself slowly fading to sleep, only brought back to full alertness when the coolness of her glass is pressed against her thigh. She’d done her fair share of mingling here too and met a handful of people that made her mouth dry, but by the time the sun started to rise in the sky, she was curled up on a couch and scrolling through her phone absently, waiting for Harry’s cue that they could go back to the hotel. He’d come to check on her a few times, asking if she wanted to meet someone (she would say yes), or if she just needed company but she urged him several times to go have fun (“You and I will be together for the next few days anyway, y’might as well enjoy your time without me hovering,” she had told him to which he replied with a pout of, “But I like when you hover.” that made her heart flutter more than it should have).

She was in the weird state of drunk-ish but slowly sobering; the last shot she had was an hour or so ago but she still felt buzzy and light. Still drunk enough to think that considering trekking downstairs and hitching a taxi by herself when she wasn’t all too sure of where their hotel was, might be a good idea -- but of sound enough mind to recognize that her feet ached too much to even think about trekking anywhere.

Around 7-ish, a gentle hand lies on her shoulder and nearly has her spring from her skin. Harry’s soft, low, sleepy chuckle is her first indication that it’s him before she turns around and sees his bow is a bit askew, his hair has been tousled and combed through to high heavens, and his eyes were puffy and red from his own weariness. “Jumpy,” he’d murmured, and she could tell he had sobered up considerably and was probably far soberer than she was, as he holds his hand out for her to take, helping her rise and leaning over to grab the heels she had kicked off and lied beside the couch, “Y’should’ve told me you were tired. Would’ve gotten you back to the hotel.”

“And what, miss out on some rich hot shot celebrity falling in love with my drunken sleeping form?” She stood, wincing and pouting, taking her heels from his fingers and sliding them back onto her foot, “Speaking of, m’pretty sure Taron Egerton is bringing me home actually, so I’ll send for my things.”

He furrows his brows at her and waves her along, “Yeah, yeah, and Alessandro is signing Gucci over to me -- c’mon now.”

“That’s actually not so unbelievable,” she replies.

The ride home, Y/N demands Harry work through his jaded brain to tell her about his entire night. She hypes him up even after the fact, reveling in his stories with him, all the new people he meant, how invigorating it was to be hosting the very first Met Gala that he attended, how freeing it was to have his nipples out at an event of this high stature, and how much fun he’d had even afterward. Though he still shies from her praise, blushing a pretty pink when she tells him he’s a legend and, “You’re literally doing such great things at such a young point in your solo career, m’surprised you aren’t floating from ego bloat,” makes him shake his head through a laugh.

She had thought she had made a brilliant recovery from her previous, mid-party panic, and was actually patting herself on the back for having it go unnoticed by him (because he notices absolutely everything; people could call Harry a lot of things, but one of them wasn’t dense). This is why she was so blindsided by how he approaches her when she’d plopped down on the hotel bed, kicking the heels off once again and flopping back against the mattress.

“So are you going to tell me what had you bent out of shape earlier?”

Y/N’s brows furrowed, heart sinking to her stomach, “Hm?” She plays dumb but he gives her that look -- that “don’t for a second think that you can trick me” look that almost makes her visibly shudder.

“You know what I mean,” he responds, “Y’think I don’t notice when you’re gone quiet? Or when you disappear for twenty minutes? Did someone say something to you?”

She opens her mouth to deny it but he shoots her that look again and she crumbles beneath it, shaking her head, “It was nothing,” she tells him, “I just got in my head, is all but it doesn’t matter and m’fine, so everything is good.”

“Don’t say you’re feelings don’t matter, because they do,” he responds almost immediately, peeling himself from his outfit and revealing the creamy smooth skin beneath -- Y/N has to tear her eyes from his torso so that she’s listening -- “Tell me what was wrong.”

“You’re awful demanding,” she grumbles, reaching up to take her earrings out, “It was just new and weird; I was surrounded by people I only ever see on a screen and then there were some people that just -- I just realized I didn’t really fit in, and I got in my head, but I got over it.”

His brows furrow, crawling up onto the bed, “Why didn’t you say anything to me?”

“Because it was your night idiot!” She all but snaps at him, not out of anger with him, but from pure frustration with herself, “I wasn’t going to hold you back because I felt weird. That wouldn’t be fair to you, n’I just -- I’m not apart of that world and it was very apparent and I just realized that I could be holding you back from something better when you’re hanging out with me or even that you have to take me places with you ‘cos you feel guilty. And if. . .and someone just -- I said we were best friends and they made a face and I -- it just feels weird. . .I felt weird.” Pushing the heels of her palms to her eyes, she shakes her head, “But it doesn’t matter, stop prying, me head hurts enough and I’m not letting this ruin how amazing tonight was.”

Harry’s fingers are gentle as they loop around her wrist, pulling it at it delicately so he could draw her hands from her face, “Okay,” he murmurs gently, “Okay, okay, I’ll stop, I just --” he pauses for a moment, like he’s trying to pluck the right words from his brain, “You’re so important t’me, y’know that? Right important and I wanted to bring you with me t’night, because I wanted to experience this amazing night with you.” His thumb carefully caresses her skin, and she can feel his eyes boring into her though she doesn’t look up at him, “Y’don’t have to be apart of that world, yeah? I like that you aren’t ‘cos -- well, as selfish as it is, I just want you all to myself. You’re my person. And don’t ever think you’re holding me back, Lovie, if I wanted to hang out with a ton of snobby rich celebrities all day then I would.” He leans in, pushing a kiss to her forehead, “I love you Dummy.”

Her heart pulls in her chest, “I love you more,” she murmurs.

They finish getting ready for bed (despite it being close to 9AM) and Y/N returns from the bathroom to see that Harry had planted himself on her mattress opposed to his own, snuggled up beneath her covers with only his eyes peeking out at her, “Get in,” his words are muffled by the blankets and Y/N rolls her eyes, climbing up into bed beside him. He wriggles his way over to her almost instantly, lying his head against her chest and sighing contentedly as his eyes flutter shut.

“You looked really hot t’night,” she murmurs idly as she combs her fingers through his hair and he hums, nestling closer to her, “Especially in the first outfit. You’re lucky I didn’t jump your bones.”

Harry laugh comes as a soft puff through his nose.

“You should’ve.” He responded.

Y/N stays up for an hour after thinking about it.

[solara-bean]

A Talk With The Prime Himself

(Reader insert-ish)

I stood by in the entrance of the warehouse, one foot outside the ajar door and my shoulder resting on the other. I heard the calm rhythm of the rain against the forest floor and trees. With each subtle gust of wind, a spray of mist cooled my face. Closing my eyes, I let out a sigh of content. Nothing could ruin this peaceful moment.

" Is there something troubling you?"

Ok you'd think a giant, metal robot breaking the silence would, but his deep, gentle voice did the exact opposite.

I turned slightly and made eye contact with Optimus over my shoulder. It wasn't too hard to find his glowing, blue optics in the dark.

" No. Why do you ask?"

He came a step closer. How he managed to do so with little sound, or sneak up on me to begin with, baffled me.

" You are normally in stasis at this hour. The others, including Ratchet, are deep in slumber if I might add."

I grinned. Of course he checked on everyone before heading to bed. If he ever slept that is. He was always the first one up and usually the last one, besides Ratchet, who was still up working on a datapad late in the night. He never showed any signs of fatigue so maybe he did rest every now and then. That or he was just good at hiding it.

" I just wanted to see the rain is all."

" I see...do you mind if I join you?"

I shrugged.

" Not at all."

We stood and watched the rain with the door fully open. I thought back on the first time Optimus had seen rain. We were on the open road when all of a sudden he'd panicked at the first drop on his windshield. Speeding to the nearest shelter, with the rest of the Autobots in tow, I found myself cluttered under a rock formation with them.

I'd barely gotten the chance to ask what was the matter in the mist of it, so I did once they'd seemed to calm down. Ratchet didn't hesitate to scold me on not mentioning earth's toxic rain. Which of course rose many questions. Optimus took the liberty of answering them, still clutching me to his chassis, as the others stared fearfully at the downpour.

I kindly asked him to put me down, then proceeded to step into the rain despite their protests. Once they all saw that I was indeed not burning alive, one by one they came out of the shelter. We'd probably spent a half an hour playing in the rain. By which I mean Ratchet watched as the others, especially Bumblebee, ran around and jumped in mud puddles. Optimus, however, kept his head titled to the clouds, optics shut. I'd never seen him more at peace.

It was one of my fondest memories of them. Optimus had even kept the cab's heater on so that I wouldn't get sick. Although I could've dealt without paying for all of them to got to the car wash.

After what couldn't have been more than six minutes, the rain came to a slow stop.

" Huh......I thought it would last longer." I whispered.

" I did as well."

Oh right, I keep forgetting how sharp their hearing is. It really doesn't help for those who think out loud a lot.

" Well," I stretched out my back with a groan. " Guess I should head to bed." I began to walk towards my room before pausing to see if he was heading to his. He was still looking out the door.

" Are you staying up?"

He blinked as if coming out of deep thought.

" I was contemplating on watching the stars. The sky seems to be clearing faster than I expected."

" Oh, well don't stay up too late. Can't have our fearless leader falling asleep during his own speech."

His shoulders shook as he let out a small chuckle. It was a sound I rarely heard, which probably added to why it was one of my favorites.

" You have my word. I hope you have a pleasant stasis."

" You too. Goodnight." I only made it ten steps before turning back around. " Actually I have an idea."

----

Optimus strolled through the forest, his peds creating a soft smush sound on the rain-drenched grass, while I sat on his shoulder. I don't when the habit started, but whenever given the chance I'd find myself situated on his shoulder. Sometimes, I did so to chat with him, others was just to have a comfortable place to read or on occasion nap.

Optimus didn't seem to mind at all. He was normally the one to put me up there if I couldn't reach. No one seemed to question our ritual either. A few perplexed glances at first, but that was it. It felt nice though, having the privilege of being this close to him, his presence calming me. The view was nice as well.

We soon arrived at a cliff in one of the clearings. It overlooked the rest of the expansive forest, trees seeming to go on for ages. However, our view was turned upwards.

The stars were brighter than I'd ever seen them. Growing up in the city truly deprived me of such a sight. If only I knew every constellation.

" Are you enjoying the view?" I asked him. He was now sitting on the edge, peds dangling. His posture inclined backwards enough so that I wouldn't slip off of him.

" Immensely." he replied, optics not leaving the sky.

We sat there for several moments in a peaceful silence, besides the occasional cricket. Then I remembered something that I'd been wondering for a while.

" Do you.....like it here on earth?"

" Yes. Why do you ask?"

I looked to the ground.

" It's just that...I can't imagine needing to leave my planet then settling on another and starting over. It just seems so...terrifying."

He hummed in thought. His audiual fins twitching slightly and quite adorably.

" It was a challenge, settling here, but I've come to admire this planet dearly."

I smiled, but it soon turned back into a frown.

" I wish that this war didn't happen."

He turned to me sharply, as if concerned.

" Are you sure that you're alright? First you stay up later than usual and now this."

" I'm fine I just," I groaned and sunk my head into my hands. " I just keep thinking about how better your lives would have been if you weren't at war. I know that my time with you has barely been a fraction compared to long it's been going on, but even to me it's becoming tiresome. You've all gone through so much and you deserve to be happy yet...."

" Yet?" he pressed on.

I sighed.

" Yet everytime I think about the war not happening, I get sad. Your conflict with the Cons is the only reason why you came to earth. So if it never happened then...."

" ...Then we never would have met you." he continued.

" Exactly," I let out a quiet, sorrowful laugh. " Isn't that selfish? Me getting all mopey over you being happy without me."

I could feel my eyes sting with oncoming tears. Come on! Now is not the time to cry. Not in front of Optimus of all people.

" I don't think it's selfish at all."

I was taken aback and made eye contact with him again.

" Really?"

" Of course, in fact, you're one of the most selfless beings I have ever had the honor of meeting. If anything, I'm the one who has been selfish."

" What?! Optimus I think you of all people are incapable of being selfish."

He gave me a small smile. It held a bit of guilt to it.

" You have done everything in your power to help us even though you are merely a bystander in this war. You have put your life on the line countless times for our sake and I have not repaid you in any way. I haven't even been able to protect you properly." his field radiated with regret. I'm still surprised that I can feel it. Not as strongly as a cybertronian would, but there was still a faint feeling when were close. Since that was often, I've learned to distinguish each emotion. Regret, however, was rare, especially directed towards me.

" I won't deny that there have been close calls," I felt a chill go up my spine at the memory of Megatron grabbing me, much harsher than any of the Bots. I had been sure that I'd die then and there in his cold, tight grasp. " But you have repaid me. Countless times actually."

His audial fins perked up.

" I have?"

" Of course you have. Do have any clue how in a funk I was before you guys arrived. I was lonely too but I guess thats on me for living in the woods. But when you showed up, it's like everything was new. By showing you my world I realized just how much I love it. Some people not so much, but the goods ones for sure. Then I was able to further my knowledge, learn about an alien race, make new friends AND fight killer robots,"

I caught my breath which soon turned to short giggle.

" Opty, I'd say you paid me in full before you even owed me. " I still can't believe he lets me call him that.

For a while he just stared at me fondly and I did the same.

" When all of this is over. When everything is safe here on earth....I'm going to take you to Cybertron."

My head whipped to face him although he was still looking at the sky, determination in his optics.

" Really...?" I muttered in disbelief. " You'd...you'd do that? You'd take me there?"

He turned to me and nodded.

" If it's to repay me then you don't need to. It would be too much of a hassle and what would the others think of you bringing an organic? As a Prime no less!"

He stared at me intently before raising his servo and cluthing me gently. It's what he normally did when I was distressed.

" I'm not taking you to my home because I feel that I need to. I'm taking you because I want to. I want you to experience my world as I've experienced yours. And ....to be completely honest...I...."

I gingerly touched his digit to urge him on.

" I don't think I'm quite ready to part ways with you either....For this to be over..."

We both didn't need to ponder on what this was. We never did and probably never will. Whatever it was it was certainly mutual. The Bots knew too. Probably even the Cons.

" I don't think I ever will..." I leaned my head against his faceplate and he nudged back, optics closing in content.

" I can't promise that you'll be accepted. I can't promise that it'll be all that you hoped. And I can't promise that I'll survive to be able to take you....but I promise that I'll try...with all my spark." he whispered with his optics still shut.

I could feel tears welling up in my eyes. I let a few fall.

" You have to promise one more thing. And not as a Prime or even an Autobot. Just as you and only you."

" And what would that be?"

"....that you'll never forget me, no matter what happens."

He chuckled. Almost sadly as if realizing what I meant. That even if he did survive my lifespan would dwarf his. It was inevitable.

" How could I promise such a thing? Primus himself couldn't stop me from forgetting you."

And he didn't.

He never did.